Freak Show

They agreed because it was needed. The goal was not really to educate but to survive on small cash donations and bags of groceries promised by the radio station once they grant them an interview. It was not for them, really, but for their infant son, who at a young age have to suffer because of their disease. It was a difficult choice knowing how the media treats people like them lately.

But they need to live.

I remember, the hysteria began some years back. The government released a data regarding the rising cases of the virus in the country. Media companies exploited the inherent fears of a nation and created a spin out of it. You know how news can be sensationalized in order to get more attention. It is a twisted style of telling a story where negative emotions matter more than positive understanding. Soon, the news had reached every nook and corner and people began talking about it. They said they speak in order to educate, but most of them only echoed what the cold numbers have revealed.

From what I see, the joint effort to make the people aware of the virus was successful. However, we failed in the way we treat the disease and the issue itself. It was never education from the very start. For us who doesn't have it, it was more of preaching to relieve ourselves of our own guilt. What the preaching did was to sow terror. Words do speak of alarm. In the many months after the news has been circulated, how many of us really do understand the virus and the people who have it?

Fear snatch our compassion and sensitivity. It only lets us see ourselves and not the people who truly suffer. It pains me to know that those, who should be more open-minded and sensitive about these things are the ones who carelessly wrought more suffering to the victims. Those who should be giving these people more dignity to live a deserving existence are the ones who are taking it away.

In the end, it's all about exploitation. A freak show to satisfy a curious public.

Nothing more, nothing less.



"Baka mahawa ako diyan?"

Lala Roque apparently said to her staff just a hearing distance away from the parents of Baby Nathan.

"Ano yun, nakakahawa ba?"

The station staff replied while fixing her gaze to the family seated in one of the chairs.





There are fears that should be left unspoken and let those who truly live with it speak for themselves as we listen and quietly heed their advice.

Until we finally learn to accept and embrace their lives.

Back In The Closet

---

With the prodding that comes like an end
to the brevity of intimacy, the exhibits stand up
and walk wordlessly out of the tent. The visitors
voices now vaulted by old guilt preserved
and left open for all to see,

Take their places in this mirthless menagerie,
one willing victim for each abandoned reverie.
They close their eyes and wait for the visitors to come,
here, to be claimed by graceless fear
here, in the sideshow that only hypocrisy could have built.

Freak Show
The Most Careful of the Stars
Ruel De Vera

Just Because They Deserve To Burn

My brother and I were playing golf at the South Course of Valley. We were on the 3rd hole, and we see two golf carts going past us, overtaking our flight, and setting up to tee off on the next hole. My dad goes up to them and asks them why they would do that, why they would overtake us without even asking for our permission.


We learn from the great men of the past that power comes from the barrel of a gun. It is human nature. The more we have the ability to inflict terror and discomfort to those who cross us, the more we become aggressive with our behavior. I've seen this happen to my father. When his capacity to punch someone with his knuckles was replaced by his ability to draw his firearms, his eyes glimmered at the thought of the world bowing under his feet.


Someone breaks up the fight. I thought it was all over. The mayor shouts to his caddy: "Hindi nila kami kilala! Sabihin mo nga sa kanila kung sino ako!" And believe me, I had no idea who this person was. But now I know. He's the person who, with 4 other men, beat up my 56-year-old father and my 14-year-old brother. He's the person who sacks a pleading 14-year-old kid in the face. He's a person who, I am sure, is gonna rot in hell.


I heard dad said those words before. He was a very influential man who could bring down a reputation of someone powerful than him. With hundreds of thousands of proles, tambays, and sex maniacs reading his column everyday, he was a force to reckon with. This fueled the fire that drives his arrogance and sense of invincibility. At one point in his life, bodyguards surrounded him. Every seedy nightspots in the red-light city was his to choose from. And god, the people who shook his hands were the overlords of this forsaken country. That was the life he had.

Until it was taken away by the same forces he shook hands with one September night.


Him and his friend pull my dad to the ground, pulls at his feet, and steps on him like he's dirt. I run to him and try to hold him back, holding him back by his shirt, while this other guy and this girl tries to stop me. She tells me to just stop it. I scream in her face "they're beating my father up and you want me to stop?!" I pull at his shirt--I don't let go. All I can see was my dad being trampled on. I didn't even see my brother getting beat up.


The raid commenced at the printing press and we, the ones in power were advised to hide. It was the first time I saw how powerless dad was to stop his enemies from destroying his emerging empire. Life is politics and had I been the one playing his game, I would have foreseen destruction before it came. It was pride and arrogance who destroyed my father and the months after that fateful night have seen how fortunes changed.


Sounds like something out of a movie, doesn't it? But this is what happened. TODAY. The day after Christmas. To my family. And all I ask for is JUSTICE. The people at Valley Golf did not seem to want to help us. None of the security guards even tried to stop the fight. Right in the clubhouse. I came back after the fight was over and talked to the receptionists. They say they did not see anything. The general manager of Valley Golf would not give us the names of the men who made my brother's ear bleed. It took him an hour. Maybe even more than that. He seemed to not want to help us. Because, we were against the SECRETARY OF THE DEPARTMENT OF AGRARIAN REFORM and the MAYOR NASSER PAGDANGANAN JR OF MASIU CITY, LANAO DEL SUR. They were all scared.


My father did some things I could never write. What I do know is that his brutality rivaled his capacity for kindness. Like all others who fell before him, it was power and sense of permanence that lead to his downfall. Humans have this impression that they can stay forever once they are on top. Unfortunately, those who stay forever are the ones who truly understand how fleeting everything is.

That power itself is bound to end.

In those days, I basked in my dad's power. I could drive someone away or open gates I could never open in my present state with just one ID. I walked along corridors with companions who are willing to defend me - at the command of my father. But never did, in my wildest dreams, get drunk with what I have.

Because I know, it will never be forever.

And now that a different energy empowers me, might as well put it to good use and prune those who deserve to be pruned. It's time to cut down excess branches and leave only those deem necessary.

I share my voice, and my blog as a testament that power may also come in shards of words.

For in the end, masters change.

What endures are humanity and respect for others.

---

Bambee Dela Paz's Blog
Dale Bacar's Blog

But For What My Dear Manny, Another Glory?

The caption reads:

Spread the Faith
Voice Out a Prayer for Manny here.

I say:

Spare the Almighty from the national pastime. There is no glory when money passes hands from the crooked to the corrupt because of the man wearing boxing gloves above. There is no real victory in a match whose very thought was engineered with wads of cash in mind. There is no pride when half of the spectators around the ring are oblivious to the fact that the champ whose arms were outstretched above hails from a nation of dazed people with a missing soul that it continues to seek...

... always in wrong places.

How can there be glory when the "Pambansang Kamao" lets his fame be exploited by capitalists dogs, too eager to harvest his name for profit gain? How can there be unity when a selected few can watch the game in the comforts of their home, or theater through pay-per-view live satellite feeds from Vegas while the rest fight for space inside cramped indoor basketball courts, or spend hours waiting for the results in a super-delayed telecast courtesy of local, heavily advertised telecast? How can there be thrill when the Pambansang Kamao trade jabs with his Latino opponent while halfway across the planet, a drunken porky man trade uppercuts with his bone-skinned wife over a scrap of meat for lunch while the same pound by pound match glazes the TV screen?

Spread the faith, the ad said. But where is faith in a government that spins the truth from its people? Where is faith in a society that performs cheap circus tricks - like rolling on the floor on a noontime show for a dole out of 5 thousand pesos from the host - in full horror of the nation? Where is faith, when those who claim to have one are the most morally dredged of society - like the naked man kneeling above. I find no hero in someone associated with the worst devils of the country. I will never forget how he ran for office believing that his fame will easily lead him there.

As for my faith with this brand:

I'd find salvation in something else, any other brand than this.

---

Photo serves as banner ad from pinoyexchange.com

To Remember The Dark, Will Never Let Us Lose Sight Of The Light

Guys4Men, early this year

---

Mugen: would it be alright to bookmark you so...


