Order In The House

A great debate raged in the House of Jomania for several weeks. The issue at hand was simple, but its effects will create disturbing ripples and painful lessons in the years to come.

It's been more than a month since the family received its share of profits from the Sikyu Agency. You see, the house draws more than three-fourths of its financial resources from the enterprise to conduct its day to day affairs. Rumors are flying that the business is in really bad shape. Speculations also persist that we are being hoodwinked by our business partners. Suffice to say, the trouble at home is more urgent and the idea of resorting to espionage to reveal the truth might further upset the delicate state of our lifeline.

Besides, we can't do anything to overturn the fate of the agency.

Unless we find dedicated creditors who can bail us out.

Following my ways of non-violence, I suggested that we should shift our attention from the Sikyu Business to the more pressing matters at home. Bills are piling up while the sources of income are dwindling. With my own credit obligations to pay and my sister still evading the idea of having a job, some perks must be relinquished for the house to thrive.

---

I was thinking of ditching the gym so I could spare a thousand pesos and several hundred bucks for the money-generating effort. However, it dawned to me that the iron plates feed my will to keep in shape. I still have some markets to maintain, which may prove useful when the situation at home gets worse. I thought of switching to a more affordable gym but its nearness to my workplace and the muscle-building program that I already keep became the deciding factor whether to let go of Eclipse or not.

For my own well-being, I resolved to keep the gym a little longer.

---

The next order of business was to change our cable provider from Sky to Destiny. The shift was easier said that done for we have been with Skycable for more than a decade. From the early years of MTV to the rise of Lifestyle Network and Animax, it was Skycable which opened my eyes to the world. Now that we are being confronted by the same world to adapt to new ways of living, parting is a sweet sorrow.

I was on the verge of signing up with Destiny in the name of survival. However, when my mother expressed her personal reservations, I had to take her thoughts into consideration.

"Meron ba diyan nung EWTN Channel?" She asked me the first time I brought up the idea.

"Ano yun?"

"Yung Catholic Channel na madalas mo naabutan na pinapanood ko kapag inuumaga ka ng uwi?"

"Ah yung may misa sa TV? Na minsan kumakanta-kanta ka pa?"

"Oo."

"Meron yata Ma." I confidently answered.

"Eh yung DZMM Teleradyo, yung pampatulog ko?" She inquired further.

"Ah... ehh..."

I know that the news channels of ABS-CBN are exclusive to Skycable. And I know that my mother keeps her inner peace by tuning her attention to that AM radio station late at night. After studying the strengths and weaknesses of the two cable providers, I learned that Skycable knows how to address its customers' concerns better than its distant rival.

Besides, I won't pay another two thousand pesos for a connection fee.

So a decision has been made a few days ago. Recognizing the contributions of Skycable to my cosmopolitan upbringing and the hidden pleasures my mother is getting from watching her favorite shows when everybody is sleeping, I chose to remain with our cable provider despite the hefty bills I have to pay every month.

"Let me confirm Sir Mugen, you are requesting for a cable downgrade from Gold to Silver, is that correct sir?"

"Yes."

"Alright, please hold on for a few minutes while I process our new arrangement."

Five channels has been taken away from my subscription.

One of them was Discovery Channel.

---

Still, the cost cutting measures weren't enough.

Aside from the regular blood-letting for the laptop computer that has never been mine, I still have eleven months to go before my new mobile phone's payment will be paid in full. Without the utol to support the household needs, my salary is insufficient to keep us from sinking.

Knowing that the greatest thorn in my budget is the postpaid Globe line, and realizing that I can do without my digital connections to the people around me, the final verdict has been accepted and will take effect at once.

Three thousand pesos will be slashed from my monthly bills.

After four years of enjoying a postpaid service, the line will be deactivated before the week ends.

Epitome (Final)

After my daring escape from the headhunter a.k.a. bald guy, I went back to the open-air lounge downstairs to bask in the faint glow doled out by the bar lights at the edge of the garden. The well-lit counter was still flocked by soft-spoken men resting between orgasms. They spoke of their most recent kills, while others lamented at how they were flatly rejected by the better-looking ones who cruised boys of the same league. What's so strange is that they just laughed about it. You can see in their eyes how the bath house had snatched their ability to feel. I suspected that rejection had just become too ordinary for them, that it doesn't gut their egos anymore.

I turned around to observe other men who were also chilling at the lounge. A guy in his late thirties puffed a cigarette at one corner, alone. His eyes were darkened by his deep thoughts. He never bothered to trade glances even if some passing cruiser eyed on him. On another table not far from where I stood, I saw the headhunter settling down on a bar stool. I cannot remember if he noticed me, for I started walking away from the moment I sensed his presence.

It was already past midnight and time was running short. Tucked inside the safety box on the other side of the bath house was my phone. I could picture several text messages and missed calls from home. Leaving would have been a good choice had I not thought of having a severe case of blue balls when I get home. But I was getting horny and the sight of well-built masculine men had just turned me on. I nipped past several guys swaggering towards different directions. I wanted to cruise like them, but I don't have the gall to strike anyone who doesn't see me as their potential target.

So I wandered further, until I found my feet at the viewing room.

Like I said in the previous post, the viewing room served a double purpose. Since it was well-lit, one can separate the gwapo from the cute ones around. Several guys were watching porn when I got there and one of them immediately caught my attention.

"This cannot be!" I said to myself. "He reminds me of someone familiar: someone who owns a pair of strikingly small eyes, narrow-bridged slender nose, and a dark skin that glowed from the blue screen's projection."

I tried to clear my eyes to make sure I wasn't deceived by my vision.

"OMG, he can pass as an older version of Akihiro Sato!" Blood gushed toward my midsection. "Kevs if he's only the older and flabbier version of the one uploaded on Misterhubs' Blog!"

I sat next to him hoping to get his attention. His chinky eyes were glued at the screen showing two guys romping each other. Those naked bystanders who caught his appeal were looking at us. I do not know what these vultures were thinking, but their fiery stares forced me to leave the spot to cruise elsewhere. When I returned to the viewing room a few minutes later, he was swinging a glass of alcohol. "Mister Sato must be drinking. Good." My next moves were already in place. On my third visit, he already left. My hopes were dashed by his sudden absence. "He must be making out with someone else right now."

---

I was dead serious in getting a mate when I returned to the maze down below. Instead of evading eye stares when someone checked me out, I traded glances with the desire of probing the person sizing me. One of them was a skinny guy who resembled JayR, the local RnB singer. It was his strong jawline and youthful looks which caught my attention.

He was trading glances so I made my approach to check if he's worth the kill. He did squeeze my junior and that was it. Probably he was hesitating. Maybe he was waiting for a better catch so I backed off to focus my bird-hunting elsewhere. Suddenly, Mister Sato look-alike emerged out of nowhere and strided past next to me and toward the dark room far behind. He was chased by throngs of guys allured by his beastly appeal. They stopped a few steps away from me and believing that they had lost Mister Sato look-alike inside the maze, they began to disperse and walked their own different ways.

It turned out Mister Sato look-alike was just behind the curtains and was now showing off his birdie to me.

"Gotcha!" I pretended not to see what he's poking but I did grab it with my hands.

Things turned out so fast that the next thing I knew, I was being dragged in one corner together with a jock standing next to us. He pulled my head down, guiding it toward his massive.

He wanted me to suck his cock in front of other people.

Regaining my composure, I resisted the urges of going down on him especially when I felt other hands feeling my crotch. I was in no mood to do an exhibition, even if it was a god who invited me to perform. Disappointed, he backed off to make a dashing escape towards the steam room area. Following him, I thought he was still interested. It seemed however that he wasn't into the one-on-one thing that I wished he would.

He was swallowed by the darkness and I was left searching for a new mate.

Looking around, I suddenly saw JayR wandering near the stairs. He was still trading glances at me.

---

The door was shut tight and he reached for the switch turning the green light on. Stripping down our towels, each others nakedness was now exposed to each other. Grabbing his boner made him moan softly. His smile urged me to show more aggression. I reached for his lips to consume it profusely. He fought back by biting my upper lip. I responded by tightening my grip on his stiffy. Now he's game. His eyes were challenging me.

I turned my attention to his chest - his nipples. Rolling my tongue over its crown made him pull his body against mine. He raised me up to reach for my lips again. He enjoyed what I did. Never leaving behind what I started, I planted kisses on his tummy, then to his navel and then at the base of his crotch. I'm not giving in yet. To my surprise, it was he who knelt down to deliver the message. Opening his mouth wide, he gobbled mine with one gulp. His tongue rolled and twisted while my cannon was inside his mouth. It felt so good, I traded places and started working my lips on his gun. I took great care not to pull the trigger or it might explode prematurely.

