Fast Car

There
are some things
that can only be
truly appreciated
after dark.

Commonwealth Avenue, Quezon City

---


You got a fast car
But is it fast enough so we can fly away
We gotta make a decision
We leave tonight or live and die this way

Tracy Chapman, Fast Car

Ikaanim

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the exes for the last seven years to justify those hopes with which Mugen and Pulsar have been pleased to solace themselves. Is it that mind-blowing intimacy with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your heart. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this sensuous reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations after our affections have been emptied? Are cold treatment and gradual distance necessary to a work of love and romance? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of abandonment or subjugation; the last arguments to which other men resort.

- Patrick Henry, Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death

---

We have forgiven, but nobody says we should ever forget.

Of The Things To Come

Isang dahilan kung bakit ayaw ko na masyadong nakukuha ng isang bagay o tao ang aking atensyon ay dahil ang unang apektado ay ang pagsusulat ko.

Kagaya ng nangyari ngayong gabi.



Mahigit apat na oras rin yun.

The Fox

Maybe, just maybe, the reason why I don't want to go back is because I know, I know, that something sinister lurks inside me. And time and again, whenever I am left to fend for my own solitude, in the deepest of the night it emerges; it seethes, like invisible fire burning my skin. It seeks its own end after brief moments of being alive; it seeks a direct path, a course towards the orgasm of the senses in a most efficient manner, for it is aware that a leash holds it in place. It knows, it is being pinned down, manipulated and distracted for it not to succeed in its desires. To consume is its calling and to abandon, its passing and the more it is being silenced; the more it is being shoved, down the throat, of the things he can never do and the acts he can never perform, the more it fights back with much fury and more persistence to make its every breath accountable.


13 Mar 2009, 07:13
You: gaano ka ka hard mag-fuck pare?

13 Mar 2009, 07:48
hukbo: very hard pare

trip ko yung isasagad etits ko tapos huhugutin hanggang ulo tapos isasagad uli ng mabilis

13 Mar 2009, 09:17
You: sarap nun bro. masarap run yung inuupuan ka tapos ginigiling nung bottom mo yung balakang niya sayo. Habang ikaw naman eh kinukuyumos ng halik ang kanyang mapupulang labi. Sarap!

13 Mar 2009, 09:20
hukbo: shit trip ko din yun. habang ginigiling nung btm pwet nya sa titi ko, kinakadyot ko naman titi ko pataas para lalo pasok sa pwet nya, tapos naghahalo na pawis namin

13 Mar 2009, 09:23
You: sarap nun men sagad na sagad. ewan ko lang kung hindi tumirik ang mata ng bottom mo niyan. Siguro sa sarap ng baon mo pati balikat mo eh makakagat niya.

13 Mar 2009, 09:27
hukbo: tangna pare may btm ako na todo hard fuck ginawa ko. 3sme yun. dapat habang doggie ko sya bj nya yung isa. pero sa sobrang hard fuck ko sa kanya wala na sya nagawa kundi umungol habang hawak titi nung isang top, di na masubo hehe

13 Mar 2009, 09:29
You: sana men ako yung bottom mo nun. Hahaha. lalaban ako ng patas senyong dalawa. ng top.

13 Mar 2009, 09:38
hukbo: pare cge ba il fuck u good

13 Mar 2009, 09:39
You: and i will make sure i'd be worth it. hahaha.

13 Mar 2009, 09:55
hukbo: Ok ah. may facepics ka tol?

Only to be reminded time and again that he is long dead.

---

First Week: 0 real-time engagements 3 vocal harassment 5 textual insinuations. The statistics could be re-arranged, the heart, cannot.

Battle Simulation

Consider this a response when recession hits the house of Jomania:

Expect to stand alone. With the sibling still in the process of looking for means of living (and a real life beyond the leftist leanings), the house of Jomania will rely on your meager earnings to survive its day to day affairs. Without the Sikyu, you will be running at merely a quarter of your spending capacity. Fortunes will turn around, and you will be forced to fight to survive. With credit payments still halfway done, choosing between completion and slow but painful reconstruction will be a strategic decision. Either way, let me assure you that even if you have a thirty grand outstanding balance, you will be able to pay everything before hell breaks loose.

It will not be a problem.

Now let us focus on your phone bill, cable bill and yes, even the gym membership fee. The cost will be between four and five grand a month. House contributions should be pegged at around five grand as well, which will leave you with barely nothing to claw for your everyday sustenance. How about that for starters? There is no assurance that the credit grantors will leave your house at peace. They will not overlook the loans your biz have taken in its many, many years of existence. You will not bear the responsibilities. But for sure, you will never bear seeing the mistress of the house suffer a fate she never deserves.

Any method of resistance you can come up with?

You have spent the entire day searching for ways to hold your walls if this nightmare happens. Life will never be the same for you, or for the household you have cherished. We have been in this mess before, and in one piece you were able to come out with little bruises to dent your skin. But now, we are not too sure how things will end when the dust settles. The weekly night affairs with the groupies will be the first to go. Second would be the unnecessary phone spending, and yes, even the cable service has to go. The gym might have to be ditched as well. There are places where you can still perform the muscle worship at half the price.

There must be a million things running in your head right now. A part, wishes to vent everything somewhere; a part, longs to blame some missteps in the past; and a part, simply wants to flee. Yet, whatever the outcome be, we have the means to stand up and pick our pace whereever we stumble.

The resume is ready in case you need a double job.
And the sibling's resume is at hand, when an opporunity for a job offer unexpectedly comes.
With the buffer fund still intact. Hope that fate, with all its goodness towards the house in the years before, will still be gracious to you this time.

Sacrifices must be performed for the will to survive.

---

"Most of our worst fears don't actually happen. Keep praying. I also offered a prayer for you."

- text message, Tagabukid.

"Just a thought. A country cannot go to war when it faces an internal struggle. A nation crumbling within can never expand its national borders."

- twitter entry, 13 hours ago

Shadow Of Sleeplessness: Ten Ways Of Coping Up With Insomnia

The battle to reclaim the body clock rages on. If the bouts of sleeplessness last week brought misery and turmoil not only to my job performance but also to my everyday relationship with people, this week, I turned things around by accommodating my highly unusual sleeping pattern.

You see, what's done is done and if I'm not mistaken, it takes 21 days to start a habit. Since I cannot afford to give up three weeks to follow a routine, (for I will always have to break my cycle every Friday for hedonistic reasons) my choice is to accept the pattern already in place.

