One time, while exchanging private messages with someone that turns out to be a minor in G4M:
---
Me: Ay bata ka palang pala! Pwede ka ba alagaan? Joke!! Name ko talaga Joms, magkasing edad kami ni Gyminstructor. Nagkita kami sa BED sa malate. Gusto mo magkaroon ng idea kung paano magestablish ng blog?
Him: yup opo...gus2 q po..ah ok sa malate pla un bk8 d q alam un..ikaw n mgging tatay q?joke din.. (Kiddietalk Translation: gusto ko po. ah sa malate pala yun. bakit di ko alam yun. Ikaw na magiging tatay ko?)
Me: Haha. pinatawa mo ko dun ah. Sige ampunin kita ha! lol. Wala kang pasok ngayon?
---
It all started a week ago. While browsing the forums in G4M, I noticed a young-looking member who posted at random threads in order to bring them up of the forum lists.
At first, I wasn't paying attention to his posts. But when I found out that the young-looking PLU is actually one of my friend's aquaintances, I immediately opened his profile to review it in hopes that I could find something that could serve as my opening line, if ever I decide to send him a private message.
His face is indeed very young - he is cute but I never aim for kids. His introduction is way too simple, it doesn't interest me either. However, one of his half-naked pic showed an abs muscles that are so flat, it instantly caught my attention. Immediately, I sent him a message asking his secrets to a flat tummy.
The simple introduction about the tummy lead to another, He told me about his sad life, his school activities and some things about his weird personality. As we exchanged messages the entire afternoon, the thought of the kid who asked me to become his "Kuya" back in elementary floated in my head. As the young guy in G4M began called me "dada," I responded 'nak' to acknowledge our newfound "cyber" relationship . It was very awkward at first, but eventually the little role-playing convinced me that I could stand up as his "virtual" big daddy in that website. I'm sure that since he grew up without his parents around, a little fatherly concern from someone much older than him might actually help in overcoming the transition from young adulthood to being a full adult homo guy he is passing through.
---
Him: dada elow po..ay naku dada fri ngaun..kahapon pumasok aq sa skul ng 4 eh 3:30 class q dada tpos po ndi n nman aq nakkuwi ngaun fri po eh ngaun lang aq nakauwi ng umaga...uu dada..ingat k po.. (Kiddietalk Translation: dad hello po, ay naku, friday ngayon. kahapon pumasok ako sa school ng 4 eh 3:30 class ko. tapos, ngayon na lang ako nakauwi ng dorm kasi nakitulog ako sa bahay ng classmate ko. ingat ka po.)
Me: Hi anak. Nako, madalas ata ang overnight mo sa ibang bahay ah. Basta ingat ka lagi ha at wag mo pabayaan ang school mo. Hug nga kita.. xox O siya, ako naman ang papasok sa school. Na-add na kita sa friendster ko ha. Have a nice weekend!
Him: SALAMAT PO DADA....WOW BAIT NMAN TLGA NG DADA Q..INGAT K PO SA PAGPASOK....CGE PO OPEN Q MUNA FWENZTER Q....KAW DIN PO DADA HAVE A NICW WIKEND... (Kiddietalk Translation: Salamat po dad. Wow bait naman talaga ng dad ko. Ingat ka po sa pagpasok. Sige po, open ko muna friendster ko. Kaw din, have a nice weekend.)
---
Funny how things turned out days after we started role playing. I'm not even sure how it would affect my general outlook in life, now that I'm beginning to feel responsible to some PLU very much younger than me. I don't know either the long-term effect of my start-up presence in this young kid's life.
But one thing is for sure though. Ever since the kid and I started talking that way, I became more concerned to some of my girl-friends who are also single parents as well. For some very very weird reasons, I feel like acting a fatherhood dream, I might never become in this life time.
Pity those who throw their seeds, only to abandon them in the end.
I swear, just one little seed from me. Just one little boy I could call junior someday...
---
SMS Message:
Me: [Name of Ex Girl Crush], make sure, moti is protected ha! Uso ang dengue ngayon.
Her: Yes dad! Ehehehe, u. Tanks 4 reminding. I'll check on hm as soon I get home. tc.
---
I could be more than most fathers I know.
I could even be greater than the man who brought me into this world.
Showing posts with label Senti. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Senti. Show all posts
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Thursday, March 8, 2007
framed by the neon lights
You don't look as if you get tired of breaking your heart over and over again.
Never once I've seen your soul severed. You've followed all the instructions of love, you've waited too long, and no tear was cried yet all your chances—none of them spared you from what should be a sincere devastation. I don't think it's funny to find you and myself in the same crossroad together.
You look at me as if you can read minds and tell me how you felt the same way for me; the only difference is that I have broken doors of steel, that I've have fight with time and drained my eyes.
I never like you in an instant though everyone said you're handsome most of the them find you disarming. I guess I'm not going to like you anyway.
You are sands in my palms and for another time I'll blame myself. This is my pathetic circumstance that I'm no good in evolving emotionally. I never like you but I never despise you. But now, I hate myself because of how I can speak how lovely you are tonight and I am attracted in glances you make but I believe the alcohol is taking the best of me.
Let's stay this way.
I know we've met and seen each other countless of times and still no names are exchange until now. Just the two strangers in the neon lights with expressionless faces that smile, laugh, frown, and occasional sigh.
(Between these silent spaces of our conversation we scour the room for traces that may belong to us and maybe will connect us as if we have known each other in some other time. Until we consciously realize we're staring in each other's eyes, exhausted and breathing deeply against each other's air. )
The night has grown darker and the people around responded well to the escalating temperature. But not for the two us, we may not be as innocent to look at but our hearts can be as unaffected it can be because there is much more of a strong force that unusually binds us everytime we are together across this crowded room. We suffer along and that is true coz these we're not lies and we are not living in lies.
And this is how we apply what we learn in life—to play the game and be insensitive at the same time…but I don't think I'll last any longer.
P.S.
Tomorrow is another night. I haven't drunk enough and so you are. I would surely like to know your name before we say goodnight this time.