....So that even in this dark and forsaken place, I would still be reminded that there is light?

Spiritual Adviser: Tell me so I can pray with u or for u ...
Miy problems is worth half a million > how much is yours. Im not loosing hope.

God is good to me all the time.

Mugen: Nothing really that big. I'm just trying to contain my urges. :)

Thanks for replying. It really means a lot.

Spiritual Adviser: Why dont u jack off or look for someone to jack u off. dont control your murges, let go to the one u love...

Mugen: I'd try that. Maybe its my exposure here that's driving me this way.

Spiritual Adviser: Exposure to way ang edad mo ay eded ng malilibog dats why u need a lover or partner to fool arouid.

Spiritual Adviser: There is nothing wrong with having a release with another consenting adult.

Mugen: It's like this. Something inside me wants to compete in those sex forums. But when I get rejected, an urge to fight back takes over me. It's like an endless cycle - me looking for approval. What's worse is that what I'm just seeking is an approval; that I could not accept being rejected.

I know everyone gets one. Maybe I don't get it yet. Somehow your presence enabled me to break the cycle.

Mugen: I know. I just think that i'm too sexual that's why I'm concerned. :)

Spiritual Adviser: With my age, I had a thousand rejections. Rejection is normal. If we are rejcted, by some one then lets move on.

50% of the guys in the sex forum are just fooling around.Pagdi mo kilala ang tao di ka dapat mag seb kasi u either get held up or hold up or std or hiv....

So be cool and take rejection with a good laugh

Mugen: thats what i'm trying to learn.

Thank you very much for listening. Next time we see each other. I will make sure i'm in a better standing than it is today.

God bless po.

Spiritual Adviser: are u a virgin in sexual matters ?

Mugen: nope. thats what i'm afraid of. If I'd unleash myself right now, I'd released the sexual side of me.

Spiritual Adviser: hahahahahahaha.

Hindi naman ganyan. I can teach u one by one if u like.
Its not that serious. Ur standards and moiral values with still control u.

my number 09164xxxxx. im glove unlitixt so pwede tau text if globe ka na. My nephew will use the pc. text ka pa glove ka. keep in touch.

U sound delicious, In my 55 years never had a virgin in my entire life.

God bless,

Mugen: Thanks. Take care and god bless. My shift is over. See you again here.

Spiritual Adviser: I will be your sex slave. hehehehehehe

---

Odin, are you ready?
Semaj, marami pa akong kwento..

Recession

It all begins with a drop in body temperature. The air suddenly turns cold and the body begins to shiver. It jerks like an engine on the verge of shutting off. To save strength, the body wraps itself in any warm piece of clothing. The jitters never stop, and one's breath scorches anything it touches. The skin freezes to its icy state and the body crumbles to conserve heat. With eyes half closed, and senses, delirious, time passes and the involuntary shaking ceases. The mind wakes up, only to find the body in searing heat. It untangles itself from the bundles of clothing it used to warm itself. Sweat is required but the glands never produces. Instead, the body suffers from hundreds of tiny imaginary meteoric bombardments - the muscles stirring from its precipitous state. The joints ache and little invisible cracks in the bones form. As the body attempts to move - to seek intervention from synthetic compounds that strike the malady in its heart, sweat dribbles from the skin. It forms tiny droplets of water that restores balance in ones broken organic machine.

A strange lull descends, making the body believe that the recession is over. Intermittent groans break the silence as the body adjusts from its fetal position. Except for a few barks that lurches the chest forward, a deep breath to catch some tepid air, a heavy head that must be leaned somewhere and an occasional yanking to push the phlegm that got stuck on the throat.

Everything appears normal.

Until the cold spell returns, and the body temperature drops again.

Change

Imagine a world led by Sarah Palin.

Neocon Republicans will be vindicated. The conservatives will plunge the United States into a new era of Dark Age. Christian Fundamentalism will suppress the right of everyone to exercise their faith other than the way of the Bible and tolerance will be but a thing of the past. Creationism will be taught alongside with Darwinian Theory of Evolution and Stem Cell Research will be perfected not in the most progressive nation in the world, but on some third-party country like China or perhaps, even Iran.

Big corporations will have a free reign in dictating on the economy. Outsourcing will continue to drain Americans with sources of income, leaving them much poorer than with the previous administration that lead them to their deaths. The environment will be greatly sacrificed in the name of progress - like what she did in Alaska and the achievements of Al Gore and his call to heed the threats of Global Warming will be declared a fabrication.

Violence will rule the streets, after everyone has been allowed to bear arms. "Let them kill themselves," the former Vice-President would say to herself after the President, John McCain suddenly expired after delivering his first State of the Nation Address last 2009. Terrorism still hounds the Hawks of Pentagon, as unilateralism continues to destroy the prestige of America around the world.

Russia, China and the new "Socialist Democracies" in South America headed by Venezuela will take advantage of the situation by calling for a new world order. The European Union will forge closer ties among themselves after realizing that their nations are far better without the United States watching their every move. Pakistan, Afghanistan and Iraq will revert back to an Islamic State after the jihadists reclaim each respective governments.

Iran and Syria will continue to harass Israel through propaganda warfare while a large swath of Africa goes down the drain with each nation killing one another in an orchestrated genocide that would leave the hyenas and the baboons ruling a part of that continent.

As chaos and confusion slowly grind civilization to a halt, Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo will still hold power here. Being a woman long disowned by her people and who was able to extend her power through unholy alliances with the most corrupt in the land, she will closely empathize with the first Woman President of the United States, who unfortunately, will be the reason for her mighty country to beg on its knees in the future.

I know that this is a product of my wildly deranged imagination.

But who knows.

If Obama loses the US Elections two nights from now, (Philippine Time)

Our white-skinned "big brothers" from the West will surely get into trouble.

---

"The truth is we're also trying to stay out of the public limelight during this period of the election season," said Fratto. "There are two individuals out there running to be president of the United States, and we don't want to complicate that for them."

Bush Absent from Campaign Trail,

CNN

Payatas Tragedy Revisited

Huli man daw at sandali lang nakisali sa piging, nawa'y ang entry na ito ay magsilbing tugon sa pagmumulat mo sa aming natutulog na diwa tungkol sa kahirapan ng buhay maralita.

Maligayang kaarawan, kaibigan.

---

PARADISE LOST
Three months after the infamous tragedy, Payatas residents still remain disturbed.

It was 8 o' clock in the morning when she stood in front of her house to gaze at the never-ending sight of garbage - - a mountain of filth that would later bring tragedy and death to hundreds of residents of the Payatas dumpsite. In a split second, as she vividly recalls, all hell broke loose. The earth rumbled as the mountain of garbage came rolling down, burying her neighbor alive farther down below. July 10 - the fateful morning when the nation was shocked at the tragedy that occurred.

As for Aling Norma, life became much more different. Her house stood ten steps away from the buried shanties so she miraculously survived. As she tells us how she managed to run away from the waves of garbage falling down from the mountain, her tears roll down, a sign that everything is still as fresh as the day it happened.

"Apat na anak ko ang nalibing ng buhay at may isa pang hindi nakikita" (Four of my children were buried alive and one is still missing). She speaks while watching Backhoes dig up piles of garbage in front of her.

As she recalls, they were the squatters behind the Bureau of Internal Revenue Building. They were relocated to a site called "Lupang Pangako" (Promised Land). At that time, the place was still filled with grass. But when the Quezon City government turned it into a dumpsite, all garbage coming from Metro Manila was dumped there, turning it from fields of grass into a mountain of trash that we see today.

A minor landslide occurred during the mid-90's, but this "warning" was not heeded by the residents living there and by the government that watched them. Last July 10 2001, a year after the Cherry Hills Subdivision tragedy in Rizal, the east side of the Payatas Garbage Mountain collapsed due to continuous rains, burying hundreds of families under tons of rotting filth. Overnight, hundreds of cadavers were recovered, while some survivors were lucky enough to be alive. Throughout that week, bodies piled up in the nearby basketball court. The stench of death hanged over Payatas while garbage piled up in Quezon City.