Imagine getting sleepy at 7 in the evening, only to be forced into a wakeful cycle a minute before midnight. Since you spent your entire evening unconsciously living your fantasies and nightmares in dreamland, you will catch up with real life by doing your errands when people are about to sleep. Nocturnal invitations would not come until three or four in morning, which you have to cut short for your work at 9. Sleep kicks in again at noon which slows your work performance. Power naps will cut deep into your shift until you realize that you have barely 2 hours to finish your work. And so the cycle begins again when you arrive home. Coping up with the pattern will be hard in the beginning, but some lessons in practicality will see you through.

Here are ten ways that enable me to get around my sleeping trouble.

10. Acceptance.

Mister Sandman ignores you no matter how many sheep you count. Not even glasses of warm milk would relax your senses and encourage your brain functions to slow down - in fact, it sometimes backfires when you have to get up to take a leak in the toilet. If you can't sleep, then accept it. There is no use waiting for eternity lying like a drugged Snow White in bed.

9. Say Hello To Mister Brains.

Information overload will keep you alert but deny you of all the possible avenues to fall asleep. At least, you learn many things in the middle of the night. Lucky are those whose television and dvd player are inside their room. You can get to watch highly profound art films when your brain processing function is at its maximum. Luckier are those who have access to cable channels at anytime of the night. You are tuned-in to the world like everyone in the planet hardly sleeps.

CNN, National Geographic, Animax and Discovery Channel - these are my companions when my sleeping pattern would not give me a break. No wonder, I'm turning geek these days.

8. Write Life.

Based from experience, people are more open to expressing their thoughts, feelings and ideas when there is a soft light illuminating the bedroom while silence whispers in their ears.

Most of my better and more compelling entries were published at past 2 in the morning.

7. Become The Earpleaser.

Listen to different music genres when sleep evades you. Surely the neighbors won't complain if they hear Chopin or Mozart hum sweet melodies from your speakers. Of course, you're not crazy enough to play techno or rock music at high volume at past midnight Enrich your auditory experience by exposing yourself to the varied kind of light acoustics.

6. Release Your Sensual Demons.

Better done with a bed companion. However, when a person is not available, One can always avail the assistance of Mister Jack Palmer. Kinkiness has it's appeal when one is desperate to fall asleep.

5. Cheat.

If it's totally impossible to get some sleep before work begins, end your misery by moving the bulk of your after-shift activities early in the morning.

There are gyms which are open 24 hours. Since my sleeping trouble is tampering with my fixed waking pattern, I changed my gym routine from late in the afternoon to early in the morning. They say it's difficult to lift weights in such condition. I say when the mind is awake, everything is possible.

4. Distancia Amigo.

Finally, it's time to sync your personal schedule with the rest of humanity. Often, the merging is not easy. By 8 in the morning, an insomniac would most likely feel tired, exhausted and a little cranky after enduring a night of wakefulness. To warn the people around of your potentials to get very intense and grumpy saves not only a few bones and muscles but also a friendship unjustly broken because of a nasty fight that started as a harmless joke.

3. Power Naps.

Avoid committing career-threatening lapses by allowing the body to recuperate. There is nothing wrong in shutting down one's mental functions when the mind is idle and lacks stimulation. Lunch breaks are ideal for power naps, but if you're working in an industry where breaks are intertwined with work, stealing company time to boost one's personal efficiency is justifiable.

Just don't follow my example where an intermittent power nap could last an entire movie run.

2. Do What The Koboys Do.

Yes, try to learn how to sleep anywhere. I can fall asleep in my office chair, on a toilet cubicle, inside an FX going to work, on a slow-moving bus from Cubao to Shaw, inside a jeep by leaning my head over the soft cushion just above the open window. Desperate times require desperate measures. As long as my head is comfortably secured on a surface, then it's off to dreamland for me.

1. Find Joy Exploring New Worlds.

Astig maging iba. The slogan of a carbonated beverage drink bannered over print and tv ads a few years ago. There is a grain of truth in it, really, especially when you're the kind of person who enjoys following the unconventional path. Being a nocturnal animal all my life, to embrace a morning schedule is like being condemned to the bowels of hell. Imagine where I am coming from, I can count with my fingers the number of times I was able to enjoy a glimpse of sunrise. Even to see little children going to school has become a rare spectacle for me.

Since I learned to adjust my movements based from my sleeping pattern, these rare joys has become a regular treat. I can now observe the early-risers go with their business whenever I leave the house at 5 in the morning. I can now even attend early morning masses (to which I'm not entirely thrilled to claim) in Katipunan, which I haven't done before.

---

These are my ways of coping up with insomnia. Not everything I've written works for people, but there is no harm in trying. What really matters is that one should never see a prolonged wakefulness as a problem but instead, a different way of seeing life unfold. There is no denial that having a fucked-up body clock could sometimes be a burden. How many day-offs did I waste when I spent it sleeping all day? Those precious hours could be used to do other things but instead I used it to lay claim to sleep that was denied to me.

An aunt doctor said that insomnia is a temporary affliction. Many people who suffers from it are still able to get their normal sleeping patterns back. As for my own troubles, I'd just let things take its course. Sooner or later, my body would get used to my new shift.

While I gain new grounds by reaping the rewards of being awake at times when others are still rolling and twisting in their desperate sleep.

photos acquired from
ponzi.com

High

It all began with a video footage on Bandila two nights ago.

While everyone at home waited for any news about the high-profile drama surrounding the Alabang Boys and their busted drug syndicate, news about the Feast of the Black Nazarene splashed on the TV Screen. It was an anti-climactic turnaround of events especially for me, whose longing for real-time drama revealed how monotonous my choice of programming is late at night. The news spoke of preparations being done by the local city government of Manila for the expected deluge of devotees for the procession. It was also reported in the news that many devotees actually spend the night at the Basilica to welcome the massive statue as it is being pulled away from the altar towards the plaza and into the streets of Quiapo, where the flock scrambles to rub their towels and handkerchiefs on the icon.

The news about the all-night vigil stirred my curiosity. The thought of being with a group of pilgrims clad in Maroon who walked bare-footed going to the Basilica while carrying small statues of the Black Nazarene did not escape my thirst for something extraordinary. It may not be as thrilling as the Alabang Boys Scandal, but it is an excuse to be in Quiapo during the ungodly hour of the night.

I could just imagine the things I would find out as I join the devotees out there.

It was past midnight when I left the gym. Tired and exhausted from a heavy work-out, heading home to get some rest was an easy choice. However, the Feast of the Black Nazarene is a once-in-a-year event. I may not be given a chance to witness it the next time it happens. Icy raindrops continued to pour down as I waited for a jeep that will take me to Quiapo. The heaving skies implied that my pilgrimage would not be as easy as I hope it would be. Inside my head, I see images of people all over the city converging around the Basilica. Frosty drizzles may dampen their huddled bodies but it will never drench their pious spirit.