Never once I've seen your soul severed. You've followed all the instructions of love, you've waited too long, and no tear was cried yet all your chances—none of them spared you from what should be a sincere devastation. I don't think it's funny to find you and myself in the same crossroad together.
You look at me as if you can read minds and tell me how you felt the same way for me; the only difference is that I have broken doors of steel, that I've have fight with time and drained my eyes.
I never like you in an instant though everyone said you're handsome most of the them find you disarming. I guess I'm not going to like you anyway.
You are sands in my palms and for another time I'll blame myself. This is my pathetic circumstance that I'm no good in evolving emotionally. I never like you but I never despise you. But now, I hate myself because of how I can speak how lovely you are tonight and I am attracted in glances you make but I believe the alcohol is taking the best of me.
Let's stay this way.
I know we've met and seen each other countless of times and still no names are exchange until now. Just the two strangers in the neon lights with expressionless faces that smile, laugh, frown, and occasional sigh.
(Between these silent spaces of our conversation we scour the room for traces that may belong to us and maybe will connect us as if we have known each other in some other time. Until we consciously realize we're staring in each other's eyes, exhausted and breathing deeply against each other's air. )
The night has grown darker and the people around responded well to the escalating temperature. But not for the two us, we may not be as innocent to look at but our hearts can be as unaffected it can be because there is much more of a strong force that unusually binds us everytime we are together across this crowded room. We suffer along and that is true coz these we're not lies and we are not living in lies.
And this is how we apply what we learn in life—to play the game and be insensitive at the same time…but I don't think I'll last any longer.
P.S.
Tomorrow is another night. I haven't drunk enough and so you are. I would surely like to know your name before we say goodnight this time.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Outside Looking In
Tell me did you sail across the sun
Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded
And that heaven is overrated :::Drops of Jupiter By Trains:::
The night had come stolen, later broken by the softest smile on his face. I was taken out of deliverance that I can no longer continue. The seconds were spent into fragments of inspiration I held sacred before.
It was one of lazy afternoons I always have and probably kept very special in my own silly ways. The 4’oclock sun was unforgiving compared to my slow uncalculated steps I made on the concrete pathway. Yes, I was alone and I didn’t know if I was reminiscing or daydreaming but the only thing I was sure of was that I wasn’t lonely or compelled to be cruel to myself that day.
Then he knocked me in a pleasant surprise almost an answered prayer I never knew I uttered every night. I was always forgetful and the so called love was not on my side ever since, for I never believed in it. So I guess—if I was still privileged to guess that it was not love at first sight anyhow. I was glad of it.
Time was mine and all logic won’t fall apart. This was the course I follow so well and because of this virtue I felt terrified. Thoughts of losing someone and be driven into complications was not worth my ego. I was happy to be me, myself, and I.
He gave me roses but I didn’t--. I sighed and said his eyes were dreamy. He dedicated a poem for me and I didn’t--. I never smile back but I mentioned to him that poems were for dead lovers. He cried when I knew should be breaking down but I wasn’t. I’ve told everyone he was giving me the creeps.
Before, I’ve always known how things should work or which could be better but it turned out my heart and soul wasn’t as comprehending as much as my head does.
With the gentlest hand that ever touched my face he revealed the rest to me and asked him with utmost concern the thing I never said to anyone before: Would it be fair?
Yes he whispered.
…and suddenly love was a crime. It was my best.
Passion after passion made the missing gaps of my life eternally found and burning. Or maybe I wasn’t really aware of what I was really missing—for the first time the restless heart found its place in him. I looked at the palms of my hand after the solace of the night; he traced the lines and said in my ears it was destiny.
Another kiss, another time to be one.
The dawn had arrived and the morning sky crushed me along with the same smile of hims still imprinted in my head. I was torn out of freedom if there’s a need for me to be myself again. It lasted longer than a moment.
Now, I was running away from it like thunderstorms were chasing me. It happened and I was in it what I’ve made others felt before. But this time there were no screams, no slamming doors, and no packed clothes.
It is supposed to be my game—my only and favorite game. Never have I expected someone could bend the rules and run it on me. I don’t know if I ought to learn the things at the end of the story, but they call it regret—to my surprise. Sometimes the only thing I am searching for my entire life is the one thing I am always afraid of.
And tell me, did Venus blow your mind:::Drops of Jupiter by Trains:::
NOTES:
[Edited. It is a work of fiction years ago. I am sort of visionary, I am so scared now I gotta quit writing in first person.]
[It applies to love in particular pero this time and life in general (so much about love that I don't wanna talk about it). Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, I was hanging around in Informatics Megamall after work, I saw the girl who slapped me last year May 24, 2006. It was my birthday that day, also in front of Informatics, in full glory of all mall goers. No, she was not my ex. Just an indirect casualty of my recklessness with words. Seeing her again make me scared. I thought I recovered, but I was traumatized pala. What a Valentine’s Day to me. Pero that’s life eh. Uhmm ok lang...kasi I know most people are afraid of truth, ayaw nila sa itsura ng pangit na katotohanan. Pero ito mas masakit: ala pa kaming sueldo..bukas pa, Friday. Tapos minus pa ko four days.]
Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded
And that heaven is overrated :::Drops of Jupiter By Trains:::
The night had come stolen, later broken by the softest smile on his face. I was taken out of deliverance that I can no longer continue. The seconds were spent into fragments of inspiration I held sacred before.
It was one of lazy afternoons I always have and probably kept very special in my own silly ways. The 4’oclock sun was unforgiving compared to my slow uncalculated steps I made on the concrete pathway. Yes, I was alone and I didn’t know if I was reminiscing or daydreaming but the only thing I was sure of was that I wasn’t lonely or compelled to be cruel to myself that day.
Then he knocked me in a pleasant surprise almost an answered prayer I never knew I uttered every night. I was always forgetful and the so called love was not on my side ever since, for I never believed in it. So I guess—if I was still privileged to guess that it was not love at first sight anyhow. I was glad of it.