He began pumping. Gently at first, but when he pushed himself deeper, I stopped to reach for his lips again. It was a make-out of freedom. Finally I am getting my reaffirmation. If lips could be crumpled, his, would have been crushed by mine. Now it's our hands working on each others missiles. I knew the time was near, but I wish we could let go together.

"Bro sabihin mo sa akin kung malapit ka na." I whispered to his ears

"Siiigggeee..." Was his simple reply.

He exploded his thick gooey stuff ahead of me. His lips were on mine as he moaned loudly while giving his ecstatic release. I soon followed, spitting my seeds that could have been wasted on less worthy ones. Panting, I reached for his upper body to deliver my gratitude.

"Salamat, you will be my first and my last for tonight." I hugged him tight unknowing if he believed my words or not.

We cleaned ourselves together and dressed at the locker room together. We left Epitome and strolled around Malate just to get to know each other. Enjoying each others stories, I invited him to stay over at my place.

I surrendered to the night with my lips on his back and my arm around his shoulders.















Last night, JayR was back in my place, watching Ultraman re-runs on my computer.

Epitome (Two)

The smoke from the sticks of incense begin to clear up and as my eyes get use to the unlit surroundings, I notice man-like silhouettes and shadows block my passage. These specters belong to wanderers like me, who, find themselves lost in the maze leading to the dark room. I wade through the pitch black corridor with caution, for everyone appears to be grabbing my crotch. Some daring souls would breathe heavily behind my ears as they rub their boner against my leg. Hands are everywhere and realizing that it is a dead end; that only an abyss and predators await at the end of the narrow walkway, I turn around to follow the faint light coming from the open-air garden. There, some men chatted while guzzling a bottle of Colt Beer. They spoke of work and their previous sexual engagements inside the bath house. I tried to eavesdrop at their conversation but when I sense some lustful eyes and devious smiles turning toward my direction, I slowly walk backwards to begin my retreat.

There is no safe haven in the heart of the fuckfest.

---



I knew what I was going through. It was a Wednesday evening and according to Vince's guide to Epitome, the theme of the bathhouse is Skin Night. It means that all guests are provided with just a towel to cover themselves up. Underwear is not allowed so one has to improvise on how to keep his crotch from being exposed, since the gym towel would never fit a waistline bigger than 32.

I took my clothes off and placed them inside my locker. Lucky for me, I was alone in the room (aside from the attendant, who I suspect was already used to seeing such marvel) so I could freely walk naked without anyone prying their eyes on my junior. I tried to wrap the towel around my waist but it won't fit. "Fuck, paano na ito?" I panicked. Even if I could boast having a respectable built, it was never my intention to show off to those who had better-looking bodies than me.

By sheer act of desperation, I was able to cover my jewels while walking toward the gates of hell. What appeared to be sounds of moaning which I heard while stripping down to my baby suit did not emanate from boisterous men who were too eager to announce their joyful act of breeding inside the tiny cubicles. It actually came from the wide-screen television in the viewing room featuring a hardcore m2m film. The viewing room served a double purpose. Since it was well-lit, guests could actually check each other out. Since no one caught my fancy, I resumed my exploration by descending the steep flight of stairs leading down to the ground below.

If the reception area on the other side of the bath house and its connecting lounge were empty, the ground floor of Epitome proper was teeming with sweaty, fit bodies as far as the eyes could see. Since it was a skin night, nobody in their right mind would dare show up exposing their bulging tummy or sagging man-boobies. Most had broad shoulders to boast, a flat tummy or bulked chest to expose and a pair of biceps to flex and impress the guy they wanted to hook up with. It was a gym bunny's paradise whose only requirement was a beaming smile, a confident approach and a fast hand to grab one's stiff birdie.

But there were serious risks involved in such place where sex and orgasm were easy. You know what I mean. Being aware of the trouble I'm getting myself into, I applied very strict rules regarding my engagement with others.

Absolutely

No bare backing.
No cum swallowing.
No bukkake thingie.

Frottage and sucking should be limited.
Masturbation should be done using one's hand.
Kissing is reserved only for the guy I'd have an orgasm with.

One round is enough.

Of course, I don't do bare backing and swallowing with strangers, but to be on the safer side, it would have been better if I'd remain a mere observer.

Temptation however, tells of a different story.



---

Inside the gym area, I catch a glimpse of a muscular guy doing dumbell curls in front of the mirror. His towel lay on one of the benches as other passing guys look down to have a view of his shortie. I cross to the other side where the shower nozzles and the jacuzzi are to be found. Placing my towel on one of the pots hanging near the pool, I took a dip only to get out when some guys followed and tried to get in.

Walking past several couples making out in the dark, a bald guy appear out of nowhere. "Dun tayo sa taas dude," he whispers to my ears.

"libog na libog ako sayo eh." His voice is cold and soothing, I smiled and followed him upstairs.

We entered a cubicle and locked the door from within. He started moaning as I pinch his nipples and nibble on his neck. "Not bad," I tell myself. At the back of my head however, I am sensing something dark about this person. I have to step on my breaks.

He stops stroking my cock and notice my sudden lack of interest in our activity. Smiling, he then tells me that he wants to get a third wheel. Someone we could double-fuck together, I presume. We went out of the cubicle only to be greeted by men waiting for their turn to get inside.

The place is suffocating and it feels like a haze is blurring my vision.

Knowing the dangers that lie from following my first catch, I allow myself to be swallowed by the darkness and let the bald guy find his way back to the place which spawned him.

---

Special thanks to Discreet Manila for the floor layout.

-tobecontinued-

Epitome (One)

They say that when the going gets tough, the tough get going. Many people would resort to madness to lift their spirits up just to keep moving and in my case, I have my own flotilla of coping mechanism to restore what is being lost to me. You see, these past few weeks had been rough. The blog can attest to that. On one side, the issues at the homefront gnawed at my defenses. The turbulence was getting unbearable that I had to resort on outside help to pull me out of the mud. To lean on someone was my weapon of choice and so were the strings of male affairs I wrote here on the blog. My hopes ran high with their reaffirmation of shared intimate feelings. But somewhere along, things did not turn out the way I wish them to be. These affairs faded like embers and there were no means to bring them back. I was dumped twice for one reason or another and the rejection cut deep on my ego.

As my order falls one after another, my inner demons begin to re-assert themselves. The savagery of my survival instincts dictate that I should shut my doors tight on friends and allow myself to fall towards the abyss. It happened before and I feel it happening again. My hope is to emerge on the other side of the black hole in one piece. But to achieve such state of confidence, first is I have to feel good about myself.

I chose reckless abandon to achieve my goal and what better way to start the fire by recognizing my carnal repressions. I knew from the very start that my pictures were my greatest disadvantage. It leaves no good impression on people no thanks to my perpetual habit of frowning in front of the lenses. People tend to get intimidated by my frigid and distant attitude that it takes time for me to establish personal rapport. Unless one catches me lowering my defenses, it gets pretty difficult to open me from within.

There are two states where I easily approach strangers. One is during the brief state of ecstasy offered by loud beats and sudden laser flashes offered by dance clubs, the second is by baring my skin in the dark corridors of the bathhouses. My last incarnation at Club Bath proved so disastrous that I vowed never to return. Imagine a place where one could freely choose who to make out and copulate with. The sheer feeling of imposing your standards on others was breathtaking but it leaves you hollow afterward. The inhumanity of rejecting others was too much that I decided to cease returning after my third visit.

I stayed sober for more than a year.

Yesterday was a different story. I was pissed off at everything. I hissed at those who showed concern at my condition, while leaving careless remarks that hurt others. I made fun at people not knowing that I was becoming mean, and when it finally hit me, I snapped. I told myself that perhaps I needed a boost just to feel again. Maybe I can undo the damage by receiving affection even if I get it through artificial means.

And so at half past eight in the evening, I decided to hold back my established protocols and let instincts creep in. Armed with knowledge acquired from Discreet Manila, I sounded the ceremonial drums and lighted the sticks of incense.

"We will perform a different kind of exorcism tonight," Kitsune told me.

"You will return to the bath house scene again."