However, it was not the image that greeted me when I arrived in Quiapo half an hour later. What I saw was a gay pageant being held on a rickety platform just a few streets across the Basilica. The Maranao traders may have retreated back to their tiny pigeon holes but it was the homeless who crouched in fetal position as they slept on mats splayed across the deserted pavement.

These depressing scenes did not stop me from pushing towards my destination. When I emerged from the sleepy side of the Lacson Underpass, throngs of people approached me from all sides. They were traders selling icons, religious booklets, scapulars and even handkerchiefs with the image of the Poon imprinted on both sides. Flames remained ablaze on several stalls, whose trade is to sell a bundle of candles in different colors for well-wishers to burn. The sight was quite disappointing; for I see these images every time I pass by the Basilica. It was the human drama I wished to see in that place. Unfortunately, everything was as mundane as the last time I found myself there.

As I think of ways to make the most out of my time outside the Church, I mingled with the vendors whose lives have been interwoven with the affairs of the Nazareno. Most of them were resentful after the new parish priest decreed that the celebrations should be done at Luneta instead. They were expecting the traditions to go on - despite the yearly casualties that sometimes take lives during the procession. Much as I wanted to welcome the changes initiated by the Basilica authorities, I cannot help but consider how the break in tradition would affect the essence of the festivities.

Something will be lost and it would most likely be the spirit of the occasion.

The chit-chat went on until a minor skirmish between two vendors broke out on the other side of the plaza. Fearing that a riot might erupt anytime soon, I sought refuge inside the Basilica. There I found the devotees seated next to each other on pews and on the floor while doing their personal acts of veneration towards the Nazareno.

I walked past aisles, but there was no seat available. The pews were occupied by children soundly asleep while their adult companions fanned themselves as they stared blankly at the altar. Meanwhile, the old folks, whose timeless tradition they hold to even at the twilight years of their lives offer a glimpse of what human continuity could achieve: Decades from now, it would be their children who would be kneeling and clutching their rosaries, while their children's children would be the one sleeping on those same nearly-immortal pews.

I sat near the lectern and turned my head towards the pious parishioners facing me. They were the ordinary folks - the Masa crowd who often flock the Basilica during ordinary days. They were not the rich and middle-class parishioners who pay a visit at my favorite convent in Katipunan to write prayers on a piece of paper and then offer a basket of eggs to tempt the heavens to grant their supplications.

Unzipping my bag, I took out the rosary, the prayer booklet and the Bible which I bring wherever I go. The past twelve months have been transforming that I learned to keep my peace not by going to parties or engaging myself in sexual affairs, or engaging learned people about the values of our generation. I found serenity in reciting prayers passed on to me by my mother when I was still a kid. It is faith that holds me in place and whenever I find myself in a house of prayer, I take every opportunity to get in touch with my spirituality no matter what other people would think.

My fingers began to feel the wooden beads despite having no prayer intentions in mind. As I looked around for one last time before shutting my thoughts and turning myself inwards, what I still see were faceless people seating, kneeling and praying in front of me.

Bible passages were read, as each succeeding sorrowful mysteries drew me closer to that self fulfillment I seek. As the last of the Holy Mary's were being recited, I knew that my journey was coming to an end. This Pilgrimage will go down as one of the highs of this year. After doing the sign of the cross, I picked my bag and left the Basilica without ever getting noticed. Devotees were still coming in, while outside, traders braved the unbearable freezing temperature to sell trinkets that would remind non-believers of how profitable religion is.

It was time to go home. The Pilgrimage had restored my faith. It doesn't matter if the Nazareno truly answers prayers or heal the sick; I already have my goals. However, it seems like the Source was not over with me yet. Something is about to unfold and it would truly make my expedition as spiritual as it could be.

I remember reading a passage in the Book of Matthew while reciting my prayers earlier. It speaks of the messiah telling his listeners about his father wanting not sacrifices to offer but kindness for all his creations. For some reasons I made a mental note of that passage, only to find out what it truly meant while walking pass snoozing bystanders slumbering beneath the cold, lonely underpass.

As I was about to climb the steep flight of stairs leading to Hidalgo Street, a young woman clutching an infant approached me. She was asking for spare change. Feeling the contents of my pocket, what I found was a bunch of coins worth eight pesos. It was all the money I have left. I knew it wasn't enough for the lady and her infant. To apologize or pretend that I did not hear anything was an easy choice. However, coming from a very personal communion with the almighty, leaving her ignored and abandoned will take away the essence of my journey.

On my right hand was a half-filled bottle of Cobra Energy Drink I bought from a convenience store not far from the Basilica. It was the only thing I could offer. Extending my hand, I asked if she would like to have my drink instead. Without hesitation she smiled and took the bottle away like a thirsty wayfarer taking a break from a long and difficult trek she had to overcome. Her acceptance gave me a sense of relief. "Finally a good deed done after receiving the good news," I told myself. As I bowed to the lady before I left, a moment's glimpse suddenly blurred my vision.

It felt like the encounter sums up everything I did in Quiapo.

The devotees may spend a day and a night reciting the most poetic words to venerate their icons. They can form a line as far as the eyes could see just to wipe a statue whose miracles according to legends could bring fortune and healing to the sick. The Feast of the Nazarene is a religious event for those who believe and those who wish to believe.

I recall the beginnings of my journey towards the end of it; when a lady carrying a child approached me begging for alms. I responded not by offering food or money but by giving her my drink. In that small act, I discovered that the fulfillment I seek was not inside the Basilica or in the wooden beads which my fingers run for almost an hour.

Hours after arriving home, the smile on that thirsty lady's face remains deeply embedded on my head. Words were never spoken, but when our hands held together the plastic bottle I was giving her, it was almost like meeting the lady and the child whose image appears in front of my prayer booklet.

And whose assurances I sought when prayers were spoken from my lips.

When our hands held close, it was the only time I truly felt complete.

