In A Bohol State of Mind
I missed my blogspot! (gives blogspot one of my mind-blowing kisses). I just came from a 5-day stay in Panglao Island in Bohol. The experience was surreal. I want to share with everyone the beauty of Panglao Island, Bohol. At this point, I would like to thank my babe for helping me post these awesome pictures. (in a storyteller's accent) Come, fly with me to Bohol....
Don't you just love the sunset? Perfect. I decided to choreograph my best buddies, Nilda and Eric strolling towards the sunset. It humanizes the photograph. And boy, am I pleased with how this photo turned out.
This is at the Bee Farm. Loved the honey muffins! That's me, Joel, Eric, Nilda, and Chellow. Picture of the girls. Hahahaha!
Now this is my favorite picture of all! I loved kissing the tarsier. He was so adorable. Makes me wanna say over and over again, "never judge a book by its cover" and "big things come in small packages". So sad they are now endangered. :-(
Me, the beach, and the sunset. All I needed that moment. Thank God for creating the world.
My new-found friend, Diana! She's a great dane and I just love her so much. She's so big that she's taller than I am when seated side-by-side.
Definitely, in a Bohol state of mind. I promise to go back.
Mano Po 4 - My Sister and her Chinese Father
Pending. I want this to have pictures. (glares at Dylan)
TRAINS, LOVE LOST & FOUND, AND ANAL SEX - A Review of Three Films
The Station Agent (United States)
The movie is about Finbar McBride, a little person who is very passionate about trains. When his train-store owner boss died, Fin inherits an abandoned depot in New Jersey where he decides to take residence, with the intention of being left alone. He meets the loud, motor-mouth hotdog vendor, Joe, who is immediately drawn to Fin and befriends the unwilling new kid on the block. After almost being run over twice by Olivia, a grieving divorcee, Fin becomes (again) the unwilling confidante. Aside from the two, he meets an African-American girl Claire and the young and very sexual town librarian, Emily. As the story moves forward, Fin’s initial motive of isolation is broken as he discovers the importance of friendships and connections.
Thomas Carter, writer and director, should be commended for a very beautifully written script and how he translated this beauty into film. The choice of shots conveys isolation and connection, cynicism and hopefulness, bitterness and sweetness, difference and similarity, and sorrow and joy. Sequences start of with a negative note but ends with a positive one. Trains and railroads become an integral character in the story for it symbolizes connection and the certainty of destination. Somehow, the characters are drowning in isolation—whether intended or forced into—and are finding a hard time traveling the tracks of life. Fin likes to be and knows he is alone because he is “different.” Olivia is falling down a depression spiral due to the death of her son and her divorce. Joe isolates himself from the stress of taking care of his father by taking his hotdog van to the depot and striking up conversations because he wants to maintain a sense of sanity by being with Fin and Olivia. But like railroads, the intersection of their lives creates a new found sense of hope and direction towards their inner strengths as individuals. The actors delivered very good performances that created the most memorable scenes in the movie: the bedroom scene with Fin and Olivia, Joe’s apology scene, the scene where Fin tries to protect Emily, and the breakdown scene of Fin in the bar which was heart-wrenching. Although, the character of Joe could have been more three-dimensional to give it more punch. One thing that should be recognized in this film is the treatment of the main character being a little person. Carter shoots scenes where Fin is seated with other characters in the movie giving him the illusion of being of the same height with the characters, the end result of which is what the movie wants to say—that people are all the same, that we need other people to stay connected not only with the world at large, but primarily with ourselves.