Time was mine and all logic won’t fall apart. This was the course I follow so well and because of this virtue I felt terrified. Thoughts of losing someone and be driven into complications was not worth my ego. I was happy to be me, myself, and I.
He gave me roses but I didn’t--. I sighed and said his eyes were dreamy. He dedicated a poem for me and I didn’t--. I never smile back but I mentioned to him that poems were for dead lovers. He cried when I knew should be breaking down but I wasn’t. I’ve told everyone he was giving me the creeps.
Before, I’ve always known how things should work or which could be better but it turned out my heart and soul wasn’t as comprehending as much as my head does.
With the gentlest hand that ever touched my face he revealed the rest to me and asked him with utmost concern the thing I never said to anyone before: Would it be fair?
Yes he whispered.
…and suddenly love was a crime. It was my best.
Passion after passion made the missing gaps of my life eternally found and burning. Or maybe I wasn’t really aware of what I was really missing—for the first time the restless heart found its place in him. I looked at the palms of my hand after the solace of the night; he traced the lines and said in my ears it was destiny.
Another kiss, another time to be one.
The dawn had arrived and the morning sky crushed me along with the same smile of hims still imprinted in my head. I was torn out of freedom if there’s a need for me to be myself again. It lasted longer than a moment.
Now, I was running away from it like thunderstorms were chasing me. It happened and I was in it what I’ve made others felt before. But this time there were no screams, no slamming doors, and no packed clothes.
It is supposed to be my game—my only and favorite game. Never have I expected someone could bend the rules and run it on me. I don’t know if I ought to learn the things at the end of the story, but they call it regret—to my surprise. Sometimes the only thing I am searching for my entire life is the one thing I am always afraid of.
And tell me, did Venus blow your mind:::Drops of Jupiter by Trains:::
NOTES:
[Edited. It is a work of fiction years ago. I am sort of visionary, I am so scared now I gotta quit writing in first person.]
[It applies to love in particular pero this time and life in general (so much about love that I don't wanna talk about it). Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, I was hanging around in Informatics Megamall after work, I saw the girl who slapped me last year May 24, 2006. It was my birthday that day, also in front of Informatics, in full glory of all mall goers. No, she was not my ex. Just an indirect casualty of my recklessness with words. Seeing her again make me scared. I thought I recovered, but I was traumatized pala. What a Valentine’s Day to me. Pero that’s life eh. Uhmm ok lang...kasi I know most people are afraid of truth, ayaw nila sa itsura ng pangit na katotohanan. Pero ito mas masakit: ala pa kaming sueldo..bukas pa, Friday. Tapos minus pa ko four days.]
Monday, February 12, 2007
Stormwater Drain (Formerly titled Letting Go as An Art Perfected By Me)
(written Tuesday, January 16, 2006 10:59 AM, Makati City)
(written hours after our last meeting that early morning)
(Edited)
I just thought letting go, the art, I have perfected this morning.
Nothing is perfect. It was the right thing to do and I felt so right but now I am so empty. How could you feel love and it is aching inside? How could you feel thankful and yet not bitter? Saying goodbye was easy, letting go itself is kindness on my part. Friendship is a gift but it is not an immediate substitute to affection, friends for now but not now, later for sure.
Love, I learned can be felt alone, the intimate and passionate one. It is love in its true and raw form. Love exists. However the experience between the two people will be different. When it does, when two people experience the same thing in the same moment, in the same space, then the kiss is perfect…the experience of love is perfect—the sad thing about the best thing in life, nothing last forever, even this perfect experience.
I said goodbye, I promised to be kind to myself by saying goodbye. Hurting is not part of my dream, my resistance was in vain, the battle and the war have been already lost. But there is no conflict except desires melting, dreams fading, and memories refreshing itself in every cells until the so called "time heal wounds" have taken effect. I am recovering not from the heart break but the pieces, fitting them together, until it will be once more ideal.
Right now I have a question, an inquiry, how do you really measure love? By the time? Or by the sacrifices made? Or by the intensity of the feeling? I cannot answer to that. But what is essential is the fact of love and loving, although it is an affection felt by a single person alone and not by two people.
I will keep it as a memory, I don't know if I gonna recall it later, coz it is happening right now, this soon. I know it is unfair and unkind on my part but I believe it is a way of picking up the pieces. Nothing really went wrong but the circumstances as I have said were not on my side. Life is still unfair. But being unfair is not bad, it is not just the proper or should I say the real time. I have made my love so real, to the extreme extent it could kill me, luckily it didn't happened. I don't want to kill myself for love but I want to die for love or loving someone.
Why did I say goodbye although deep inside I am aching, crying for acknowledgement that I am capable of love. I said goodbye because of impressions. The moment I saw him, it was so magical that "lost" is the perfect description. Suddenly life, the world was perfect. It was a first impression. But first impression was hard to maintain in the next hours or in the coming days but love keep me enchanted. And I’ve learned too that the last impression we made was the only thing that marks in the people's brain for so long as if it is the only sensible thing to remember. I want our goodbye cool and not as passionate as the first impression. Why? Because after all the love had gone, all will be left are memories to inspire e to love again somebody as good as this…
To forget the pain, although it was part of the picture I won't deny.
Finally I am stepping clear out of it, yes I was hoping he will come back, but time or somebody and myself, sooner or later will diminished this flame away. I know love is not the only virtue that keeps the world revolving, why do you think we are apart because I believe in honesty, I uphold them against the love I been waiting for. Love has a pretty face, a flaming kiss, and insane desire. Truth and honesty, meanwhile, are monsters. Love didn’t make me happy or right. Honesty and truth didn’t too. Maybe for now, I don't need the result coz i don't know how to clean my hands. But a choice had been made.
Letting go is not perfect. But something got to give. It is not really about letting go but learning the hard way.
[It seems improper to post consecutively considering this is not my blog. My apology, I can't help it. I'm so sorry for this is an recycled entry. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Tomorrow I'll be having my version of stand alone complex: i'll wake up, i'll go to work, i'll go home, i'll sleep...senti mode ang kupal. Next time probably not tomorrow or the next day, i'll try to publish something tutyy fruity and light.]