Last Hurrah For March

I'm sleepy, but my mind is still awake. I can't sleep but I'm tired already. A bank manager called me this morning. She told me that EPAC paid me during my training week three years ago. Therefore, I still have my salary and the bank would like to inform me that I should withdraw it before the bank starts to debit from my money. So I went there, to withdraw my entire earnings amounting to P5K. Then I went to Megamall to pay my phonebill. Then I bought a headset for P500. On my way home, Phanks asked me if he could borrow P200. Again, he's cash strapped and since I committed myself in helping him with his school efforts, I went all the way from Ortigas to Benilde just to hand him my extra money. It took me 1 hour to reach UN Avenue from Quiapo. It turns out, there was a Bayan Muna Rally near the Supreme Court. After seeing my buddy, I went to University Mall to buy some pirated CDs. No good pick, just the same crappy club sounds that I still rip and store in my PC. What if I start digging Hiphop for a change? I'm not really happy that my House Music gets sissier through the years. Where are the hard house beats? Where are the tracks ecstasy addicts used to rave about? It's almost midnight. Miggs of Manila Gay Guy would be visiting Palawan 2 with his friends tonight. I hope they'd have fun. The summer's becoming unbearable. It makes me less horny unlike when it's cold and rainy. Expect me to have a flag ceremony all the time. I still have to write a food fiction for my final revision, and also I still have four papers that I have to revise before April 9. Tomorrow, I'd be in a wake. A tropa's dad died while working in the Middle East. Ganun pala, it's so difficult not only for the family, but for the person to die in another country. Anyway, I'd know the whole story by tomorrow. I still want to vent out so many things, but I think this is enough rant. One day of silence, yeah. The price of being quiet and solitary, yeah. Good thing, I have a blog where I could tell everything, no holds barred... almost. I could have told someone my story during the whole day. But would someone listen? I don't think so. Anyway, this is enough. If I can't sleep, then I'm gonna watch the news, or Discovery Channel, or Jack TV.

Maybe there, I might find the enlightenment that I've been looking for.

XP

nu ka ba! a diva sparkles, gagah! a diva glows! a diva is a diva, ke sad o hindi!

a diva is never a depressed butiki na naipit sa bisagra!
pasalamat ka ala ka hair ngaun kundi sabunutan pa kita. enuf with that kasentihan...
go out and party!

- Mami Athena, a comment on Lone Wolf Searching For His Pack

---

"Bud, I have two glasses of cocktail here," says XP, who went to the bar to get us something to drink. "They're both Vodka Sprite. This is for you, and the one in my hand is for you too, since I'm not drinking tonight."

"Cool, so now I'm not just a gate crasher but a freeloader too!" I told him as the neon green spotlight darts my body at the middle of BED's dance floor.

Last night, my plan was go to Government after they sent me a last-minute invitation through text for their monthly event for "kids." Since this is a free-entrance event, I wouldn't have any problems partying within my set budget. However, something came up last night that lead to a change of plans. XP, my best friend told me that he could not sleep so he would just attend a friend's party at BED instead.

---

I arrived considerably earlier than him. At the Orosa Courtyard, a handful of gay foreigners were dating their local boyfriends, outdoor style. Looking around, I saw a tall caucasian sitting on his little brown date's lap on one table, while posted in the wall high above BED's exterior were these huge pictures of the men who'd be competing for the Mr Gay Philippines Pageant this month.

These images made me cringe a little bit about the lifestyle I'm living. First, I think big old Caucasian foreigners dating exotic Filipino men are a little off-tune. It's like seeing a Redneck American walking at Robinson's Malate with his yaya-looking wife. You sometimes really wonder if such dates are serious, or it's just an excuse for the Pinoys to enjoy some perks, they would never taste on their own.

Second, I saw this news clip of Mr. Gay Philippines' candidates on TV Patrol last week. The candidates claim they represent gay masculinity. However, just one glance and you can smell from a far distance (pardon the word) how effeminate most of these guys are. Plus, their faces are everywhere. Di naman sila gwapo ah! I can vouch that I've seen better-looking PLUs. And mind you, these hunkies would rather be killed first before they join such kind of pageant.

---

XP arrived thirty minutes after I came. He's sporting a brown tight shirt and faded jeans exposing his fit body. It's not really the official Malate outfit - for every screaming gays that I saw were sporting this extra hair at their back. But last night, almost all the cute guys I've seen in BED were wearing XP's get-up. Is there a connection? I don't think so. But the sight of them at the bar was truly refreshing. Seeing these fair-looking buff guys allowed me to forget the personal shits I'm into lately.

BED was at its full capacity since the second floor is closed, Many friends and acquaintances of the celebrants came to celebrate their respective parties. Mcvie the blogger celebrated his birthday there. Being a close friend of XP, he was invited to Mcvie's party. Since I'm acquainted naman with the celebrant, I kinda joined him in his bash, even if I look like a lost gatecrasher.

"Alam mo bud, I think I'm gonna detach myself from groups muna?"

"Why naman?" he asked.

"Kasi I look at it this way. I'm a natural loner. Big groups turn me to a wallflower. Small, one-on-one meet-ups like this one makes me talk and bond with the person I'm seeing. So I guess this is better."

"Yeah, I agree with you. Mas ok nga yung ganito. No hassles." XP said looking amazed at the slideshow of g4m members on BED's huge viewscreen.

"So I think I'd limit my group presence this year. You know me, we could meet once in a while and still appear that we have just seen each other yesterday."

Our conversation about friendship was interrupted when he pointed this LJ (Live Journal) guy who writes his sexcapades in his journal. According to XP, this guy is a notorious social climber. Once, XP tried befriending him since his new circle will connect him to this guy's own circle of friends. Unfortunately, he was turned down for no reason at all. Now that XP's becoming the more popular guy, this LJ writer started writing about being a victim of a certain "conspiracy." within his LJ group.

"Bud kapal naman magkwento ng sexcapades niyan. Uhm dont you think he's quite old and too porky and nerdy-looking to brag about his bed kills?" I asked him while guzzling my san mig light, my eyes turning at every direction looking for cute yuppies around us.

"Exactly, besides, talagang blacklisted sakin yan for snubbing me during my most down moment. Badtrip talaga."

"The nerve dude, I think I'm gonna puke. Have you ever thought he's just making up his stories? Kung ganun, baka naman talagang hopeless case na siya."

"That's what the others say. Pero yaan mo na, what matters is that I'm happy with my life." XP told me.

One Night In Limbo

I will be going out tonight.
not because I want to, but I'm forced to.
Sister is typing her report. She demands
complete silence.
I on the other hand, could content myself
curling up in bed and watching Nat Geo before going
to sleep. But such luxury is not possible since my
TV will distract the silence she wants.

So, this will be a premature adventure.

The problem really
is not the solitary gimmick.
Unarmed with self confidence
and direction of destination,
my biggest worry is where
I would go.

Beyond The Realms Of Malate: A Bar Tour (Last Part)

Sidenote: Check out the previous wikimapia image for more details. I'm gonna use this device the next time I go out again.

*

For the first time,
you've got me baby...
yeah eh... yeah eh.

- Maya, First Time (Offer Nissim Club Mix)

---

Two bars visited, yet a restless heart still feels incomplete. Perhaps, I’m so used to dancing at Government that I could not enjoy anymore the pleasures of having a quiet drink. My next and final destination is supposed to land me in Timog, where a new PLU dance club recently opened. According to sources, this PLU place boasts a dark room on its second floor. A dark room is an area where guys satisfy their horny instincts in a quick, no-frills style after finding their desired mate from the guys who cruises at the dance floor.