It was a week not to be forgotten, yet somehow the people in Payatas are trying to fill up the spaces left by the tragedy that happened only in this country.

Today, around 210 recovered bodies were already identified by their respective families while 49 others remain unidentified. Aling Nena claims that there are about 75 people still buried under the piles of garbage while many of the residents living there were relocated somewhere else. Out of the 8 areas of Barangay Payatas that was hit by the landslide, five were completely wiped out. The task force assigned by the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) in the area will terminate their rescue operations of October 15 while the Payatas dumpsite will cease its operation temporarily while plans about its future development is still being formulated.

There are rumors that the sight might be turned into a memorial park in memory of the numerous victims of the tragedy.

As for Aling Nena and the rest of the residents living in the area, they will not wait for the government to relocate them again somewhere. They had accepted to let the tragedy be left in the deepest recesses of their minds.

Leaving the dumpsite, we can still see the despair in the faces of the residents caused by the tragedy despite their smiling faces and seemingly normal lives. While the site lingers in our view, over the distance lay the municipalities of San Mateo and Montalban and the La Mesa Water Dam.

- with reports from Kapre

---

Article written during my junior college year for our news magazine finals project. Grammar lapses and word usage were left uncorrected to give respects to its young aspiring writers. Now that my zest to experience the other side of life has been awakened, expect more blog entries that delves on these subjects from now on.

Thank you Gibo for letting my eyes see again.

Will The Future Blame Us

Ang kabataan ang pag-asa ng bayan

- Jose Rizal

Are you disappointed?
And have we destroyed it I
But I've been stumbling down this long and winding road
And these times are changing
And it's complicated I
Well I don't wanna know

- Will The Future Blame Us, Our Lady Peace

---

While secretly blog hopping the other night, I stumbled upon someone's blog. This blogger is someone new in the online journal scene but his story is very different from the other blogs I've read so far.

His introduction reminds me of a cousin - the only relative I acknowledge on my father's side. He's 22, bum and totally dependent on her mother - my aunt. She is currently jobless and the last time she had work was four years ago, when my dad's publishing business was still operational.

What keeps them afloat is my uncle's monthly remittance from abroad. However, being a TNT with no permanent job, things are getting difficult for them. With the global recession threatening to crash even the wealthiest of economies, it is the illegal immigrants that bear the brunt.

Life was never this harsh for them in the early days. I remember my dad lamenting at how well-off his sister was when he's the one older between the two siblings. My cousin used to wear signature brands that I could only dream of wearing even now. What's unfortunate is that despite poverty bearing down on them, my cousin's outlook never changed. Tired of life and living, he never aspired to complete his high school degree despite the financial support and encouragement readily available to him.

I don't know what his future holds and it is not my desire to speculate on what life he would have. However, after reading this blog, I get the idea that my cousin is not alone. Much as it is painful to admit, the present generation of kids is a far-cry from what my generation was.

ako si jong.. kilala ako sa cavite city na sasori.. dating hip-hop ... para maiba naman rakizta naman.. tapos mag coconyo na

isa akong tambay tamad mag-aral adik sa computer ngunit walang masamang bisyo mahirap lamang pero mautak mag ipon kaya na kakapg mall padin.. makapal ang muka koh, laging nangunguna sa kainan , laging tulog , laging nasa questor , sabi ng nanay ko hayop daw ako sa panget , sabi naman ng iba pogi ako , ung iba naman cute , ung iba naman panget din. . . kaya hindi ko pa alam hanggang ngaun ang estado ko sa buhay..

noong 2003 hindi pa ganito ang buhay koh, pag sampa ko ng noveleta ayun na nag kanda letse letse na hahaha pero masaya naman wala nga lang magandang kinabukasan...

nang sumampa ako sa noveleta napansin ko agad ang strike quest isang punyetang computer shop na 24 hours open...noong una andun lamang akoh upang manuod ng mga porno sa internet naka suot pa ako non ng sandong butas at hindi nalampas sa tuhod na short walang ka fassion fassion... hanggang siguro 1 buwan na ang nakakalipas napansin ako ng isa sa mga bantay dun si dong at kuya jay... kada punta ko dun alam na nilang manunuod lamang ako ng porno.. sa tagal tagal pa umaabot na ako ng gabi at di ko alam na gabi pla nag susulputan ang tropang questor.. pina kilala ako ni dong sa tropa na libog pero kala mong artista ang tropa walang pake alam lang... ngunit isa dito si jon jon sya ang naka usap ko kumbaga si jon jon ang naging tulay para makilala ko pa ang iba ... inanyayahan ako ni jonjon na mundo ng DOTA .. na adik ako sa dota dahil dun naka laro ko pa ang iba si ralph at si carlo pero ndi ganun ka close hangang sa na papa madaling araw na ako sa questor.. unti unti ko ng na kilala si rosvie,ralph.dog,epreym,carlo,kenluo hangang sa tumagal ngaun tropa ko nadin sila... nakita ko ang buhay ng tamad sa kanila hahaha... masaya naman dahil sakanila una akong naka inom nakapag yosi , nakaka kantot . nakapera sa pambabae at madami pang iba... maraming tao pa ang aking nakilala dahil sa kanila.... marami pa kong kwento pero eto muna na kakatamad un kung isang bagsak lang


eto nayung continuation


sa ngaun wala ang edukasyon ibig sabihin walang kinabukasan... gusto kong pumasok kaso tlgang tinatamad ako haha ndi ko kaya na tumagal sa room pag tanga ang titser...

Isa Akong Gwapo,
Jong's Blog
October 1, 2008

Hell On The Trading Floor

New YORK - Stocks slumped Wednesday morning, with the Dow industrials tumbling more than 300 points, as the government's emergency rescue of AIG exacerbated fears about the stability of financial markets. The sell-off comes in the wake of Lehman Brothers' bankruptcy and Merrill Lynch's sale to Bank of America.

Investors also focused on a report that showed construction of new homes fell to the lowest level in 17 years.

- CNNMoney.com

---

The world as we knew it has now come to an end.

It began with a housing boom in the United States close to a decade ago. Loans were granted by insurance companies to entice real estate buyers to purchase new homes without thoroughly making a background check in their ability to pay. Then the war against terror exploded and the US Government shifted its attention from running the economy efficiently to waging war in Iraq and Afghanistan. The wars were never successful from the very start and billions of dollars were spent just to oil the massive American war machine just to hunt down individual Al Qaeda members to their caves and mountain hideaways. Meanwhile, big and small companies began off-shoring their back-office operations in countries like India, China and the Philippines leaving more Americans jobless. These companies claim that such move is good for business but the truth is,

the more people in America loses their jobs, the higher the chances the economy plunges into a recession.

And it finally did this week after several high-profile investment banks filed bankruptcy protection after they failed to raise enough capital to cover up for their continuing loses.

News footage of white-collar workers walking out of their corporate headquarters in New York carrying huge boxes of office mementos were aired on CNN last Tuesday morning. Lehman Brothers, a global financial giant had just filed bankruptcy protection after acquiring debt of over 600 billion dollars. Losing one of the pillars of the global banking industry lead to a domino effect. By Wednesday morning, AIG Insurance was in a desperate move to raise its capital or it would also file bankruptcy protection by the end of the day. Realizing the consequences of AIG succumbing from its debts, the US Government stepped in to bail out the ailing giant.

The bailout was a source of relief for every banker and stock trader across the planet. It spurred trading in floors leaving some major stock markets closing on a rebound after a series of reds since last week. Not everyone was satisfied with the bailout package though. It was reported in CNN before I left for work this afternoon that a long queue in AIG Singapore had formed after hundreds of its clients decided to cancel their insurance policy with the company in fears of another threat of bankruptcy maybe at hand.

The Wall Street Crisis is far from over. Fueled by negative speculation and the ongoing recession in the United States economy, things will only start improving after the next US president has been elected. The ripples it produced is being felt even in the shores of the country. With almost a quarter of the population tied to market changes in the US, there is a possibility that many outsourcing people may lose their jobs before the year ends.