(written hours after our last meeting that early morning)
(Edited)
I just thought letting go, the art, I have perfected this morning.
Nothing is perfect. It was the right thing to do and I felt so right but now I am so empty. How could you feel love and it is aching inside? How could you feel thankful and yet not bitter? Saying goodbye was easy, letting go itself is kindness on my part. Friendship is a gift but it is not an immediate substitute to affection, friends for now but not now, later for sure.
Love, I learned can be felt alone, the intimate and passionate one. It is love in its true and raw form. Love exists. However the experience between the two people will be different. When it does, when two people experience the same thing in the same moment, in the same space, then the kiss is perfect…the experience of love is perfect—the sad thing about the best thing in life, nothing last forever, even this perfect experience.
I said goodbye, I promised to be kind to myself by saying goodbye. Hurting is not part of my dream, my resistance was in vain, the battle and the war have been already lost. But there is no conflict except desires melting, dreams fading, and memories refreshing itself in every cells until the so called "time heal wounds" have taken effect. I am recovering not from the heart break but the pieces, fitting them together, until it will be once more ideal.
Right now I have a question, an inquiry, how do you really measure love? By the time? Or by the sacrifices made? Or by the intensity of the feeling? I cannot answer to that. But what is essential is the fact of love and loving, although it is an affection felt by a single person alone and not by two people.
I will keep it as a memory, I don't know if I gonna recall it later, coz it is happening right now, this soon. I know it is unfair and unkind on my part but I believe it is a way of picking up the pieces. Nothing really went wrong but the circumstances as I have said were not on my side. Life is still unfair. But being unfair is not bad, it is not just the proper or should I say the real time. I have made my love so real, to the extreme extent it could kill me, luckily it didn't happened. I don't want to kill myself for love but I want to die for love or loving someone.
Why did I say goodbye although deep inside I am aching, crying for acknowledgement that I am capable of love. I said goodbye because of impressions. The moment I saw him, it was so magical that "lost" is the perfect description. Suddenly life, the world was perfect. It was a first impression. But first impression was hard to maintain in the next hours or in the coming days but love keep me enchanted. And I’ve learned too that the last impression we made was the only thing that marks in the people's brain for so long as if it is the only sensible thing to remember. I want our goodbye cool and not as passionate as the first impression. Why? Because after all the love had gone, all will be left are memories to inspire e to love again somebody as good as this…
To forget the pain, although it was part of the picture I won't deny.
Finally I am stepping clear out of it, yes I was hoping he will come back, but time or somebody and myself, sooner or later will diminished this flame away. I know love is not the only virtue that keeps the world revolving, why do you think we are apart because I believe in honesty, I uphold them against the love I been waiting for. Love has a pretty face, a flaming kiss, and insane desire. Truth and honesty, meanwhile, are monsters. Love didn’t make me happy or right. Honesty and truth didn’t too. Maybe for now, I don't need the result coz i don't know how to clean my hands. But a choice had been made.
Letting go is not perfect. But something got to give. It is not really about letting go but learning the hard way.
[It seems improper to post consecutively considering this is not my blog. My apology, I can't help it. I'm so sorry for this is an recycled entry. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Tomorrow I'll be having my version of stand alone complex: i'll wake up, i'll go to work, i'll go home, i'll sleep...senti mode ang kupal. Next time probably not tomorrow or the next day, i'll try to publish something tutyy fruity and light.]
Monday, January 22, 2007
clementine,
that early morning, i really felt that i was your joel, defying everything but the whimsical rules of happiness. you were a good estimation of what i hoped for, or dreamt of, abruptly, during lazy, uneventful afternoons. inversely, even the spaces between your fingers was enough to tell me that i fit casually into your body, and beyond that, up to the cliffs and trenches of your desires.
i ache for you now, as i ache for everything that seems lost, away from my grasp. a few days ago, i could easily dismiss your emails as impotent and malicious, boxing your intentions to the transient, to the malignant, to the disposable. but now, i ache for them as well. i ache for anything that places me within or nearer your diameter. i ache for the wavering of your silence, your distance.
there was something indispensable that early morning, as i remember. maybe i was just childish and stubborn against precaution, but i felt it cajoling me to let down my guard. it was close to a trivial wish granted, a gluttony for things benign, a regina spektor humming a quirky improv in the background. it was a kiss short of being unforgettable, clementine, and how i hope you felt it too, as it was one good assessment of your cunning.
i was unwary of you, a few days ago. and how i want to be unwary of you now, beyond doubt, beyond logic, beyond memory.
(note: i'm very much excited about this group blog thing, so pardon me for recycling.)
i ache for you now, as i ache for everything that seems lost, away from my grasp. a few days ago, i could easily dismiss your emails as impotent and malicious, boxing your intentions to the transient, to the malignant, to the disposable. but now, i ache for them as well. i ache for anything that places me within or nearer your diameter. i ache for the wavering of your silence, your distance.
there was something indispensable that early morning, as i remember. maybe i was just childish and stubborn against precaution, but i felt it cajoling me to let down my guard. it was close to a trivial wish granted, a gluttony for things benign, a regina spektor humming a quirky improv in the background. it was a kiss short of being unforgettable, clementine, and how i hope you felt it too, as it was one good assessment of your cunning.
i was unwary of you, a few days ago. and how i want to be unwary of you now, beyond doubt, beyond logic, beyond memory.
(note: i'm very much excited about this group blog thing, so pardon me for recycling.)
Friday, January 19, 2007
You Conceited Arrogant Bastard-Jerk of a Pootfah, You Braggart, You...
I know you've cut yourself before,
swallowed countless pills and more
but look inside these bloodstained doors
to see my life is worse than yours.
Why do humans brag?
I was wondering why we, as supposedly the most advanced specie on this planet, have this deep-seated urge to brag to each other the exciting and interesting (sic) facets of our life. These stories, much as they are entertaining, can become quite boring once the novelty wears off.