---

-tobecontinued-

Ang Familia Orvina, Bow

1. Nagsimula ang lahat sa isang inuman. Kasama doon si Roy at Dodong mula sa hanay ng Outsiders; Si Centurion at Deathnote mula sa Walang Mukha Thread (na naging Encantadia na ngayon) at si Macoy na kinatawan ng Blog Alliance, na sumunod galing sa Wensha sa aming tambayan sa Quatro.

2. Nakakadalawang Macho Mug ng Red Horse na ako, at di makakailang may tama na kami pare-pareho. Sa hindi malamang dahilan, itong si Dodong ay naglabas ng isang pasabog na siyang sisira sa reputasyon ko.

"Sabi ni Dodong, Pusong Ina ka daw."

Ang angas-angas ko kaya, paano ako nagkaroon ng impression bilang motherly? Dahil ba ako ang tiga akay ng mga nalalasing?

3. Si Deathnote na nanahimik nang mga oras na iyon ay biglang nagkaroon ng ideya. Palibhasa ay tadtad ng mga binatilyong PLU ang aming thread sa G4M na tila naghahanap ng role models, ako ang una nilang binigyan ng pangalan.

Nanay.

Amfufu.

4. Ilang beses kong binalaan si DN na huwag na huwag niya akong tatawaging nanay dahil sa ito'y pasira ng karir, ngunit pasaway ang binata. Mabuti na lamang at hindi ako nawalan ng prospect dahil dito.

5. Nang lumaon ay may tinawag na bunsong kapatid ang aking panganay. Noong una ay hesitant akong siya ay ampunin dahil hindi naman kami close. Subalit mapilit ang aking anak. Siya ang naging ikalawa.

6. Nagkaroon sila ng ikatlong kapatid. Subalit dahil muntikan nang magkaroon ng namamagitan sa aming dalawa ng kanyang utol (isipin niyo na lang yung xrated film na Taboo 2) nang minsang pauwi kami sa loob ng taxi, tinigil ko ang aming role play kinabukasan.

7. Nilaglag ko rin ang kanilang utol dahil sa aming incest na ginawa.

8. Kung inyong tatanungin, tinanggap ko ang role bilang nanay upang magsilbing distraction sa aking palasak na relasyon. Sa halip na maglaro ng apoy at makiapid sa iba, pinili ko ang magkaroon ng mas mabuting pakinabang at maging tigasubaybay ng mga nakababatang PLU sa akin.

9. Muling nabuhay ang aming roleplay nang makumbinsi ko ang aking bunso at panganay na gumawa ng account sa Twitter.

10. Bitbit ang kanilang mga naiwang kaibigan sa G4M, pinakilala ko ang aking mga anak, kasama ang kanilang mga kasamahan sa tiga Trippers Clan.

Dito nabuo ang aming family tree.

Bonus Round

"Joms we're getting older basta decente lang hitsura, its more important to have a guy who will love you and who will treat you fairly. I think its too much to ask the Lord for much more."

- a text message yesterday morning, Dr. Magsasaka

---

No one among the encantos heeded my call last night. A sign.

When I went to Malate and entered the sweaty, smoky dance floor of Chelu, a lot of stares greeted me. Instead of staring back and breaking my five-minute game, I played safe and held my ground. An omen.

A few minutes before 1 in the morning, I saw my favorite couple in Malate. Seeing them after so many months left a smile on my face. I was overjoyed. Barely a few seconds after exchanging pleasantries, my mobile phone vibrated. It was the prospect confirming my presence. A predicament.

Flying to Timog, we decided to have a drink at Quatro.

So many stories were exchanged last night. We both had fun and it never ended in bed.

He got home safe, I got home safe. We parted ways ten minutes before sunrise and he even called just to make sure I was alright.

Woke up this afternoon with a hang-over.

The best one I had lately.

If we end up as friends, I would gain a consultant for my half brother.

If this goes well and our friendship turns into something more romantic, I will end up having a doctor for a partner.

The Taglibog Saga (Chapter Two)

"So Dark Ages mo na ulit?"

Ito ang reaction ni Dodong nang malaman niyang split na kami ni Raizen. Si Dodong ang isa sa mga una kong ka-tropang PLU, at sa loob ng mahabang panahon na kami ay magkaibigan ay alam na niya ang istorya ng buhay ko.

At tama nga ang kanyang agam-agam. Wala pang tatlong linggo ay balik na naman ako sa dating diskarte. Tambayan ko ulit ang Malate at doon ay nilabas ko ang lahat ng angas at libog na inipon ko sa loob ng buong linggo. Uso noon ang mga Dark Rooms. Ito ay isang madilim na bahagi ng isang bar kung saan malayang nakakapagparaos ang mga clubbers kasama ang kanilang napiling partner. Wala pa naman akong nakitang nagkangkangan sa loob ng masikip at napakainit na lugar na iyon, pero ang blowjob, magsasawa ka talaga.

Doon ko nasaksihan kung paano nagpapalit-palit ng bibig ang burat ng isang binata sa sampung lalaking nagtake-turns sa pagroromansa sa kanya. Sa Dark Room ko rin naranasan magsenti sa bar counter. Bangag ako ng umagang yun, nakaupo at nakatingin sa bintana para abangan ang pagsikat ng araw habang lahat naman sa aking paligid ay umuungol, kumakadyot at nagmumura habang nilalabasan sa sahig (o sa bibig ng kanilang partner) ng semilya. Yung katabi ko naman ay panay ang lamas sa aking katawan. Gusto yatang maka-iskor pero hindi ko ito pinatulan. Lumabas ako ng bar na tuod at tila wala sa sarili. Shit, ganun pala ang pakiramdam makakita ng walang habas na babuyan.

Naroon rin ang #salsalan sa MIRc. Tambay rin ako ng chatroom tuwing walang magawa sa bahay. Madalas ay naghahamon lang naman ako ng away sa ibang chatters o kaya naman ay nangkukupal ng mga ads para sa SEB sa main room. Paano kasi ay walang nag-uusap. Lahat ay naghahanap ng sex. Minsan sa sobrang buraot ay nang-gago ako ng ad ng isang chatter. Hindi ko na matandaan kung ano ang ad niya, pero tandang-tanda ko na pinagkalat kong apat na pulgada lang ang kanyang ari.

Kahit hindi pa naman kami nagkikita.

Malimit ay nagpapalit ako ng chat handle para lang mag-ingay sa main channel. Sa halip na kalibog-libog na nickname ang aking gamit, nagiging taonggoy o kaya naman ay boyburnek ang pangalan ko. Sa loob ng isang oras at mahigit, puros flooding ng ads sa paghahanap ng lakatan, kuto o kaya naman ay saging na saba ang nababasa ng mga ibang chatters mula sa akin.

Ako rin lang ang chatter dun na nagsabing nilalabasan ng tamod na kulay green o kaya blue o kung minsan naman ay rainbow colors para lang magpapansin sa iba.

Naging adik man ang mga hirit ko sa #salsalan ngunit ang kapalit naman ay ilang mga kasama na hindi ko tinalo sa chatroom. Naroon kami bilang tambay at ang gawain lang namin ay mangkupal ng mga chatter na naghahanap ng SEB. Kung sumasapit naman ang mga pagkakataon na talagang naghahanap ako ng aksyon, mas mabilis pa sa alas kuwatro kung ako ay makipagkasunduan sa ibang tao.

me: Place mo pare?
malibog-na-chatter: Dito sa Vito Cruz.
me: San sa Vito Cruz?
malibog-na-chatter: Malapit sa AKIC
me: Tara trip tayo!

Hindi pa uso ang trade pictures kaya't maaring idaan sa stats ang deal or no deal. Sa buong buwan ng Marso at Abril ay naranasan ko makipag-trip sa isang abandonadong apartment sa may San Andres Bukid; Sa katabing-bahay ng barkada ko noong high school sa Hulo; at sa isang tripper malapit sa Legarda bago pumasok sa trabaho. Ayus nga eh, may partner siya noon at wala daw siyang pakielam kahit mahuli pa kaming dalawa na may ginagawang himala. Naranasan ko rin dumayo ng Pateros galing Project 6 isang madaling araw ng lasing upang maulit lang ang pagniniig namin ng lalaking sumalo sa akin sa Mister Piggy's. Siya ang nag-uwi sa akin noong mag-away kami ni Raizen sa ikalawang pagkakataon.

