the dreaming attic

the tides, mini part 11

2011-06-06T20:11:00.000-07:00

Note : The following is a continuation to a story this author started writing last year. While he believes in the idea of intertextuality, he is also a firm believer of the concept of intellectual property, and will invoke his rights under the Copyright Law to the full extent, should his story be subjected to acts of plagiarism.

Theo turned to follow the village procession, looking away from the sun’s slow death in the west when for a moment he heard a familiar voice call out to him from the breaking waves. He closed his eyes, feeling his feet struggle for solid ground as the world spun fast with the sudden mention of his name. He suddenly felt his mouth drying up, his throat gasping for air—reluctant to name the voice that drew nearer with every syllable of his name repeated in the wind. He knew the voice too well as to tell if it was happy or scared, frightened or sad, hopeful or desperate. This time it is all at once.

the tides, part 10

2010-02-24T16:23:00.000-08:00

Note : The following is a continuation to a story this author started writing last year. While he believes in the idea of intertextuality, he is also a firm believer of the concept of intellectual property, and will invoke his rights under the Copyright Law to the full extent, should his story be subjected to acts of plagiarism.
______________________________

With nothing but the sun’s slow descent from the zenith to keep Theo company that afternoon, he watched with growing interest the blur of activities taking place near his perch, by the jagged rocks along the beach. It had already been more than an hour, when, from the six village men that had appeared by the curve, setting down the life-sized statue of the Blessed Virgin on the sands which was followed closely by this year’s hermana mayor—a woman with greying hair and a loud mouth— the spot had become a veritable hub of religious activity, this side of the island. Little girls clad in white, carrying baskets of red and white petals, formed a neat little line beside the hermana, who’s now caught in the heat of an argument, driving her point at the reverend with clenched fists as to why the cantores should go ahead of the altar boys the minute the procession starts. Filling the air with voices badly in need of fine-tuning, are the cantores themselves, practicing the hymns that will accompany the procession to the small chapel just a little way after the bend, on the island’s other side.

Theo watched all of these with the curiosity of an outsider; amazed at how even though the event badly needed the expertise of a professional events organizer from a city-dweller’s viewpoint, the whole affair still managed to retain an air of wonder and mysticism. He only had to look at the faces of those in attendance to see—fishermen’s wives with their kids and dogs in tow; all wide-eyed with excitement. Even the men of the village were present—standing by their boats adorned with triangular pieces of paper especially made for the occasion—in rapt attention as the hermana issued her final instruction : to haul the statue of the Blessed Virgin over to one of the boats. And, finally, sealing an hour’s worth of preparation, the loud clanging of hand bells from two altar boys going around the crowd amidst the persistent yapping of dogs.

A hand tentatively brushed past his right shoulder. He looked to see Manang Linda smiling. Behind her, Manong Gerry is busy getting his candle lit by someone from the crowd. “We told you its gonna be a special one, didn’t we? It’s sad that Clem couldn’t be with us this year. He should have gotten a vacation too and came here with you. Come now, the procession’s about to start”.

Theo smiled the sanest one he could muster, and motioned for the couple to go ahead. He looked in the direction of the sea. In just a few minutes of losing himself to the preparations, its waters had turned golden in the light of the setting sun. Boats have become mere ashen wraiths plying its waters, swallowed by the magnificence of its glittering tides; and the songs, just as they were starting to get sung, instantaneously receded with each step, as the procession started to make its way to the chapel.

to be continued

happy, reprised

2010-02-14T17:49:00.000-08:00

my valentines day turned out to be ok afterall. and that is saying it with a lot of smiles. :) i'm just one big drama queen. told dee i wrote the preceding entry out of sheer frustration at the turn of events, but told him i left out the details [to keep the fans guessing, haha!]. he told me i better make up by telling here that "i punished him, and punished him good last night", but that is too much information already, if you get my drift. hehe.

dee, thank you so much, that were still us. for exercising constraint in times when i take centerstage. for seeing me in my good times and the bad, and still loving me anyway. and though you keep on telling me that i have many "fans", kaw lang ang nagmahal at nagmamahal sa akin ng ganito at ikaw lang ang mamahalin ko ng ganito.

now, to say it again, properly this time : happy valentines day dadee.

happy

2010-02-14T04:44:00.000-08:00

i know what we have is not perfect. but time and again whenever something upsets that delicate balance, we somehow always manage to meet halfway and do the necessary talking til we are both satisfied and the balance restored. what really irks me now is that this has to happen today. of all days, sheesh. and i thought i've so much to blog about, so many ideas and events in the past days that needed blogging--things that are sunny and bright--and when free time finally visits my doorstep, those will be the things i'm gonna write about. not this. fuck. happy valentines day.

the tides, part 9

2010-02-11T19:26:00.000-08:00

Note : The following is a continuation to a story this author started writing last year. While he believes in the idea of intertextuality, he is also a firm believer of the concept of intellectual property, and will invoke his rights under the Copyright Law to the full extent, should his story be subjected to acts of plagiarism
_______________________________________________

Why does it have to be this way, Theo? This boat, this trip—what else am i to endure just to reclaim your heart? I don’t deserve you walking out on me just like that. i don’t deserve all the hurt feelings you hurled at me—coz i have, and i am, hurting too; hurting still, as much as you are. You think you’re the only one who’s losing sleep over all of this? You think you’re the only one dying a little each day, when you realize you’re all alone, facing and greeting the wall good mornings upon waking up? God knows, i haven’t asked for this. It all happened so fast; i bet you didn’t see this one coming, too. It seems to me he just appeared out of nowhere just to mess up our perfect little world. I won’t claim complete innocence and say i didn’t fall for his charms, even for a bit. Yes, he is attractive; yes, he pulled me in right away with his devil-may-care attitude. But you have to believe me when i say i won’t exchange our years together for a mere wink, attitude or charm. All the pretty boys in the world could easily have those and flaunt them, but none of your tenderness that make you beautiful; none of your caring, none of those loving looks you throw at me from across our dinner table after our teasing bouts. Whatever you think you saw that afternoon, it’s not what you think it was, Theo. Come back to me, please. Come back..

The sudden surge of the shrieking instantly pulled Clem out of his stupor and into the present. The gulls have appeared, seemingly, out of nowhere—carried by the gentle tides that now began a tender, rythmic rocking of the boat. Laced with the noise of the gulls flying overhead came another sound, faint at first, then steadily gaining ground with his consciousness. He had heard this before; at a time when he was happiest—in this exact same place, about a year ago. Ave Maria. Ave Maria sung with passion by the faithful throng gathered at the beach. Closing his eyes, he could very well see hundreds of candles lit, thrust to the heavens—their combined light slowly gaining prominence against a darkening sky; he could very well feel that familiar hand taking its place beside his, the warmth of its palm and fingers locked with his, in one glorious moment just before the rain of red and white petals eclipsed his view of the Blessed Virgin; local children running barefoot in the sand, squeezing through the crowd to get a closer look of the spectacle; beaming, happy faces. The din of the song echoed loudly in his ears. He somehow knew that if the sound and these images stayed inside his head even for just a mere second longer, he’d lose his outward calm. He had to snap out of it, and fast. He willed his eyes to open. The boat is now inching its way towards the shore, gently carried by the tides and the memories of the place. Just a little ahead, towards the direction of the boat’s mast, he could see tiny dots of light slowly coming alive in the gathering dark.

Candle lights.

to be continued

image source : http://30daysout.wordpress.com/2008/09/24/lights-out-the-night-the-lights-went-out-in-southeast-texas/

sirang plaka

2010-01-24T18:10:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was “alone time” with mother again. My sister, brother-in-law, and the kids went to Pampanga for a quick visit to that branch of the family there. My mom usually talks in circles. There’s no topic in our conversations that hasn’t been touched already, at one point or another, in past chit-chats. So its kinda boring, [but could you really tell that to your mom now, can you? hehehe] but it’s also kinda convenient for me, knowing what to say before she even finishes, coz I really know those topics like the back of my hand, so to speak.

Whenever we’re alone, she also makes it a point to bring out the topic of “when are you gonna bring a girl here, for me to meet?” or a variation would be “when are you gonna start looking for someone to marry, so I can still see my grandkids with you?”. That curb in the conversation is already part of the routine, but it never fails to surprise me, whenever she would go to that topic. I start to get uncomfortable and look in different parts of the table, or the refrigerator (‘coz it’s usually during lunch she brings this out), but not directly in the eyes because I might be tempted to spill the beans. I already wrote in the past that I’ve decided she will not know of my “little secret” for it will cause her great sadness. It’s already enough that one soul in the family knows—my beloved sister—and she too has been suffering in silence, I can tell. Well, I don’t know how I managed to evade her questions this time, but proof of successful evasion is that I’m still here, typing my thoughts away, hehehe.

That afternoon, I was at the bus going back to Manila. There was a young couple in front of me, a bit younger than I am, I think, and they have their baby travelling with them. Young daddy is cute, but I’m totally beside the point. Hehehe. What I’m trying to say is I think I can be a good father and provider to a kid. My kid. But question is, would I be fair to whoever she is who will bear my child? if only gay marriage is legal in the Philippines, Dee and I would get our own kid for ourselves, set-up a real family, and help each other out in raising our son into a God-fearing, good citizen of the country. Who knows, his lola might even love the idea of visits during the weekends, and playing with her apo.

haay. nangarap na naman ako. :)

cj

2010-01-13T02:26:00.000-08:00

Every time I go home to the province, it seems to me that Cj is getting taller and taller. Taller and wider, hehehe. takaw kasi nung batang yun. He’s face is also changing. Not the smooth, blemish-free face I so love to pinch back then; for I notice he already has pimples. Well, nagbibinata na nga siya. Which is but normal. Twelve years old na sya this april. It only saddens me that he will never experience all of these changes on the social level the same way we did. Autism has taken Cj away from us. took, and is still taking. May sariling mundo ang pamangkin ko. even at twelve, he still behaves like a pre-school child. all of us in the family have already adjusted to the special needs of Cj. We always think of his needs before seeing to our own. He’s the darling of the family. Even Geloy understands that. He’s become a very understanding kuya to Cj and I’m sure Ate is very proud of her first-born. Kita naman eh, that he loves his brother so much. Alam nyang dadalawa lang sila sa mundong ito, like me and his mom. and no one will care for each other but themselves. so I’ts safe to assume that he’ll take care of Cj when he’s old enough to do so, and we’re no longer around to look after them. My only fear is that, if old age or sickness gets us all to the ground before Cj, who will take care of him when that time comes? Surely, may mga kamag-anak naman, pero iba pa din kung immediate family. I dread to see that day come true.

a krissy year its been.. brace yourself for more servings

2010-01-11T02:39:00.000-08:00

Sunday, its six in the evening and i’m on my way back to manila. Tomorrow will be the start of my second week at work, this new year. I still can’t believe a week has passed and no untoward office incident has happened—yet. Well, at least to me. i can’t say that exactly for my other officemates—it seems we’re all taking turns, incurring the ire of krissy. I just had my serving of krissy’s tender loving care last December, involving a word called “sarcasm”, the details of which i’d rather not discuss. You pretty much know her capability for emotional torture, based on previous postings, i trust those entries would pretty much make a solid characterization of this creature from hell. Its my first post this year, and much as i would have wanted to write more, i kind of busied myself with other things during the holidays, so forgive me if you’ve missed dear pie so sorely. Anyways, before leaving for the province on my last day of work last year, i managed to write something on a sheet of paper—as my office pc brokedown the last minute. I normally find it more convenient writing my thoughts as they come, preferring the use of MS Word more than dear plain paper. But since the hurt needs to be clearly documented, i elected to write my thoughts and feelings that time on paper, saving it for a time like this when i finally find time to visit the dreaming attic once more.

Here it is :

This is not good. I had several bouts of near-outbursts at Mc Donald’s and Jollibee in a span of two weeks; the causes, as trifle as the cashier unable to give my change for a transaction right away, or the crew making me wait for ten minutes for a single order of my favorite corned beef for breakfast. I didn’t ace my psych 101 back in college for nothing; i know there is a cause to all this. For a greater part of five years i’ve been under constant stress from one single person. Krissy the insatiable. You probably know her from the many entries i’ve posted, speaking of the unspeakable, so i won’t bother anymore, eking out a juicy character study for this megalomaniac of a being, except stressing the point that despite knowing the stressor and having researched on its (IT’S!) inherent qualities, i still couldn’t find a weak spot which i can exploit to my advantage. She has learned to guard all the gates and bolt all the doors; making her one solid impenetrable fort that just won’t budge. I have tried all the tricks in my stress-management bible. I went for massages, weekend tours, or quiet time at the province, all for nothing. The last two events i described earlier are cries for help. The inner, gentler me is screaming, kicking, wanting to be finally rid of all this—just him out in golden streams of light, in an endless field of green and rainbow-colored flowers; finally breathing free from that all-consuming darkness that plagued and continues to plague him for five years now. Somebody out there, help me. God help me.