In book sales, book clubs and even the most hallowed libraries, we could hear people muttering about the latest books they've bought: books written by this so-and-so author. Asked what they understood from the book, they'd blush in embarrassment and just simply say the book was so deep for their understanding, which, to them, makes it all the more valuable. I mean, what is the use of a book if you cannot understand it at all? That is, of course, aside from self-defense, miscellaneous paperweight, surface, part of a costume, props or an impressive collection of smart clean (and unused) hardbound tomes.
These days, it seems that it does not matter what you know but who you know. A lot of people have resorted to name dropping, claiming to have had rubbed elbows, sexual contact or a small plate of peanuts with this best friend of the cousin of a sexy star. In all their nonsense talk, it would appear that the name of the sexy star, who happens to be a complete stranger to them, has a greater effect than that of their best friend or cousin, who practically know them for years or so.
I, too, would not claim immunity to this. I do regret to say that I have probably made one of the biggest mistakes in my life.
Allow me to elaborate. I was waiting for an interview at a certain building in a certain commercial district when I happened to nod my head and doze lightly. I could have hardly afforded such sleepiness during a job interview so I descended to the ground floor to search for coffee. Just coffee. Just something with caffeine that would wake me up enough.
I found two coffee shops, which, to my utter shock and horror, sold coffee at prices more than a hundred bucks each. In my defense, it is quite different just hearing of these things and actually experiencing an equivalent of a highway robbery right in front of the counter. Worse, the "coffee" I bought did almost nothing to wake me up. For comparison, my instant coffee, which costs less than twenty bucks a pack, keeps me awake for at least four hours while this... "special" coffee gave me under two hours before my eyelids involuntarily dropped down. Oh yeah, it did taste just a little better than my regular coffee and left an interesting raspberry aftertaste I could smell on my breath up to half an hour later: an experience as enjoyable as paying for it is not.
If this coffee they sell in "chic" shops really just taste like coffee and doesn't actually have caffeine, then I suppose I should no longer be wondering how people can spend their entire day inside one and still get enough sleep at night.
Interestingly, though, a lot of people do loiter around these shops for hours on end, purchasing nothing more than a really, really small cup of coffee barely enough to drown a hamster in. I am more than aware that these people aren't really there for the coffee or the other stuff the shop offers, like blueberry cheesecake or strawberry shortcake, no. They're there simply because they want to be seen there. How pathetic is that? In my ardent desire not to be associated with these people, I hurriedly left the shop, drank my coffee bottoms-up and headed for the elevator.
The job interview lasted for an hour, giving me enough free time to get the hell out of the commercial district and catch a bus home before finally dozing off into a shallow slumber. I would be first to confess that I had inadvertently volunteered too much information partly, to impress the interviewer, but mostly to bag the job. Let's not go into that, though; I am never too keen to discuss to other people my shortcomings, at least, those that I already am aware of.
Lastly, though, I have noticed another form of bragging, which, at first glance, does not seem to be bragging at all. How many times have we heard of people "bemoaning" to each other how tormented their life is? It usually begins with one person saying, "My life sucks. I just blah-blah, so-and-so."
Not to be outdone, the other will respond, "You think your life sucks? See, I'm this-and-that. Such-and-such happened."
A third person could very well pipe in, "That's nothing. See here, I used to be dum-dee-dum but then tra-la-la and so you see, I live a pathetic life."
Do these kind of people amuse you? Do they enjoy showing the world how pitiful their circumstances are? Are they competing for sympathy? (I do think the supplies of sympathy worldwide has become alarmingly limited) I don't think so.
What I do think is that, viewed from another angle, they are bragging. They're not having a contest just to see whose life sucks the most. They're also trying to outdo to each other that, not only did they experience those stuff but they also survived it. It's like swapping war stories and determining who survived the worst war.
I believe, though, that I have already observed a bit too much, so I'm gonna stop here. 'coz you see, I've already had to put up with a lot in my life. It's really pathetic, dealing with all those people; my life sucks, right? Eh what? You had a bad day? That's nothing; see here...
Alright, alright. I'm stopping here. Really.
swallowed countless pills and more
but look inside these bloodstained doors
to see my life is worse than yours.
Why do humans brag?
I was wondering why we, as supposedly the most advanced specie on this planet, have this deep-seated urge to brag to each other the exciting and interesting (sic) facets of our life. These stories, much as they are entertaining, can become quite boring once the novelty wears off.
In book sales, book clubs and even the most hallowed libraries, we could hear people muttering about the latest books they've bought: books written by this so-and-so author. Asked what they understood from the book, they'd blush in embarrassment and just simply say the book was so deep for their understanding, which, to them, makes it all the more valuable. I mean, what is the use of a book if you cannot understand it at all? That is, of course, aside from self-defense, miscellaneous paperweight, surface, part of a costume, props or an impressive collection of smart clean (and unused) hardbound tomes.
These days, it seems that it does not matter what you know but who you know. A lot of people have resorted to name dropping, claiming to have had rubbed elbows, sexual contact or a small plate of peanuts with this best friend of the cousin of a sexy star. In all their nonsense talk, it would appear that the name of the sexy star, who happens to be a complete stranger to them, has a greater effect than that of their best friend or cousin, who practically know them for years or so.
I, too, would not claim immunity to this. I do regret to say that I have probably made one of the biggest mistakes in my life.
Allow me to elaborate. I was waiting for an interview at a certain building in a certain commercial district when I happened to nod my head and doze lightly. I could have hardly afforded such sleepiness during a job interview so I descended to the ground floor to search for coffee. Just coffee. Just something with caffeine that would wake me up enough.
I found two coffee shops, which, to my utter shock and horror, sold coffee at prices more than a hundred bucks each. In my defense, it is quite different just hearing of these things and actually experiencing an equivalent of a highway robbery right in front of the counter. Worse, the "coffee" I bought did almost nothing to wake me up. For comparison, my instant coffee, which costs less than twenty bucks a pack, keeps me awake for at least four hours while this... "special" coffee gave me under two hours before my eyelids involuntarily dropped down. Oh yeah, it did taste just a little better than my regular coffee and left an interesting raspberry aftertaste I could smell on my breath up to half an hour later: an experience as enjoyable as paying for it is not.