However, from what I’ve heard from subtle conversations in Palawan, there is another bigger Palawan, which is actually not a bar, but a huge dance club. According to these two chatty effeminates, the dance club rivals BED or Government in size and guests numbers. Their endless bragging stirred up my curiosity, so before I left, I asked the person in the ticket booth where I could find this other Palawan bar.

He told me to take a tricycle and tell the driver to bring me to “Palawan Dos.” The guy assured me that the driver knows where the place is. The problem however is that I don’t have any spare change for the short trip. Therefore, I decided to walk four streets to get there. The guy in the ticket booth told me the exact street anyway, so there's no problem - except that my immediate concern was how to walk along Aurora without getting mugged or further harassed by pimps desperately offering their girls for a short time fun.


Palawan 2 Disco Bar

Two words: Enormously huge.

This disco bar indeed, could rival my home turfs in size and visitors. It was a Friday morning when I went there, but surprisingly, all the tables on the ground floor were occupied.

In front of me was a huge stage, where a drag queen dances and lip syncs to a song performed by Madonna. Her skimpy costume dazzles me with colors and with her dance choreography, it shows how well rehearsed her performance was.

Since there was no available table at the ground floor, the waiter suggested that I should go up to the balcony instead. The view was better up there, but all the chairs were also occupied. Luckily, there was a spare chair near the corner where a group of kids were smoking cigarettes.

I approached the guy next to the vacant stool. He was tall, fair-looking and has a chinky eyes that smiled at me when I asked him if the chair was occupied. He told me it was available. Checking him out as he watched another drag performing a Mariah song, I mumbled, "God I think he's cute!"

The moment I settled down, the waiter behind me immediately gave the menu. Beers are a little more expensive here compared to Sandra’s, but still, it’s far cheaper than what I pay for in a high-end bar. They have a promotion that night, where a bottle of Colt Ice only cost P45 pesos, so I ordered one bottle and joined the crowd in watching the colorful sights and diva-ish appeal of the drag queens performing on stage.

Time flew so fast, I didn't realize that the first set was about to end. The time was past 1:00 am, and my phone kept on beeping since mother never stops asking me about the time I will go home. I could have left, but the party was just about to start. As the club music became more familiar to my ears, I can’t help myself but go on a full throttle especially when they played the track First Time by Maya.

On a typical high-energy dance party, my usual habit is to go at the center of the dance floor where the club sounds could easily drive me euphoric. However, in Palawan’s case, the dance floor is at the stage, which is very far from where I am seated. Besides, I could not leave the cute guy since he began responding to my discreet stares with a faint, embarrassed smile. I would have loved to strike up a conversation, but the kids around us were aggressively trying to catch his attention as well. Being the outsider guy, I let the other kids do their bidding.

Besides, I'm too chicken to call the first shots.

The party went on for another two hours. The Dj's line up of club sounds was pretty interesting, yet I've heard most of them at Club BED already a year ago. The speakers didn't impress me either. They were awfully big; they flanked the stage, but their audio output was boring. In every dance clubs that I visit, the first thing that I check out is how powerful their speaker's subwoofer is: Does it's bass audio cover the entire dance floor? Will it make your heart pound faster? At Palawan, the bass was almost non-existent. All I've heard is the loud music blaring from their speakers.

The drag queens performed again for their final set. There was this one act, where a performer was wearing a yaya's uniform while singing in a toy telephone, "Ang puk* ng dalaga." Her suggestive movements almost made me tumble on my chair. Plus, since the drag lip synced an artist that sounded like Pilita Corales, which was extremely unusual from their usual show, I consider her performance a stand out from the rest.

I left at past three in the morning satisfied with how my bar tour ended. I never expected that in expanding the places I could hang-out, I would stumble upon some interesting sights that I may never see in the clubs that I usually hang-out. In a week or two, I would return to Palawan 2 to show my friends how great the place is. In my opinion, I think their selling point is the drag performance. Their entrance fee of P50 pesos was a great bargain too. In fact, now that I think about it, I believe that I've got more fun from what I paid for.

---

Three bars, three different locations. The first one holds on to its faded glory, while the second one appears uncertain about its true identity. The third one was indeed a sensation, and perhaps, its the place those guys in G4M were raving about.

Myths tell me that there are other PLU hang-out places out there that are beginning to shine beyond the realms of Malate. If such legends are true, there is indeed more to this lifestyle that I never bothered to explore. I could have extended my experience by having some "little nasty fun" just steps away from Palawan 2. However, it was a great night and I don't plan to mess it up with such a tasteless ending.

Looking up above, the dark skies of Cubao seems blazing with fire - a temporary blaze set forth by a night of freedom I enjoyed. Still, the assortment of neon signs from the other bars along the street are lighted, temping me to check them out and see what secrets they are willing to reveal.

But alas! The sun is about to rise in a few hours and I am beginning to feel my body crumble from my journey. There's another time for a new adventure.

It's time to go home.

Beyond The Realms Of Malate: A Bar Tour (Part II)

The night is still young when I left Sandra’s to continue my bar tour. Recto was now a place empty of people. The street is well-lit, unlike four years ago when it was dark and dangerous to walk alone in this avenue. But in my youth, I used to take a stroll here to search myself at past midnight. In those times, my new non-straight lifestyle still mystifies me, and as a test to know how far my newfound liberation would take me, I tried to feel and become one with the cruisers.

The jeepney trip that would take me to Cubao took almost an hour. In that span of time, I tried to look back and remember at what point did I stop exploring things that relate to my lifestyle. In my five years of being a PLU, I have never set foot in a bath house, a gay bar or have done nasty things most of my peers had already done in their lifetime. I stopped living the fast lane the moment I realized that my life is not just mine anymore. Now that my entire family counts on me, such trippings remain the least of my priorities.

Cubao, at the strike of midnight, was very much different from what I usually see during early evenings. There were still lots of people doing their errands everywhere, however this time, that stretch of Aurora becomes a promiscuous boulevard where pimps would openly ask you, “boss babae, bata pa mura lang!” and where young girls would look at you with such lusty eyes, I’d begin to wonder if I’d still get a hard on once these girls touch my moony.

I turned left at a street just below the Gateway LRT 2 station. Walking past six establishments to my right, Palawan beckons. The wikimapia website was much of a help. Without its instructions, I would have a hard time finding my second destination.

Click Map

Palawan One Bar and Grill.

If Sandra’s is the old mother of all PLU watering holes, then Palawan is the youngest child among her brood. This stand-up comedy and videoke bar is surprisingly gaining popularity in the local gay dating sites such as Guys4Men, as an alternative hang-out place to the well-established domains of Malate and Makati.