The outbursts, well, they’re contained, for now. the psyche work, i’ve dee to acknowledge for. He did a wonderful job, text-counselling me, December of last year, hehehe. He’s in Australia right now, training for bigger things, for when he finally gets back here a month from now. i miss him terribly. One month is kinda long, but when i think of the years behind us, its pretty tolerable. Well, tomorrow’s another day of taking chances with krissy, i just hope i make the right steps that will help me cross the seven o’clock pm gridline.

for four more years

2009-12-14T18:25:00.000-08:00

Krissy called. Said she’ll take half of the day for her medical check-up, or the rest of the day, depending on how she’ll fare with the queue of people availing of our health card services. Knowing her, the rest of the staff thinks her declaration of the possibility of her not showing up for work is just a ploy to catch the rest of us in our weakest and most vulnerable (not in our desks, at the other offices catching up with the latest juicy news bout Manny and Krista, or slipping out to a nearby mall to do a bit of Christmas shopping); but we know better than to fall for that. Earlier this morning, her assistant sent me an sms informing me he can’t go to work, and left me quite a long list of things to accomplish before the queen arrives (I’m to be assistant number two in the event assistant number one doesn’t show up—that’s her topmost instruction; break that commandment and you’ll see the red sea part for the second time). Checklist done. Now all I have to do is wait; wait and pray that I do everything to the letter; whatever she requests me to do, never showing an inch of sarcasm at her sometimes irrational, over-the-top orders, or a quizzical look that will make me look dumb in her eyes. In other words, be perfect for half of the day. Having just finished patching up a recent “episode” between us, the pressure’s all the more imminent. If not for the perks I get from this splendid address, I would have gone and packed my bags a long time. But as others in the office kept saying, one just has to endure her for four more years—four more years then we party all we want.

sooper hikab ever

2009-12-08T18:51:00.000-08:00

Inaantok pa din ako. Putchang plants vs. zombies kasi to, ilang araw na akong di pinapatulog. Have to kill all the zombies to get the shiny money reward that will help me buy stuff for my plants for them to grow strong and healthy. Even now na may tyangge dito sa thirdfloor ng office building namin at sobra kung makabuga ng music yung mga speaker sa harap ng library—naririnig pa rin kahit nakasara na yung pinto namin—e wa epek pa din sa akin. Para akong walking zombie dito. Or kung nakaupo man at nagbabasa ng journal articles na kelangan kong i-release this month, I can’t help but fall over the damn journals. Grabe talaga. Kakagaling ko pa naman sa mahabang bakasyon. Can’t risk of running the impression na petiks or tamad—although maraming ganyang case dito—malapit pa naman ang grading period. Hay. Ok. Sige. Have to concentrate reading, else baka ma-assign ko tong article na to sa ibang committee, paktay tayo jan!

pigsty

2009-11-18T02:34:00.000-08:00

Na late ako kaninang umaga. Kinailangan ko gumising earlier than usual to tidy up the unit which is starting to look like a pigsty. Hmmm.. our lovenest a pigsty? Well. Looks like one but doesn’t smell like one.. yet. Hehehe.

The other day, dee texted me that he’s gonna bring an officemate around, to see our unit, as there are available units for rent in the building according to our landlady. I hate cleaning up. Hate it, hate it. Why clean up if you could just toss your clothes on the bed, toss the hangers on the dining table, along with yesterday’s accumulation of receipts and other pieces of paper in your pocket? And why hang your clothes properly in the cabinet when you could just get it straight from the plastic bag your laundry lady gave you? So when dee told me of the impending doom which is the officemate visiting, I just hated the whole idea of scrubbing, sweeping and tidying in general. Ipinagpaliban ko ng ipinagpaliban last night, until my lazy conscience suggested that I just wake up earlier than usual to do the clearing operations. So ayun, early morning workout ang nangyari. Hehehe. At late ako.

Later this afternoon while at work, dee texted me na nangaling na sila ng bahay. And celeste, the officemate was so impressed with what she saw, that she paid the landlady for her own unit right away. Well, that is something alright.

of stubbles, hair gel, and fiona

2009-11-08T22:09:00.000-08:00

Today, I have shaved the beard I unintentionally grew over weeks of neglect. I’m getting psyched up over the upcoming Caramoan trip this weekend; looking intently at the mirror for pimples, big pores and fine lines that might show up in the pictures, and fretting over them in the process. Hehehe. With that, I think part of looking good for the picture requires me to get a clean-shaven look. Some men can get away with a rough patch of beard or even a goatee. But it doesn’t work out for me. Pie the commodity (when he was still strutting his stuff) has always been associated with the clean cut, blemish free faces of Botticelli figures--the kind that the master will paint in one of his frescoes, rising out of a shell from a foaming sea, sans the long hair. Hehehehe. Last night as I was alighting from the MRT, I saw a number of young men with styling gel on their hair. A thought came to me, if I should buy and use one for the trip. When I was younger, I experimented changing my hairstyle using a variety of styling gels. It suited me then—I am not that confident now. I have, as some would say, for years already, let my hair down. I’ve no need to attract attention for I already have all the attention in the world I could have, in the eyes of one person. So if ever just to break the monotony of a flat hair, I should buy a gel and use it for the trip, babagayan pa kaya ako? Or magmumukhang trying hard na lang na magpakabagets ang dating? Hehehe. Fiona has always sported a hairstyle aided by the magic of styling gel; we always see his colored hair standing up proudly in front of us rank and file employees during Monday flag raising ceremonies, and it never did look awkward. Magaling lang talaga magdala ang ate mo. Kanina nga pumasok ng nakashades ang lola. Hmmm. Tinted sunglasses in the morning? He never did this before… baka naman may karir kagavi at inabot ng madaling araw ang lola mo.. pang cover ng eyebags? hehehe.

the tides, part 8

2009-10-19T18:33:00.000-07:00

chinky at the library

2009-10-19T10:10:00.000-07:00

Chinky Mae came to the library last week, as i was talking with two other officemates at my table. He asked for my immediate supervisor, one whom he came to know through me when we were still friends. He didn’t look in my direction, smiling his sweet chinky smile, as he was asking them her whereabouts. In fact he didn’t look at me at all, like i wasn’t there in the first place. My officemates were quick to give him the information that my supervisor was currently out of the room, to which he politely said thank you, and left as quickly as he entered. After his exit, my officemates looked perplexed, and went on to ask each other his surname, and in which department he works, precisely. They’re probably thinking why a mild mannered gay man would approach them, as they were talking with an equally mild mannered officemate who hasn’t yet revealed publicly, through a prepared press statement, his sexual preference. As none of them apparently knew his surname or where he worked, exactly, i supplied the needed information with the word yata after each data. It’s almost two years now, since he started ignoring me. in my heart, i still longed for a return to our old glory days, meeting at the bat cave in the afternoons just to check on each other’s loves and lives. Now i know that moment is never coming back at all.

codename fiona

2009-10-18T18:15:00.001-07:00

I bumped into a jogging colleague who works in the nearby bureau last Thursday, at the corridor that was turned into a tiangge in line with our office’s founding anniversary. I’ve been running an errand for Krissy Mae, and was supposed to be researching at the bills and index division but since it’s the founding anniversary, i thought a little slacking off wouldn’t hurt much. So i chided him, saying that i saw him at the greenbelt cinemas during the last day of the Spanish film festival. I saw him and would have approached him but i was so veyklah that time, what with the purple sarong i borrowed from Dee to wrap around my shoulders on account of the coldness of the greenbelt aircon. And i don’t really feel like socializing that time, other than with my regular clique whom i’ve already come to treat as family—i was with Shattershards and Dee that time, when I saw jogging colleague talking to an elderly man during the intermission before the second screening, along with a woman in middle age. The man simply looked clean to me, with his white polo shirt and khaki pants; but Dee suspected otherwise and jokingly posited they’re an item themselves. My jogging colleague simply reeked of so much gay potential. Hes’ single, well into his 40’s, with so much fashion sense—he can easily put to shame any seventeen year old when it comes to wearing a jacket with style. Heheh. He asked me why i didn’t call his attention the night i saw him. I simply told him that i didn’t want to bother him, as he was in the middle of an animated conversation with his companions. My alibi somehow worked as he didn’t bother asking me anymore, and went on to discuss something that clearly bothered him, from the way he looked. he told me that he saw a high ranking officer in our office strut his stuff in the greenbelt cinemas sometime during the duration of the film festival. When he said the word high ranking, i immediately had an idea of who he had in mind, exactly. It’s already a common knowledge among old timers in the office, of Codename Fiona’s sexual preference. There had been a time when he had been notorious in the use of company vehicles to cruise for fresh meat; as an old-timer himself and ex-friend Chinky Mae told me, when we were still friends. Of course, if you are one hundred percent certified knowledgeable in the art of sniffing out the gay man’s stench, it’s really not a problem. When i said that jogging colleague reeked of gay potential, codename Fiona has already reached his fullest potential, and with flying colors, mind you. So all i had to say was Fiona’s true name, and jogging colleague’s eyes went gaga with the glitter of a sex scandal queen. I mean, it looked like he was truly horrified, as he went on to recount all the bloody details surrounding the circumstances of how Fiona “danced” upon meeting one of his friends at the cinema lobby. in this regard, i somehow have my reservations regarding jogging colleague’s sexuality. What if he’s really straight, and chose the path of single blessedness for some reason we cannot fathom? After all, he’s a member of a Christian group in our office, and attends a regular meeting somewhere in mandaluyong. But isn’t Piolo a member of a Christian group too? He then proceeded to ask how i knew of Fiona’s sexuality. I told him i just heard it from old timers who knew, like urban legend passed on by word of mouth. But in reality, i just cannot bring myself to say that i saw Fiona in the same dancefloor where i had been dancing about four years ago, along with hundreds of gay men gyrating and sizing each other up to the beat of a Madonna song. And what really mortified me was the fact that i had to say “good morning sir” the following morning, when he showed up at the library to ask Krissy Mae some stuff regarding our journal subscriptions.

hilom

2009-09-28T21:57:00.000-07:00

I went to the Journal Office yesterday to check if the record of last week’s proceedings have already been approved for release. On my way there, I saw the ugly sick pig going my direction. Apparently he also had some business with the Journal people, and it was just my luck, finding myself in a head-on collision with him on a beautiful Monday morning. It was too late, when I was finally able to focus my eyes to see who could be the hulking guy walking to the direction of the doors, to where I was also headed. Had I known just a fraction of a second earlier, I would have made for the adjacent room, anywhere just to avoid a direct hit. But he was there already, and I was there, too. I looked directly into his eyes, consciously telling myself not to register any emotion of anger or disgust. From my view, it looks as though he also doing the same. A few steps more and both of us would be side by side, going for the door handles. I was preparing myself for the worst when suddenly, the strangest thing happened. I wasn’t mad anymore. A strange thing really, for just seconds ago, I felt an ounce of anger pump into my veins—and then no more. I let him pass first, and then I followed him inside. Curiously, eyes followed us, as though we were a spectacle to behold. When I got to Gigi’s table, and he has already turned in a corner somewhere, I felt suddenly light headed. Whew. Nonetheless, I was thankful for the whole experience; for I can safely say that I’ve officially moved on.

the tides, part 7

2009-09-26T22:34:00.000-07:00

Note : The following is an original story by the author. While he believes in the idea of intertextuality, he is also a firm believer of the concept of intellectual property, and will invoke his rights under the Copyright Law to the full extent, should his story be subjected to acts of plagiarism
_____________________

Theo was suddenly roused from sleep by a tingling wamth, luxuriating in his muscles. It felt like those rare times when he actually made use of his tub instead of the shower in their small city apartment, immersing himself in a warm bath; the water feels just right on the skin, engaging his senses. He opened his eyes to see that thin shafts of sunlight are passing through the dome, as he’s been calling that delicate overhead mesh of leaves and branches that enclose the shack in a perpetual rain of green; he saw it a year ago, with the person he’s now running away from. Running away from? He’s not chasing you, for chrissakes, Theo. Stop this nonsense at once. Fully awake by now, he realized that the sunlight reaching him is falling through an open window, impaling him at precise points in his body—his cheeks, his chest, his tummy—each part resplendent in their hue of light pink. How could that be? I closed every single one last night on account of the storm.

A clink of teaspoon touching porcelain. He turned around to see Manong Gerry with a fresh cup of coffee on hand, greeting him a good morning. Manong Gerry is a next door neighbor who lives in the clearing, about two hundred meters from the shack; he was one of the residents who took an immediate liking of Clem and Theo, enough to offer them this abandoned shack. It had already been a year ago, to this day when they wandered into the island, alongside some others sharing their boat.

They were tourists, lodged on a nearby island, and were hopping from one island to another as part of the day tour package they availed, when they spotted the island’s rugged cliffs and lush greens from afar, floating like a dream in the blue waters. Seeing the group’s excitement, the guide was quick to point out that it’s not an official stopover in their tour and would not be the one answering to his bosses should they be spotted by other tour boats wandering off into the island. The adventurous group insisted that they won’t take long; that they’d just take pictures in front of the rock formations once they land on the beach. Overruled, the tour guide steered them into the island’s direction.

Upon reaching the shore, the excited bunch got off immediately, finding spots to have their pictures taken. It didn’t take long, however, for them to notice that local children were playing some distance away; and that a handful of makeshift establishments made of wood and rusted corrugated iron were sprouting like mushrooms at the cliffsides, complete with improvised verandas to accommodate breathtaking views of the sea and the nearby islands. Mesmerized by the strange allure of these renegade coffee shops, drinking bars, and a quaint little marketplace not far away from the cluster selling the day’s fresh catch, half of the group asked the guide to just fetch them at the end of the day; adding that they’ll just pay him extra for the fuel and his efforts. Seeing that it’s a good bargain on his part, the guide finally agreed.