Sa sandaling panahon ay nasulit ko ang pagiging pakawalang malaya. Subalit nakakapagod rin pala ang paulit-ulit at walang sense na pakikipag-sex sa iba't ibang tao. Wala man sa lima ang score ko sa loob ng dalawang buwan ngunit madali rin akong napagod sa mundong pinasok ko. Kaya't nang may nagpakita sa akin ng interes mga anim na taon na ang nakalipas, mabilis ko rin itong sineryoso.

At gaya ng nauna sa kanya, ang aming unang pagtatagpo ay nauwi sa motel at matapos ang isang linggo,

kaming dalawa na.

---

-tobecontinued-

The Taglibog Saga (Chapter One)

At dahil trip ko manggaya ng blogpost ng iba;
at dahil nalalapit na ang expiration date ng aking ceasefire sa pakikidigma sa kama;
ikukuwento ko ang dahilan kung bakit sa kabila ng tawag ng laman ay magaling akong magtimpi at lumaban sa aking karnal na pangangailangan.

---

Twenty one ako nang unang makatikim ng lalaki.

Tandang tanda ko yun. Pinagbantay ng pad ang ka-seb ko. Tinitirhan iyon ng kaibigan niyang babae. Habang nagchi-chill out kami ay naglabas ang aking kasama ng isang plastic bag na ang laman ay bigkis bigkis na pinatuyong mga dahon. Kumuha siya ng kakarampot at binalot iyon sa papel. Sinindihan niya ito at salitan kami sa paghithit. Mausok ang paligid, matamis ang lasa ng usok. Makailang saglit, para na akong lumulutang sa langit. Hindi ko mawari kung ano ang nangyayari sa aking paligid.

Hanggang sa bigla na lang kami naghalikan at nagkuyumusan ng mga labi.

Binalak ko sanang araw-araw ang SEB nun sa loob ng isang linggo. Tutal first time kaya may karapatan akong maging pakawala. Nang sumunod na gabi ay may round 2 dapat kami ng naka-sex ko the night before. Kaso, nagkasalisihan kaya hindi natuloy. Sa halip, bumalik ako sa chatroom upang maghanap ng bagong kaniig. Dinala ko pa ito sa bahay at pinakilalang ka-tropa sa magulang. Habang nag-iinuman sa aking kuwarto, bigla niya akong hiniritan ng "kiss mo nga ako." Ako naman si tanga na kumagat kaya hayun, buong gabi yata kaming nabuhay sa romansa ng ka-partner ko.

Hindi nabuo ang aking panata. Dala ng pagkatorpe ay nauwi lang yata sa tatlo ang ka-sex ko noong linggong iyon. Subalit simula noon ay hindi tumatagal ng dalawang linggo na ako ay bakante. Dala ng kapusukan, mabilis akong ma-enganyo ng tukso.

Mabuti na lang at kakambal ng aking kalibugan ang kakayahang magseryoso. Wala pang tatlong buwan matapos madiskubre ang SEB ay nakatagpo kaagad ako ng makakarelasyon. Nagsimula iyon sa isang one-night-stand na nauwi sa matinding attachment. Tinamaan daw siya sa akin matapos kong bantayan sa pagtulog kaya't hayun, wala pang isang linggo ay nagsabihan na kami ng "I love you" sa isa't isa.

Sa kanya ako natuto maging bottom... at matulog ng walang kahit anong suot tuwing kami ay magkatabi sa futon bed. Sa kanya ko naranasan mag three-rounder sa isang umaga o kaya naman ay maalimpungatan sa pagtulog na binabarena.

Hayup.

Naging sulit man ang pagniniig naming dalawa ngunit hindi ko yata naramdaman sa kanya ang totoong romansa. He hates kissing daw, lalo na kapag nasa jerjer part na. Marami pang seremonyas ang kailangang gawin bago siya magkaroon ng mood makipaglaro sa akin. Bandang huli ay napilitan na akong magmakaawa. Sobrang kati ko daw, iyon ang lagi niyang reklamo sa akin. Gusto ko sanang sabihin na palibhasa matanda na siya at kulang na sa sexercise. Hindi pa nasiyahan si ex sa deprivation na ginawa niya sa akin. Nagbitaw rin siya ng kundisyon na bawal akong manghalay tuwing matutulog kami ng magkatabi.

Isang beses ay nag-away kami bago matulog. Pinilit kong makipagbati ngunit dedma lang ang sinukli niya sa akin. Hinawakan ko ang kanyang tutoy ngunit muntikan pa akong masapak dahil dito. Nabadtrip ako, at ang badtrip ay natuloy sa pag-alis ng kuwarto. Tutal sa Malate kami nagkakilala kaya sa Malate rin ako magtatago. Walang nangyari noon sa aking rebelyon at nagkaayos kami bago magtanghali. Subalit nang mag-away kami sa ikalawang pagkakataon, tumakbo na ako ng Mister Piggy's upang doon maglabas ng sama ng loob.

Dala ng tama ng alak, katigangan dahil sa partner na masungit, at pagmamalabis na aking nararamdaman matapos isuko ang lahat para sa iisang tao na sinumpa kong pagsilbihan at unawain, bumawi ako ng bonggang-bongga.

Ang aking rebelyon ay nauwi sa kama ng iba at matapos ang dalawang linggo. Split na kami ng aking unang partner na si Raizen.

---

-tobecontinued-

The Catcher

Pain must be the price
Of my submission
To a long-cherished wish
To be loved by love-things
That grow and rip
Open the sealed vaults
Of my skin. Man-friend.

---

A friend sought my advice about getting impaled. He is a hardcore top in his past sexual engagements and now that he finds himself in a relationship with another top, his partner asked him a gift for their monthsary: to give up his ass and become his bottom.

Now the problem is he's confused. He loves his partner so much, that he's on the verge of giving in. On the other hand, knowing that he will give up something he had prided himself all these years mean that things will change.

"Baka magustuhan ko, maging bottom na talaga ako." He texted jokingly one afternoon.

I suspect that his worries spring from the pride that he has to give up. Being capable of taking the top and bottom position in a sexual engagement, I find being the catcher the more difficult role. The agony of the first stab is unbearable no matter how horny a person is. The ceaseless pumping, the deep grinding, and the eternal shoving of one's throbbing prick until all of it gets inside would be a humiliating experience, especially for someone who used to do the fucking all his life. Too bad for him, he sought my expertise and being familiar to that fulfilling pain, I told him to be man enough to get ripped apart.

"Kaya mo yan dahil masarap. Masarap dahil mahal mo ang taong kakantot sayo."

---

Now another friend told me earlier how upset he was after getting woohooed last night. I do not know what came to him when he took it from behind for he admits never enjoying the deed in the first place.

"Hindi nga ako tinigasan eh, saka parang na-poo-poo po ako."

His sex partner came first, and when he did, quietly stood up as if nothing happened and left my friend to get his own orgasm. This act made my friend ultra-ballistic. He confronted the guy who at the time cleaning himself and the cruel act of walking-out almost ended up in a fistfight.

---

I know its easy for intense emotions to run high when you let someone plunges you. Imagine the pride you have to give up knowing he will never treat you the same after your well-locked doors have been unsealed. The top, always the dominant, never has to worry of the wounds left after being forced open from within. The top, always the conqueror, never has to hide the emotional scars left, after being marked as the one accepting submission to a more aggressive partner.

It's the top who runs the game, for when the bottom does, he does it to shake away the attachment left from a previous impalement.

Others may question my belief about tops and bottoms, but when inquiries are raised about who suffers more and endures more,

It is always the bottom who stands out.

---

I twist,
_____turn,
_________and shrink
To nothingness, shot through
With bullets of your love
Till you are through.
Now lying on your back,
You read my eyes and see
Being on top has a price,
And it hurts, because nobody,
Nobody wants to be bottom.

Bottom, Ronald Baytan

After Eden (Finale)

VIII.

The retreat was like me standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking a vast plain on a sunny, cloudless late afternoon. The sun marches beyond the horizon, while the darkness trudges the hills behind me. It was a refreshing sight, only to lose its beauty long before one can truly appreciate it.

Beauty. How I wish my eyes could always see it surrounding me.

Many were invited, but few have chosen to show up and be graced by the hope of renewal. Blessed I was for I choose to come, because for an entire day I learned that love overpowers everything.

Even hatred.

Even pain.

So there I was sitting on my chair while listening to the preacher in front. His name was Bo Sanchez and for the first few hours of the retreat, I never knew who he was. Only his name, which my aunt kept raving during family reunions was my only knowledge of him. He was a pretty cheerful guy who knew how to sway crowds. His charisma overpowered even the stone-hearted ones - including me, for the message he delivered wasn't the usual stuffs preached during homilies. It was a clear message of hope that at the end of the day, everything has a reason and that reason will always be something good for us.