There is a P50 peso cover charge for the entrance, which doesn’t include the beer. As you enter the main door, a large platform that serves as the stage is the first thing you will notice. Several effeminate kids wearing clothes which they probably brought from the Kids section of a department store, immediately exchanged glances at me, while the rest of the audience remains indifferent to the comedian spewing punchlines on stage.

A first time visitor would immediately have an impression that Palawan as just a comedy bar. However, as I explored the interiors of this place, I discovered that the other half of the bar is actually a large videoke room. The only difference between the two rooms is that the other half lets a guest sing on stage and be interviewed by the comedian, while guests on the other half take turns singing on the lone videoke machine in front of the room. In order to get inside the other room, a guests will be charged three songs a table. Since I don’t sing anyway, I decided to pass the opportunity to check the other room out.

Just by looking around the comedy bar area, I observed that the place is less lighted compared to Sandra’s. The circular red lanterns that hung on the ceiling don’t illuminate the floor at all. No wonder, I see shadows eloping on the darker areas of the room. However, their theme is more defined than the first bar I checked out. Small portraits of old muscle cars were plastered all over the walls, while a huge picture of Elvis Presley hung on an empty wall not far from where I am seated.

In less than my hour’s stay in Palawan, I was virtually non-existent to all the waiters and waitresses who passed by my table. For some reasons unknown to me, nobody even bothered to ask for my order, despite the fact that the comedy bar isn’t in its full capacity that night.

Appalled by their staff’s inadequate service, I left my table to go to the bathroom.

As drops of water falls around me from pipes that hung on the ceiling, the bare hollow blocks that serves as the wall where the urinal was installed reminds me that it was far better at Sandra's. It might be very smelly out there, but the algae that thrives on the tiles tells me that at least, there is life out there. The sights of muscled moreno men alone - the SMK types flirting with old gay men shows how busy and thrilling the place is.

Besides, at least over there, somebody notices my arrival. What they lack in amenities and entertainment, they make it up for genuine service and humility.

Here in Palawan, despite the four large television sets that shows the lyrics of the songs being played; despite the sleek black uniforms of the waiters and waitresses who just stand at corners watching the perfomers sing on stage; and despite their mediocre ventilation provided by several ceiling fans in the Comedy Bar area, what this bar really lacks is service. Honestly, I’d be happier being a nobody elsewhere, rather than to be stuck here, where the comedian is amazingly boring, and my presence is ignored by the very people I expected to make me feel welcome.

---

-tobecontinued-

The Cruelties Of Hook-Ups

Palawan 2, Cubao Quezon City:

---

Guy: Labas Tayo

Me: Ok.

Sa labas... small talk.

Guy: San tayo

Me: Ah eh.

Darkstar: Fuck ka naman joms, patay malisya ka pa eh.

Guy: Gusto mo mag-check in. (whispering)

I suddenly realized that we're steps away from an apartelle

Me: Smiling... wala akong pera tol eh.

Guy: Sagot ko

Darkstar: Kumagat ka na, I'm horny dude.

Pulsar: Horny rin ako, pero wag yan.

Darkstar: Sige na, maganda naman ang katawan, diba tinitigan mo nung naghubad ng shirt sa taas?

Mugen: Pwede nang ulam, moreno nga lang. Ahe.

Pulsar: Wag yan, effem yan.

Darkstar: Ayaw mo niyan, for a change ikaw ang isusuck, malay mo bottom pa.

Mugen: Argh...

Guy: Ano dude. Ako na bahala sayo.

Darkstar: Tanungin mo kung top o bottom

Pulsar: Bottom yan. 100% ako sure. Nangangamoy kasi eh.

Mugen: Horny nga rin ako eh. Libre pa...

Pulsar: Ayaw. jakol ka na lang pag-uwi.

Darkstar: Wag ka na maarte. Palay na ang lumalapit sa manok o? Yaw mo nun.

Pulsar: Pasok tayo sa loob. Maraming cute dun.

Darkstar: Huh, sige na nga.

Me: Pass muna ako dude, pasensya na. (kahit pwede ka na.)

---

Obviously, the guy was devastated. He even can't say his name when I finally introduced myself as I left to go back inside the club. This lesson, which I sacredly followed ever since I began getting hook ups at bars taught me never to strike first and let the other party do the bidding. A hook-up rejection is something I still consider a very humiliating and ego crashing experience. I'd rather not approach someone, especially if I know that my chances are slim, despite the far possibilities of getting the prize through cool approach and unsuggestive conversation.

I immediately left the place the moment I got out of his net. Good thing, he never persisted or followed me inside because either he would be further humiliated or, I might overturn my initial decision.

If there's any realization I've got from my three-bar expedition tonight, it's that the rules of the flirting game - whether it's in the high end places like Government and Bed, or in the far end ones such as Palawan 2 and many others, never changes.

It's either you allow yourself to bite someone's bait, or you stand your ground - resisting even the slightest provocation from someone that will trigger the naughty side of you.

Back at Mister Piggy's a long time ago, I have a couple of casuals that started this way. Almost all of them were born out of desperation - the need to belong to someone even for a few hours or minutes just to me feel better. At Palawan last night, the same longing feeling emerges as I soon discover that everyone's partnering up around me. But times have changed. I know what I want now, and I'm more capable of controlling myself - even when my human need weakens my ability to reason my actions.

The guy, hopefully, have found a better alternative when I left. As for me, at least I'm happy that somehow, despite the tension, I managed to get out and return home in one piece.

Besides, all my academic objectives have been met. I'd just be counting hours before I begin writing what I saw in my bar tour. Such feat, especially since I've done this alone deserves a sanctified ending.

---

Darkstar: Paano kung yung katabing trip mo ang nag-aya sayo sa motel, kakagat ka ba o aatras.

Pulsar: Isipin mo na lang callboy yun. Hihiga lang yun at mag-eexpect na ikaw ang magtratrabaho. Walang kiss at hug daw.

Darkstar: Pasira ka talaga ng diskarte!

Pulsar: Shempre, naka-iskor ka na eh, kelangan ko naman bumawi.

Mugen: Siguro nga, mas masisikmura ko pang magtrabaho para sa kanya,* kesa naman sa iba na wala akong attachments whatsoever.

Mugen: Tsaka at least sa kanya, matapos ang lahat, matutulog kang may yayakap at lalambing sayo. Sa iba, pagkatapos ng putukan, uwian na.

---

* Punks

Where Even Darkstar Fears To Tread

The moon is still young, yet I feel so very old.

If not for the necessity of having to submit a provocative review essay for my CW class in the university, I would think twice of taking this journey, which would lead me to uncharted territories.