Such is the price for having a Globalized Economy. It is also the reason why I'm watching closely the market collapse happening in the other side of the globe.

With oil prices heavily dependent on world market conditions and with China preoccupied in its witch hunt for those responsible for adding Melamine poison in infant milk formula; with Russia continually harassing Georgia, Ukraine and the Baltic States in its quest to become a regional power and with the Republicans still bent on exterminating the world of terrorists - like Osama Bin Laden, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Vladimir Putin,

I wonder if this is just another phase in the entire human epoch...

... or the world has finally lost its senses?

Nanay Bining

All the world's a stage and we, are but mere players. Some plays the role of being the powerful, while the rest remains the desolate and the powerless. When life stories intertwine, we become affected when one of the characters struck misfortune as they play their role on a stage called life.

One of the characters in my part of the stage is Nanay Bining. She is not your average elder who lives in the neighborhood. At a prime age of 74* she is still very active in community affairs. You see her with the rest of the matriarchs lurching along the road in their bright yellow umbrellas and floral print dresses. At times, you see her playing Mahjong until the wee hours of the morning in one of the apartments across the street. What sets her apart from other old people is her zest for life. Even at her old age, she drinks Red Horse when there is a party in the compound. She is the epitome of endurance and unconventionality no other elder person in the entire baranggay could ever match.

However, Nanay Bining's life is not all bright and sunshiny. Left with an aging daughter who has no family of her own, they stay in the smallest apartment in the compound where I live. Supported by a relative who works in another country, their monthly provisions go to the dialysis treatment of her daughter. The unit that they occupy is a world forgotten by time. Decrypt and almost in a state of disrepair, a whiff of staleness and longing for the older days assaulted my senses the last time I went inside. The sala serves as Nanay Bining's bedroom, her kitchen is perpetually dark and dusty and God knows what lurks in the rooms upstairs.

Despite Nanay Bining's state, she remains jolly as ever. My personal relationship with her is very close. With no grandmother to call my own, I treat her as one. Whenever I see her walking outside the house, I would cease whatever activity I'm doing to run towards her and stoop down to make Mano. She would enthusiastically respond by reaching for my head to give my cheeks a kiss or sometimes my forehead. Nanay Bining would sometimes tell me that had his son never died, he would look exactly like me.

I would often respond to her resentments with an uneasy smile.

And then life goes on without us ever noticing the minor changes in our existence: The sun rising, the next-door kids going to school, the maids and neighbors holding another picnic session in the driveway at lunchtime, the car breaking down again, a neighbor complaining about cat's poop on his flower pots and I arriving home from work just when everyone is about to sleep. Everything seems so mundane and routine that when some unexpected surprises come up, we are left shaken to our bones when the realities of life suddenly makes it's presence felt.

I arrived home at past 4'o clock this morning. Exhausted from all the wanderings the night before, I proceeded to my mother's bedroom to inform her that I'm home. With her eyes still drooping, then and there she broke the news to me.

"Tinakbo si Nanay Bining kanina ah." Her words were cold and calculated.

"Bigla na lang daw nangisay at tumirik ang mata..." The rest of the details she said were now blurry. Digesting her opening statements alone had numbed me for I have been battered to a pulp by a series of unfortunate events the day before.

"Sinong nagdala sa kanya sa ospital?"

"Yung mga kapitbahay. Wala nga pang-taxi eh kaya nagbigay ako ng P200." I was tempted to ask why she did not let them use the car instead, when she added a few more details to her statement.

"Papagamit ko sana yung FX kaso ayaw ko naman maiwan si [insert the name of driver here] mag-isa sa ospital." Of all the things that scare our butch lesbian driver, driving someone to a hospital's emergency room runs on top of her list. Second is to see someone she knows lying peacefully inside the casket.

"So sinong bantay sa kanya ngayon?"

"Wala"

"Wala ba yung anak niya?" I asked, puzzled.

"Paano makakapagbantay yun eh isa ring may sakit. Nako baka mabaldado si Nanay Bining niyan..." Why does speculations always be negative?

I never dared to ask more questions after my mom told me how the ensuing panic traumatized my sister to the point that she wanted to start her own family in an instant. For all our resistance to settle down and have a family of our own, the fears of growing old alone suddenly struck us bare.

"Mag-isa siya ngayon sa ospital."

"Mahirap tumanda ng walang pamilya."

"Kaya ikaw mag-isip isip ka na..."

It was almost sunrise. Tired and exhausted from a very, very upsetting day. I was lying on my bed, catatonic, with my sullen eyes fixed on the TV showing reruns of Invader Zim on Nickelodeon

Thinking...

Do I have a future being gay.

---

Epilogue: Everything turned well for Nanay Bining who was discharged from the hospital this morning. According to the maid, her first words the moment she woke up were. "Bakit ako nandito? Huli kong natatandaan eh lumilipad ako." It turns out her blood sugar dropped to dangerous levels that if the taxi driver brought her to a more distant government hospital last night, the damages of low blood sugar on her body would render her comatose

or even dead.

I left the house with the maid heating some hot water for Nanay Bining. Her lunch for the day: Instant Cup Noodles.

*approximate age

Philippine Daily Inquirer

The year was 2001. We were young bucks eager to serve the nation by writing everything we saw around us. We were aspiring beat reporters, investigative journalists and lifestyle and sports writers who wished to make a difference by honing our craft and make use of it through any available means. Our mentors were mostly professionals working in different newspapers - namely from Philippine Daily Inquirer, Tempo and Manila Bulletin. Driven by our intense passion to embrace the outrageous and the unconventional, we preferred to follow the most notorious but bullied newspaper of our time - The Philippine Daily Inquirer.

It was a time of great upheaval. Erap Estrada was about to stand trial for graft charges and Gloria Macapagal-Arrovo had just resigned from her post in the DSWD. There was storm brewing in the House of Representative and the Senate over the balance of power in national politics. And we were there as witness to history. Had we been given the signal to storm the places of dissent to write everything, we would do so without a blink of an eye.

PDI was the opposition. They never hesitated putting everything that was wrong in the country and the truth they sold swayed public opinions to their cause. They were in the forefront of the coming changes and we, as journalism students rode with them. We wrote like we're PDI reporters, drafted editorials like we're PDI columnists and we, with one voice declared Conrado De Quiros our hero. I don't know what my classmates opinions were back then, but I was bent on being shaped by what I get from my favorite broadsheet.

The hands of time rolled like the rise and set of the sun. We moved on from our journalistic aspirations and we found ourselves in different jobs - serving different interests that are sometimes opposing one another. But at times I look back and remember how driven we were back then to make a difference,

I realize that the past still echoes towards the present. No wonder, I am still as open to politics like I used to - when it was still my breakfast, lunch, dinner and yosi breaks for the day.

Things have changed. I have become a lowly outsourcing agent in some obscure company who dabbles as an aspiring creative writer on the sidelines. But when I wish to return to my roots and bask in the brilliance known as my senior years in college.

I click on the inq.net website to remember them all.

---

Entry written shortly after reading inq's op-ed piece, "Nakakahiya" dated today. The commentary is about how the opposition in Pampanga resorts to so many different tactics to depose it's current governor, Among Ed Panlilio for dubious charges such as loss of confidence to even non-attendance in meetings with the President.

I don't know what my Kapampangan friends think of him, but in a time when everything sucks about the country - especially its president, the only truth I wish to believe and see comes from the only newspaper who shaped the way I think.

700

In the quiet emptiness of my room, I close my eyes only to hear their wild screams getting louder and louder inside my head. Suddenly, everything goes black, and when I open my eyes , I see myself inside a cramped cabin, alone, and with my heart pounding for an unfamiliar nightmare has descended shortly after my arrival.

---

I feel that I am in the heart of a large vessel that keeps tossing and turning every time the waves pound the starboard side of the ship. Dizziness sets in, and it's like I will have to throw up at any moment. To keep myself from becoming nauseated, I look outside the small rounded window only to find the darkness swallowing me. Even the fiery red sky above seems like a huge creature whose lashing rain and howling wind add more fear to my already sinking heart. After having a brief introduction with the Furies, I close the glass window to keep the white sprays of seawater from getting inside the cabin.