Before Sunset (United States)
The film explores the question, “what would you do if you are given the chance to make it with the one who got away?” Richard Linklater takes us in a sweet reunion of two people who shared one spectacular night nine years ago. For me, the movie will achieve the most impact for people who have watched and enjoyed the movie nine years ago. Since it is a reunion, audience who were able to watch “Before Sunset” get to join them and be happy for them. Jesse and Celine have grown as individuals but they still retain the very core and nature of their personalities that we enjoyed in “Before Sunrise.” The performance of the two actors were organically impeccable. Ethan Hawke was still playful, flirty, and very American while Celine is strong-willed, competitive, and very French. I love the moments where we as an audience want to shout “kiss each other, for crying out loud!”, with the attempts to lean forward, the brushing of the arms, Jesse fixing Celine’s hair, the hesitant attempts to touch each other. Reminiscent of the record booth scene in “Before Sunrise.” The movie still managed to generate the interest from the audience to witness the intellectual tennis Jesse and Celine play and trying to dodge topics that would deal with the two of them. However, “Before Sunset” lacked the long stays in places that makes it part of their memory. But I feel that there is no need for this anymore since the movie is heavily anchored to the memories of that night and as Jesse said, “Memories are not finished as long as we are alive.” Therefore, the movie is a continuation of that memory. On this premise, the movie will not be able to stand alone for viewers to fully understand and appreciate the dynamics of Jesse and Celine’s relationship. Particularly, the scene about Jesse and Celine arguing about whether they had sex or not on that night in Vienna will be useless for first-time viewers. (Question from someone like me who watched “Before Sunrise”: Did they have sex? Now, I’m not sure. See what I mean? A first-time viewer would not get involved like this.) Overall, the film was successful in living up to the witty atmosphere of the first movie and lifting it to a higher level to exhibit the growth of the characters but still staying true to that one night of passion, intelligence, and love and the characters experiencing the pain of what could have been for the both of them.
For A Lost Soldier (Netherlands)
The movie opens with Jeroen, a choreographer who is putting up a number about love and passion. He then receives word that a person close to his heart died and he has to attend the funeral. On his return, he goes down memory lane and reminisce his life as a 12-year old in war-torn Amsterdam and how he is shipped to the Netherlands and placed in a foster home. When Amsterdam gets liberated by Canada, Jeroen meets one of the “Liberators.” Carl, a Canadian soldier in his late 20’s, takes interest in Jeroen, and later falls in love with him and the two enters a summer relationship.
The film treads dangerous ground by exploring the love between a grown man and a 12 year old boy smitten with experiencing his first love. Writer and director Ronald Kerbosch treated this with utmost care for it not to be exploitative but still allowing the characters to freely express themselves. The character of Jeroen did not speak English, which made their relationship esoteric and confined within their own rules and parameters. The love between Jeroen and Carl was sweet and innocent to a certain extent. Then comes the medium shot of Carl having (implied) anal sex with Jeroen. I think the director was intending it to be sweet with Carl whispering sweet nothings and taking care of Jeroen, sort of “guiding” him to the entire process. I wish there was more of a visual back story to Carl’s character for his falling in love with a younger boy be more grounded with a strong motive for the intimate scenes to be completely devoid of perversity. Moreover, the structure of the story relied heavily on the flashback which made the supposed coming-of-age theme lack foundation because there is nothing to anchor it to with the inadequate opening and premise.
The Tao of Ped Xing
Nice title right? Reminds me of Cuba Gooding Jr.’s “The Kwan” in Jerry Maguire. But the experience of Ped Xing is not as pleasant. Traversing the path of ignorance is incomparable to taking the Ped Xing path for the latter gives you a sense of safety and security while the former…well…just makes you feel insubstantial. Beating around the bush? Yes. I am ashamed to admit that only at 30 years old have I discovered that “Ped Xing” actually means, PEDESTRIAN CROSSING. (cue slow motion shot as I take the walk of “Ped Xing” shame like a loser in Fear Factor) Dammit! To think that I thought I already know a lot. (shakes head in disappointment) It was really embarrassing because my dear friend, blogmate, and fellow film aficionado, Dylan, politely (?) corrected me by giving an etymologically illustrative example of why the common pedestrian crossing is referred to as “Ped Xing.” (Dylan’s exact text message: (PED)estrian Cross(X)ing) He’s so precise and considerate. Don’t you just love him? Hehehehe! (winks at Dylan) But I appreciated the mere fact that I learned something new (yet seemingly so basic that’s why I feel so bad?). I mean, if you look at the title, it does not seem so out of place if one thinks that “Ped Xing” is somehow a colleague of Sun Tzu or Mao Tse Tung and that in honor of their courage, a street was named after them. Hahahaha! All I can say is: NOW I KNOW. So every time I take the Ped Xing, it is a reminder that just like our need to get to the other side of the street safely……(long pause as Jerome thinks of a profound and witty meaning of taking the pedestrian crossing) (shakes head) Nope…it’s really a reminder of my ignorance. (like a child who throws a tantrum) I am never crossing the Ped Xing again for as long as I live! (dashes up to his room, slams door, and jumps on the bed)
(cue shot of Jerome wailing in shame)
The Hickey Theory
hickey n. pl. - -eys. 1. Any device or contrivance; a gadget 2. A pimple or visible birthmark. 3. Slang. A reddish mark on the skin caused by kissing. 4. A pipe-bending apparatus. 5. A usually threaded electrical fitting to connect a fixture to an outlet box. [Origin Unknown] – The Grolier International Dictionary
Worry not, my loyal fans. I promise the range of the usual sexy, witty, vulgar, crass, and intellectual treatment of this subject.