As the boat left to continue touring the remaining passengers aboard, the small group that remained explored to their heart’s content. The shack called to them from its perch. High atop the faded red and green awnings of the shops, sitting at the highest part of the cliff, Clem and Theo saw a shack flanked by big trees on all its sides except the one looking down at them, facing the sea. It looked rustic, and grand at the same time, recalling scenes conjured from childhood fantasies, of green-domed castles resting by the cliff, jutting out to sea. Like two explorers excited with their new find, they made a dash for the remaining slope to reach their prize.

Reaching the top, they found the shack to be abandoned and in a state of disrepair. A bunch of local children were playing at a nearby swing, its ropes tied to a branch of a mango tree. Soon, two adults were rushing into their direction, alongside some more children who obviously told them of the tourists’ arrival. The elderly man with the graying beard introduced himself as Manong Gerry, and his wife by his side, Manang Linda.

“It’s good that you came here,” Manong Gerry said, after a few niceties were exchanged. “In the past two years, more and more tourists are gradually discovering our island. It’s good for the local tourism”.

“You must excuse us for the lack of electricity, though. Electricity cables haven’t reached us yet. The shops below are only good for day trips from the nearby islands. We are horrible hosts at night,” quipped Manang Linda.

“So you don’t have inns around, should we decide to stay for the night?” Theo asked, smiling, thinking of nights lit by gas lamps.

“Sadly we don’t have those things yet. But should you and your friend would want to stay, you can stay here,” Manong Gerry said, pointing to the shack. “It’s been abandoned for years now. My neighbor Tomas relocated to the town proper when he struck luck with his seaman son’s good fortunes.”

“Will it be any trouble if we actually did?” asked Clem. “We were looking for an adventure when we came here, seems we really found what we're looking for”.

“Oh no, please, help yourselves. We’re actually going to have a fluvial parade tomorrow, for the Blessed Virgin. That should be a sight to see for city dwellers like yourselves,” Manang Linda said smilingly.

At the end of the day, when the boat came back for the group, Theo and Clem already had a ready line made for the tour guide, and asked to be picked up the next day instead; thankful that they haven’t checked-in yet at one of the fancy inns of the bigger island like most in their group did upon arriving in the morning. After sharing dinner with Manong Gerry’s family and exchanging a few laughs, they headed back to the shack where they made love under the light of the gas lamp.

“I opened the windows to let some sunshine in,” Manong Gerry’s voice pulled Theo away from his reverie. He was beside an open window, holding his cup of coffee. “You came back at a terrible time, we’re being assaulted by heavy rains for almost two weeks already. It’s good to see the sun finally shining again though, in time for the procession later. I was surprised to see you yesterday. I haven’t really thought you’d remember the date of our fiesta. Your friend really should have come, the procession will be extra special this year”.

Theo smiled. He didn’t mean to come at such a precise a time. He just needed refuge; some solitude to thinks things through. But now he feels his past is closing in on him, more than ever.

In a wooden jetty at the end of a dirt road somewhere, Clem contracts a boatman to take him to the island.

<to be continued>
image source http://southofthegnatline.blogspot.com/2007/06/youre-never-too-old.html

the tides, part 6

2009-09-25T18:49:00.000-07:00

________________

In the end, the light from their bedside lamp could not compete. It grew paler with each passing moment, and eventually fizzled out as the warm glow of knotted hearts and tangled limbs slowly lit up the room, throwing frenzied shadows along the walls. The old airconditioner nearly broke down with the heat, and the green curtains turned yellow with envy. In the aftermath of shallow breaths and whispered i-love-yous, their once-pristine sheets lay crumpled at the foot of the bed, drenched in sweat.

Clem’s head remained buried, deep in Theo’s chest; his ears still throbbed in unison with Theo’s heartbeats, when he heard him ask—

“Why did you say hi?”

“Huh?”

Clem looked up, struggling to see Theo’s face through sweaty eyebrows; but as his eyes still stung from the sweat, he just closed them to listen to Theo’s voice as it went on—

“At the party, when we first met. Why did you say hi?”

Clem knew at once. It wasn’t a question that demanded answers. It was a question asked in dreamy tones, in a voice that only Theo can deliver, in a perfect mix of amazement and thankfulness. They have played at it for as long as he could remember, and this would be the time when they would lie side by side, facing each other, to look into each other’s eyes—

“Oh, that question again?” A teasing look would erupt in Clem’s eyes, a cascade of dazzling fireworks in a cloudless night sky.

“I just needed to be sure”.

“To be sure of what?”

“That you did not confuse me with someone else, hehe”, Theo would grin, planting a wet glob of kiss at the tip of Clem’s nose. Clem would almost always feign disgust, only to retaliate by hitting on Theo’s tickle spots, at the side of his ribs, and at the base of his neck, touching the shoulders. Only after when Clem had his fill of Theo’s laughter-induced tears would they snuggle, with Clem behind, kissing Theo at the nape.

“Why would I take you for somebody else? Did I look like I confused you with somebody else that night?”

“No, I just...”

“Shh... no need to talk, then.”

Theo’s eyes would close, feeling Clem’s broad shoulders and arms around him bring him to his most secret place on earth.

“But you’re a matinee idol and I’m just one of the regular guys”.

“Who says you’re regular? You’re the most special person in my life”.

<to be continued>

image source : www.jacklail.com

the tides, part 5

2009-09-20T18:39:00.001-07:00

the tides, part 4

2009-09-20T03:22:00.000-07:00

the tides, part 3

2009-09-19T03:35:00.000-07:00

___________________

He woke with a start.

Winds were howling in Theo’s ears like they never howled before; taking him from some wine-colored dream--one that’s pulled faster and faster away from him, receding in the dark as he reluctantly waded into wakefulness.

Before his eyes opened, he heard the shack. Little creaks from the wicker and the timber, and the ceaseless flapping of the windows against the battering winds. Shivering from the cold, he rose and went immediately to the nearest window, taking hold of the wooden handle to shut it close. He took a quick glance at the moon’s direction to see that it had taken cover behind the train of passing clouds. Below him, the land lay under a blanket of darkness, lulled to sleep by this unnatural wailing that seem to come from some unfathomable depth. He gave each handle a hard tug, and pulled the latches in place, as he locked the windows one by one, from the inside. Despite this, the wailing winds persisted with their dirge, and Theo, now completely awake, have no choice but to listen.

It’s like being in a cavern; with voices rising and falling like waves, bouncing off each other’s lament, as they follow an unseen conductor bent on orchestrating a grand performance. It didn’t help that the cold have already settled in his bone marrow, and no amount of blanket can help keep him warm. A moment later he heard another layer to these tangled “voices”—the sound of rain; gentle at first, then slowly gaining momentum with every drop, and later on, pouring like truckloads of gravel onto the tin roof above his head. Theo sat on his bed, suddenly realizing he’s in the front row seat to a rousing performance of loneliness and despair.

Light the gas lamp, Theo.

No, its better this way.

Afraid to see your loneliness?

Theo didn’t answer. You’ll get tired of it, eventually.

He lied down, feeling the soft brush of the pillow against his cheeks, and turned to face left. He always liked facing left, especially when Clem has already followed him to bed. Clem would always lie from behind him to give him a hug, placing his right arm across, snuggling him until they both fell asleep. He now reached across, feeling for those arms, waiting for Clem’s soft, warm breathing to start caressing his nape. For the longest time, Theo lay awake.

Only the tears and the endless rain came that night, merciless with their lashings; and the sea below their shack roiled and coiled to the sound of Theo’s silent whimpers, grumbling with the wind.

<to be continued>

image source - http://www.alaska-in-pictures.com/

the tides, part 2

2009-09-18T02:32:00.000-07:00

the tides, part 1

2009-09-16T20:16:00.000-07:00

hava heir moment numbah one

2009-09-11T03:01:00.000-07:00

arnel lasik ha. tandaan mo. pag nagawi kayo sa masbate, ipagtanung mo lang ako. madali lang hanapin ang place ko, sabihin mo sa traysikel, dun sa may gym. i own that place. iisa lang naman ang gym dun.. alang hilig ang mga tao dun sa pagpapalaki ng katawan. magsama ka ng friends mo, okey lang. masaya pag pyesta dun. arnel lasik ha.

thus, the mild mannered gay man in his mid-fifties alighted from the bus along with his other companions. their stop was the dau terminal in pampanga, as arnel lasik claimed their small group was to attend a friend's wake, somewhere in angeles. when they boarded the bus an hour and a half ago somewhere in quezon city, i had no idea that the proceedings would turn out into such a mess, a mess where i barely emerged unscathed from, barely breathing and barely alive hehehe.

when riding the bus be it in short distances in the metro or when province-bound, i always like taking the window seat. when arnel took the seat next to me, i had no idea he was gay. he had companions, and the bunch looked like a family going out for a few days vacation in the countryside. being that the bus was almost full, they have no choice but to have separate seating (as it turns out, his taking the seat next to me was no coincidence at all); add to the details already mentioned, that he had this rough-hewn aura around him, almost like a father's--pot belly, the works--which probably accounted for my gaydar's obvious malfunction.

when province bound, i almost always have stuff to take home; i always like bringing pasalubong so the household would have something to busy themselves with/ nibble on, in the days i'm at home. i dunno if he took it as a signal, my rummaging around my little plastic bag placed on the floor of the bus (i probably brushed on his exposed legs by mistake--he was wearing shorts), but i guess that was it; coz that was the time he started talking. he sortof suggested to the lady sitting in front of me to adjust the reclining seat for me to have more room to sort out my stuff. harmless enough, don't you think? i thought so too.

when the lady gave in to the request of this fatherly figure seated beside me, and i finally straightened out in my seat, arnel began to work his magic. he started out by making a comment on the greenery we were passing by, which he probably noticed i take interest in, given that i stared at what's outside the window almost all the time as we were traveling. not knowing what to say, i just smiled my demure smile. he then asked me how long it would take them to get to dau terminal, to which i courteously replied "mga isang oras at kalahati, depende sa bilis ng patakbo ng drayber at sa dami po ng sasakyan sa expressway". to which he replied, "mukhang sanay ka nang magbyahe ah. so palagi kang nauuwi pag weekend?"

before i knew it, the conversation was turning out to be some sort of a question and answer portion in a beauty pageant--with arnel being always the first one to ask questions, and me answering them. the questions were actually designed for small talk and i didn't feel as if my life was being pried open for the whole of the bus to devour, so i answered. but at the back of my mind, i was already beginning to feel a little discomfort; my gaydar was slowly coming to life with all the little beeps it was steadily giving off. when i finally turned to face him, it was too late, arnel's fatherly demeanor has already transformed into something predatory, like the big bad wolf to my little red riding hood. but all of that was probably in my mind; for he was his mild mannered self, all throughout the journey.

when the bus finally stopped to unload passengers at the dau terminal, a rush of relief passed through my being. throughout the conversation i conducted myself properly; i didn't humiliate, and i didn't snub. i was cordial, as he was cordial. and when he asked for my name, i gave the real one. i wouldn't trample on an aging gay man's dignity and self worth by giving a false name. after all he gave his name too, many times, in fact, so that when time came that i get the chance to visit masbate i can look him up.

arnel lasik, ha. yung may ari ng gym. isama mo ang friends mo.

tsismax

2009-09-10T19:02:00.000-07:00

wendy's, 9:10 am.

i just finished ordering meatloaf sandwich from the counter, and settled at my favorite place beside the store's glass enclosure-walls. i am near the bulky, overhead (and ancient) airconditioner, but did not sit directly under it for fear that dust and soot, accumulated through years of neglect, might fall off and land on my sandwich, which the counter-lady promised to deliver in five minutes.

to pass my five minutes, i went on to check my celfone for messages, sent a couple of short ones to friends, and, having nothing left to do except wait, i surveyed the place for cute guys. (yes, i am allowed to do that, under the dadee terms of agreement, hehehe).

a couple of tables away, in front of me, i was distracted by a somewhat loud voice coming from a guy who seemed to be lecturing his guy friend on the nature of love and relationships. i passed them both, on the way to my seat a couple of minutes ago, and i can see that the one being lectured on had the more feminine, sleek, gay urbanite/ metrosexual look that translates to hairgel, muscle shirts, and make-up foundation. the lecturer is in sharp contrast with his friend, for he seemed not to care at all, what with band-aid splat right on his chin--a razor cut, i reckon--loose-fitting shirt, shorts, and flip-flops make for a very home-boy look. homeboy was rubbing knees with ate gurl, (its not my fault i can see it from where i was sitting, noh?) as he continued his very animated discussion of the gay man's take on relationships. here are a few excerpts that managed to stick :

and so what if inabot kayo ng ilang taon?

from this, i reckon ate gurl is nursing a broken heart; but i still can't see the reason for kuya's knee, sliding deliciously into ate gurl's thigh.

what's important is the years shared together. problema ba yon? e di magdagdag pa ng ilang taon.