If this coffee they sell in "chic" shops really just taste like coffee and doesn't actually have caffeine, then I suppose I should no longer be wondering how people can spend their entire day inside one and still get enough sleep at night.
Interestingly, though, a lot of people do loiter around these shops for hours on end, purchasing nothing more than a really, really small cup of coffee barely enough to drown a hamster in. I am more than aware that these people aren't really there for the coffee or the other stuff the shop offers, like blueberry cheesecake or strawberry shortcake, no. They're there simply because they want to be seen there. How pathetic is that? In my ardent desire not to be associated with these people, I hurriedly left the shop, drank my coffee bottoms-up and headed for the elevator.
The job interview lasted for an hour, giving me enough free time to get the hell out of the commercial district and catch a bus home before finally dozing off into a shallow slumber. I would be first to confess that I had inadvertently volunteered too much information partly, to impress the interviewer, but mostly to bag the job. Let's not go into that, though; I am never too keen to discuss to other people my shortcomings, at least, those that I already am aware of.
Lastly, though, I have noticed another form of bragging, which, at first glance, does not seem to be bragging at all. How many times have we heard of people "bemoaning" to each other how tormented their life is? It usually begins with one person saying, "My life sucks. I just blah-blah, so-and-so."
Not to be outdone, the other will respond, "You think your life sucks? See, I'm this-and-that. Such-and-such happened."
A third person could very well pipe in, "That's nothing. See here, I used to be dum-dee-dum but then tra-la-la and so you see, I live a pathetic life."
Do these kind of people amuse you? Do they enjoy showing the world how pitiful their circumstances are? Are they competing for sympathy? (I do think the supplies of sympathy worldwide has become alarmingly limited) I don't think so.
What I do think is that, viewed from another angle, they are bragging. They're not having a contest just to see whose life sucks the most. They're also trying to outdo to each other that, not only did they experience those stuff but they also survived it. It's like swapping war stories and determining who survived the worst war.
I believe, though, that I have already observed a bit too much, so I'm gonna stop here. 'coz you see, I've already had to put up with a lot in my life. It's really pathetic, dealing with all those people; my life sucks, right? Eh what? You had a bad day? That's nothing; see here...
Alright, alright. I'm stopping here. Really.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Bantay Bata 168
One evening, Mugen decides to chat-ala tripper in G4M just to pass the time...
---
bantaybata: nice profyl.. wahahah
mugen: thanks kiddo.
bantaybata: kiddo tlga.. hahaha... aliw basahin.. btw, got face pic?
mugen: yep meron. heehee.
bantaybata: pasend... (mugen: bratty ha, pagtripan nga.)
mugen: what will i get in return?
bantaybata: ewan.. hahaha... may face pic nman aq sa profyl q.. eion.. its up to u if you'll send it or not..
mugen: you look cute, young, and fresh. hehehe. (mugen: i sense the spirit of my notty side emerging)
bantaybata: hahaha. tnx.. im just 16, that's why (mugen: please dial 168 for bantay bata.)
mugen: haha, lagot ako sa bantay bata pag ganun? nagpapaalaga ka ba totoy? Hehe.
bantaybata: hahaha... pede...
mugen: hmm. interesting. may mga namit ka na ba dito sa g4m?
bantaybata: yup.. 2 p nga lng eh..face pic..
mugen: kulet mo naman. iniinterview pa kita eh. mawawala ang thrill kapag nakita mo kaagad mukha ko.
bantaybata: bkit..? gusto mo ym n lng tau? tagal xeng proseso pag dto
mugen: wala akong ym dito sa bahay ko eh. gaano katanda ang mga namit mo?
bantaybata: 26, and 19 (mugen: siraulong 26 yun ah! cradle snatcher!!)
mugen: hahaha sino si 26? was it a friendly meet up?
bantaybata: yup... EB lng tlga.. Bsta, g4m member un.. hehehe, cute kso ndi nkkipagrel.. sayang..
mugen: hehe, shempre luko luko yung mga matatanda dito. usually papakita lang nila sayo yung pet nila. hehehe. (mugen: bad yan... bad boy!!)
bantaybata: heeheh.. maayos nman ung nmit q.. alam lumugar.. hahaha
mugen: gud answer. for that, here's my pic bro.
---
I thought the chat would end there. Knowing how swift transactions are made in that website, it's either I passed or failed in the eyes of that kid. However, adopting a confident attitude in such setting has its advantage. The person Mugen is chatting with is just a teenager, who is also a bottom. A guy who has a "psychological" background like Bantaybata might probably be looking for someone stronger - A sort of big brother Mugen still subconsciously seek, if they think in the same way.
The chat would have ended, if the kid decided not to exchange messages anymore. But after several minutes of silence, my speculations were all correct. Not only his messages began to pop again, he had complimentary words ready to catch Mugen's waning attention.
---
BantayBata: ok.. tnx... hahaha.. gusto q ung caption* nung pic.. hahaha...
Mugen: nakalimutan ko na kung ano yung caption ko eh. pasensya na, ulyanin na kasi ang mga 25 years old ngayon eh.
BantayBata: hahaha.. aus lng un.. pati din mga 16 y/o// haha.. btw, lapit na q out.. have globe?
Mugen: hawak ng gf ko yung phone ko for a week eh. Teka whats with my caption? (Mugen: Wow, this is fiction! I can't believe I still have some bisexual trappings in me! Haha)
BantayBata: la.. never mind.. hahaha.. my gf ka pla.. di mo nssabi.. hehehe..
Mugen: meron nga, may kabit naman na lesbian. Might as well raise a little kid instead. (Mugen: This statement my dear readers is what you call Magical Realism)
BantayBata: hahaha.. ganun.. grabe..