The ship begins to tilt, so I jump out of the bunker bed and switch the door knob to escape. It was jammed. The walls around me expand and contract, and the twisting metal produces a screeching sound that sends terror running up and down my spine. I hear loud thuds outside the cabin. Somebody shouted "maghanap na kayo ng mga life vest niyo lulubog na ang barko!" and it was followed by waves upon waves of screaming passengers that are being squeezed in the narrow corridor on the other side of my door. I lean my head against the wall and I can hear voices of children sobbing. Some are calling their mothers, who got separated from them when the stampede began. I also hear people begging the heavens to spare them the most tragic death, while others are already imploring the Virgin for a safe passage in the afterlife. In this ship run by greed, there is no escape. We will soon go down into our watery grave with a humble wish that the sea returns our bloated bodies to our dearly beloved.

The ship tilts more violently and I find myself pressed against the door. I hear a lady shouting "pesteng yawa kayo, huwag niyong tapakan ang nanay ko!" I do not know if her calls are heeded. In this state of utter helplessness, imagination plays a big role in seeing the drama going outside my cabin: People shoving and pushing one another for available space. Infants being crushed between two heaving bodies, and men fiercely fighting for any available life vest that their sweaty hands could reach. But there is no assurance that my mind doesn't play tricks on me. However, if there is one thing I am sure of, it is the feeling that no one in the corridor really gets to find the exit. They are all stuck there - and slowly - getting suffocated by the onslaught of more passengers trying to escape. The situation becomes too unbearable that some passes out without the person next to them ever noticing their slow but certain expiration.

Suddenly, the ship tilts on its other side and the door to my cabin swings open. Those unlucky ones directly outside tumbles into my room. The first slams her head against the glass window and now lay unconscious on the floor. Several others followed. The last one to fall grabs my shirt and drags me along with him. We roll down until we hit the unconscious woman who fell first. Using my remaining strength, I crawled my way up then squeezes myself among the passengers in the corridor. But Alas! I kept on being pushed back.

"Tangina mo nakikisiksik ka pa wala na ngang lugar dito," a guy said, while pulling back a passenger in front of him.

But like him, I am just trying to survive. Much as he will hate me for pushing myself in, the truth is there is really no way out.

Especially now that another big wave pounds the ship
and another,
and another,

Until the ship capsizes and begins to sink.

Now we are all pressed against one side of the ship. Another wave of panic ensues and those who are weak to move are trampled by passengers who are desperately trying to find the exit. Those who find it insist on staying inside the vessel. They say that instant death awaits those who will dare to dive into the murky waters which is already finding its way inside the ship.

Next to me is a young guy about my age. He looks at me with his weary eyes and then smiled before composing a text message on his mobile phone.

He was not able to send it.

Suddenly the lights went out as the Captain finally sounds the complete evacuation of the ship. Pandemonium now falls on everyone. Someone screams that water has already swallowed several decks below. Children are now crying loudly while the adults babble incoherent words while their eyes - their stunned eyes fixes at the nearest object - human or otherwise before it too freezes, like their cold, empty bodies.

I close my eyes for one last time to shun the voices I hear around me.

While bodies on top of me makes it harder and harder to breathe.

Despite my imminent passing, I try my best not to think that this is the end.

But the truth is, it is the end for them...

---

I open my eyes again and find myself back in front of the computer screen. I pause for a second to gather my thoughts - my deep, troubled feelings as the screams of people inside my head are now being subdued by my inner peace.

In the jet black darkness of my room, I took out a single matchstick inside the matchbox to light a candle I placed earlier near the keyboard.

In remembering all the victims of the sea tragedy.

I began praying in hopes that their souls find peace in the depths of the abyss.

In Ceasar's Hands

Just as I suspected while eating Fried Chicken and Knorr Crab and Corn Soup for lunch this afternoon.

---

"ZAMBOANGA CITY, Philippines -- The hired driver of television reporter Ces Drilon and her crew has claimed to police that a known "military agent" and not members of the Abu Sayyaf extremist group abducted the ABS-CBN team, the Sulu police chief said Thursday.

Senior Superintendent Julasirim Kasim, Sulu police director, said driver Maramma Hasim, the man hired by Drilon and her team to chauffer for them in Maimbung on the day of their disappearance, claimed that one Juamil "Maming" Biyaw was the "missing link" to knowing who was behind the abduction.

Biyaw, a resident of the village of Sandah in Patikul town, is known in Sulu as a military agent, Kasim said.

Kasim said Hashim, who is now in police custody, claimed Biyaw was with the group Sunday when Drilon, cameramen Jimmy Encarnacion and Angelo Valderama, and their guide, Mindanao State University Professor Octavio Dinampong went to Maimbung.

They went missing after an armed group reportedly intercepted them along Kulasi, town of Maimbung while on their way to meet Abu Sayyaf leaders “to cover a special event.”

Quoting Hashim, Kasim said Biyaw ordered the driver to stop somewhere in the village of Labbah at around noon Sunday.

"The passengers, including Madame Ces, thought there was problem with the car,” Kasim quoted Hashim's account.

"All the passengers casually went down from the vehicle and this Biyaw guy invited the four to join him in a walk towards Mount Mabusing (interior of Labbah). So there was no scuffle. Madame Ces and the rest walked casually," Kasim added.

Hashim was reportedly surprised when the five left him on the highway.

"But he waited until 4 p.m. and this Biyaw returned alone instructing the driver to leave the place. The driver, apparently disturbed, followed the orders," Kasim added.

"Because of fear, the driver didn’t even show up readily and he is now in our custody. Right now, we are looking for this Biyaw and we are checking further his background and how close he is with the military as he being reported as an agent," Kasim said.

But Kasim admitted he was "a bit confused" by the different information he has been receiving the past days.

"He (Hashim) gave information that runs counter to what our Maimbung police earlier supplied," he said.

"It was my Maimbung police chief (Inspector Abdulsamad Mañalas) who said that, and I admit it might have been a presumption since the incident took place where Gafur Jumdail's group operates," he said.

But Maimbung Mayor Najib Maldisa said Mañalas had denied giving the identities of the kidnappers prior to confirmation from the ABS-CBN executives.

"It’s a good thing we did some of our homework. That is why I was a bit hesitant in blaming anyone especially if I didn't see them with my own eyes or receive any information direct from these bandits," the mayor said.

But as far as Kasim was concerned, the police are now looking at other groups.

"But I will not say anything at this moment. I just let Hashim's affidavit speak for what is the latest development," he said.

Maldisa, on the other hand, said Biyaw "is closely associated with some Marines in the brigade."

- Driver Claims Military Agent, Not Abus Siezed Drilon Team, INQ.net 7:14 pm

---

Go Figure:

Meralco + Winston Garcia + Malacanang + Gloria Macapagal Arroyo

- Lopez Group of Companies + ABS-CBN

Equals

Kidnapping of Ces Drilon in Sulu.

Just wait till the Lopezes get back in 2010.

Seething Anger

"bakla ka carlo amf ka! pangbakla ang kwento mo hayup ka! kaya dumadami ang mga baklang katulad mo dahil sa mga tulad mo rin na walang kwenta! pwe!"

- Carverhouse, The Shock

---

The compassionate Buddha once said that "words can both destroy and heal." He added that "when words are true and kind, it can change our world." If only everyone understands the meaning of this powerful message, the world would be a better place to live. Unfortunately, hate has prevailed over the blogs yesterday, when an anonymous reader posted the comment above in one of Carlo Vergara's entries about Zsazsa Zaturnnah.

The comment struck deep for reasons I cannot fathom myself. All I know is that there is a seething anger inside me that wishes to come out - and land on the face or chest or any part of the body of the poster, that is strong enough to leave that loser decapitated for life. I wish to avail the services of a hacker to find out who that reader was, and shock him with a surprise visit at his home or workplace and tear him apart, which he deserves.