this part is quite hazy, but i'm just putting it here as conversation marker, to stress my observation that they are not an item, kuya band-aid and ate gurl (but i'm still terribly bothered by the knee action, mind you). kuya band-aid's voice is becoming quite loud, as his monologue is starting to reach me in steady frequency. at this point, i'm already beginning to wonder if the other customers are already getting the drift of their conversation, too. kuya band-aid kept saying "sa mundo natin", and from the way he said this, i get an impression that he's so much comfortable with his sexuality already, that he doesn't really give a damn if others are eavesdropping (ouch, hehe).

at this point, my sandwich has arrived, and kuya band-aid continued, with ate gurl (and myself) in rapt attention:

it's different kasi eh. in boy-girl relationships, the relationships tend to evolve into something sacred; the boy, being the agressive one, tend to get domesticated over the years, arrested somehow by the allure of domesticity offered by the woman. whereas in boy-boy relationships, both are fueled with competitiveness, with raging hormones. its easy to fall prey to the lure of collecting boyfriends. in straight conversations among men we usually hear that, di ba? may girlfriend kung saan-saan? imagine how much more sa atin, na parehong lalaki. before you know, it easily becomes habit; so we collect and collect hoping eventually that it will equal-out to that of the happiness in being in a monogamous, lasting relationship, sa dami ng nakolekta naten along the way.

from where i was sitting, kuya band-aid actually made sense. at this point, i got my celfone out and texted a very important person in my life; the word "sacred" glowing all the more in my mind.

before i got up, the lyrics to one of rufus wainright's song, "i don't know what it is", rang clear in my head. i heard this a couple of weeks ago, and not hearing rufus wainright steadily for days (as i usually did, during my rufus phase years ago) it kinda floated eeriely, and here, now, it resurfaced:

so i knock on the door, take a step that is new
never been here before, is there anyone else who's too in love with beauty?
playing all of the games, who thinks three's a company?
is there anyone else who has slightly mysterious bruises?

thank God somebody answered.

hottie alert no. 3

2009-08-15T08:36:00.000-07:00

lovely bruno di angelis

malate musings

2009-08-11T02:20:00.000-07:00

Mention malate among one’s friendly gay circles and one is bound to get an image of steamy dancefloors gyrating to Madonna, kylie or gaga music (whichever is the toast of the season), streets turned fashion ramps for the night to cater to the cruising, vamped up (hair gel, lipgloss, foundation, please) and psyched up (move over, Gloria Diaz, ako na ang pinakamagandang hayup sa balat ng lupa) gay man out and ready to spew his venom to willing, writhing victims.

If ever jean grey, professor x, or madam auring happens to cruise the streets as well, they are bound to get the same vibrations from the sea of gay men who flood the gay mecca this side of the metro : Nobody’s more beautiful than i am. I am the goddess of beauty incarnate. Watch my hips sway, my eyelash curl... and tremble.

It seems that the gay experience is not complete for the gay urbanite without one ever having set one’s foot in this seething, see-and-be-seen hub of gay activity even for once. And some say that once the clubbing bug has bitten you, there’s no turning back.

Not for me.

I’ve been to malate only twice, before having met my better half of four years. the first time i was there, was to drown out my sorrow-laden heart with the noise of the dance floor. I just suffered from my first serious heartbreak, and the dance floor became a convenient place to just loose myself and not think of anything else that will make me remember. The second time, were months after said heartbreak, and the place wasn’t the same sorrow-vanquishing place anymore. Instead, it transformed into some ferocious monster that makes one feel a bit lacking, a bit empty, as one made swooping surveys of the men bathing in the eerie light of the dancefloor lights, making out behind pillars and dancing on the ledges.

The only time malate became fun for me was when the volleybelle group that my partner belongs to (a group of gay men having the passion for volleyball), held annual street costume parades during Halloween. It just felt right, roving the streets of malate with someone you feel right with. For three years, we cheered the fabulous gay men in their group whip it out, clad in exquisite costumes they themselves made. Now that was fun. Hehe.

Last june we found ourselves amidst the rainy environs of malate, taking part of the white party celebration--our first together. Yes, the usual throng of self absorbed men was there, parading themselves while looking for potential victims to prey on. Nothing seems to thrill me anymore. I was kinda hoping it would turn out like the Halloween nights with the volleybelles, but nope, it just seemed like one boring fashion show after another.

That night, I found myself thinking : Getting old? Hmmm.. maybe. Pass by, young men with ego the height and scale of mount everest. i have love with me and beside me, and i haven’t met him in malate.

saint krissy?

2009-08-10T03:17:00.000-07:00

Whats with her?

Krissy the hag I’ve so much fallen in love with (eewww) in the past entries of the dreaming attic, is acting so unhagly these days.

In fact, in the past few months—2 months, if my calculations are correct—she’s been extremely nice; if you make a comparative analysis of her saintly demeanor nowadays, with her past sins, er, actions, she’s like a totally different, reformed person. I never thought the mental hospital staff these days could ever rise up to the government’s challenge and be at par with medical staff all over the world, in dealing with mental disturbances. Hehehe.

And it’s not just me noticing it. a fellow officemate shared the same observation. Krissy is far from getting the nicest girl in town award, but her progress can’t be overlooked, either. why, she makes an effort to say good morning when you greet her, and strives for little chit-chats with the other low-lifes in the office. isn't that suspicious? My, my. What is the world coming to?

Ano nga kayang nangyari?

Sana magtuloy-tuloy hanggang pasko.

queen bee

2009-07-30T03:51:00.000-07:00

I was in the sauna room, winding down after having a massage. It was a rather small room, one that can barely accommodate five guys in one sitting; if you are the sixth one to enter, you’ll likely to be the one standing up. I was the sixth one to enter that room.

As I’m feeling kinda petite that night (hehehe), I insisted on squeezing myself in between two guys who still had a considerable amount of space between them. As it happened, I found myself unknowingly in the midst of a game of seduction, as just barely seconds upon sitting, I noticed the guy to my left kept sending signals to the one to my right. He sat in a forward manner, his back not touching the wooden back rest of the communal seat, so that I could see his expression if I look at his side. He was intently eyeing kuya to the left., while his right hand, whenever he leans back, kept pinching his nipples in a sort of “rawr, I’m too hot for my nipples” kind of fashion. I know this, coz he hit on me too, long before the sauna filled to the brim. What did I do? I just sat in a timid, innocent sort of way, never seeking eye contact; coz once you seek eye contact, that’s usually the predator’s clue that you want IT too.

I know the rules. Been there, done that.

But I’m happily “married” for four years now, and I’m just really going for the heat that’s soothing to the muscles so the hell I care for them horny boys who litter the place like its fuckin F.

Sensing that he’s not getting anything, for all his nipple-pinching act, kuya-in-heat rose to get his shower. When the door closed, there was immediate laughter from one of the men seating to the left of kuya seductee (uhm, tama ba ang term ko? hehehe), as followed up by chatter from among the other men inside the room. it was a sharp contrast from the deafening silence when kuya-in-heat was still with us. as it turned out, they all knew each other and turned out to be a group of pamhintas out to have their regular massage. They were apparently laughing at kuya’s gimmick.

When the door opened again, another macho-looking guy entered. He was immediately welcomed by the group, with the more flamboyant among them saying “Tuloy po kayo sa F, Ginoong Rodriguez”. I was quite startled, hearing the name of that place uttered in this legitimate establishment. But seeing that the room was practically gay, the surprised feeling immediately vanished. Ginoong Rodriguez, as it turned out from the ensuing conversation, is a newly married guy. Flamboyant Ate remarked on Ginoong Rodriguez' sneaking out to get a massage: “sana nagpaalam ka sa misis mo. Just say may uupuan ka lang kliyente”. And the group erupted into laughter once more.

Throughout all of this, I remained the timid, silent one, observing the close bond of friendship among this group of gay men.

if they only knew. Silent, timid me was once F’s queen bee. But that was four years ago.

hottie alert no. 2

2009-07-25T18:16:00.000-07:00

this quentin elias picture is dedicated to my dear friend, scheez. :)

i remember the boy series | jeremy part two

2009-07-23T07:12:00.000-07:00

I have already resigned myself to this fate : that i would stay forever on the sidelines. As long as i’m part of your world, i’m gonna be ok. I’m gonna be fine, somehow; just as long as i see you smile. Those chinky eyes; those unbelievably spiky hair (oh, my). They never fail to make me swoon. You continue to exist outside my world, day-in, day-out—attending classes in the university, not knowing of my feelings for you.

In my perfect world though, we’re boyfriends already—and we’re already taking things to the next level by talking about introducing you to my parents. We’ve gone on countless dates, under the moonlight, by the sunken garden.. and the grasses there have already familiarized themselves with our bodies’ warmth.

Then one day, there’s this sudden wild talk in the corridors and in the classrooms that you have started courting Janice, one of our classmates in a number of classes we attended that semester. Janice. The regular looking girl. The classroom bestfriend. By her looks, she’s never one to arouse my interest, had i been a bonafide member of the straight male society. So plain. And kinda low on the IQ side, too. How dare you. choosing her over me.

Soon enough, the news that you have been steadily going out with her eventually reached me; and in the coming days, there was a noticeable change of how i related to poor Janice. Where i had been accommodating to her, when she’s asking for help in assignments or projects before, now that i know she’s my biggest competitor, i simply cannot bring myself to be the helpful Pie oh Pah that i’ve once been to her.

Remember the time when we were a group, walking along the acad oval one afternoon? All the others were happily teasing the two of you, on your new-found happiness as a couple. I stood ahead of the pack, walking by myself as fast as i can, eager to be away from the maddening atmosphere of sweet love and its supporters. You probably saw it as just one of my many quirks; i’ve never registered any hint of normalcy back then, had i? To you i might just seem like an overblown kid full of himself and those heavy, heavy stuff contained in books. But now reading this, you already know, this boy had in fact been normal.

He felt.

And bled for you.

hottie alert

2009-07-18T01:33:00.000-07:00

i was googling the word delicious the other day.

this picture came out instead.

researching further, i came to know his name is vinicius. hehehe. ah, kaya naman pala. sounds like. hehehe.

i remember the boy series | jeremy

2009-07-14T23:45:00.000-07:00

Jeremy.

Hes the first boy who broke my heart. Well he doesn’t really know about any of the things that has gone on in my teeny bopper heart, really, as I kept our love affair so private; very private in fact, that I even kept everything hidden from him.

Suffer in silence, pie. for even though those terribly boyish smiles, naughty grins and good ole promdi charms send your testicles wobbling inside their sacs, you do not stand a chance of him loving you back. He’s a stunner—though he may deny such declarations coming from other people, but the fact remains that he is—and you’re too much of a butterball for him to even notice.

Oh, yeah. He notices alright, but only in the grades department. In exams you wield thor’s hammer—each strike is sure to crush any and all opponents to smithereens. But you don’t see him as one, do you? Everytime he approaches you regarding an assignment or for help with a project, you melt like a popsicle left in the heat of direct sunlight. Your hands become clammy, your mouth dries up and you turn your head in all directions except for to meet his eyes. That would be terrible. That would be too much. What if he saw you blush? Could you have come up with an explanation to cover for an over-the-top girlishness that seem to descend on you like the holy spirit whenever he’s around?

No. so you stand back, and you observe him from afar, nurturing your love for him in your heart; Watering it religiously like some plant, with glimpses of him from behind the bookshelves, the pc monitors in the computer lab, or from across your chair, in the classroom when you’re sure nobody’s on the look-out. Ahh. Sweet times, sweet times.

To be continued

mader nabubuhay ang mga patay! part 3

2009-06-10T18:22:00.000-07:00

Bernie and I will meet later tonight--same place, at the shangrila.

Sya ang patay na nabuhay at nangahas makipagkaibigan.

Out of whim (but now i'm beginning to doubt this), as we were chatting some days ago, i told him that i blogged of us finding each other again on chat after six years of no communication. he read parts one and two of this blog and urged me to go on with writing part three. i told him there will be no part three for this; i said i could never, and would not, knowing that he knows of this blog's existence already, continue rambling on this piece of my life; but deep within me, something is crying out for closure.

and so i write this.

tonight there will be one.

mader, nabubuhay ang mga patay! part 2

2009-05-30T00:17:00.000-07:00

"Hello there! Bernie here, care to chat?" :)

He popped up unexpectedly, it was a username i haven’t seen in years. Pie pauses for a while. Dejavu. Same old intro, same online “warmth”, should there be one. It was this “warmth” that got me talking to him til the wee hours of the morning when i was still “discovering” myself in the chatrooms, a good six years ago. He had a style all unto himself; confident, but not arrogant, as most chatters i’ve met back then were. He had the “mature” stuff, going all over his online “aura”, that got me giddy, like a teenage girl who just held hands with her boy for the first time. that was the feeling—a princess meeting prince charming for the first time. Bernie was quick to burst my bubble though. he told me that as much as he was enjoying our little chats, that he was prowling the site, like most guys present there are doing—for easy sex; he was quick to add, as a brotherly advice that i shouldn’t go looking for love in chatrooms for i will surely be disappointed; I saw his point, but still proceeded chatting with him, anyway.

