Sunday, January 25, 2009

ugly sick pig

09 September 2008

Atty Chenelyn Bumblebee

Legal Counsel

[State Office Name Here]

Dear Atty. Bumblebee:

Attached is a notarized incident report i have previously filed with the office of [State Office Name Here] supporting this formal complaint, which i am now filing in your good office against Mr. Ugly Sick Pig of [State Office Name Here]. I am also providing your office with sworn statements from witnesses on said subject, certifying to the veracity of the events of 27 August 2008.

I am filing this complaint with the hope that whatever dignity is left in my person be preserved, if not restored, in the eye of the public that witnessed how Mr. Ugly Sick Pig assaulted me with his deluge of harsh remarks.

For your office's perusal and swift action. Thank you very much.

Very respectfully yours,

Pie oh Pah

Administrative Officer

The Dreaming Attic

Ugly sick pig,

When will you squeak?

This mousy’s stiff scared

Of your size so big

You wriggled, you wiggled

Your snout for to bicker

I wrangled, I strangled

In this pen, so I’ve trembled

You dirty old bugger,

Think you’re so clever;

But this rat’s some weaver

So shudder and shiver

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

adam and andy

kyut no? was browsing aimlessly some nights ago when i stumbled on this particular strip made for perfect kilig moment. hehehe. haayyy. ;)

Monday, January 19, 2009


Chinky. My shuttlebus seatmate. My partner in crime. My confidant. My friend. I miss our "batcave" days when we just meet at the stairwell to talk in hushed tones of last night's affairs; or krissy's bad girl moments wherein i get to top the list of office casualties. I miss our dinners before heading home. I miss your one-liners. I miss my visits to your office or yours to mine; just to talk, using the standard codenames just in case the person we are talking about pass by and accidentally catch on the subject. I miss going to the shuttlebus at night or in the mornings looking for you; immediately sitting beside you, and once again resuming on where we left at, prior to the last shuttle ride we took.

The shuttle was half-filled tonight. At the entrance i immediately looked for that familiar haircut, and the jawline, and those chinky slits for eyes. I immediately saw your back as i entered from the rear entrance of the bus. Beside you, my girl officemate called my name and motioned me to sit between the two of you. i tentatively approached, taking care not to look at you in the eye. I mustered to say a little "hello" and you replied with a little "hi"; doubting all the while as i'm hearing it, if your gaze even wandered in my direction. As i sat beside you, girl officemate began her endless prattle covering an already quite familiar terrain. I steered the conversation so that girl and i talked for the duration of the ride; all the while taking note of your hands—the one beside me—never leaving its grasp on the headrest fronting you, your elbow substituting for a vicious guard dog.

I did the same.

I miss you chinky.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

cough, cough.

This cough is getting out of hand. It started like a dry cough, then i noticed it did have phlegm companion whenever i forcibly cough. Must be the cold weather. Then again, it could have been triggered by a recent spa visit, where i did enjoy getting in and out of the dry sauna and the steam room; the Jacuzzi and the cold pool. Sudden temperature changes do wonders to the human body. Then again it could be the sweat drying on my back. Mom was ever vigilant reminding me of always keeping my back dry and changing shirt whenever i sweat in profusion. But then again she’s nowhere to remind me now, as i chose to spend my weekend here, alone in the metro. Well not really alone as i have eyvicat to keep me company, as i said, for one or two nights. But otherwise i’m left to my lonesome self here in a small studio type unit i’m renting, just a five minute walk to one of the mrt stations along EDSA. This morning i forced a cough. There were traces of blood in the phlegm i managed to expel.

Eyvicat suggested that i buy a phlegm expectorant from a drug store and see what happens. It might be that i ‘m exerting pressure way too much that my throat muscles tear.

Had this happened at home, sis would surely see this as an opportune time again to tell me that this is a sign to change ‘my ways’. In the time leading to and after i have unceremoniously outed myself to my sister, there was a slew of events that happened to me; one that required me to undergo a medical procedure, and the other one, involving an ugly sick pig in the company shuttlebus; all these, she points, injecting her spirituality, could be stemming from my taking an alternative lifestyle. In our heart to heart late night conversations she would always cry.

Being the cry baby that i am, it surprised me that at these events there were minimum amount of tears shed. It could be that the ducts dried a long time ago. Once upon a time there was a boy who prayed hard to god to spare him of the unnatural feelings he was having. Prayed so hard because he knew, growing up in a devout catholic extended family, attending a catholic school, and leading a nightly community block rosary recitation—with his sister and other relatives in attendance—that whatever he was feeling, if remained unchecked could lead him to the eternal fires of.. wherever. tears flowed. tears dried up.

People change i guess. Somewhere along the way, years and years passed, the boy and his sister are at the two sides of a coin, the love for each other unchanging but each one trying to win the other to his side of the argument.

There, there. Now, to buy that cough syrup.