Isn't it ironic that I'm quoting the great sage when my thoughts sway towards violence? If only I can extend my patience in times like this.

Maybe it is the feeling of frustration that is driving me to call on my darker agents to harbor brooding thoughts. After all, the person who is in the line of fire used to be one of my pillars when I was just crossing the line of my sexuality. Now that I am strong enough to stand on my own, I just felt compelled to run towards his defense and share the pain he must be feeling at the moment.

They say that artists must suffer for their craft before it can be a masterpiece. From how Vergara wrote his most recent entry, it was clear that he is totally stunned by the words he received. The impact and gravity of the hate comment created ripples that must have jolted his muses and it stopped weaving images to turn it into a work of art.

I expect that his blog will only speak silence in the days to come.

I remember Manila Gay Guy had the same fate some six months ago. An anonymous gay reader questioned the validity of the author's personal sexual accounts simply because he cannot understand how Miggs' apparently inferior attributes can sway gorgeous and cute men such as a basketball player or a married lawyer to have an affair with him. The reader who questioned the author's stories eventually lost, while MGG prevailed and went on to become a more influential blogger after his ordeal.

Meanwhile the discovery of Agent Boytoy's personal identity had forced him to close his blog permanently. Since I do not know the real scoop behind the issue, it is safe to assume that it was another gay person that destroyed Ahente's will to share his work to those who faithfully followed him.

I kept my silence while these two bloggers were grilled, questioned and humiliated by those who cannot stand their prominence. A part of me felt guilty because I haven't done enough to express my condemnation to the people who were trying to silence them. There were times I asked myself why some people would say bad things to others without looking first at their own shadow? Is this what psychologists refer to as the "deflection method?"

There were times when I used words to hurt others in order to shove to them what I stood for. I thought that I was just merely stating my opinion, when in fact, I am already breaching somebody's personal space. However, even if such breaches occurred, I never used words to see another person's spirit gets crushed by its power.

There is always a corresponding weight on every thought or opinion that I said, for others to see what I am trying to justify with my point.

In Carlo Vergara's case, it was obvious that the anonymous comment was written out of capriciousness, or maybe a fit of jealousy, or the commentator just felt the need to hurt others because he cannot bear the weight of his own suffering. Such poor creature. Maybe it is best to leave the person alone to wallow in his own hatred of life.

Yet the issue never stops there.

As reactions begin to flood Carverhouse's last entry, it seems that only one person is actually assaulting the author's sensibilities with shallow and hurtful comments. What's most sickening about it is that while reading his comments, there is a hint that a dissatisfied gay person is behind the bullying. When I seek wisdom from experience, I learn that no homophobe or religious bigot would ever use gay lingo to break a gay person's will to exist.

In realizations like this, I ask myself if there is hope for people like us. Should I let my inner rage take over and turn against those diva-divahans who think the world is their stage?

Or should I let the memory of Ada and Dodong suppress my hatred for these subhumans and let this issue die a natural death?

---

1:19 am. Zaturnnah answers.

Inhumanity

ELIAS Manlangit, 52, must have summoned every ounce of his fatherly instinct and strength to save his live-in partner, Manuela Palatan, 52, and kid, Kenneth Palatan, 15, from the evil flames. As their skin crackled like popcorn and their faces melted, the victims held hands and probably screamed to God to quickly end their most painful death.

- Renato Gomba Quilicol, People's Tonight

---

Had Renato been in one of our workshops in school last year, my first criticism would be directed at his wrong choice of words to describe how those people burned. First, I could not imagine the human skin crackling like popcorns after being exposed to intense heat. Instead, I would describe their fiery deaths as "their body fats bubbling and bursting while their rubbery skin roasted like a pig from the heat." The description would have been more animated for a lead statement.

Second, I do not believe that they screamed to God to hasten their most painful death. Instead, they would have begged the Almighty for mercy and spare them from their most gruesome suffering. It is a human instinct to wish to live.

But this entry is not about these literary criticisms. It is about what I saw in the front page of People's Tonight this afternoon that made me think of how appalling their newspaper has become.

Given that the byliner never attended a Creative Writing Workshop before, I think that his opening statement about the Tondo fire was suffice to stir the reader's imagination of the events that took place. However, what I found most disturbing was the captioned photo also shown in the front page with the news.

Imagine a photo of a gutted house in the background: charred wood and corrugated roof were all over the place. At the center of the picture was a fireman dressed in bright yellow coat. He was pointing at a creature that was beyond recognition lying over the ashed remains of a narrow alley pavement. The creature's mangled flesh and bones suggested that it was once a human being, but I saw it more as a roasted calf with its salmon-pink ribs exposed to the elements. However, the sight of its ebony-white skull without any traces of flesh and hair revealed that the creature was indeed human - disfigured by the flames that brought unspeakable tragedy to its victims.

I understand that tabloids need to shock its readers with sensationalized news and gruesome photos in order to catch the reader's attention. When I was a kid, I once saw this photo of a girl that was run over by a train. Her guts spilled over the rail tracks and for weeks I had nightmares because of that photo. In the case of the roasted person I described above, the picture resulted to a sudden loss of appetite and an unscheduled visit to Santa Clara. The image was just so depressing that I had to strengthen my will and believe that there is something to look forward in life.

You see, what I believe the photo had violated was the dignity of a person. I remember once, my dad was fighting for his life in some public hospital in the city. We used to own a tabloid and one of the photographers thought that it would be good to take his pictures - with all the tubes inserted in his body to show everyone how he fought for life. I ordered the photographer out of the ICU because I believe that his suffering ought to be a private matter. The public can never feast their eyes at the sight of a dying lion.

The tragedy of the victims from the recent fire was enough to stir emotions of sorrow and grief from those who read the story. However, the tasteless image of a body burned to death leaves a sense of fascination and wonder similar to what we have felt as a child, when we saw these freak shows in the karnabal of our youth.

I don't know if the reporter or the photographer still valued human dignity when they took the photos of the charred remains of the victim. I do not know if the news editor was trying to prove something when he chose the photos with the corresponding story as their news banner for today's issue. However, I do know that I'd never let any of my loved ones receive that kind of exposure.

Our journalism professor once invoked us to be human enough in order to write our stories with emotion so that it would catch our reader's attention. In this case, maybe it was People's Tonight's inhumanity that took over, for them to release such very disappointing front page photo and shocked the nation with their relentless greed for attention.

The Black Suede YouTube Scandal

CEBU CITY, Philippines – A Cebuano male florist in his 30s was teary-eyed when he saw the video of his surgery for the first time.

The emergency operation last January was already traumatic.

Having a spray can removed from his rectum after a night of sex with a stranger was something he regretted.

Danilo (not his real name) was horrified to see images of the surgery three months later circulating on the popular video-sharing website YouTube.

Danilo said he felt violated and would file charges against medical personnel at the government-owned Vicente Sotto Medical Memorial Center (VSMMC).

- inq7.net
---

The news have reached me through Punked's sms last Wednesday.

Being sleepy while attending my sister's graduation that morning, I did not take his text message seriously. In fact, my take on the issue was that of all the objects he would stuck inside his ass, he chose a hairspray over a more organic material - like a banana or a huge eggplant for example. I thought what he did was a kind of tripping going overboard - which some gays are known for. I thought it was an act of pathetic desperation that don't deserve any sympathy from someone who can still think sanely.

The true extent of the scandal only hit me when MGG discussed it over his blog a few hours later.

---

By now, everyone knows what happened.

Jan-jan was drunk after attending a New Year's party last January. On his way home, he met a callboy who he convinced to have sex with him. The callboy had a small weenie according to Jan-jan, and in his tackless state didn't mind telling him his "shortcomings." With the callboy's ego bruised, he got back by inserting a foreign object inside the recipient's rectum. The following morning, Jan-jan felt strange. Something was stuck inside and it made him sick.

The doctors immediately recommended an emergency operation to keep his ass from getting infected.

---

I could only imagine the suffering he had gone through.