I was 22, i was just coming to terms with a sexuality that i fought and struggled with, for so long. Yes, he “read” me right when he gave me that unsolicited advice; that i was looking for my prince, eyebags growing by the minute, in that chatroom where one’s face is his YM handle ; his identity. if one is good with words, ugly will become beautiful, hideous will be gorgeous. And in that chatroom, almost everyone held doctorate degrees in creative writing. A minute of delightful conversation passed.. and then ten. Thirty was easy if you’re in cloud nine. i told him i was tying to hit two birds with one stone—that if love blossoms in the process, then it’d be the added bonus; i was there looking for easy fun, too. I know, foolish, stupid reasoning; but i was secretly hoping he’ll have a change of heart in the process, that after the eye-popping sex, he’ll realize he’s looking at his prince charming’s eyes all along, too. At 22, I was that desperate. We set up a date and time to meet, at shangrila mall, in EDSA.

“oh yes, i remember you”, i said, as my mind trailed off to that place beside kalentong market. We just got off the taxi he hailed from shangrila mall, and proceeded a bit further, on foot, passing the street filled with illegal vendors, to reach that small room. That small room, with the incandescent light bulbs and that small bed, waiting for us; waiting for me.

"Huh?"

"Yeah."

to be continued...

mader, nabubuhay ang mga patay!

2009-05-22T00:38:00.000-07:00

I was online using Yahoo’s chat / messaging service the other day when out of the blue, a familiar username popped up. It said hi and proceeded to engage me in a manner that was very familiar to me; for not too long ago, i have been a regular fixture in chatrooms that if such lines go unnoticed, such an occurrence would surely signal that my then [unparalleled] ability of sniffing out pick-up lines have greatly diminished in my years of hibernation. A tentative smile began to form in my lips, for suddenly i didn’t know how to react.

If this has been just an old contact i flirted with, i would have easily dismissed him and went on with my life; but the moment i said hi to him and told him that i remembered him, memories of a six year old sunlight falling through the wide windows of shangrila plaza mall in the late afternoon came flooding my senses. Rains have lashed out on the streets of the metro during those months of July and August, and that particular day was no different. Work was prematurely suspended because of the heavy rains; and i came to the designated meeting place mere minutes before he came into view wearing a light yellow polo shirt and cargo shorts slightly wet from the splashings outside the mall. We ate spaghetti in one of the restaurants at the mall’s fifth level. We chatted some more, and later on decided to look for some place more private to continue with the chat.

He paid for the taxi and that small room somewhere in Kalentong, that sunny-rainy afternoon of June.

to be continued...

of blind dates and other tear-inducing thoughts

2009-05-11T20:49:00.000-07:00

This morning i got this comment from the other blog that got tears welling in my eyes in an instant:

narito pa rin naman si ate... thats me....
just in case di mo narinig early morning greeting ko nung bday mo...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY BROTHER!!!

... your family would always look at you like that... our baby... kahit pa we are sometimes preoccupied with our own problems...

...narito lang kami lagi para sa iyo...

... i'm really praying for you to find real happiness, peace and joy...

...o naku! dami nga pala audience dito... baka sabihin nila...emo rin sis mo.

...ah basta... luv you always :)

I wrote about the impermanence of people.. not so much of their love for you, but of their fragile bodies contacting diseases, being hospitalized and going to the place you cannot follow yet. I wrote how, going to our ancestral house that afternoon of my birthday to deliver some of the spaghetti I cooked, all I saw was despair and sorrow in the eyes of my otherwise cheerful aunts and cousins; one of my aunts was hospitalized because of diabetes, and it was evident that no matter how cheerful they acted, greeting me on my special day, the sorrow was there. Sigh. If I could only turn back time, when everything was happy and carefree. I tend to be theatrical, when I get down to write of the things that concern me; things get blown out of proportion, and It must be an overwhelming despair of something that is written in a cryptic kind of way, that got my sister to making such comment. I just hope that when I go home this weekend for my dad’s fifth year death anniversary, she won’t confront me, going back to our never-ending argument of being true to oneself; and "curing" me of this "disease".

In a related happening, a cousin texted me this morning if I’m open to the idea of going on a blind date. I was tentative to answer at first, as i go for blind dates if I’m currently seeking; but as it is, I’m in a very much blissful state and I don’t see the need for it now; and chances are, it’s a girl she will be arranging for me to meet and that will only scare the shit outa me. Hehehe. after a long pause, I managed to key-in the following reply in my celfone… “hehe. Scary”. With that, he understood that blind dates are not my thing and proceeded to leave me in peace.

I just wish this isn’t an all-out coordinated effort from my dear beloved sister.

two sides of the coin | a birthday post

2009-05-10T00:20:00.000-07:00

I made this entry yesterday and posted it on my fresh and fruity themed blog. Since all my thoughts cannot be reflected in toto using just that blog, which i deem too wholesome for the real me, i present now the unedited version, with the insertions i made spelled out in italics. Enjoy. And oh, happy birthday to me. hehehe.

What a tiring day. I am writing this, at the eve of my 28th year, and 2 days of uncontrolled eating. I started my day, waking up with no definite goal in mind other than updating my music library, removing extinct links and streamlining my music to the stuff i currently enjoy; and retaining those that still work for me. Those that come from another era of taste—not necessarily that of a genre, i’m talking bout those things i previously enjoyed and now seems to hail from another time; a child’s taste in music—will definitely have to go. I am happy to report that nothing got accomplished of such grandiose a plan. I spent my day floating in a limbo of sorts. And no exercise, too. I just ate. And ate. And ate. And ate. Well, tomorrow’s gonna be my birthday ain’t it?

It all started Thursday night, when i went to my cousins’ house at ilang-ilang street, in commonwealth avenue in quezon city. The cousin i wrote of recently in my other blog, died from the aneurysm attack she suffered. It was a sorta “wake” that i went to, except there was no corpse, no coffin to see physically. It was an online viewing for relatives, as she was in the U.S., working as a nurse when it happened. The desktop was turned on for the rest of the night going well into dawn, up until the time that i left for the province at around 10 in the morning, the following day.

The whole affair was the most un-wake-like wake (if ever there is such a word) i ever attended, thus far. instead of biscuits and coffee, we gorged on one of my cousin’s home cooked lomi noodles. Then one of my nephews, who is just about my age ordered roasted chicken and “crispy ulo” from nearby a lechon kiosk. We ate it alongside sips of san mig light and a Johnny walker black label that one of the nephews brought from his recent stint as a seaman abroad. We also had potato chips flowing in abundance to supplement the roasting. By the time one of the nephews took a picture to document the get-together (as everyone i know from that particular branch of the family was present that night) we were all so tipsy and smiling that the picture didn’t look like it was taken from a supposed funeral wake, at all. We did manage to say our prayers, though; and shed tears when gracie finally gave out her last words for her mom.

Some older cousins who did not see me for nearly a year, almost didn’t recognize me from all the hair that’s been covering my beautiful face. Hehehe. two outrightly blurted out that i looked like ely buendia in my current incarnation. Everything was light and cheerful until one cousin, who seemed too confident with his sexuality that he almost always gets away with on-the-spot gay impersonations, told me in jest that “its ok as long as you don’t do a bebe”; in most probability referring to rustom padilla the actor who after months of hiatus in the US suddenly turned up in a woman’s garb proclaiming to the world that rustom is dead, and long live bebe. Coming from him who i consider to be the most blunt (in a good way) and direct individual i’ve known all my life, its actually a good sign that he said those words with an honest smile on his face; good intentions tucked in. Had they all noticed/ known of the fact, in the years i’ve lived with them? Why, i never had in my five years of staying with them, ever brought home a man in the middle of the night to sleep with me. hehehe. oh shucks, it must be the beauty pageant smile then, and the dainty fingers handling the spoon and fork during dinners; that must be it, huh? Hehehe.

On Saturday afternoon, sis reminded me of going to church to attend mass in remembrance of tatay’s 5th year death anniversary. She had scheduled a nine-day novena with the parochial office of our local parish so that every day, tatay’s name will be mentioned as part of intentions/ prayer offerings prior to the start of the mass. As geloy my nephew is almost always with us when attending these types of masses (i rarely go to church except on special occasions, for issues stated earlier in my first ever blog entry), seeing ate coming from behind me to attend mass (she came from the office) in place of geloy who went to attend a review for the UPCAT held in Dagupan, made my heart beat a little faster. Is she planning to close in on me, whisper to my ear during the homily, to repent and turn away from loving men, and be saved? I’m so dreading another day of confrontation with her; she is really bent on curing me, my sis. When i came out to her, she told me she loves me with all her heart (thank God, i said), and that she will help me out of it (NOOOO!!!). so just imagine her shock when i told her that she already met my partner—dee regularly goes home with me during the time i haven’t made the big outing yet, disguised as a close friend—she surely must have suffered the way i suffered when i haven’t told her all this yet. There is no question that we love each other dearly. Our parents saw to it, tatay specifically, that we watch each other’s back; for this is a cruel, cruel world; and no one will pick you up when your down except your sibling. But we are two sides of the coin in this great debate of being true to one’s nature. Sigh. I bet she’s still calculating her moves and decided it wasn’t a good time yet. Instead of disagreeing, we agreed to head over to chowking after the mass to have an early night merienda at six pm, of congee and tokwa’t baboy.

Arriving home, i made sure nanay had company (meaning, i ate ulit... hehehe) while eating the siopao we took out for her and cj. Then i proceeded to make the fruit salad in time for tomorrow’s celebration, but that which already got a severe “tasting”, from the time i was whipping it, to the time we finished dinner at around 9:30 this evening. May natira pa naman for tomorrow. Haaayy.. haayyy talaga.

At bukas pa ang birthday ko ha. Ayaw ko na kumain!!! Please!!

its a krissy world

2009-05-08T19:11:00.000-07:00

Oops, she did it again.

Two days have passed, yet the office is still tense with negative energies.

Yes, you know who I’m talking about. Krissy. The office’ very own bitchuwelas case. The one and the only. The supreme diva herself.

Only this time the casualty is not sweet and creamy Pie oh Pah, but the kids and their parent-officemates who brought them for the summer art camp/ classes, officially endorsed by our department as part of our HR office’s extension service to employees with children.

“Why didn’t you bring your kids to our Christmas party? You know how I love kids”, her declaration two Christmases ago went ringing in my ears as some sort of a flashback device to nicely counter what has transpired just recently.

“may pasok pa po kasi sila” the parent employees uniformly and politely answered. Though within the group’s secret conversations (secret to Krissy, that is) what the parents really wanted to say was “e kasi halata naman pong ayaw nyong may bata dito”.

That was two Christmases ago. Last year we didn’t have any Christmas celebration at all because Krissy found another way to trump plans of holding one, the details of which are blurry in my mind right now; what only comes to mind so far is her Oscar-winning monologue, “ …e kung ganyan din lang naman e di wag na tayong mag-party”. The staff positively responded by holding our own party outside the office, devoid of her fugly presence.

Christmas came and went, fast-forward to here and now. I was stationed at the monitoring desk, away from the scene of the crime, but I was keen enough to sense that something changed in the air. There was an immediate silence. Yes the library is supposed to be silent but the silence this time was deafening, and only one incensed voice is filling the air. From the tone, and the inflection, I can easily point it to krissy without having the need to even take a look. From my vantage point, I can see my officemates with startled looks on their faces.

Minutes earlier, the kids who were present for the summer art classes came busting through the doors running, and laughing. Nobody paid much attention, not even the researchers present because everyone knows kids are like that. Our assistant boss even made a gesture of shushing action with his fingers, but since the action all happened in a blur, the effort fell on deaf ears.

Harnessing my cognitive skills to full use, I immediately made the connection that Krissy’s sparkling scene has something to do with the kids’ running. I only needed to confirm my speculation with a full-detailed account which, knowing my officemates’ insatiable thirst for current information (translation : tsismis), confirmation wouldn’t be hard to come by. Surely enough, officemate A came to my post infuriated and giggling at the same time. She recounted the event as if laying down a report for an evening newscast ala Bente Kwatro Oras (this, I must say is just one of her talents, hehehe). She quoted Krissy as saying :

“ano ba naman [state name of assistant boss here], para yan lang. iyan lang, hindi mo pa madisiplina. Hindi nyo na nirespeto ang opisina ko!” and then the grand diva faded to an even grander exit to the office pantry, to take her usual lunch at 2:00-3:30 in the afternoon. What a charmed existence huh? Darating ng 10 AM to take her breakfast, maglalunch ng 2 PM. but this post is not dedicated to tracing her eating patterns so forget bout me ever saying that, hehehe.

Delving into the nitty-gritty of the scene, the outside observer is led to the following conclusion:

1. She should seek treatment soon. Small incidents shouldn’t lead to outbursts like that. a coherent, fully-functioning individual, a boss for that matter, should seek healthy avenues of communication. There’s always a nice way of saying things. If it’s ever an offense to her high standards of silence in the library, she could always call the concerned parents and tell them nicely, one on one; and not exploding into a scene that has been witnessed even by the regular researchers. Kahiya!

2. She should seek treatment soon. as an office of the government, bosses and employees alike get their salaries from taxpayers. It seems she’s under the delusion that she owns the office and we are but underlings ran astray from the paths of traditional shushing librarianship and that she has the responsibility to exorcise us of our demons. Heller, this is the twenty-first century, mother superior! At di mo kami pinapasweldo para magdiva-divahan ng ganyan, pwede ba!