Unless we see things in a different light.

Families gathered to hear his good news. One lady, a seventy-year old spinster pondered about her life now that she's approaching her twilight years. With no family to support, she took in her arm the responsibility of bringing up her nieces until they grew old enough to support themselves. "I'm very tired," she confided to the group during the sharing. "I want to sell my house, leave my younger brother's family behind and settle in the province to take care of my older brother."

I would love to ask this matriarch who would take care of her, but her revelations left me befuddled of her fate.

"But his good-for-nothing son will be another cross to bear."

A lady about my age worried about her new-found commitment. Like me, she came from a bad break-up last year with her five year old relationship. Just when she and her ex were about to get engaged, she realized the mistake of their union. "It was a completely waste of time," the pretty lady said. "I pray that this new one is very different from the one I had." Her new boyfriend was with her, in another group, probably sharing his concerns about his new-found love as well.

IX.

The day wore on and as Bo Sanchez spoke more about love, following one's bliss, and acknowledging personal callings, I found myself being reconnected to the source once again. For the past several weeks, I ceased going to my sanctuary in Katipunan to attend to my inner ramblings without the aid of a higher presence. Reverting back to my natural instinct to stand alone in the face of adversary, I became tougher. It was pure survival instinct guiding me.

But this tough side had its loophole that when left unchecked, leaves me too focused on one issue and I tend to ignore the rest. To escape was my breather and the reckless abandon I did at BED for two straight nights was a classic example of its vents.

The things I bear left me weary and it showed during the special prayer session later that night.

X.

We were shepherded back at the conference hall after dinner. There was a make-shift altar in front, where a red cloth spilled and flowed to the ground.

The organizers handed out little prayer booklets before the session started. "Brothers and sisters, write your dreams and hopes in that booklet and we will place all of them on the cloth which symbolizes God's deep love for us," Bo Sanchez explained. "Keep it with you so you will never lose track of the happiness you wish to gain."

Had the booklet been asked to be filled out earlier, I would probably hesitate. I wasn't ready to let go yet. But I knew that all the sharing and all the reflection and all the inspirational talk we had the whole day would come to this. Even Bro showed his strongest encouragement to be more open when he took away another burden from me before sundown. Through a forwarded text message from mom, the Sikyu Firm informed us that our profit shares were deposited to our accounts. Doubting the validity of the news, I even called my bank just to confirm if such amount was added to my balance.

The bank agent said yes .

Lights were switched off to let the candles illuminate the hall. Lyrics came out of the projector screen so we could follow it and sing on top of our voices. While those beside me knew these songs of worship by heart, I was there merely as a saling ket-ket. Lip synching would be a great idea to show my participation, but instead of doing something silly, I just let the songs bring me to my knees until my eyes welled up while recalling the shittiness I left behind.

"Brothers and sisters, offer your troubles to God so He can guide you towards the path you want to take."

I can't take it anymore. Rarely do I shed tears over heartaches and since they were already trickling, better show to everyone my signs of weakness.

We knelt as we approach the red cloth to leave our prayer booklets there to be blessed. Brief images of friends, colleagues and family became random flashes in my head which I brought with me as we neared the climax of the retreat.

"To those families out here, huddle together and tell them how much they are loved." Everyone who came with their families began to assemble in small groups, I would have stayed in my seat except that I was reminded of a relative on the other side of the hall.

She was alone in her chair while families around her hugged one another.

"Hindi ka nag-iisa." I hugged her tight. My cousin, who rarely spoke to me leaned her head on my shoulders. "I wish that you will succeed in your business so that you will never have to work in another country."

She's a registered nurse who can go abroad anytime she wants.

I went back to my seat a few minutes later only to press my face against my activity folder. As the people around continued singing worship songs and Bo Sanchez reminding everyone to share the love we have gained, the walls which held me back finally gave in.

I started crying.

The first I had in years.

---

Epilogue:

Umiyak ako hindi dahil sa mga problemang dala dala ko, kundi sa overwhelming openness na aking naramdaman habang binabasbasan kami ng retreat master. Paulit ulit na naglalaro sa aking isip kung bakit yung random na pagngiti at pag-thumbs up ni Bo Sanchez matapos ang kanyang unang talk ay nag-iwan ng matinding impression sa akin.

Yun bang, naramdaman ko na hindi lang siya ang nag-welcome nang mga oras na iyon...

Matapos ang prayer service, niyakap ko ang lahat ng mga naka-sharing ko buong araw. Naroon si Lola na napansin ang biglang paggaan ng kalooban ko. Naroon rin yung bagong couple na binigyan ko ng well-wishes sa kanilang pag-iibigan at naroon si roomate, na kahit hindi ko masyadong nakadikit ay tila ba nag-enjoy ng husto sa aming retreat.

Natulog akong basketball shorts lang ang suot. Balewala na kahit makita pa ni roomate ang katawan ko. Tutal, ang pangangarir ay tuluyang nawala na sa aking agenda.

*

Bumigat ako ng mahigit dalawang pounds matapos ang walang sawang kain tuwing breaktime sa retreat.

Apat na araw akong lumiban sa trabaho, kaya't stress nang ako ay bumalik rito.

Nabawasan ang horde na dinadala ni utol sa bahay. Madalas ay isang lalaki na lang ang kasama nito. Marami pa rin akong resentment sa kanyang tila pagwawalang bahala sa aming sitwasyong pinansyal.

Ang aking half-brother, dumudura pa rin ng dugo.

At marami pa ang mga dagok na padating. Di ko rin tiyak kung talaga bang may natutunan ako sa retreat na aking dinayo o wala.

Subalit kanina, pagkatapos ang ritwal na pagbubuhat ng bakal, nagkaroon ng panibago at hindi planadong activity sa routine ko.

*

Taimtim na nakikinig si Mama sa homily ng pari nang mapansin niyang may isang binata ang nakaupo sa pew malapit sa kinalalagyan ng kanyang wheelchair. Nais niyang lumingon dito ngunit ramdam mo ang kanyang pagkabahala. Inalis niya ang lock ng kanyang inuupuan upang pagulungin ito palayo sa binata. Ang binata naman ay lumakad papalapit na tila ba sinusundan ang naka wheel chair.

Nang medyo bakas na ang takot sa mukha ng aking nanay. Lumapit ang binata. Niyakap nito ng mahigpit ang nakaupo sa wheelchair.

"Hey ma, its me. I know you will be here kaya sinundan kita. Happy Easter."

After Eden (Second Part)

IV.

We left my aunt's place in Paranaque at six in the morning so we could reach the retreat house in Tagaytay before 8 am. The travel was uneventful along South Expressway save for the overcast sky reflecting my mood as we ascend the hills of Cavite. The weather was cool and crisp when we arrived there and after writing my name at the registration booth, my female cousin and I separated ways so we could settle down to our designated cottages.

I would be having a room mate and as I walk past other male retreat attendees, I wished mine would be interesting enough to spice up my two days stay away from the city.

Thrice I knocked at the door. Nobody answered. Since he arrived earlier and we had to share a single key, probably he was asleep.

After a few minutes, my room mate opened the door.

"Pasensya na, naka-idlip ako." He was rubbing his right eye with his left hand.

"Ayos lang. My name is Joms, and you are?" I gave my brimming smile hoping that we could connect.

"Phillip, tuloy ka bro." He shook my hand.

"Not bad," I told myself while dropping my bag beside the bed. "Ulam na rin ito kahit paano."

V.

Phillip was not bad looking, but he fell a little below my standards. His smooth brown skin was a turn on, his short height and plump physique needed a little refinement.

However if companionship is what I sought, Phillip could pass as a friend or maybe even a flirt buddy. He was nice enough to accommodate me, but the shirt he wore revealed the kind of person I would share the room with. Plastered on it were quotes from the Book of Matthew. On his bedside lay the Bible and some self-help books to guide him during the retreat. He was too saintly to be corrupted. It would be best to strike elsewhere.

VI.

The opening mass was officiated by a geriatric priest named Father John. I sat infront next to my room mate who listened attentively to the Homily. My head turned at every direction searching for my missing cousin and scouting for some cute guys I could introduce myself after the Eucharist was over. Surrounding me were pompous ladies in their sixties and seventies, couples in the prime of their married life and some ladies and gentlemen of my age who spoke more "hallelujahs" and "praise be to God" rather than the expletives I splat whenever someone pisses me off.