What is it about a hickey that drives people crazy whether s/he is a provider or recipient of one (or many). I mean all types of “crazy”: crazy-afraid (as in “no, don’t leave me marks coz my GF/BF/Husband/Wife/Parents may see it), crazy-rapture (as in “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yeeees!”), or crazy-semi-unwilling (as in, “not on the neck, my mom/dad might see it”). At one point in time in our engaging in sexual congress with people, the hickey seems to be an integral part of our expression of sexuality (or “copulation”, or “fornication”, or “mind-blowing fucking”, whatever term of reference suits your fancy). I feel like it is anthropological in nature—an expression of territorialism, conquest, power, and/or prestige. My best friend actually loves to sport his hickey because it is like a roving announcement that broadcasts to the entire world that he just got laid
(a prestige hickey) and that his girlfriend has definitely delivered, as Shirley Bassey sultrily puts it, “the greatest performance of my life”
(inadvertent territorial hickey). Another friend said that he loves to give one because it is like a stamp of his conquest, sort of a “been-here-did-you” carving
(a conquest hickey). My gal pal who has the sex life of a jackrabbit said that she loves to give hickeys (especially when her partner pleads for her not to) because, as she puts it, why should girls be the only ones to fear about being discovered due to a hickey
(a power hickey). For me, however, it is about all of the above. I just love the fact that I have power over a person, that I have the stamp “LAID” and I have "stamped" another person, and the lover of attention that I am, I love the fact that people would stare at my hickey and I will say to them like a true-blue biatch, “Yes, my dear. I fucked someone last night.” And I love how they squirm in discomfort due to my vulgar honesty.
Hickey or no hickey, the point is we should have fun and enjoy answering the call of the flesh. I know I have. (smiles very naughtily) For me, it is a symbol of the end of a 16-month drought. And as I told my friend Dylan earlier, I asked for rain and I was given a fucking tropical storm. And just like the people of the desert-like town Cupang in the movie,
Himala, I chanted in frenzy at the taste of water from above.
Damn! The analogy just made me want to give someone a hickey.
(a hickey compulsion?)
ISP Anniversary - Random Thoughts
Nov 15, 2004 2nd Year ISP anniversary. hehe, coincides with another important date (ask jen :D
Kapehan sa Rosario to Inuman sa Pacita, how times change. 2 years ago on this day, lumapit sina J sa ISP. tangina, yung araw na yun, hehe. It was a day of joy/conflict/discovery/renewal, an experience that i believe was well worth it. I learned a lot of things, about myself and others, and i learned the true meaning of respect :p (ang drama no?)
anyway, tangina, ang ISP madaming masaya ang nangyari dyan. from continuing the tradition of elbow-rubbing, drinking and vomitting, voices practicing, ISP also brought along the arrival of new *members* as well as traditions. The G.I Jane-esque "surrender" bell/bamboo windchime, although the trials that we were giving up on were much more enjoyable than doing push-ups in the surf.
Random thoughts:
Why am do i like ISP better than KSR? well, nothing personal here, pero
a) closer to pacita complex, walking distance, can be walked when short on cash
b) closer to RRD and Hyper Instinx
yun lang
I know each one of us has our own memories of ISP (ie, 400 being a standout for a select few) but here are a few of my own.