Friday, January 16, 2009

pie and chinky : the descent continued

And so pie met codename chinkymae. Chinkymae is a cute older guy from another department that pie used to have a major total crush on. Cute slits for eyes, yummy lips, fair complexion, taller than pie, plus older—he was the stuff of pie's dreams.

When they were introduced by a fellow officemate, riding the company shuttlebus on the way home, pie's harbored feelings got a little more intense! They were not mere faces meeting along corridors anymore; he's chinkymae aquino and he is pie oh pah! This could be a start of something, pie thought. And so pie got to know a little more of chinky, on the daily basis that they rode the shuttlebus.

Slowly, pie's dream bubble deflated the more he got to know chinky. He was wiser than pie in many ways, and that's a good thing; but despite his age, chinky's not the settling down type. he's a player who likes to keep his contacts accessible in case the itch down under got too itchy for self-scratching. Deep in his heart pie knows this is not the kind of set up he wants to end up with, when he got older.

But seeing how chinky seems to be enjoying and having the time of his life meeting guys, pie quickly assimilated the lifestyle that chinky led. Chinky takes credit for pie's initiation to the underground bath houses in the metro. Seeing guys scantily clad in bath towels, prancing around endless mirrored walls and mazes is such a novelty, that pie kept coming back for more.

we all know that one does not just play this kind of game without any battleplan. You go in battle-hardened, never exposing your heart for anybody to pick on. But pie was such a newbie to all of these, that every encounter left a scar on his person. He entered the baths and left a little lonelier and sadder than when he came in. This would go on for months, searching for the one in a place that's not meant to be scoured for the one in the first place. So from crush du jour, chinky slowly assumed the role of a trusted friend and confidant to pie, knowing every heartache incurred from that place and giving what bit of advice he could to make the pain a little less painful.

Pie, in time, learned his lesson and started avoiding the place. he was unsuccessful at first, but in time he mustered the courage to say no to the urges that never seem to die down. His tour over, he set his eyes on online communities that cater to PLUs.

While chinky, well he was everywhere.

Monday, January 12, 2009

the descent

six years ago there was this boy named pie who thought love could be had in chatrooms. he'd often log on early in the night, and log out with sleepless eyes, tired and disappointed. so young was this boy that realization did not strike him that time--that prince charming does not lurk in such places.

so eager was he to meet the other half of his beating heart that he took pains in improving himself physically. he lost a whopping 40 lbs in 6 months, by sheer diet alone; oblivious of the fact that he was reviewing for his board exam that time and such drastic measures could jeopardize his mental performance--but nope, this boy's gotta be fabulous. gotta be ready when boy wonder arrives to sweep him off his feet.

the first two years was spent hitting the dancefloor. not on a regular basis, but on momentuous occassions like when his boyfriend of one month, his first, broke up with him because, the guy said, in shining shimmering splendid quotes "it's not you, its me." feeling cheated of a long and rewarding relationship, he went out with friends to see-and-be-seen places of gaydom malate, dancing the grief out of his system. there, he saw the priest who just said mass that afternoon in their office, also surveying the place. sigh. surely that sight had some bearing on his not-so-pleasant view of religions nowadays. he also saw his big boss dancing with the boys the following night, during that two-day dance extravaganza. the third time, he sweated it out with a new found friend.

sadly this friend was not the type who enjoyed such frivolities as his hole ached for much intimate trysts. together with him, pie found himself exploring a whole new dizzying world. gone now is the innocence.. long gone.

to be continued

Sunday, January 11, 2009


Seems like this whole blog is taking too long on introductions. Explosive first entry... check. Blog title introduction... check. Main character pie... check. Whew, quite a lengthy checklist, huh? When all i wanted was to shield my sister from reading my travails.

You see, i just outed myself to her just a few months back. It wasn't an intentional outing. There have been events prior to that which sort of led to me doing the whole song and dance number in front of her. something which might need a whole different entry just to cover the feel of one dramatic scene unfolding after another. Sigh. Suffice it to say that she sortof initiated me into this whole blogging thing (not that i haven't blogged before--as i've said, i was quite the prolific blogger even before assuming my gentle persona that some of you guys have already met; maintaining blogs that died their natural deaths, as such cases could be attributed to lack of cohesive subjects to anchor my ponderings on) for me to have something to busy myself with, other than my partner of more than three years.

it was her theory that i have to get busy so i'll forget him in time and maybe, just maybe, find a girl to marry like all good boys should. I do love my sister but when it comes to affairs of the heart i know my heart more than anyone could claim to know it ; so its taking me a tremendous amount of time management, shuttling from the metro to the province and to the metro again in the course of a week's progression to balance my family duties and of course to be with eyvicat even for just one or two nights. Of course, such activities have to have proper documentation so my blog(s) do not get left out of the scene, haha! :)

as my sister happens to be one of my first followers/ blog subscribers, i had to device something other than blocking her out entirely. I mean i do not want to be talking of my weekday activities with eyvicat knowing she would read it. Yet it pains me not to talk of such things knowing that my moments with eyvicat are a tremendous part of who i am.