A review of clubs BED and Government would surely satisfy, not only my professor Dr. Neil, but also my girl classmates who are eager to get the latest scoop on PLU affairs. But such familiarity would take away the thrill I would get in doing this project. An alternative would be to bring a newbie PLU to these places and write about his reactions and insight about his newfound experience. However, I'm not sure whether somebody is willing to go with me and take the risk of being outed, especially on a rushed assignment such as I'd be doing tonight.

I'm thinking of doing a discreet incursions on a bathhouse or a hardcore gay bar. After all, I've never been to such places, and going there alone would bring out all the necessary overwhelmed feelings I could put up, for this review. The details are very easy to write about, but really, it's the feelings that count.

But, such feat would be too ambitious - considering that I'm on a tight budget and I'd be doing this mission alone and half-hearted. Besides, the lingering thoughts of getting caught... has already given me the chills. The risk I would have to take and the guilt that may come after is too much to take just for this essay.

So instead I would take the middle, and less prominent path. I would try to discover and observe in detail the less prominent PLU hang-out spots around the city. My leads tell me that these places are frequented by parloristas, wannabe callboys and old gay guys who can't compete in the prententious crowd in the clubs I call home. I hope that my presence in these bars where these simple, uncomplicated guys would not disrupt the harmony of things. I also hope that in doing this project, I may find again the humility I've long lost, in the dance floors of the first cruise bars that I've visited in my younger years.

The thoughts of going to these places somehow scares me. These feelings may be attributed to the unfamiliarity and uncertainty i'd be stumbling along the way. Perhaps it might be due to the fact that I'd be doing this while trying to adapt to the guys who frequent these bars. But let's see how someone like me, who grew up in the highly competitive hotspots of Malate and Makati would fare there.

Let's see where these new worlds would eventually lead me.

My Dear Blog, I'd Like You To Know That. (Act III - Finale)

One Minus ER... 12 Hours Before Zero Hour

---

My last days with dad.

January noon. I still haven't gotten over the accident that happened to my mom on the eve of my birthday a month before. Dad wasn't around, he wasn't even aware that we rushed mom to the hospital that night.

He dropped by the house one evening, and since bitter ako sa kanya noon, I instructed the maids to tell my dad that I'm sleeping. But he insisted on seeing me. He knocked on my door while I was pretending to sleep. Wala rin ako nagawa, ayaw niya umalis eh. So I got up, opened the door to see him. But he felt my aloofness. I don't even want to have an eye contact as he tried talking to me.

The whole encounter was so cold, I could feel the walls freezing around us. He tried, in vain to open up a conversation. But I just put them down with my cold replies. My mom tried her best to be accomodating, my sister on the other hand was very warm.

Realizing that its useless to reach out to me. He decided to leave. I never kissed him like I used to do. I think I never even said goodbye. Pero you know what, the real reason why I can't look directly at his eyes is because somehow...

Deep in my heart.






I know that it would be the last time I would see him alive.





Remembering that moment once again, it makes me regret my bitter decision to be so cruel to him now that the hate has already passed. Fortunately, weeks before he died, we had a cordial text conversation. He was asking if I'm interested to have a new scooter which I politely declined to the near-accidents I had when I was still a careless teenager. Back then, I ride a bike without any licence nor a plate number nor even a helmet.

Pero I know, it wasn't really enough to make up for the cold treatment I gave him the last time he stepped inside his own house.

So here I am recounting the story once again and letting the pain and the loss consume me on the eve of his passing.

Shields Down

I waited for him the whole night
only to fall asleep just as he was about
to arrive home.
Thirty minutes later, I suddenly woke up
abruptly to the sound of my mobile phone.
It was his third text message telling me
he went to his home
after waiting for me to open the door.
He said, he knocked many times,
pressed the doorbell and called my name.
Unfortunately, nobody opened the door for him.
He said he waited patiently for someone to answer,
I think he just stayed downstairs for a brief period since
my sister and my mother were still awake when he arrived.

But you know what,
after trying to catch him on the street
after I woke up;
after calling his number only to recieve a voice reply
that his phone is unattended;
and after crying while talking to him and explaining what
happened. I just realized how dependent I have become
of him.

Indeed, when I woke up this morning
after catching an hour's sleep,
my first thoughts were of longing.
I could have opened my eyes to see him sleeping beside me
if I wasn't too careless to fall asleep
as I waited for him.
I could have had a better and deeper slumber
while hugging him instead of the stiff pillow
I used to hug when he's not around.

Narealize ko tuloy...

It would have been better to be late at work
knowing I have overslept in his arms.

rather

than arriving earlier than usual
knowing, I never slept at all
crying over and over
for missing an opportunity
to be with him last night.

The Moon, The Stars and The Sky

They say that the moon was created
to inspire the heavens, so that man could
always look at it and be reminded to
reach for the stars... someday

At twenty, you see the
quarter life as a very faraway destination.
It's like gazing at the sun on a chilly sunset,
the traquility of time warms your soul.

But when you actually turn twenty five,
you begin to see things differently.
Instead of just standing and watching the sun set,
you start chasing it everyday before it is swallowed

by the darkness.

But I decided to reach for the moon instead.
So that at least, I won't get burned chasing the sun.
It takes a moment to dream of the heavens,
but it takes a lifetime to build a rocketship

That might actually take you there.

So I decided to build mine last year
and begin my journey without any
final destination. My hope is that
somehow, I could manage to reach at least the moon.

So that when I get there,
I could always look back
and gaze at this beautiful planet
and brag to myself, in the coldness of space

What a lovely life I've got.
Thank you God for everything.

In the silence of Phankspace.


Happy Birthday... Joms.

Mark Of A True PLU Tropa

Find yourself in a pad, just the three of you. half naked and consuming bottles and bottles of San Mig Light. Beside the table are big windows overlooking Ortigas Center, shimmering brightly against the night backdrop, while having nostalgic conversations about Eraserheads, high school memories, 90's pinoy alternative music scene and erotic stuffs you have encountered so far being a PLU.

In a typical homosexual setting where the guys having inuman barely knows one another, such scenario proves extremely tense, dangerous and arousing. But for the three of us who have gone beyond such kind of perspective, we felt straighter in our drinking session last night than we have ever been in our PLU lives.

Honestly, if I would remember one of the best drinking sessions yet I had in my life, I would consider tonight as one of the best and freest inuman I've ever had.

You know who you are guys. After four years, It's the second time we had this kind of bonding. I will forever treasure this moment.

Mugen

In my sleep, I recieved a text message informing me that I am a Super VIP in tonight's event at Government. It means that I have a free entrance and I should invite all the people I know in G4M. But because I am too lazy to contact my acquaintances, I did not invite anyone at all. I'm not even sure if I would respond to their invitation or not.