(quotes and phrases appear not exactly as they were said, they appear as how as i remember them. considering most of them happened while i was drunk, dont count on them being very accurate)
- On our way to RRD, drunk already as we were, we were waiting at a nearby corner (kanto) for a tricycle. e may dumaan, na parang may sinabi sya, and what he said didnt sit well with Ely at all. Rule no. 1: wag agrabyaduhin si ely kapag lasing. putangina! You can tell by the way his eyes squint, the lower lip is pulled up, the jaw is set, the right hand is balled up tightly into a fist. "putangina nya, intayin lang natin sya bumalik" jerome being the peacemaker, ushered us to carry on, like the Fellowship, excpet our goals were loftier, haha! anyway, bumalik na yung tricycle, and ely's reaction was quick and instinctive. reaching down and grabbing a large chunk of concrete, sidles up against a corner wall as so the trike driver couldnt say him, he says "sst, tol, tumabi na kayo dyan, tangina, pag dumaan yan dto..." well, to make a long story short, he didnt. at uminom kami sa RRD. yehey!! yahoo!!! google!! msn!! (wag nyong gayahin yan! joke namin ni jen yan!)
- One word: Chronic!! Two words: Toilet paper. add it together and you will know. hahahahaha!! putangina, palyado naman eh!
- The many hours spent chopping onions, tomatoes, ginger, peeling baguio beans, etc :P
- eating dinner at their house one night, when suddenly an overflow of water from the back floods the kitchen/main eating area! after finishing our meal with our feet wading in the water, we switch to emergency mode and quickly sweep/mop/wipe the water out, while the rain keeps on outside. once the rain does let up, we sit in the living room pondering what to do for the rest of the night, when kuya ol gets a text from tatay:
"oliver, baha sa may paseo, ok lang kahit d muna kayo umuwi" (or something similar to that)
hehehe! you know what that means!!!
"Manong, isang long neck, isang lapad, isang pop, kalahting winston, kalahating phillip. tska dalawang chicharon narin..."
- Pagkatpos ng defense namin sa sysdes, pmunta ako sa ISP. i can remember na kaming tatlo ni Ely at Jerome, drinking san mig light in his room listening to Ely's mixtape. it may not seem much, but naalala ko mdyo matagal narin hindi nagkasama ang Brothers J, at yun yung unang time na nagkainuman ulit kami. It was a very touchgloves moment.
This all may seem trivial moments, i know there are probably more better examples that i could have used, but as im writing this i cant seem to pull them up. I'll add later on if i do remember. And it may seem that all of the moments spent at ISP are anchored with drinking. thats not true. theres also Music, (kikinjungkinjuking....stomp.clapclap...) writing (DataLine editing) and sex (hehe, dont look at me! nasa nueve ecija ako nun!) Which of course, gave birth to one of the most overused phrases of our time: (in deep angelo voice) "Pare....." And of course, the profound moments of QT (quality time)
Most people like to go out on the weekends, go to clubs and shit. I remember telling one of my friends that in the Philippines i hardly ever went to clubs. he was pretty shocked, for him saturday was not saturday without going to a club.
pero para sakin, id take having a beer/emperador with ely, jerome, dennis, jen, (vodka ice pala, d sya umiinom ng beer :P) angelo, mel, joy, owen, oliver et al than to go any club on any day. (sounds lame i know)
Tangina pare, miss ko na kayong lahat. sana makapag inuman tayo ulit, miss ko na talaga kayo. Ngayon naramdaman mo ang pagkawala mo sa AMA (touch gloves! mis-quote!) Sana makabalik ako dyan sa ISP, at iinom tayo ulit. Tagay mo na! O! Dinadaan sa para-paraan eh! walang social drinking dito!!!
-OJ
A Born-Again Virgin
Uh-huh. I’m doing something stupidly brave today. I want to know the feeling of exposing myself out there by making an announcement. I shall risk humiliation but I am doing this for all men and women in my situation. (cue grand musical score used in scenes where someone delivers a cheesy, inspirational monologue) To all the people who have been unfortunate to experience the epicurean pleasures of life. Not be alive by devouring the worldly passions life can offer. So, to all my brothers and sisters who are in agony brought about by the hunger for fleshly gratification, I raise my fist by saying “no more!” to being a born-again virgin and just lay it out there: I am Jerome Daclison and I haven’t had sex in 16 months. (cue record scratch and gasps of horror)
Being a born again virgin is not the same as being a born again Christian that’s one thing for sure. But there’s something so spiritual about being a born again virgin. It forces you to go back to your spirit and say to yourself, “What the hell is wrong with myself and I can’t even get laid???” Hahahahaha! Yes! That was the ultimate failed spin! Oh dear! I hope I’d get laid soon because I am really going out of my head—both of them! So, to whoever is interested, drop me a line and I’ll take the bait. As long as you are honest and willing to subject yourself to a series of background questions and you are funny, witty, smart, and naughty, I am your willing subject—an offering to the altar of the gods. (I can even don an ethereal white toga just like how cults do it when they offer virgins. Do the gods accept born-again virgins? Now that’s a question to ponder on. Hahaha!)