3. She should seek treatment soon.

whore, i say

2009-05-05T09:31:00.000-07:00

whore, i say--
cheeks slightly ruddy
from the sweltering heat--
you look from left to right,
right to left;
gasping a little
in admiration
of the pristine construction--
a true bourgeois beauty;
deserving nothing
but a well-poised pout
and slightly raised eyebrows
before blowing em a kiss

whore, i say
as you hold on to your waist,
and to your breath;
you shift your gaze down
and curl those lips--
the way those wet locks curl
as they sizzle, drying in open air—
oh, those deliciously devious lips,
devoid of mercy when aimed
at paralyzing targets
within that unforgiving
ten mile radius;
now that gaze seems to say,
Bitch, You still have it
Whore, you still got what it takes
to make that mirror steam
and break and sin;
lusting for your attention

Whore, i say;
You woke up today
Gasping for air,
as if just come
from a long-winding dream;
and you realize
the mirror doesn’t seem
so friendly anymore,
so flattering, so sparkling--
now that you’re 28;
and you realize
it’s just a slow downhill trek
long and winding
from here on

wolves in my garden part three

2009-04-27T20:25:00.000-07:00

The corridors are slowly turning into a blur; the coldness of the floor, and the shadows at play in the dark corners of the passageway meld with my thumping heart; making the flight to my room an intense, one way-ticket to a heart attack.

he told me to touch it. he asked me, nakahawak ka na ba ng titi? and that I’m welcome to touch it. pulled in as if in a dream, I felt my saliva thickening; in my chest, a slow drum beat could be heard; faint at first, then slowly building in rhythm. Soon, the walls of my heart started reverberating with the beat.

I am not experiencing this.

You will not touch, pie.

No matter how hard he tempts you.

You musn’t.

I saw his hand slowly reaching for mine. My muscles felt weak, unable to resist, despite my mind clearly processing all of this. His hand led mine right to the spot. Dead center. It traversed the garters of his walking shorts, past the seams of his underwear, hugging his hips snugly. I felt him massive, pulsating; his length tangled with down and mixed with sweat.

It was steaming-hot inside that little space where my hand found itself, reluctant to leave. And in that room, too, heat was rising in the air. 'Tis my first time.

This is all wrong.

This is conspiracy, pie.

They’ve planned this well, and you’re falling into a trap.

With all the strength I could muster, I broke loose of Lino’s spell and ran for the door. And just like a watchful sentinel, Tupas was there, outside their room, standing by the door; keeping guard of the proceedings. His startle was evident in his eyes when I pushed him, running in confusion, towards my room.

And toward sanity.

Its been ten years now; but the wolves in my garden keep on prowling. In the dead of the night, they watch, and they grin. Prowling, prowling, prowling.

the end

waking up

2009-04-23T20:03:00.000-07:00

i only know what i know...
the passing years will show
you've kept my love
so young, so new...

and time after time
you'll hear me say
that i'm so lucky
to be loving you...

woke up today, with chet baker's song time after time immediately playing in my head. ewan ko ba. basta lam ko lang the song jived with my mood. i immediately followed it up by accessing my itunes library for the real thing; and up went chet's languid voice filling my morning.

wolves in my garden part two

2009-04-18T17:04:00.000-07:00

It was my first time to touch a hard cock. It felt warm in my hand. Big beyond my imaginings, and pulsating. I swallowed hard, just holding it. I felt excited.

I felt confused too. That Lino, of all people would do this to me. summon me from my room through his roommate Tupas and bring me here, in a room identical to mine but a lot denser. The density in the air apparently comes from the ill intents of the occupants.

i first came to know of them from when we were starting out at the other dormitory reserved for green horns in the university. They were already roommates then—Lino striking me as the studious one, the shy and good mannered boy from down south; while Tupas had the air of a Young Robin Padilla; pilyo but not in any way unmanageable. I meet them on the way to the mess hall, the showers, passing by the corridor going to my room. I exchange smiles, little chit-chats with them during our regular corridor meetings. They were like the rest, a friendly bunch, my family away from home.

In all that time, until that fateful day, i was a really chubby kid. I already had gay leanings but kept it to myself fearing rejection and embarrassment should i decide to act on my feelings. Of the two, it was with Tupas i had a slight crush on; something i learned very early on to just keep to myself, and not do anything about. Like so many crushes that come and go, i easily got over him. A year after Kalayaan, i can meet him in the eye and not feel a single twitch in that muscle in the nether regions.

On the other hand, I never did have the slightest malice in dealing with Lino. He was always nice to me, as with everyone else. Being the brainiac that he was (he was one of our batch’s oblation scholar) i always felt an affinity with him when it came to intellectual pursuits. So when Tupas went to my room that day and asked me to go with him to see Lino for some important matter, i didn’t have the slightest hesitation nor apprehension of going with the roommate.

Besides, who will hit on a chubby gay teener that could easily give Ryan Yllana a run for his money?

to be continued

wolves in my garden

2009-04-14T19:58:00.000-07:00

“Pie, halika sa room may sasabihin daw sa yo si Lino”.

“Ha? E bat kelangan pa ng messenger? Pwede naman sya pumunta dito”.

“Basta. Di sya makaalis dun e”.

I remember that day vividly in my mind, right now. The walk down the darkened corridors; shadows alternating now and then with the light, spilling from the open central courtyard of the dilapidated dormitory I have lived in for three years; crossing that same courtyard overgrown with tall grasses and clothes, hung to dry in makeshift clotheslines tied at the steel rods of two basketball rings; all the fairy-tale details in place, down to the motes hanging suspended in the air of that room; dancing, it seems with the golden sunlight falling through the windows with the rusted iron grills.

Those windows. That room. My mute witnesses to later proceedings that no doubt, have marred my tender psyche. For a moment it seems I’m in that room again, ten years ago; negotiating through a mess I have not imagined myself falling into.

Eto naman ako, si tanga, sumama.

to be continued

in the tenderlight, in the blistering heat

2009-04-07T20:24:00.000-07:00

para sa aking kabiyak, tsup.

You once wrote, in ink and paper
that i am your missing piece;
that i make the puzzle—
your puzzle, complete;
in bold, curling, romantic strokes
your heart bled those words

for me, for me

for you i won’t write, in ink and paper—
for you we’ll have lovely dinners;
lovely walks, lovely talks;
in the tender light of the moon,
in the blistering heat of the sun;
i’ll hold your hand

i’ll hold your hand

and together, we’ll have alchemy;
we’ll write on our very own—
skin, flesh and bones—
the lone word we tried, forming
with our minds; curling with our lips--
at the outset of this journey:

lovely

just lovely

horny room mate no. 2 | kid kati

2009-04-06T09:37:00.000-07:00

10:00PM

“kuya, asan ka?”

“Pauwi na. Kumain lang dito sa philcoa after ko mag-jog. Bakit?”

“ah, kasama ko kasi girlfriend ko e, pauwi pa din lang kami hehehe. pwede mag-ikot ikot ka lang muna dyan, please kuya? :)”

"Sige, pero isakay mo na din sya kaagad pagkatapos ng kung ano mang gagawin nyo dyan. Maaga pa pasok ko bukas."

"Tenks."

After one hour

“o, pwede na ba ako umuwi?”

“kuya sandali na lang”

“ihatid mo na yan sa sakayan at baka mapano pa sya sa daan.”

“e kuya ayaw na nyang umalis”.

“ha? E anong gagawin ko? Hindi ako tatabi sa inyo para maging iskorer."

"Pwede ka naman dun sa taas [ng dobol deck] kuya, sige na, ngayong gabi lang."

"Sira iyon. Masakit sa likod. Sige, one hour pa, pero kelangan na nyang umalis pagkatapos."

After one hour

“pauwi na ako”

“kuya ayaw na nya talagang umalis pano ba yan... sa taas ka na lang muna ngayon please”.

"O sige, ako na lang ang aalis. Parating na ako. Kunin ko lang yung bag ko dyan."

In a hurry i made a dash for my bag without even looking at the girl and the boy lounging in the dim light of our little room.

That was the night i passed by several callboys stationed at their respective posts as i walked aimlessly along the sidewalk of the elliptical road encircling the QC circle; the night i nearly spent in its entirety at mcdo araneta center after realizing i don’t have enough cash with me to cover for a 4-hour check-in at the eurotel near gateway mall. That was the night of endless waiting, as the atms in the vicinity seemed to conspire against me—every single machine i went to withdraw cash from was offline. Good thing i still have 50 pesos; good enough to buy me an apple pie that will legitimize my stay. “Wait an hour more, pie. An hour more, then try one of the atms again.”

I was able to check in around 3:30 in the morning or thereabouts. In two hours time of drifting like a lost soul in my sleep, my alarm clock rang the shit out of me, propelling me ahead of the pack of MRT commuters that swamped the cubao platforms, all geared for work. That was a real shitty day that followed a real shitty night.

horny room mate no. 1 | lamas king

2009-04-05T08:07:00.000-07:00

“tumingin ka sa akin. alam kong alam mo yung ginagawa mo kagabi”.

“ah, yun ba? Nanaginip lang kasi ako”.

“And so?”

“May kaakap kasi akong babae sa panaginip ko. Anlambot at ang kinis mo kase, kaya akala ko parte pa din ng panaginip ko nung inakap kita”.

[at nilamas mo ang suso ko] “Sa susunod ayoko ng mauulit yun ha. Tumingin ka sa akin”.

“Jusko naman si [insert real name here] o, masyado mo namang ginagawang big deal eh”.

[big deal talaga saken, in case you don’t know. pamangkin kita. Tito mo ako. Tho second degree na, di pa din kaya ng loob kong gumawa ng milagro kasama ka. Di mo ba alam na sobrang nahirapan ako na paglabanang patulan ka. Buti nakapag-isip-isip pa ako kagabi, at ilang ulit ko ding inalis ang kamay mo hanggang magsawa ka na lang]. “Basta, ayoko nang maulit pa yon”.

“Oo na nga”.

Thus the closet uncle reeled, recalling yet again another indecent incident over a cup of coffee, Friday night.

the fifth station

2009-03-31T02:42:00.000-07:00

The Fifth Station : Jesus Receives the Cross

Leader : We adore You, O Christ, and we praise You.
All : Because by Your holy cross You have redeemed the world.

Mt 27:31
When they had finished making fun of Him, they took the robe off and put His own clothes back on Him. Then they led Him out to crucify Him.

____________

Thus reads a part of the fifth station, which I was tasked to read during our office’s staging of The Stations of the Cross this afternoon.

Funny how the fates have seemed to conspire to make me the leader, when I haven’t been very religiously going to church, not like when I was a kid, who didn’t question the rituals and practices of the faith to which I was born in; who didn’t question anything and just obeyed everything. Nowadays I don’t really wear my current take on religion like some badge of honor--sometimes it all just becomes too tiring; sometimes you just want to go back to the carefree old days and throw all your issues to the wind. If only it were that easy.

Funny how of all the stations that could have been delegated to the library, it was this station that I was tasked to read. Funny, because I too, have been made fun of, and made to undergo an ordeal akin at some levels to the crucifixion our Lord underwent. Well I think I just committed blasphemy. And in print, too, dear Lord! Sorry Lord, but that was just how I felt, and still feeling til now, as the Ugly Sick Pig saga still have yet to end formally. Its six-month run all but drained the fire out of me.
____________

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, amen.

midnight voodoo

2009-03-26T20:50:00.000-07:00

Midnight strikes. The witching hour begins.

You are in a darkened room filled with tight, glistening bodies. the lone light bulb is in a losing battle with the thick steam that clouds the mind, and heightens the senses. Sweat mingles with heat, heat mingles with intent. You are all three, now: sweat, heat and intent; as you find yourself the pulsating center of that tiny room filled with bodies drenched with lust.

A hand slowly tugs at you from under the covers of your towel; its cadence slowly sending sparks across your body as you moan that first moan. Fingers work your chest, bringing your nipples to the right amount of hardness. Moist lips flutter around your neck and your arms. You arch your back and stare into the mist; it hovers, observing the spectacle below; with you sprawled in royal adoration by your subjects. It hangs suspended, readying itself it seems, for the great dive. A hand grapples with your towel, loosening its hold along your waist—in seconds it will lie limp on the tiled floor; in seconds, higher rituals will commence.

You feel tongues now, playing in the hard, sloping grounds of your chest; rivers of saliva run copiously and freely on your thighs. The mists have come down now, playful, staring at you directly in the eye. It stings. You close your eyes for a moment to hold your ground. Until now this grey entity have not revealed its intents to you—is it another one of your admirers, or another queen bee in this damp and dreary place? Slowly, you open your eyes in time to see the mists parting; deliberately it seems, to reveal the faces of your ardent slaves. Not exactly of prince charming’s ilk; but more like heaving ogres readying for the kill.

In your mind you scream silent screams.

Clock strikes five minutes past midnight. You walk out of the darkened room with the flickering light bulb, still breathing.

for posterity

2009-03-22T23:48:00.000-07:00

18 March 2009

Atty. Chenelyn Kylie
[state designation here]
[state name of office here]

Dear Atty. Kylie:

In reference to Mr. Ugly Sick Pig’s apology letter dated 17 March 2009 which was coursed to your office and copy-furnished the undersigned, I am informing your office that i was delighted with such an unexpected gesture from Mr. Pig’s part. I accept his apology; for who am I to refuse such, if it is willingly given?