---

In my dreams, I was hailing a cab, wearing a Malate outfit. Fully dressed and ready to party.

---

In my dreams, I drunk three San Mig Strong Ice, which costed a hundred bucks each to loosen my inhibition. I got in for free, but the alcohol expense alone could cover my entrace in BED on a saturday night. The alcohol binge was the first time I did in a night out. Being alone in a dance club has become a challenge already. Age is beginning to precede me.

---

In my dreams, I offered a bottoms-up beer to my 21 year old self - who at that moment of fantasy-like existence, I imagined myself dancing with - very close and intimate - Like the older guys who danced with him before at Mint.

---
In my dreams, a transvestite as pretty as my girl officemate was in front of me while I was dancing alone on the floor. He looked at me then pointed his finger as if to ask me to get close to him for a dance. He had a long hair, fair flawless skin, Chinita eyes and a smile that can attract the masculine guys in the dancefloor. At first, I really thought that he was a female, until he started talking. In fairness to him, he was a good dancer, if not a very flirty one. His tukling* friends were howling at us, because we danced too dirty for them. For a brief moment, we stole the spotlight at the dancefloor.

---

In my dreams, a real lady, who I danced the last time I dreamed of going to Government for free and asked me if I could pretend to be her boyfriend that night, was at the club again in my dream last night. Perhaps, in an attempt to get my attention, she squeezed my chest while making my way to the dancefloor. Obviously drunk and in the verge of passing out, I danced with her for a while, while looking at other guys who might catch my atttention.

---

While dancing in my dreams, I had a dominant, if not aggresive personality. The masculine guys saw me as equally masculine to them so they wont get close, lest they assume that I would get offended or insulted. On the other hand, I saw too many effeminates in the dancefloor that for a moment, confused my preference. Some of the effeminates are showing signs of interest. But like the masculines, they won't dare come close. For a moment, I thought that since the masculines won't get nearer, perhaps I could substitute them with girls and transvestites, who are surprisingly easier to get in the dance floor than the masculine guys.

---

In my dreams, I eyed a guy who looks like Julius, a close tropa I met a very long time ago. He is quite tall, and had an average body. His way of restrained dancing, and the way he confidently projected himself by looking directly at how proud his small eyes were, caught my attention. He had friends that kept me from getting close to him. In my thoughts, I told myself that it isn't important anymore if the guy was a masculine or an effeminate one. What mattered to me is that I enjoyed the way he danced and in my mind, I was wishing that he would get my flirting signals.

He didn't. But before he left the dance floor. I told him in whisper, "I like the way you danced dude." He said his thanks then left.

---

Finally, after getting tired and exhausted after dancing for hours in my dreams. I left the dance floor and hailed a cab going home. After spending the entire night alone, I realized that all my body wanted is to feel someone. Perhaps, after living a structured life for a relatively long time, the unstructured part of myself longs to reclaim its humanity back. Then I thought of my buddy inside the taxi, wishing, I could lie naked beside him tonight. It would take several days before he sleeps over at my place, but it doesn't matter. I could always patiently wait.

Looking back, these thoughts are just a product of this dream - of this alter-reality I'm finding harder to adopt now that I'm getting older. In a few years, the clubbing fever might leave me eventually - The twenty-one year old clubber kid in me will be gone forever.

---

When I woke up, the sun was already up. I am late again for work. But to my astonishment, I woke up wearing a brown long sleeve fitting shirt, and a faded jeans I wore in my dreams. Closing my eyes, as if to remember everything, the dream was almost lifelike. Perhaps, it was real.

* tukling - loud, parlorista effeminate

* mugen - nippongo for dreams

How Do You Keep A Nightmare At Bay

Conversations done in SMS

Nike27: Kamusta?
Pulsar: Ok lang, heto nagbabasa ng news sa net.
Nike27: Punta ka dito sa haus, trip tayo.
Pulsar: Anong trip yun. (Pretending not to know what he meant)
Nike27: Sex tayo. Suck mo ako. Hehe.

---

This is what happens when Darkstar leaves a mess everytime he takes over. He was supposed to be the "third army" I mentioned several entries ago. In a fit of rage I felt during those turbulent times, I was supposed to have a "face-off" with him. However, a third wheel fortunately messed up things between us, that's why the bed wars ended in a harmless and boring friendly conversation.

Since nothing happened between me and the guy, I thought we could remain as friends. After all, he is a nice guy. Added to the fact that I'm really turned on by his looks - big chest, warm smile, ER* looking, SMK na SMK talaga.* I would have referred him to my bestfriend if it was possible. He is even wearing a white tank tops during our eyeball and man, white tank tops alone could drive my hormones way up my libido barometer. With such a get up, I would never think twice of engaging him in a combat. But since he appears not to be interested in such activity - despite my indirect flirting strategy that I applied to him after the ugly one has left, I decided to go home and call it a night.

---

Darkstar: Pero trip mo siya diba. Aminin mo na Mugen, libog na libog ka sa kanya. Lalo na nung sinabi niyang trip ka rin niya.

Mugen: Yep, eh anong magagawa ko. Nabulungan na ako ni Pulsar na maghunus-dili. Kung alam mo ang ibig sabihin nun.

Darkstar: Kung walang tao sa bahay niyo... paanong strategy mo, tatakas ka no?

Mugen: Uhm, Hinde.

Darkstar: Mas malakas pa rin ako sayo. Na-BI na kita eh.

Mugen: Dare! Burahin ko yung number niya eh. Ano, hinahamon mo ako?

Darkstar: Nope, siraulo ka. Gagawin mo yun eh. Yoko nga, trip ko siya.

Mugen: Kitams. Mag compromise tayo dude.

---

So I didn't accept his invitation tonight. His opportunity had passed already and I'm in control of myself once again. Besides, I already had our friendship in my mindset... It has never been my policy to make friends with former "playmates."

God, I should keep another journal for these kind of entries.

Looking back, he really made me horny that night. I won't think twice of giving him a command performance, if he caught me at a time when I was releasing the tension from my own frustration and helplessness. I was waging a guiltless trip then and I had my reasons. And I know it would soon pass as if nothing had happened.

Perhaps next time... I guess...

wait, I don't think there would be a next time.

I shouldn't have kept his number in the first place, if this is how he's gonna repay my friendship.

Therefore, I break my initial decision to keep his number. As of this moment, he's out of my life.

*ER - Laborer Looking. Moreno guy, average worker's built, think of sikyu guys, baggers and construction workers.
*SMK - Saktan Mo aKo. Guys who are extremely masculine, they would literally and figuratively give you a violent time in bed.