We all know that what he did was sheer stupidity. But who can blame him? He is a 39-year old lonely gay guy looking for intimacy. Unfortunately, the only company available at the time was a lowly callboy who was looking for ways to earn money. The problem was that he complained about his weenie, and of all the things that hurt a man's ego so much is when his dick size gets questioned. Naturally, he got back and made sure the one who mocked his sensitive weenie learned his lesson well.

Fear grips in the moment the mocker felt something strange inside his body. It made him sick, paranoid and depressed. Probably, he was aware of what he did and in his shame, tried to hide the secret from everyone. But truth comes out when a person feels helpless. Even if his name was at stake, he went to the hospital in hopes of getting answers from professionals.

He did, and the cost of his blunder was a costly and humiliating rectal operation.

The suffering did not end there. The doctors informed him that since his was a unique case, they decided to video the operation for future purposes. Janjan could not complain. I'm sure that what he felt then was liberation from shame. What was important for him is to get back to his normal life after his three-day ordeal. The past didn't matter. What's important is the present.

---

However, when there is hatred and mockery, it persistently tries to find ways to reach others...

... so that the hate and mockery will grow and multiply, until karma strikes back those who perpetrated them.

And there was this YouTube scandal.

Maybe, for some Divine intervention someone made a headline out of a seemingly trivial video. Jan-jan soon learned about the betrayal and it shattered him to pieces. It put him more to shame now that his little secret was leaked out in the internet.

Nakakalungkot lang dun, for a guy who probably doesn't have access to such technology, discovering that he is a victim of it made the whole ordeal more painful.

But his scandal did awaken a sleeping giant. PDI had made headlines about the appalling medical practices of VSMMC. In response, the DOH had stepped up to get those responsible punished. The whole gay community is at uproar at what they see as discrimination against homosexuals. Jan-jan's tragedy had mobilized everyone. It also propelled him to an icon status.

Looking at how the story develops, it might even trigger a social revolution that would benefit gays as a whole.

However, my question is, do we deserve such benefit?

His tragedy reminds me of that thread in G4M, where a young faggot shamelessly accused another member of being infected with HIV. Everyone who felt violated ganged up on the juvenile accuser. Meanwhile, his accusations made me severely upset, a few weeks later, I deleted my account.

Jan-jan's ordeal reminds me of the Montano scandal and how Brian Gorell, in his tragedy, promoted a culture of hate and bitterness among urban yuppies for weeks. I sympathize with Gorell, but I am also aware of those nasty anonymous comments that fueled the fire and made the scandal a nationwide sensation.

For some reasons, why do I feel that the mainstream gay life has become a sort of karnabal for everyone to laugh at and made mockery of? Why do I feel that those who destroy us are none other than we ourselves?

Being aware of the PLU demography among nurses and medical professionals, I wouldn't be surprised that some of those who jeered, clapped, and eventually uploaded the video clip of Jan-jan's rectal operation on YouTube is none other but another hopeless and desperate gay person.

Bound to commit the same degree of mistake sometime later in life.

The Culture Of Hate

MANILA, Philippines—It’s now officially a multimedia “mystery.”

From newspaper to TV interviews, Brian Gorrell, the Australian florist who became an Internet sensation by skewering Filipino society personalities on his blog, is crossing over to radio.

Starting Wednesday, Gorrell is co-hosting “Good Times with Mo, Mojo and Grace” on Magic 89.9. His weekly gig on the morning program is part of his ongoing quest to retrieve the $70,000 investment that he had allegedly lost to his Filipino ex-boyfriend.

“I’m happy and looking forward to it,” Gorrell told the Philippine Daily Inquirer in an e-mail on Saturday.

Still, the controversial blog remains to be his main platform, on which he posts his daily musings on the country’s rich and famous.

- Aussie Blogger Skewering RP Socialites On Radio, PDI

---

No, I do not have sympathy for them.

But as someone who's sane enough to see what's right and wrong, I think the Delfin Montano scandal is becoming too overboard. It's like a super gasgas song played again and again over Love Radio. So many people made a killing spreading nasty rumors and observations about the people involved. Yuppies have become too obsessed with the issue, which strangely they're not involved, that it became the center of their lives.

A good friend told me that the main characters like Celine Lopez and Tim Yap might probably be enjoying the limelight. After all, they were born to get everyone's attention - whether for better or for worse. But I think even the most insane person in the world has feelings too. These socialites might be brats for all I know, but to be mutilated and humiliated in front of the nation is too much for a person, or family to bear. It's like almost saying "buti nga sa kanila, palibhasa mga mayaman kasi," or something close to that. Even TV Patrol joined the bandwagon when they featured the notorious Brian Gorrell blog in one of their segment several days ago.

That time I said to myself, "What have we become??"

There's nothing wrong exposing the decadence of these people. In fact, Brian Gorrell had done us great service by telling us - no holds barred, the things that happen inside the social circles of Makati. It was shame I tell you - especially the parties and cocaine episodes that he have written. Remembering how Tim Yap once said that the "young professionals" these days doesn't give a damn about how they spent their cash made me furious about his statement. I'd like to butt-in and tell him that the real hardworking yuppies would rather save their money or spend them to the people they love.

Like what I've said, there's nothing wrong exposing the Gucci Gang rottenness.

But when some group of people takes advantage of the situation and use it for their own self interest, like what Magic 89.9 is planning to do is what I call shameless greed. There's no doubt that listeners would tune in to that radio station just to listen to the latest gossips about these socialites. I could almost hear Brian Gorrell's voice screaming "Pay Up Montano!" every frigging episode.

We're not Aussies. Our cultural values are far different that theirs.

I'm sick and tired of Brian Gorrell. Celine Lopez and the rest of the Gucci Gang were dragged to this mess long enough. Let them have their own lives. Let them live it for better or for worse.

In the end, I strongly feel that it would be Gorrell who will be left out after this scandal. Magic 89.9 will make a killing out of his popularity until people get tired of him. Then, he would definitely be forgotten. He would probably spend his last days wallowing in regrets in some outback town in Australia. The Gucci Gang on the other hand will live on. They would probably continue spending their lives in decadence as if no scandal happened, until Karma itself makes sense out of their sorry lives.

As for us, the lesson is clear.

Never lend your life savings to anyone, especially to your socialite, coke-snooter boyfriend. Do this so that you won't cry like a baby and bitch like hell in your blog later when the person don't return your money back.

And never make damay his friends, who were probably quite nice to you when you're up there with them...

---

"Kanya-kanyang eskandalo lang yan. Lahat ng pamilya dito may baho. Lahat ng tao hindi malinis," sabi nya sa akin.

- Kulot to Mandaya Moore-Orlis, Eskandalo

The Lives Of The Excessively Rich and Super Decadent | Hibernation

If not for AJ's visit to my blog. I would not find out what this Gucci Gang and their infamous scandal is all about.

The truth is, I've heard about them and their kind many times before. They were not given names by my informant but their activities were so familiar, it didn't give me a jaw-dropping shock anymore when I learned about the scandal through AJ. To give you an idea, these ladies and gentlemen are God's children. They are from very powerful families that control vast swaths of our nation's fortunes. I say that they are from the old rich clans, except that they were never involved in the process of accumulating their family's wealth. Life was too easy for them that they become spoiled the moment they realized that they have nothing else to do with life except to race against one another to the top of the social ladder.

For them, life is a party. Their necessity lies on the fact that they use their influence to further advance their family's connection. So long as they have the money to burn, they spend it on material things average people like us would never imagine ourselves spending our hard-earned cash for.

I remember a classmate in graduate school who had once been connected with these people. It used to be part of her job being in a lifestyle industry to rub elbows with these socialites. She told us that in order to fit in a crowd where everyone knows one another, one must resort to snorting coke and hard drinks to socialize comfortably at a party. She said that coke costs thousands a gram to obtain. For a socialite who attends social gatherings almost every night, it's not unusual for that person to throw 10,000 a night.

I haven't even mentioned what happens after the parties are over. Since sex is not my favorite topic to talk about at the moment, let's just say that its not unusual for a socialite to sleep with someone else's wife or lover or even to join a couple for a night-long menage a' trois. From the impressions people who have told me, it seems like sex for these people is as easy as reciting the letters A, B and C.