Let me be clear though, that accepting his apology does not melt my resolve to have this case seen through until the very end, with its resolution properly administered by your good office. I humbly submit that the findings and recommendations by your investigation team be not dismissed just because I have accepted Mr. Ugly Sick Pig’s apology; i believe that Mr. Pig, repentant though he may be, is still answerable to an administrative sanction caused by his previous actions.

I further submit that whatever the sanction deemed by your office, be reflected in his 201 file for posterity, alongside his apology letter, and this correspondence. Thank you.

Very truly yours,

Pie oh Pah
Administrative Officer, the Dreaming Attic

the love letter

2009-03-21T02:32:00.001-07:00

1 september 2005

dee,

to have you in my life is God's proof that love between two men does exist.

i thank God that i do not kiss the stars [in reference to the poem "kiss the stars"]; i thank God because i kiss the star.

happy one month!

i love you, dee!

-dee

kami

2009-03-20T02:55:00.000-07:00

ghosts in the mists

2009-03-18T20:40:00.000-07:00

The steam floats like an eerie ghost blanketing you in the gloom. Behind you a lone light bulb flickers, red and unsteady. You squint a little to adjust your eyes; and in the corners of the room, out of the mists, gray figures emerge—huddled like crows drenched in rain, along tiled benches. You shiver. In excitement and anticipation. A lump thickens in your throat, like when you ready yourself for your first sip of black coffee. A hand tugs at you from behind, feeling your waist, brushing past the towel draped so precariously on it. you look behind you to find yourself drawn to the eyes attached to the hands; to that wicked smile that seem to say, “tag, you’re it”. you smile back. He says “wanna go up?” you let him lead you, out of the room of gray ghosts, up, toward that room of sliding adjacent doors. You walk past across endless stares, across vultures perched on their imaginary branches, sizing up each other til the first one gives in. you hear a sudden click and you realize, you are shut in with him--the owner of the hand that tugged at you, closing the sliding door. You clear your throat of that lump, and you fumble for words; while he, smiling still, pulls you free of your towel into his own nakedness.

off the hook

2009-03-17T03:43:00.000-07:00

diga sa sauna continued

“You have a cute smile”.

Imagine receiving that comment from a guy in your Friendster. And you’re not even out.

After getting my number that night, the following nights saw me receiving calls at odd hours from this guy, the “hi” guy at the sauna who introduced himself as marvin. From his calls, I got insights into his own personality that made me all the more squeamish of letting him becoming more personal with me. I dunno if my being too friendly sometimes sends the wrong signals, but I think I’ve stated my point early on with him; that he cannot expect any blossoming of relationship whatsoever with me, except only along the safe lines of friendship.

Though that might be the case, in the nights when his calls interrupted my yoga practice, he continued making advances by telling me of the allure of my smile that night when we were talking at the sauna. This declaration is no longer foreign to me, as friends and acquaintances from the normal world also tell me—even way before making that big shift from my former plus-size wardrobe to normal-sized clothes; I am already aware that my smile, if such a word is apt to describe it, is a killer one. Hehehe.

A bit irritated by this show of affection though, I cut him in the middle of his sentence to ask him straight as to what made him call. He said there is a party in their house and he can’t concentrate with his studies so he just called me up. Uhm, i didn’t get your drift. I’m almost on the verge of telling him straight out that his brain seems to be floating up there with the stars. Instead of taking the ballistic path though, I decided to play clinical psychologist to him and asked him what’s the matter. What followed was an honest-to-goodness pouring out of emotion from a kid who just wanted someone to love him back; a breakup that’s just too recent to be processed and shelved like archival materials, neatly stacked and labeled.

I’m not an ancient, if one tries to compare our age, but seeing that I’m in a much stable place in the EQ department, I volunteered bits and pieces of wisdom culled from an array of recent heartbreaks where I managed to pull myself through (I think). He ended the call feeling light hearted than when we started the conversation; leaving me the drained one. Hehehe.

With that call, I saw a new role; that of being an older, wiser confidante, something that I willingly embraced if it meant getting off the hook. Hehehe. the succeeding calls saw a waning of intensity on his part, his advances altogether stopped; not by me, but by himself. It was when the situation was finally under control that I decided to tell dee all about it. though it might seem an unnecessary move—the emergency having been contained already—I still opted to break it to my dee gently for I believe honesty is a crucial ingredient in any relationship.

to be continued

casual girl

2009-03-13T08:58:00.000-07:00

The emancipation project takes a back seat for now. Its better this way than to be a speeding train that cannot be stopped in its tracks.

I originally have as a target, a writing post at another office in our department; for which i already got a marginal note from atty. kimberly telling director chuvakelz that i be interviewed and tested immediately for said post. Acting on said note, director chuvakelz asked me to provide a copy of my resume to our human resource department.

Seeing the magical marginal note, director eklavoo of human resource immediately wrote to chuvakelz stating that i lack the required four years of professional writing experience needed for the post; and for that i cannot be considered—even the magical powers of atty. kimberly’s marginal note on my letter looses its powers at some point.

Though that might be the case, chuvakelz later tells me that there is a position lower than the writing post i was aiming for, but still a notch higher than my current position. The job description: same as what i am currently doing, only there, over the rainbow, i will be much better paid. Plus, there’s an actual chance to be trained for the writing post, so when an opportunity presents itself again, i will be in a much better position to apply for it.

Chuvakelz told me that there is already a casual employee under their payroll targeting said post. Its an established culture in the company that position openings are announced for formality, but in reality, casual employees doing the requirements of said posts are already groomed to clinch em when they are finally approved by the management to be opened. I dunno her reason for telling me such; it might be my credentials, or it might still be the kimberly note—she told me it wouldn’t hurt to have a go for it, seeing that its a ‘level playing field anyway’, in her own words.

Those were her words to me. but doing my research, it seems that the whole office already knows that the position was already ‘meant’ for casual girl; meaning, naipangako na ni chuvakelz. Even my sanggang dikit in that office thinks it so.

But since desperate times, er i mean, krissy times, call for desperate measures, i decided to fight it out with casual girl knowing my college degree is a perfect fit for the job. And so i did my research on casual girl, before plunging head-on with the fight. What i discovered froze me to death.

i turned out that she was the same girl who approached me at the flag ceremony a month ago, encouraging me to apply for a writing post in their office. I mean, i didn’t know her personally—i see her walking along the corridors, a little smile here and there, and that’s it. So to approach me like that—that gesture made me so thankful; because the information she shared to me came at that point in my professional life when i needed it most—a means to fly away from krissy.

But what is the good in flying out of krissy’s grasps if i land in some place else where someone would harbor ill-feelings toward me for having stolen a regular position that was promised to her? Getting that post will not cause her to loose her job. Casual employees in our office are permanent fixtures. They just renew their contracts the minute they expire. But still, a regular post would mean a lot to one’s self esteem, and one’s benefits upon retirement. i know that for myself, as i too, had been a casual employee for three years before getting the regular position i hold now. Its a hard life.

I already decided to wait a little longer. Let casual girl have the post. I just have to toughen my krissy defenses a little more.

diga sa sauna

2009-03-12T21:32:00.000-07:00

"‘isa sa mga tinurn-down mo?’, i just had to reread the message you sent last night”.

Yes. Hehehe.

“Gwapo talaga ng dadee ko”

Not really. I don’t see myself that way. A lot of guys are far more blessed than i am in the looks department. But i know i have my charms. I’ve capitalized on it many times, especially during the lost years, when i have been desperately seeking someone to spend my life with. Those were turbulent times, indeed; when anyone who ‘d practically show any glint of interest will be dealt with an extreme show of affection on my part. Texts, dinner dates. Then he’ll just ditch you like a used cumrag after a few meet-ups. Three tiring years of dating and bedding men. Then my dee came. someone up there must be really watching over, coz he came when i was just at the point of drowning. sabi nga sa salitang pokpok, panahon na para gumarahe, pie.

The domesticated life is a charmed life. though once in a while, as my ex-friend chinky mae would say, “mader, may mga patay na nabubuhay!” hehehe. nagpaparamdam ba.

This was the case with marvin, a med student i met at a spa a year ago. Now i have been well into the married life at that time—two years with my dee and very much in love. It was at the sauna that i first noticed him staring at me. i didn’t pay attention and just went with my business of melting excess fats by heat when suddenly a voice took me away from my thoughts. It was him, the guy who only had eyes for me. normally in staring situations at the sauna or the steam bath, i stare back poker-faced, hoping it will do the trick of turning them away, to just leave me be with my business. And it usually works. But then this one had a voice. And it said hi. Not meaning to be rude, i returned the gesture and said hello. That was the start of a conversation i don’t usually engage in. He told me right away that he found me “cute”, in his words. Knowing where the conversation is headed, i courteously thanked him but said i’m in a relationship and i’ve nothing to offer him but friendship.

It was a very awkward situation to be in. More so for him than me, i suppose. He had no choice but to take the rejection, and take it well lest the other men in the room take notice if he suddenly made a scene with uncontrolled emotions; but what followed took me by surprise.

Taking my offer of friendship, he asked for my number, which i gave. This surprised me, as i don’t normally give my number to anyone who asks. When i was a regular at a bathhouse in E. Rodriguez, and somebody would ask for my number after an encounter, i usually change a digit so that it becomes useless. But since marvin and i had a lengthy conversation already, and he seemed nice, i couldn’t bear giving out a fake one.

At the back of my mind though, i was already formulating a strategy for neutralizing this potential threat in me and my dee’s relationship.

To be continued

kaya mo pa? : the emancipation chronicles

2009-03-02T06:10:00.000-08:00

Voice small and cracking, i tentatively recounted to atty. chenelyn Kimberly the now famous “i will go to great lengths para sirain kita kay [state position here]” line that krissy seductively whispered to my ear in that not-so-long-ago scene of five years, now pushing six. I told him that it was precisely that line, told with so much venom that turned me to this frozen delight; always thinking of that scene before ever taking one single step to self advancement in times of great opportunity, like position openings in other offices.

Hearing this, and being krissy’s superior several notches up in the hierarchy, it was quite understandable that his reaction be “baka naman sa kanya wala lang yon; i mean, we say things pag nabibigla tayo. Ganon din ako. Pag nasabi na, wala na. Baka ikaw itong nagdala ng hurt for that long, and we know its not good”. As a response, I thought of reciting all the things she has been notorious of doing in the office but i decided not to, for fear that it may come across as character assassination. As parting shot, i just told atty. Kimberly that i didn’t have anybody to talk to, as regard this thing that’s been bothering me; i thanked him for lending an ear, and proceeded to get my resume with marginal note from him telling director chuvakelz of [state office name here] to schedule me for an exam to try out for a writing post.

Later that afternoon, my immediate boss who was also pissed off with krissy told me of her trip to atty kimberly’s office to air out her grievances regarding krissy’s diva attitude. Whereas i was able to hold back and keep to myself the litany of sorrows, my immediate boss went to the extreme of telling atty. Kimberly : “e masama naman po talaga ugali nyan, sir. Umabot nga po sa time na pinitisyon yan na mapaalis sa ofis e.”

Hearing her gush out in seeming girlishness of her accomplishment that day, i told her “kala mo ba ate, ikaw lang?” then i proceeded to tell her of my earlier trip. I finished the tale by asking her, “hindi naman tayo nag-usap sa lagay na yan, di ba no, te?”

Two major points for krissy.

final chenelyn : the ugly sick pig letters

2009-02-23T17:55:00.001-08:00

Atty. Chenelyn Kylie
[State designation here]
[State office name here]

Dear Atty. Kylie:

On the matter of Mr. Ugly Sick Pig’s request to his Honor that a counter-charge be levelled on me, i must head-on address the issue and say my piece.

Let me be clear on one thing : a verbal threat is a serious matter—it cannot just be brushed aside on appeal that he did it simply because he was, in his words, “annoyed by my indecent actions”. The fact that he assaulted me on account of him thinking that my “burat” was brushing past his shoulder, he was clearly the one who injected malice to the action which from the beginning, i maintain, to have resulted from a series of factors that i didn’t have control over. I also maintain, as with one witness’ account, that i apologized for having bumped him; something he did not take heed of, as he chose to lash at this perceived “indecency” to the hilt, acting on gratuitous conclusions.

No matter where one looks at it, he is the one on the offensive side—the one with the foul temper and the mouth to rival it. He never denied any of his pronouncements as i quoted him in my incident report; in fact he admitted to having said all those cruel words on account of his being annoyed. Now a rational civil servant could have acted on one’s annoyance by addressing it with diplomacy, hearing out what the other party has to say with the hope to clear any misunderstanding, but Mr. Ugly Sick Pig chose the ballistic path early on.

Having stated my point, i don’t think “level” is the right word to use, commenting on his request to “level” a counter-charge against me. i have been ridiculed, harassed and tortured emotionally since day-one this incident happened—it has been anything but “level”.

To really level things, i humbly appeal to his Honor’s better judgment—and let justice be served where it’s meant to be served.