"I'm too sinful to be with these people," I mumbled.

Don't get the impression that I just sought to unleash my repression in the holiest of places. In truth, I was more concerned that the troubles I brought would prevent me from experiencing the bliss assured by those who recommended the retreat.

A flashback before the holy mass began proved my sincerity: While walking towards the conference hall, I prayed to that one being who would care to listen to open my heart for healing and reflection. A flashback still, while waiting for my aunt to board her SUV going back to Manila: She told me "to see this retreat as an opportunity to gather strength for the battles that lie ahead." Rarely does she smile to people, but as she entered her vehicle, she did smile to me and that smile remained in my head till the letting go part of the reflection later that night.

VII.

The answer to my prayer came shortly after I sought it. Seldom do I attend masses and rarely do I participate in singing songs of worship. All I asked was to feel welcome in that retreat, and as the priest uttered this phrase, which we often sing in most masses, it played in my ears like a personal greeting from Bro himself.

"Blessed is he who come, in the name of the Lord..."

For the first time after stepping foot at Angel Hills, I felt my burdens getting lighter.

---

-tobecontinued-

After Eden (First Part)

I.

They kept telling me that everything had a reason and that my presence there had a purpose. It was meant from the very start and what was needed from me was a clear mind and an open heart.

A few weeks back, my aunt told me that utol backed out from their planned retreat. Since it was already paid, she asked if I could go on leave from work to take my sister's place. Fearing that a decline may lead to a fall-out of favor, I said yes to her invitation. I could just tell my superiors that I have to go on-leave to focus on my thesis. They would not dare question my two-day absence.

II.

Things were not doing well at home a few days before the retreat. The Sikyu has not yet deposited our salaries to our bank accounts, mom was not feeling well, our finances were dwindling, and my sister turned the house into a refugee camp. Last month, I ranted at how she stayed elsewhere leaving me to look after our mom. To avoid getting bad rep for spending the night in the streets, (don't ask me why) she brought her comrades along, which ironically, consumed everything in sight.

For five days, we were forced to feed several more mouths during breakfast and dinner; added several bars of bath soap in the bathroom and the kitchen so they won't use ours for their hygiene needs; and cleaned their mess when they leave late in the morning. They were freeloaders beyond understanding and the sad part was, mom turned a blind eye on everything.

Last Tuesday, my fuse ran out. I found out that some loser guy used my facial scrub to clean his acne-infested face. That kid could have seen hell had he stayed longer that morning.

III.

Tuesday afternoon was a living hell. There were so many errands to do and no sister to take away some burdens. I had to juggle my sideline, the packing of things for the retreat the following day, my mom's grading sheet which I had to encode to beat the deadline and a planned visit to a friend's mother who was confined at a provincial hospital later that evening. I was so busy with so many things that I had to inform my aunt I would arrive home at past midnight.

Drained, I was in no mood to share my burdens at the retreat. I thought the whole activity was a waste of my time. With my mind muddled, a heart hating, and a tomorrow that is uncertain not even the unplanned chill-out in Tagaytay that night lifted my sagging spirit. At the back of my head, I was thinking of Crayola Boy and how our one night stand last year gave me an hour's amnesia. I did arrive at my aunt's place at past midnight and after listening to a male cousin unburden his artistic repressions at 2 in the morning, I resigned to bed with one thing in mind.

To look for a karir at the retreat.

---

-tobecontinued-

Mister Porky

The group is divided into 6 members each. The leader, who was chosen earlier from the number of votes he received is asked to go out of the hall to get some instructions for the activity. Those who remain are given masks to cover their eyes. After everyone's line of sight has been shrouded behind the piece of clothing, the leader shows up bringing some working materials with him.

"I have here a Manila Paper, several sheets of used newspaper, a roll of masking tape and a pen." His message boomed across the table despite the noise and chatter from the other groups.

As we feel the materials arranged on the table, we hear him speak again - this time giving orders we find deem impossible to achieve.

"We will make a pig."

Depending on how good the members are in following instructions, the leader gives task to each person.

"You will crumple the newspaper which will become the filling for the pig's body."

"You will make four legs out of these spare pieces of Manila Paper."

"And you, will rip small strips of masking tape with your fingers which shall be used to connect each body part together."

The leader is only allowed to give instructions, the moment his hand intervenes to help a member play his part, the entire group is disqualified.

Following blindly, the pig takes shape. Exact hand movements carefully slide newspaper fillings inside the shell. This shell, which is made out of Manila Paper - rolled and taped to look like a cylinder - has a chance of bursting, if the hand crafting it carelessly applies too much pressure. When the body is finished, masking tapes secure the legs, passed over by the member tasked to make it.

"Guys, you have five minutes left." The facilitator announces in front.

"We can do this guys. Just listen to me."

In life, we receive instructions which we may, or may not follow. Like in the game, a task is handed to each member. He must complete this task before the time is over. The voice, which guides may not use his hand to intervene, but in every milestone that has been achieved, his comforting reassurance reaches out, no matter how subtle the message is.

"Tama ba yung pagkakabit ko sa paa?" A member would ask, his hand only guided by the contours of the body he earlier crafted.

"Pin it a little to the left. Yan ayos."

"Yung isa namang paa, baliktarin mo. Yun!"

And like all instructions being handed out, to ignore is a path open to tread. Depending on what the group desires to achieve, everything must still end when the buzzer finally rings.

"Group leaders, two minutes left!"

"You, feel the flat surface in front of the head." The almost-finished pig is now handed over to another member. "Yan, tama na yung hand mo. Now draw the face there and make sure to put the eyes, nose and smiley face at the right spots so we can spare our pig from looking like an abomination."

Life is a blindfold, whose outcome will forever remain unseen.

"We're done guys! We've beaten the buzzer. You can take away your blindfolds now." The leader tells everyone.

Amidst the chuckles and giggles at how the pig came out to be, another lesson is revealed.

Mister Porky aka The Bunny

It doesn't matter what the outcome is. The essence will always be whether something good was achieved or not.

---

It was revealed later that the leaders were actually following a model pig displayed at the podium. When we were asked to make another pig, this time with blindfolds down, the results were exactly the clone of the one in front. Unfortunately, it took away the thrill of the game that we found the second part unchallenging.

I was so emotionally connected to our first pig (since I was the one tasked to make the body and attach the ears and legs to their proper places) that I kept it tucked and hidden amongst the vines in one of Angel Hill's secret gardens. Mister Porky has been spared from the abyss waiting inside the trash bin.

The Lapdog

In the early days, when not a single colored TV could be seen in our living room; when we used to stand over a stool, cling our small hands on to the neighbor's grilled window and gawk, like a starved puppy for god knows how long while the kids in front of the boob tube play Nintendo Family Computer and then suddenly shut the wooden jalousies tight when a multitude of kids gather to watch as Super Mario stomps monsters to save an abducted princess, and start a ruckus over a tiny space to have a good view of the game being played, we learn some bitter truths about power structures surrounding a juvenile act of game watching.

The crowd dissipates and everything returns to normal. The windows shut tight earlier are opened and a few minutes later, kids from the surrounding houses would once again gather around the tiny opening to take a peek as tanks hit each other with pea-sized bullet in the game called Battle City. This time however, the power structures have changed. Aside from the kids playing the video game, there were those invited inside the house to act as intermediary between those watching outside and those who held the game pad. The most loyal of these intermediaries, in a strike of luck maybe allowed to play a game or two depending on the whims of the Nintendo owners, while some of those gaping outside maybe invited in, depending on his ability to sway over an intermediary to his side.

As the game continues, the intermediaries would change according to those called home and the new ones invited in. When the kids' parents show up in the living room, finding a multitude of grimy street urchins seated on the floor, (and sometimes hugging an alpombra around their skinny arms) the hierarchy would immediately be broken, the wooden jalousies shut tight again, and the kids holding the game pads will be forced to switch off the computer as the parents settle down to watch the evening news.

Those of us left outside would gather in our little clusters and talk about the game we have seen until the kids who own the game console show up and interrupt our conversation. Of course, they would receive a heroes' welcome in our narrow alley, hoping that those who made the best impression would be invited over when the kids decide to play the game next time.

It sucks to be drawn into the order, but as a kid who never had the material wealth of those of our neighbors had, to swallow the truth was far better than pretending having the power.

No wonder, the recent controversy surrounding Chip Tsao and his recent article about us being a nation of servants didn't bother me at all.