Now going back to the Gucci Gang Scandal, a blog was set up by an Aussie expatriate who still has a score to settle with his ex-boyfriend who owes him $70,000. I think the money was spent to run their restaurant business that had recently gone bankrupt. What makes matters worse is that his ex-bf allegedly stole some things from him like his brand-new Tom Ford shades and a pair of Yogi shoes from his hotel room. I am not familiar with these brands, but they do appear to be very valuable for the blogger.

Since his ex-bf is also connected to a younger generation of socialites often seen at Manila's finest party spots, this aussie had also revealed a basket-full of rotten tomatoes exposing the decadent lifestyles of these alta sociedad people. In his words:

"*** dear, charity, charity, charity. Not drugs, drugs, drugs. Why do you think that some people need five mobiles and three watches and six ipods and blah blah blah? No one in your Manila set deserves a 'swag bag' They should all be sent to the provinces with the bags to do an honest days work. Pathetic greedy grubby 'young' society. Selvish collective of everything that is wrong with your country. People are rewarded for being rich and punished for being poor. It truly makes me sick.

You ***, make me sick."

---

There are many other passages implicating these people of their crimes. I am most certain these "God's Children" have already hired the best lawyers and the most gutless hit men to kill this Aussie wherever his nook is. Like AJ, I won't mention names. After all, I'm just a bystander who accidentally stumbled a highly scandalous blog that involves very prominent people. I know, everyone has a nasty secret to hide. But you know what, the more I get exposed to the revelations written on his blog, the more I become sick of everything they do - The coke, the things people do when they get high on cocaine, the sex and the betrayal part, the things they buy when they are out of ideas of how to burn their money. It's like a life going in circles and the more they twist themselves, the more they get distorted.

In my younger days, I dreamed of living a socialite's life even for a week. You know, living in an expensive two-room pad somewhere in Makati, being invited to parties where what everyone does is fill their head with hot air and smoke, and then driving to some far-flung province such as Aurora with my hunky boyfriend holding my hand as I drive my Benz C-Class along the highway.

I once dreamed of a life like that.

But now that I've been aware of how shallow and sick such life could be, I think I'm better off remaining a hermit/domesticated for the rest of my life.

---

Link to the Gucci Scandal Blog.

Sick Sad World

From G4M:

i had a friend working in one of the hospital here in manila. And i had seen this guy and nakwento ng kaibigan ko and that is pookee* as what people call him keekee*, daria* and marami pa syang nick.

Unfortunately nagpacheck up nga sya and he has been found to be Positive of the disease. di ko sana dapat sabihin to but... as what i have heard his promiscuous and never been into safe sex if you had sex with this guy please be aware that you might be infected with the disease.

His aware that he has the disease and living HIV carrier but his still having sex with multiple partners. His a bottom most of the time and some people here soon will know they are infected onces you will get yourself check.

I had a friend here soon will open up. His not yet ready but i know we can justify this thing.

I had someone who can justify he had been inflicted with gonnorhea with this guy.

ill ask him to write a reply for this forum.

Heres his link and number

guys4men profile name is xxx

friendster link http://profiles.friendster.com/16*****

name : oeureure

cellphone number 091********

as far as i know his working in a callcenter in Makati

---

Apologies for the sensitivity of my entry. Personally, I do not wish to bring up the topic in my blog knowing that I am not spared myself from such possible fate.

However, it disturbs me to hear other gay guys creating threads and spreading unverified and very damaging rumors like this in a forum like G4M. Imagine his cruelty guys, not only did he mention the full name of the person, he also posted his picture all over the thread. I know that doctors and medical professionals have a sworn duty not to reveal a patient's information, whether it is true or not. But here is a kid - a 21 year old brat in all his confidence telling everyone that the person he claims to own the profile has an HI Virus.

We all know how dreaded the disease is. It is a fate worse than death. In fact, a large part of the sufferings and torments of a patient comes from the social stigma and psychological terror that comes with the disease. Some cultures are too terrified to talk about it and being a country steeped in hollowed conservatism and excess biases, those who have the disease has no chance of getting genuine sympathy and support from people who are blessed enough not to get it.

I remember having a conversation with Gripen one evening. I told him that I think, what complicates the disease are the drugs that are used to contain it. What makes a person die from it is his own unwillingness to live. Then he told me of this HIV patient who survives until now after contracting the disease more than a decade ago. According to Gripen, this person stopped having those retroviral drugs after he simply got tired of it. Instead, he devoted himself to healthy living and meditation every day. What I think made the person survive is his sheer willingness to live. After all, I am a strong adherent of life springing from those who truly desire it.

I sincerely wish that a drug will be discovered that could finally cure patients with this virus. I think there's too much sufferings, sadness and cruelty in the world because of the stigma that HI Virus carries with it. It is not the first time I stumbled a thread in G4M implicating a member who allegedly has the disease. Most of the time, such threads are simply created to destroy a member's credibility and nothing more.

Karma seeks retribution. That's what I've learned from life. I am sure these rumor spreaders, whether they did it for their own selfish intents or for blinded, distorted morality will have their time in the future.

It just pains me to feel what those true sufferers must have been feeling right now. No wonder, I still see hospitals as the saddest place on earth.

Apartment Complex

This past Todos Los Santos, I realized something that I should be very thankful about.

While our loved ones who already passed away are buried six feet under in evergreen lawns; cremated and its ashed remains encased in beautiful urns; or even entombed in white-washed nitsos stacked together with other close relatives who also passed into the afterlife, there are families who, because of lack of burial funds, entombs their deceased loved ones in tight-packed, multi-story burial vaults called Apartments.













Constructed just a few meters away from the sea, my aunt told me that the Apartment Complex is one of the social projects provided by the Navotas local government to its extremely poor residents. Being familiar with the demographics of my aunt's neighborhood alone, I have an idea how poor, the poorest people are in Navotas. If some of us don't give a damn for a twenty pesos, for these people, such money is already a matter of life or death in this fish port town.

Those who cannot afford a standard burial can avail of the apartment-style lot for P500 pesos. The apartment space can be rented for five years, after which the sepultureros or grave diggers will take out the remains of the deceased and put them in a sako to be placed (thrown) elsewhere.


Such act, which I find quite barbaric and dehumanizing is a fact of reality for these people. My aunt even revealed that some of the sepultureros won't wait for five years before throwing out the remains. They do this in order to sell the apartment space to new occupiers.

As I secretly took photos of the apartments, I noticed that some of the markers were crudely hand-painted by their loved ones. The people who lit candles or put flowers in the tombs were ruggedly, if not shabbily dressed. If those were the best clothes they could afford, I would have a very hard time matching their get-up. The income differences simply reveals itself no matter how I try to suppress my economic standing.

Every year, while my family spends the entire afternoon at the posh Immaculate Gardens, I sneak out in order to have a poverty exposure at the Municipal Cemetery where the Apartment Complex is located. At the cemetery, I find all kinds of people passing in front of me. The uber-jologs are the easiest to spot, while the trying-hard-to-pass-as-nouveau riche reveals themselves through their platinum blonde hair, hip-hop get-up and bling-blings that rivals those Pinoy rappers I know. In fairness, they are quite amusing to look at, especially when you observe how they speak to one another and brag about their most impressive life achievements. It seems like for these people, their success can be measured by the cheap material wealth they have accumulated in life.

However, most of the people I find there are the average kind, those who simply go to the cemetery to spend some nostalgic times with their loved ones.

The truth behind my annual poverty exposure is to keep my feet on the ground. I would complain about money issues from time to time or envy those who have been blessed with better fortunes. Yet, when I look at these graves and see the pious people quietly lighting a single wax candle to offer their remembrance and love to those who have passed away, the scenes which I witness triggers the humility inside me.

It makes me thankful that despite the hardships we face everyday, we have not yet sunk into such state, those people in the Apartment Complex have bitterly accepted as their fate.