Granting Mr. Ugly Sick Pig’s request is tantamount to rewarding him for his unsavoury statements. Furthermore, i respectfully move for the termination of the period of investigation, and seek for the consequent resolution of the case, on account of Mr. Ugly Sick Pig’s failure to explain as directed, by OSLC Memorandum dated 07 October 2008.

Thank you very much.

Respectfully yours,

Pie oh Pah
Administrative Officer, the Dreaming Attic

post-tumble squirt

2009-02-22T17:28:00.000-08:00

Its a Saturday afternoon. Having woke up hours before a scheduled meet-up with bloggogatchi girl, i decided to write something to pass the time. i don’t normally sleep in the afternoons, but today, i did. Its a special day, considering that its seldom that i find myself in the metro during weekends. Beside me eyvicat is still sleeping. We were both exhausted, what with the passionate early morning tumble in bed we had, just hours ago; more so with him, as he came here straight from a graveyard shift. so i’ll just let him be for some couple more hours.

Who would have thought that there will be an end to that spiralling madness of casual meet-ups and one nightstands, three years ago? Who would have thought i’d meet someone who would want to embark on a journey with me? someone who saw me not only in my best but also in my worst, and is still with me all these time? caring for me, loving me. Three years, six months and twenty-one days to this day. I couldn’t ask for anything more.

We met at downelink.com. unlike other guys who posted pictures of sculpted torsos or face pictures taken at the best times, i first saw eyvicat with that ‘bagong gising’ look. Hehehe. i dunno, but i immediately took a liking of that picture and decided to send him a message commenting on his shoutout, something about [im]patiently waiting. He answered, saying that he is both patiently and impatiently waiting for the right person; and that became the start of a lengthy exchange, through YM, before finally deciding to meet up.

It was a Monday evening. Straight from work and wearing a long-sleeved barong tagalong, i met him at glorietta. He was wearing an old-rose colored muscle shirt; and though the awkwardness of our attires put side by side made us uncomfortable, it didn’t take long to find ourselves laughing and beaming with relief that the other guy confirmed exactly the image one had formed in his mind in the course of the YM chat. We had dinner at icebergs, and that was the start of something beautiful.

I remember writing something for the “who you’d want to meet” part of my Friendster profile, some years back, before meeting eyvicat. Something about waking up in the mornings with kisses on my back. He sure must have remembered it well, as he kissed my back this morning—tracing a lovely pattern—as a post-tumble gesture of tenderness. At any moment now, he is sure to wake up sporting again that look i fell for, three years ago.—that bagong gising look only my dee could execute in perfect unison with my beating heart. hehehe. Ah, it just keeps getting better.

fuckin' krissy.

2009-02-15T01:00:00.000-08:00

Mondays at the office are held as the most sacred of days for it is the only day in the week that people go down to the parking lot for the flag ceremony. It is a sin to get late on Mondays; for one will be required to write an explanation letter to atty. chenelyn sparkles stating the reason why he or she did not make it in time for the flag raising. i can remember writing my first explanation letter and i don’t intend to replicate such action ever again—it involves coursing the letter through channels (underlings who get to read your letter) until it reaches the proper authority; how is that for image?

And so you have me taking extra effort to be on time, and i was on time, this particular Monday morning. i got through the customary chit-chat and small talk with my officemates, with flying colors. At the back of my head i was beginning to wonder if Krissy Mae has already arrived and has positioned herself at that familiar spot under the umbrella tree at the back of the queue. She always does it whenever she’s late so as not to attract attention; otherwise she’ll parade herself til she reaches the start of the line/ queue where she’ll proclaim herself the queen of her little domain by opening her violet umbrella and putting on her black sunglasses. (maldita!)

But nope, she’s nowhere to be found this lovely Monday morning, and i was already beginning to wonder what time will she be arriving and wreaking havoc at the office. Yes, its always like this; ask anybody from the office and they’ll tell you that she’s such a sweet princess. With the lupang hinirang sung, panatang makabayan recited and atty. sparkles finished giving the closing remarks, we proceeded going back to the office. With tighter security measures just put in place, some of the avenues for entry were blocked off by policemen such as the ground floor parking lot in the main building; that left us no choice but to herd ourselves like cattle through the lobby then through the stairwell—both are claustrophobe’s paradise if you ask me. Of course one can elect to use the elevators but at this point in time when everybody’s rushing to get to their offices, relying on the elevators to get you to your destination will surely take forever.

So i took the stairs like most did. At that point, in the tightest space in the race to the offices, she made her entrance like an apparition before my eyes. Trying my best not to look as having just seen a ghost, i said “good morning ma’am”, to which Krissy Mae replied a quick and smile-less good morning. i was about to take a sigh of relief that i was still breathing and have not turned to stone when she opened her mouth to say in trademark Celia Rodriguez tone, “di mo ba ako pauunahin?” how is that for a scene? I tried my best not to react “heller, tingnan mo nga kung may dadaanan ka?” The stairs’ width can accommodate two people at most, and it was just my luck that i’ve already stepped up with another employee beside me, when i saw her in the corner of my eye. It looks like she’s really expecting that i make way for her, the bitch. As if i’ve a choice to answer in the negative and incur her wrath all day, I said, “sure ma’am, mauna na po kayo” then i struggled hard to position myself sideways to accommodate her.

We reached our floor, with her sashaying nonchalantly like some fuckin queen. to anyone who might have been observing i might have looked like the queen's attendant/ handmaid the way i trailed her back--indecisive if i’ll rush past her or just stay my course; which she decided the moment that foul mouth of hers opened at the stairwell. Fuckin’ krissy. What a nice way to start your week, indeed.

the view from pie

2009-02-13T03:46:00.001-08:00

Ate left for the church to attend mass this afternoon. Its her birthday today, and like previous birthdays for as long as i can remember, she’s the type of person who takes days-off on these special days. Ako din naman. Who would want to work during one’s birthday anyway? Well, in our house, birthdays are synonymous to cookfests so i expect to be helping her out in a few minutes when she returns from picking out cj from school and buying potatoes for the salad.

she was doing the laundry this morning when the company VP called, passing on to her some bad news. One of her subordinates just handed his resignation letter today. The VP was known for his foul temper and even fouler mouth, and its not hidden from ate’s knowledge that people in the office cringe and duck for cover whenever VP foulmouth is drunk and swerving along the office premises. This has always been the case even when tatay was still alive and working there, too.

This hasn’t been the first resignation this week. The first one to hand a resignation letter was also her subordinate, and she suspects that the VP is one of the (big) reasons for them to be looking for new jobs, aside from seeking advancement in monetary terms too. She told me in an irked fashion that it falls on her to find replacements for those two, and fast. The company isn’t that big to be having a formal Human Resource Department so it kinda fell on her as the head accountant to do these things that concern the work she’s doing.

A little later, Jay, the subject of the VP and ate’s phone conversation called to formalize his resignation. Ate handled it well, telling Jay to recommend people who he might think would want to apply for the job, and to tell his new employer to give him at least a month to train whoever will be hired as his replacement. After the call i asked her if Jay or the VP knew it was her birthday. She said yes. It seems people do not really care for anything except their own worries.

I remember looking at an old poster hanging at her bedroom wall when i was still a kid. When we moved to our new home the poster got lost and was never seen again. It contains the poem Desiderata, and she quoted a line to me just moments ago, from what she suspects came from the poem: “nothing can ever disturb my peace”. Or something like that. And then she laughed. Declaring that today is her birthday, she will continue an unruffled existence no matter what.

As she was saying this, bits and pieces from a conversation of not too long ago pierced my mind : “hindi pa rin ako nakakarecover hanggang ngayon sa sinabi mo sa akin”, she said, her voice cracking over the phone; referring to the day i told her i am gay.

ugly sick pig : the incident

2009-02-08T23:11:00.000-08:00

28 Aug 2008

Dear Atty Chenelyn Kylie :

Following is a report on an incident, which happened 27 Aug 2008 at around 7:30 pm at the MRT Shuttle, involving the undersigned and Mr. Ugly Sick Pig of [state office name here].

It is already a given that evening shuttle rides from the office to the MRT is always full-packed. Having arrived rather late and seeing the shuttle already brimming with passengers, I elected to find a spot along the aisle close to some friends with whom I can chat with, to while away several minutes of traffic jam. Somewhere along the Macapagal-EDSA junction I noticed the person (Ugly Sick Pig) seated in front of my friends and adjacent to where I was standing, kept glaring at me every time the bus made sudden stops. This gesture made me think if I have been making him uncomfortable for some time since the shuttle ride started. For whatever discomfort I might have caused him, I said sorry. Now, we all know how “shaky” it gets inside a bus, especially if one is standing; one gets a hard time balancing himself in a moving vehicle. I shifted my stance to avoid brushing past the person again in case the bus made jerking movements, but I wasn’t able to do so and bumped on him again, to which I said sorry for the second time.

He stood, nearing the end of the bus ride, facing me with eyes burning red-hot with anger saying, in his words “Bakit ba tuwing hihinto ang bus kinikiskis mo ang burat mo sa likod ko”. Now I was dumbfounded. I am never a person who bases his dealings on unfounded prejudices. Seeing Mr. Ugly Sick Pig though on first hand (this was our first, uneventful meeting), it never occurred to me that I am facing a [state office here] employee. It was a Wednesday evening and employees are supposed to be wearing their standard issue brown polo barong and black slacks—he was wearing a knee-length pants (purontong), an undershirt, and sandals. Is he by any chance a [state office here] special agent, traveling incognito or perhaps a visitor? ; if the later case were true, I am more entitled to a seat than he ever would be. But its not an issue of seating arrangement. At this point, his foul language was already calling the attention of the passengers. It is not in my character to rise to a provocation. I kept my cool and sincerely apologized ; I never raised my voice all the while trying to pacify him. Mr. Ugly Sick Pig seem to take it the other way though as he later on told me (and the whole bus) in his barrage of humiliating and threatening statements “Gusto mo bang mabasag ang pagmumukha mo? Saang office ka? ” at this juncture an employee alighted from the bus and at that point he (Ugly Sick Pig) further said to me, “Ayan, umupo ka na at baka di pa ako makapagpigil. Bading ka ba, bading ka ano?” With the advise of friends, I let him go out from the bus first before going out to head home.

I was clearly shaken to the bone with all that transpired. I lost sleep last night thinking, what action should I take ; it was clearly an incident I can’t just ignore to pass. Its an assault to my honor and dignity as a person--I haven’t worked this hard, both academically and professionally just to be insulted for something as trifle as standing on a shuttle bus.

Thank you and I pray that the [state office here] management would look into this matter and appropriate action be taken, to avoid recurrence of similar incidents to other employees.

Respectfully yours,

Pie oh Pah.
Administative Officer, the Dreaming Attic

the emancipation project

2009-02-05T19:28:00.002-08:00

Those of you who follow my other blog would surely know by now that i am a librarian. Yes, unbelievable it may seem, i am one of the few who earn a living by tending to pages of information, knowledge, reason and enlightenment (?); collecting, organizing and making them readily available for access to researchers. my work requires one to have a keen eye for details, and also to have lotsa patience, not just for unruly/ noisy researchers (shushing is hardly my style) but especially for use at one helluva boss too, that just seems to come from one. Yes, dear reader, lets just call her Krissy Mae, the librarian from hell.

Recently, all my efforts are being directed at one life project i tentatively call “the emancipation of pie,”—my apologies, Mariah, for borrowing your title without permission; i would have called you but my current workload wouldn’t allow me the luxury of doing such. So if you ever come across this blog entry, please understand and take pity; for i am now undergoing what you’ve just gone through with tommy—only with krissy, it is anything but sexual...oh puhleease.

For five glorious years i have toiled under a burning heat. Yes, i’ve been terribly burnt. I turned to writing, to yoga, to running, to watching movies, to reading escapist fares just to have a seeming normalcy in my otherwise abnormal mindscape. Yes, she invaded my psyche too. It seems krissy mae has a doctorate in psywar, for how else would one explain that i became this frozen delight; a promising career gone stale in just the blink of an eye. Have i known that things would turn out this way, i would have applied in other offices right away, instead of stepping in her lair that fateful day of June, five years ago.

“Ma’am, i thought its only respectful that i tell you first before you get to know it from other people, after all i wouldn’t be here have you not taken notice and took me in. I saw an opening for [state position here] and i am thinking of giving it a try, if its ok with you.”

“no, its not ok with me. In fact sobrang hindi ok para sa akin that i will go to great lengths to go straight to [state name and position here] para sirain kita.”

Now, tell me, how’s that for a telenovela scene?

Pie is in anguish. It is time to act. Whatever the outcome, it is better than not to have acted at all.

ugly sick pig

2009-01-25T08:10:00.001-08:00

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

adam and andy

2009-01-20T09:22:00.001-08:00

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

inseparable

2009-01-19T09:49:00.001-08:00

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.

cough, cough.

2009-01-17T23:52:00.000-08:00

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.

pie and chinky : the descent continued

2009-01-16T00:47:00.001-08:00

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.

the descent

2009-01-12T19:06:00.000-08:00

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

beloved

2009-01-11T09:27:00.001-08:00

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.

pie the resilient

2009-01-09T18:15:00.000-08:00

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.

the dreaming attic

2009-01-07T21:02:00.000-08:00

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.

The wedding

2009-01-05T09:39:00.001-08:00

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 30^th 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.