It is in this manner that you get introduced to my beloved sister and eyvicat the beloved.

Friday, January 9, 2009

pie the resilient

Let me be pie to you, reader. I came here on blogspot by another name. Maybe you’ve read me before and liked me; followed me. Or maybe you just brushed me away as another whinning soul. But aren’t we all?

Been having a blast with my other blog but i had to back up a bit.. i had to reassess. In the months since i started, i was able to gather quite a following. Praises (or insults) were heaped on my nosebleed style of writing. But the question remains... am i truly satisfied with my truckload-full of words produced?

Did the blog serve what its header so blatantly proclaimed? Love, live, laugh and linger? I think not. Most of what pie loves, laughs about and lives for remains unwritten. My blog became so public an affair that my innermost feelings died before seeing the light of publication. So came this birthing process for my attic.

Dear self, what you cannot speak about, what you cannot write about, let me do it. Let pie the resilient handle it; take the pen from your hand and write it down; take the pain from your heart and cast it away; nurture you like no one else will (for who will, actually?) and see you grow into the gentle self you so dream about. For as one blogger have put it: “i am but just a dream” or something like that; let me be your dream. let this be your dreaming attic, weary gentle soul. sleep now.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

the dreaming attic

i've always wanted to have this one as a blog title. i remember setting up a blog years ago called the dreaming attic, but my venture with words back then didn't quite prosper, and that attic just got burried in heaps and heaps of dust and cobwebs.

now in its present incarnation, i have high hopes that my little online corner will really be a place where dreams will take wings and fly. the attic could be a dark unwelcoming place but not this one, not my attic. surely there will be episodes that will bask in gloom as any attic is bound to experience that, given a single day's progresion; shadows come with the package i guess. but the attic, too, can be a comfy place for daydreaming. conveniently tucked away from the maddening world, the shadows can be a comfort when too much light is directed on you. now i'm quite a camwhore and wouldn't mind stagelights intruding my personal life once in a while, but not in this prolonged agony. and stagelights, they are not--more like searchlights they are, if you ask me; designed to hunt and kill. and this pie have dreams worth a killing; but pie will not be killed.

pie will dream some more in this attic. i invite you to pick your corner and dream with me.

Monday, January 5, 2009

The wedding

Yesterday i attended a wedding. It was of a high school friend's and his girlfriend of four years. it could have been like any other wedding i attended except that this was also intended as a sort of mini-reunion for our batch/ class; it has been a yearly tradition in our batch to hold get-togethers every 30th of December, but this year nobody bothered to organize one; so when marco announced on Friendster of his big day, those in regular attendance of the yearly reunions marked it as the day. Now, allow me to say that i am a crybaby when it comes to emotional gatherings such as weddings. In a previous wedding of another batchmate that i attended last year, i also cried. Why? I dunno, maybe because the person getting married has been a part of my growing up years? seeing the person you used to see almost everyday, five days a week for about four years, walk down the aisle can be an emotionally charged experience. Some react with smiles beaming on their faces, i do the opposite. Its not that i'm not happy for them. I am very much happy. Its just the way i'm made i guess. With this confession, do not get the idea that i am a scene stealer in all these weddings in which i attend—as the tears luckily escape the public, for everyone's eyes are glued at the spectacle before us that is the bride and groom.

Marco was positively beaming yesterday. I'd be far too assuming that it was entirely because people from the batch showed up on his day. Nope, we were just there to bear witness to their love sanctified by religion. A love, he said in a mini interview flashing before us at the banquet hall/ reception, "a love that we fought for, for four years". their's was a long distance relationship. Seeing your love walk down the aisle after all the hardships, is truly a reward unto itself. But of course the occasion was made all the more unforgettable with friends and family bearing witness. And that's where we gate crashers fit in, hehehe. I say gate crashers because we don't have printed invitations to show, just the word from marco that we are invited, hehehe. when i said "mini" in the introduction to describe the small group in attendance to the sortof reunion within the wedding, i really meant it. To be precise, it was actually "mini-mini reunion" hehehe. only five of us were present; and three of the five had kids in tow. Wow, how time flies when you're having fun! J

on my part, it was rarely fun; i had my fun moments but the long road to finding yourself and setting your own place under the sun was fraught with hardships and heartaches. Maybe it was partly why i cried on the wedding ceremony, realizing we would always be outsiders to this society, to this religion, to this ceremony, to the traditions we've grown up partaking in; realizing later in life that you will be shunned just because you don't fit in. Needless to say, my road to happiness has been a rocky and winding one. "A love that we fought for four years"? Well, same here, my dear; but you can rest your weary heart now—the damned do not rest.

The affair went well as expected. The audience had fun seeing the bouquet tossed and the garter hoisted up. With a lovely violin dirge playing on the background, our biology teacher that marco invited to stand as one of their sponsors jokingly remarked that i'd be the next one to tie the knot. I just beamed a tired smile. Suddenly i'm not so happy anymore.