Because we are a proud nation of servants.

---

The Russians sank a Hong Kong freighter last month, killing the seven Chinese seamen onboard. We can live with that-—Lenin and Stalin were once the ideological mentors of all Chinese people. The Japanese planted a flag on Diàoyú Island. That's no big problem-—we Hong Kong Chinese love Japanese cartoons, Hello Kitty, and shopping in Shinjuku, let alone our round-the-clock obsession with karaoke.

But hold on-—even the Filipinos? Manila has just claimed sovereignty over the scattered rocks in the South China Sea called the Spratly Islands, complete with a blatant threat from its congress to send gunboats to the South China Sea to defend the islands from China if necessary. This is beyond reproach. The reason: There are more than 130,000 Filipina maids working as US$3,580-a-month cheap labor in Hong Kong. As a nation of servants, you don't flex your muscles at your master, from whom you earn most of your bread and butter.

As a patriotic Chinese man, the news has made my blood boil. I summoned Louisa, my domestic assistant who holds a degree in international politics from the University of Manila, hung a map on the wall, and gave her a harsh lecture. I sternly warned her that if she wants her wages increased next year, she had better tell everyone of her compatriots in Statue Square on Sunday that the entirety of the Spratly Islands belongs to China.

Grimly, I told her that if war breaks out between the Philippines and China, I would have to end her employment and send her straight home, because I would not risk the crime of treason for sponsoring an enemy of the state by paying her to wash my toilet and clean my windows 16 hours a day. With that money, she would pay taxes to her Government, and they would fund a navy to invade our motherland and deeply hurt my feelings.

Oh yes. The Government of the Philippines would certainly be wrong if they think we Chinese are prepared to swallow their insult and sit back and lose a Falkland Islands War in the Far East. They may have Barack Obama and the hawkish American military behind them, but we have a hostage in each of our homes in the Mid-Levels or higher. Some of my friends told me they have already declared a state of emergency at home. Their maids have been made to shout 'China, Madam/Sir' loudly whenever they hear the word "Spratly". They say the indoctrination is working as wonderfully as when we used to shout, "Long live Chairman Mao!" at the sight of a portrait of our Great Leader during the Cultural Revolution. I’m not sure if that's going a bit too far, at least for the time being.

---

Let's look back at history and recall how things were in Hong Kong before Beijing took over more than a decade ago:

Hong Kong was, for a long time a crown territory of the British. It knew no struggles, save for a brief Japanese Occupation during World War 2. It was safely harnessed under the cloak of the British Empire while its neighbor China endured humiliations from the Japanese. No History geek would ever forget the Rape of Nanking and the Invasion of Manchuria. After Mao held sway over the Mainland 50 years ago, an uneasy peace existed between Soviet Union and China. Both were Socialists countries, and rivaled for spheres of influences around the world

There were several occasions when their bitter rivalry drew both nations to the brink of war.

Spratlys Islands are a group of outcropped rocks surrounded by the vast South China Sea. No sane Philippine Government would dare claim the entire territory for the country lest we are ready to face the ire of the entire region. For one, we never have Frigates to begin with, much more, we dont' have Fighter Jets to protect our skies. And our army - deployed down south, combing the jungles of Sulu for Red Cross Volunteers abducted (and threatened to be beheaded) by grimy Abu Sayaff bandits.

Most Chinese living in Hong Kong feel little about their homeland. The same is true with the Chinese living in Macao and Taiwan. It's a shame to learn that for someone as old as Chip Tsao, he knows little about the things he wrote, and for those of us, whose egos were scarred because of a lame piece of work - which his overlords in Beijing would never bother to read - especially coming from a territory they eye with suspicion for its Democratic leanings, I find the analogy of my childhood forthcoming.

---

I imagine Chip Tsao being a lapdog; a famished, ugly Shih Tzu barking over some breadcrumbs scattered on the floor as its master, unmindful of the barks continues to cast its gaze over the horizon - over Paris Hilton - whose Chihuahua responds with the same loud barking sounds after hearing a fellow lapdog in the distance.

The Chickboy Strain

This is what really happened last night.

---

[09:35] Centurion: proud daw ang princesa
[09:35] Centurion: hehehe
[09:36] Centurion: well.. ngayon ka lang niya kasi nakitang ganun...
[09:36] Centurion: ako twice na kitang nakita
[09:36] MuGen: alam mo ba kung ano ang nangyari talaga?
[09:36] Centurion: nangyari na?
[09:37] MuGen: kagabi
[09:37] MuGen: paano nauwi sakin yung chick
[09:37] Centurion: pano nga ba?
[09:37] Centurion: nag cr ako
[09:37] MuGen: yung babae kasi
[09:37] MuGen: lasing na nung abutan natin
[09:37] Centurion: pag balik ko may kalingkisan ka na na chick
[09:37] MuGen: kung kani-kanino dumidikit
[09:37] MuGen: nung una dumikit na siya sa akin
[09:37] MuGen: tingin kaagad ako kay lukayo
[09:37] MuGen: haha kasi kinabahan ako
[09:37] MuGen: tapos nawala yung babae
[09:37] MuGen: lumingkis sa iba
[09:38] MuGen: eh yung mga tangang straight
[09:38] MuGen: hindi marunong umantabay sa chick
[09:38] MuGen: kapag nabubuwal hinahayaan
[09:38] MuGen: hayun, nung tutumba siya nasalo ko kaagad ang siko
[09:38] MuGen: napansin niya, ngumiti sa akin
[09:38] MuGen: hindi ko namalayan
[09:38] Centurion: in fairness joms.. panalo ang ang beauty niya..
[09:38] MuGen: nakasandal na siya sa katawan ko

---

Second to straight-acting men, it is the ladies I hit on whenever I find myself on the dance floor. I cannot resist getting aroused whenever I see curvy hips sway and real boobs bounce to the sound of house music.

The spectacle witnessed by Encantadia at Guillys is just one of the shameless display of lewdness I do whenever I loosen my inhibitions because of the music and alcohol. It was the sexy chick who came to dance with me and had there been no eyes watching us, (especially the girl's best friend) my moves could have been more aggressive. I remember the last time I did swing with a girl by telling her all the sweet nothings I could come up with, I ended up making out - tongue slurping, spit swapping, and cock-boob squeezing - with this fag hag despite being surrounded by gay men inside a bar in Malate.

I bet their eyes were all telling me "kadire" and "ipokrito."

But its just me. The flirting wasn't intentional, I'm just good at making bola.

And despite my tendencies to pull a trick like what Darwin and the rest of the gang have seen last night. I stay faithful to my leanings.

No, I'm not bisexual.


I don't see myself enjoying the mount and hump part when the trick extends up to bed.

---

And when I do end up with a chick in bed. Lemme see, I'll let her take it from behind.

One Earth Vote

---

Salamat sa Global Warming, madali akong uhawin kapag naglalakad sa ilalim ng nangangalit na araw ngayon. Minsan isang hapon, dali dali akong pumasok ng 7-Eleven upang bumili ng Summit Vitamin Water. Pakshet kasi ang weather, uulan sa umaga tapos aaraw naman ng bonggang-bongga sa tanghali. Marami tuloy ang nagkaka-sore throat kaya't pilit kong pinapataas ang resistensya sa pamamagitan ng pag-ooverdose ng bitamina sa katawan.

Matapos magpalamig ng onti, kumuha ako ng isang plastic na bote ng vitamin water mula sa fridge. Nilagpasan ko ang mga chips na nagsusumigaw ng "masarap ako, bilhin mo ako!" o kaya naman ay "mahal mo ako diba? eat me!!" samantalang paulit-ulit ko namang sinasambit ang mga katagang "tukso layuan mo ako" habang dumadaan sa harap ng hile-hilerang Piatos, V-Cut, Pringles at Ridges na nakasalansan sa shelf.

Walang nakapila sa bayaran kaya lagpas tengang ngiting inabot ng kahera ang aking pinamili.

"21 pesos po sir." sambit ng gwapong gwapong salesclerk sa aking tapat.

Naglabas ako ng sakto, para hindi na hassle magtabi ng sukli.

Akmang isusupot niya ang aking tubig na may halong bitamina nang bigla ko siyang pinigilan.

"Huwag po kuya!" Gusto ko sanang idagdag ang salitang masakit...

"Ah ayaw niyo sir?" Hindi niya ma-gets. Marami ang nagsisikip...

"Iinumin ko lang naman yan eh." Plastic na nga yung bote ko, plastic pa yung supot. How redundant.