Mugen: Thats life. You know what, I think that you're mature for your age. Keep it up, malayo mararating mo. :P
---
The conversation went on for a few more exchanges. But I feel that the more I prolong the chat, the more I feel that both of us are hitting on each other. The problem is, he is the one giving the motives. Restlessness and boredom, on the other hand tempts me to respond in a flirty manner. After all, there's no greater fun in the world than to know that you made someone excited just by teasing him with erotic-induced words.
When I was 21, the best tease one could say to me is "I'm gonna #^$!^ you day and night!" Trust me, it could force me out of the house at the middle of the night and into the place of the one who said it.
Perhaps, that's what I miss sometimes - the feeling of being teased and the feeling of being the kid again. At 25, it's awkward to act in such way unless a 30 or a 28 year old would be the one to tell you that. (Some did attempt, but the more I get older, the more I restrain myself.) If there is any good conclusion to this brief chat I had with the kid, it is that I felt I just talked with my younger self this evening. In the way he answered my question and reservedly flirted at me, in the way he loved being the one protected and enjoyed being called the "kiddo,"
I just heard myself saying, "I wish you were there... when I was twenty one ".
---
Mugen: we could still see here. Bookmark kita para lagi akong nakamonitor sayo. Are you the eldest?
BantayBata: youngest... alagang alaga...
Mugen: ganun ba? Thats great. Im happy for you kiddo.
BantayBata: kiddo.. wahahaa...
Mugen: you like it huh?
BantayBata: yup.. hehehe.. aliw... *wink
Mugen: I would have loved it if someone called me that when I was 21. Dito na lang muna ok? I'll catch up with you next time. Be good! Names J, Kiddo. Ingat ka.
---
*Wanna Sleep Wid Me? I Snore Loudly! - caption of my private pic.
---
bantaybata: nice profyl.. wahahah
mugen: thanks kiddo.
bantaybata: kiddo tlga.. hahaha... aliw basahin.. btw, got face pic?
mugen: yep meron. heehee.
bantaybata: pasend... (mugen: bratty ha, pagtripan nga.)
mugen: what will i get in return?
bantaybata: ewan.. hahaha... may face pic nman aq sa profyl q.. eion.. its up to u if you'll send it or not..
mugen: you look cute, young, and fresh. hehehe. (mugen: i sense the spirit of my notty side emerging)
bantaybata: hahaha. tnx.. im just 16, that's why (mugen: please dial 168 for bantay bata.)
mugen: haha, lagot ako sa bantay bata pag ganun? nagpapaalaga ka ba totoy? Hehe.
bantaybata: hahaha... pede...
mugen: hmm. interesting. may mga namit ka na ba dito sa g4m?
bantaybata: yup.. 2 p nga lng eh..face pic..
mugen: kulet mo naman. iniinterview pa kita eh. mawawala ang thrill kapag nakita mo kaagad mukha ko.
bantaybata: bkit..? gusto mo ym n lng tau? tagal xeng proseso pag dto
mugen: wala akong ym dito sa bahay ko eh. gaano katanda ang mga namit mo?
bantaybata: 26, and 19 (mugen: siraulong 26 yun ah! cradle snatcher!!)
mugen: hahaha sino si 26? was it a friendly meet up?
bantaybata: yup... EB lng tlga.. Bsta, g4m member un.. hehehe, cute kso ndi nkkipagrel.. sayang..
mugen: hehe, shempre luko luko yung mga matatanda dito. usually papakita lang nila sayo yung pet nila. hehehe. (mugen: bad yan... bad boy!!)
bantaybata: heeheh.. maayos nman ung nmit q.. alam lumugar.. hahaha
mugen: gud answer. for that, here's my pic bro.
---
I thought the chat would end there. Knowing how swift transactions are made in that website, it's either I passed or failed in the eyes of that kid. However, adopting a confident attitude in such setting has its advantage. The person Mugen is chatting with is just a teenager, who is also a bottom. A guy who has a "psychological" background like Bantaybata might probably be looking for someone stronger - A sort of big brother Mugen still subconsciously seek, if they think in the same way.
The chat would have ended, if the kid decided not to exchange messages anymore. But after several minutes of silence, my speculations were all correct. Not only his messages began to pop again, he had complimentary words ready to catch Mugen's waning attention.
---
BantayBata: ok.. tnx... hahaha.. gusto q ung caption* nung pic.. hahaha...
Mugen: nakalimutan ko na kung ano yung caption ko eh. pasensya na, ulyanin na kasi ang mga 25 years old ngayon eh.
BantayBata: hahaha.. aus lng un.. pati din mga 16 y/o// haha.. btw, lapit na q out.. have globe?
Mugen: hawak ng gf ko yung phone ko for a week eh. Teka whats with my caption? (Mugen: Wow, this is fiction! I can't believe I still have some bisexual trappings in me! Haha)
BantayBata: la.. never mind.. hahaha.. my gf ka pla.. di mo nssabi.. hehehe..
Mugen: meron nga, may kabit naman na lesbian. Might as well raise a little kid instead. (Mugen: This statement my dear readers is what you call Magical Realism)
BantayBata: hahaha.. ganun.. grabe..
Mugen: Thats life. You know what, I think that you're mature for your age. Keep it up, malayo mararating mo. :P
---
The conversation went on for a few more exchanges. But I feel that the more I prolong the chat, the more I feel that both of us are hitting on each other. The problem is, he is the one giving the motives. Restlessness and boredom, on the other hand tempts me to respond in a flirty manner. After all, there's no greater fun in the world than to know that you made someone excited just by teasing him with erotic-induced words.
When I was 21, the best tease one could say to me is "I'm gonna #^$!^ you day and night!" Trust me, it could force me out of the house at the middle of the night and into the place of the one who said it.
Perhaps, that's what I miss sometimes - the feeling of being teased and the feeling of being the kid again. At 25, it's awkward to act in such way unless a 30 or a 28 year old would be the one to tell you that. (Some did attempt, but the more I get older, the more I restrain myself.) If there is any good conclusion to this brief chat I had with the kid, it is that I felt I just talked with my younger self this evening. In the way he answered my question and reservedly flirted at me, in the way he loved being the one protected and enjoyed being called the "kiddo,"
I just heard myself saying, "I wish you were there... when I was twenty one ".
---
Mugen: we could still see here. Bookmark kita para lagi akong nakamonitor sayo. Are you the eldest?
BantayBata: youngest... alagang alaga...
Mugen: ganun ba? Thats great. Im happy for you kiddo.
BantayBata: kiddo.. wahahaa...
Mugen: you like it huh?
BantayBata: yup.. hehehe.. aliw... *wink
Mugen: I would have loved it if someone called me that when I was 21. Dito na lang muna ok? I'll catch up with you next time. Be good! Names J, Kiddo. Ingat ka.
---
*Wanna Sleep Wid Me? I Snore Loudly! - caption of my private pic.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Kuya
Minsan isang panahon, nakita ko ang sarili ko na nagbabasa ng isang libro sa loob ng library ng aming paaralan. Grade six ako noon, soloista at mahilig tumambay sa pagitan ng dalawang naglalakihang bookshelves kung saan walang nakakakitang tao sa akin. Isang tanghali, may mga lower grade pupils na nagtatakbuhan sa aisle kung saan ako malapit. Dahil naiistorbo nila ang pagbabasa ko ng encyclopedia noon, sinita ko sila para tumahimik. Nagpulasan ang mga bata at biglang tumahimik ang paligid. Ngunit may isa pala sa kanilang natira at nangahas na lumapit sa akin.
Hindi ko na matandaan kung ano ang mga tinanong niya sa akin. Hindi ko na rin maalala ang kanyang mukha, ang kanyang pangalan, o kung anong section siya nabibilang. Pero ang hindi ko makalimutang tinanong niya sa akin ay kung maari ba niya akong maging kuya... na madali ko namang pinaunlakan sapagkat gusto ko na rin siyang umalis sa tabi ko.
Natapos ang buong school year, ilang beses pa kaming nagkatama ng landas. Hindi ko matandaan ang kanyang mukha o ang kanyang pangalan pero sa harap ng kanyang mga kaklase, pinagmamalaki niya ako bilang kuya, kahit hindi niya alam na sa batch ko, isa ako sa mga looser at outcast noon, taas noo pa rin niya akong tinawag na kuya. Nang malapit na ang graduation, binalak ko siyang hanapin upang magpaalam at magpasalamat. Balak ko sanang ibigay sa kanya ang isa sa aking pinakatatagong Matchbox na kotche-kotchehan upang maalala man lang niya ako hanggang pagtanda.
Sa kasamaang palad hindi ko na siya nakita. Pero nakalipas na ang maraming panahon, natatandaan ko pa rin ang aming unang tagpuan.
---
Twelve years had passed and I still remembered the boy. Probably, failing to say goodbye to him remained one of my greatest guilt, now that I am beginning to feel myself in his shoes. There were times, when things get really tough, I'd tell myself how I wish I had a big brother. If only there would be someone who could protect me when things are a little bit beyond my control, I think I would be the happiest man alive.
Lately, I get acquainted with guys older than me. One such example was Euphoria Boy, who I still see in the faces of many chinito guys that pass in front of me. There's also Papu, who I never fail to mention whenever I give gay101 lessons to newbies I chat with in PEx. The list of older guys goes on and on, and one thing that is common among all of them is that somehow, I get attracted or heavily attached to these guys I get acquainted with.
With the exception of Papu of course.
Mama would warn me that I should set an example as a big brother to my little sister since, she has this tendency to get attracted to older guys as well. I'm not sure of the reasons behind my sister's apparent preference for older guys. Probably, she was so attached to my dad when he was still alive that my sister still seeks him in the guys who comes along her way. I don't know, I just don't open this discussion with anyone... except here in my blog.
---
When dad died last year, I became the man of the house. Believe me, such task demands contant vigil and utmost responsibility. There were nights you would suffer sleeplessness thinking about how would your family survive without you. Some nights, I would think about how would I earn bigger money so that I could stand on my own, without the sikyu agency's assistance.
Good thing, we have a lesbian driver to act as the brute force when I am not around. Together with her sidekick, an older guy who used to be my tutor and my mom's former student when I was still in high school, they serve as my mom's external hands and feet when she can't do the task she needs to do.
I admit, that in many situations I remain weak. I could be a potent force when I am part of the household but what if I am not around? What if the challenges are so impossible to resolve to the point I would feel helpless and alone as well? These are the things that constantly distracts my mind whenever I feel insecure...
And when I feel insecure, my usual escape is to imagine some kuya material dodging the projectiles which I could not take anymore.
---
I remembered writing an entry about this same feelings not so long ago. But I also admitted in that entry that after looking for a big brother material all my life, I have realized that I became the kuya I am looking for. The apparent uniqueness of character I have; my desire to be ahead of a situation even before it happens and the way I became a man of the house says it all. I am no longer the happy-go-lucky person who's only concern is his own life and nothing more.
All those traits I've mentioned are the things I'm looking for in a man I would look up to. I think, after admitting that I found those traits in me, there is one single thing I am still looking for: the capability to steer one's own life according to his will.
So far I haven't done that yet.
These past few weeks, I have been exchanging private messages with two older guys in G4M. One is an accountant and a separated dad working in Mindanao and one is a businessman and a sports buff here in Manila. Both of them are deep, wild, chinito and top. Although I haven't met them yet, and as much as possible, I try to make our conversation more of a brotherly one. But lately, I have this inkling that I started having hots for them as well. Even in daydreams, I'd like to see myself under their enlightened guidance.
It seems like having a big brother or an older companion remains embedded deep in my psyche. It felt like the never ending search for someone stronger, wiser and wilder has once again awakened my sleeping thoughts about what if... I have a kuya? What if I'm not the one to be in charge all the time? And what if I have an older buddy as a lover, would things be easier?
Perhaps this is just a mere daydream aspiration created to artificially fill the void I am feeling...
and defend myself in times I can't stand on my own feet.
---
In times like this, I remember the boy. How I wish I had been more enthusiastic to be his big brother, now that years after, I'd end up constantly seeking for one.
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