"Kalat lang ang plastic." Bulong ko sa sarili.

Umalis akong bakas sa mukha ang pagtataka ng kahera, samantalang ang matabang dalaga na nakapila sa likod ko ay walang pakiealam na humihingi pa ng dobleng supot para sa kanyang jumbo siopao na kakakuha lang sa steamer.






Picture ninenok sa blog ni Dear Diarya.

Avenida: The Manila COD Interludes

After J. Dalisay Jr.

---

I think I was eight or nine years old when my mother and I would scour the entire stretch of Avenida in search for a great bargain. Sometimes, we would go there to buy some groceries or just do window shopping, especially when times were difficult and budget was tight.

She would pick me up at around 7 in the evening coming from her day-long teaching job at a state university. We would take a short jeep ride from our house in Santa Mesa to the fringes of Recto, and then ride another jeepney going towards the direction of Carriedo.

I remember, she would always sit beside the driver (and sometimes even asking the man in front to surrender his seat and ride at the back) for she can't lift her feet up the steps at the rear entry of the passenger vehicle. She's disabled since birth and her feet were limited to cover just a few blocks when used for walking.

The jeep would drop us off at Uniwide Sales Club just below the LRT Carriedo Station, where mom would buy a few items to fill our small provisions cabinet: Laundry soaps, toiletries like Pepsodent toothpaste and Tender Care Bath soap, and several canned goods (which include Maggie Chicken Noodles, 555 Tomato Sardines and Hunt's Pork and Beans). After roaming the aisles for a few hours, off we head to the cashier section to pay our goods. Mother would sometimes pay in cash, but often, use her gift cheques acquired from salary swapping in school.

We would leave the supermarket just in time for the closing. Since there's no use competing with other bystanders waiting to get a ride home, mom would limp her way back to Recto, clutching her bag of groceries on her left hand, while holding mine on another. When time was free. Goodwill Bookstore served as our pit stop and resting grounds before trudging again the barely lit sidewalks of Avenida.

When inside the bookstore, mom would set her eyes on the stack of books marked as SALE. She would pick one, browse its contents while letting me check out the coloring booklets and animal-themed domino sets not far from where she stood. We were just there for the window shopping, however, when we find ourselves in front of the already closed bookstore, we move on and rest our feet at the nearby Manila COD Department Store instead.

Manila COD sat next to Madison Department Store. Both stores sold clothes, shoes and household items at discounted prices. I could not recall if these thrift shops had any distinction that would set them apart, but both stores had a profound impact which still make ripples when it comes to my buying habits.

One night, a few minutes before closing time, mom and I entered Manila COD. She immediately went to the household items area while I ran towards the toys section to check for new die-cast miniature cars on display. It was never my habit to hold my mom hostage when I like something so much, but when I found one die-cast toy car impossible to resist, I resolved to hold my ground until mom gives in.

And so I made it a point to get noticed - not by crying like some brats do - but by pressing my head against the glass window and ignoring her calls for us to leave. I stayed in that position until mom, asked these few questions which still echoes whenever I find myself deadlocked when buying expensive stuffs nowadays.

"Kailangang kailangan mo ba yan anak?"

"Hindi ba puwedeng ipostpone yan?"

"Anong kapalit na gagawin mo kapag binili ko ito?"

One would get tempted to say that I was conditioned to consider everything first before acquiring toys at a young age. It maybe viewed as repression on my part but as I grew older, I learned to appreciate the lessons mother tried to teach me. In truth, we could not afford indulging ourselves with material gains, but rather than let my unprepared ears hear what she had to imply, mom applied psychology to let me see things her way.

With much prodding from the salesladies who surrounded us, (for the store was already closed and they were probably itching to go home) mom gave up and bought the Fuchsia Toyota Crown which I had set my eyes on since arriving there that evening. Because she spent the budget set for our dinner for my new toy car, she resisted the urge to stop at Stateside Burger for us to grab something to eat.

Our stomachs were empty when we arrived home at past midnight.

---

Avenida is dying. The old nooks of my childhood - the sundry movie houses showing the latest films; the thrift shops that lined the street; and even the Stateside Burger Joint at the corner of Recto and Avenida are now gone. Save for Madison's Department Store, whose passing is as imminent as its geriatric Tsinoy captain and its crew of aged salesladies, what is left of Avenida are rows and rows of Ukay-ukay stores, cellphone repair shops, a couple of motels and a handful of seedy beer houses which have already turned the strip into a derelict.

I do not know if an urban renewal plan could turn the place around, but as I passed by the same sidewalk this evening on my way home, I cannot help but trace back the steps which my mom and I used to tread during our bonding nights. Amidst the cigarette vendors, low - key prostitutes and vagrants of all lore, I was busy recollecting my thoughts to re-imagine the Avenida that was.

The Manila COD Diaries (First Part)

Notes written for on-the-job training documentation purposes. Original notebook still survives.

Wordings and tenses modified to improve the clarity of each entry.

---

Monday. November 24, 1997

"Today we went to Manila COD to attend the orientation. There were around 10 of us from my batch and the speaker talked endlessly about using the time card, the rules and regulations of the company, the allowance we will receive at the end of our duty and the control gate where we need to show up first and be frisked before reporting to our respective departments within the store premises..."

Sunday. November 30, 1997

"Tonight is the eve of my OJT. I want to spend my free time lounging and doing nothing at home because I will miss bumming for quite some time. I'm very tense of what will happen tomorrow because I don't know if I can survive the hardships of being a salesclerk...

...I know that later on, my life will go back to normal and this opportunity will be my key to the future...

I expect problems specially adjusting to my new environment because I don't have any experience working before. I expect troubles coming my way knowing how stupid and clumsy I could become sometimes."

Monday. December 1, 1997

"Today is the first day of work. I left PUP at around 1:40 pm and ate dinner shortly after arriving in Cubao believing that we will stay up until 9:00 pm. When we showed up at the control gate, the security personnel asked us to proceed to the HR department to claim our time card and ID. We went back to the CG after receiving final instructions, where we found our supervisors restlessly waiting...

I was assigned to the Boys Wear Department...

...I encountered different kinds of customers. At first, I asked them how I could be of assistance. Most of them only got annoyed and avoided my presence. Later on, I learned a new technique in handling customers. I would just stand beside them, like the mannequins around us, until they approach me and seek my assistance. That was how I was able to close 7 sales on my first day..."

Tuesday. December 2, 1997

"It's my second day at work and I am still adjusting to my new surroundings. I arrived at past 3 in the afternoon since we stayed first in my classmate's house near COD. There's nothing to worry about since they expect us to report later in the afternoon...

The supervisor was absent so there's no pressure in my department. I was introduced to the sales assistants, most of them have been with COD for decades, and the other 2 trainees from our school. These trainees were from college. Although I was not able to memorize their names, except for Sir Manny who was assigned to be my guide yesterday, I came up with nicknames to get acquainted with my new workmates.

... I had a customer, she's an old woman and from her looks, one would get an impression that she does not earn well. But I was touched because even if she looks poor, he bought 3 pairs of shorts and shirts which are on sale for her three kids.

... I was able to use the intercom to request for sizes and additional stocks for the first time. I was also able to hold and verify a credit card without any assistance from the other sales assistants. What a great achievement!

... We left the store at 9:15. Bad Trip! I was left behind when all my classmates made sabit at the jeep. There was no space available and if I force myself to hitch at the side rails, there's a good chance of falling off the vehicle."


Sunday. December 7, 1997

"Busy day at work. There were a lot of customers at the store because of the sale yesterday. Unfortunately, there were many of us trainees as well so I wasn't approached very often. It's my worst day of the week because I came late for the first time. I also lost my company ID and school ID this evening. I wasn't able to find them."

---

Next door is COD Department Store, which is known for its animated Christmas tableaux. One of the biggest department stores in the country during the ’70s, COD is owned by the family of Ral del Rosario Jr. who was once a swimming champion in the Asian Games. People came in droves during the holidays just to see the COD display. All the shows are Christmas in theme, but the motif would change every year. One time it was a rustic celebration of Christmas; another time, it was Christmas in outer space, with Santa Claus emerging from a spaceship. For years, it was an event for many shoppers to drop by Cubao just to see the show.

Rikki Jimenez
Remembering the Araneta Center during Dekada ’70



I just found Sir Manny's Friendster after publishing this entry. Ah the joys of remembering. Hope he still remembers.




-tobecontinued-