Here’s to looking forward to returning to a state of devirginization...
Never the Lover, Always A Friend
I have been voraciously dating people these past few months in the search for something real. People from Friendster, Filipino Friend Finder, Myspace, Friday’s, Italliani’s, Starbucks, and from both sleazy and upscale bars in Makati and Malate, you name it, I was there like a wild animal hunting for its prey. (that sounded so Ted Bundy) But it’s nice. I have met a total of 14 people already. The sad thing is that only intermediate objectives were met. Meaning, I ended up being friends to 90% of the people I’ve gone out with, even with the 20% of those whom I pursued and gave me the “let’s just be friends” rejection spiel. In a Charlotte York kind of way, I’ve always believed that there is always a bright side to everything. And true enough, I always find it. Even though I still don’t get to sing Barbara Streisand and Bryan Adams’s “I Finally Found Someone” or The Company’s “Now That I Have You”, I still get to fulfill my mission of touching people’s lives. In one way or another, I enjoy being a self-proclaimed angel to these new-found friends. Although, since I am human after all, in a Miranda Hobbes kind of way, it sucks to being the dating scene’s equivalent of the adage reference “always-the-groom’s man-never-the-groom.”
Even if I’m never the lover and end up always a friend, it is okay. For now, I’m taking a much-deserved rest from searching. I had an epiphany. I just realized that I have so much worth and like the most precious pearls in the ocean, I AM THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE FOUND. My future partner should deserve me coz I have a solid knowledge of my capability to love. If people don’t like that, then they just lost the chance of having something real.
An Officer and A Gentleman
Nope. This is not a review of the much celebrated Richard Gere film. The title is as is, where is. I had an encounter with a very rude policeman who tested my patience and being a gentleman and stirred up my dormant capacity for violence. This motherfucker used his badge as a shield to be rude and abusive in an attempt to intimidate me—a man who emulates gaiety and peace. Little did he know that I am an Aquarian. Thanks to my best friend, I have rendered hundreds of hours in training on squatterism and jologsology. I was asked to return the next day to get the police report which we need for our filing of insurance. SPO2 Ronaldo Balleber messed with me by saying that he will not give me the report since our party settled the matter the day before. I was calm when I explained to him that we need it since the vehicle in question is company property. The officer then raised his voice and called the gentleman opportunistic and unfair. That did it for me. I blew my top off and stood up and spewed pyroclastic clouds of “fuck yous” and “putanginas.” We had to be subdued by the station head. I fixed my hair in an attempt to regain my fabulousness (masculine tone drastically declines), the officer mocked me by acting out a faggot-like-tucking-of-the-hair-behind-the-ear thingy. I faced him, our faces just an inch away and I said, “Putangina, may problema ba?” He answered, “Ikaw, anong gusto mong mangyari?” I felt the blood rush to my head and said, “Bigyan mo ako ng dahilan.” And like a concerned dog owner, the station officer hosed us down.
After getting the police report, I stormed out of the police station and proceeded to go back to the office. As I savored the memory of my masculinity, cockiness, and animal instinct, I suddenly felt that other part of my maleness awaken. Damn! I made myself hot and horny with myself……
The Death of Hate - (Or Hate in a Cryogenic State, At Least)
November 1, 2004 -- Another milestone in my life travels. This time, it is not about the beauty of the virgin beaches of Saranggani or the Sodom and Gomorrah of Manila called Malate. It is a journey towards inner peace and recognizing love as the alpha and omega.
The trouble with hatred is that it is like a virus that keeps on multiplying. As I said, what we sow is what we reap. When I was faced with the fact that the hatred rippled out, I said to myself: enough. Just like love, hate is a product of choice. Therefore, I chose not to hate. Instead, I made the braver choice to love and had to take back some of the things that I said. Before, I said that forgiveness is earned. But since I chose to love, forgiveness should be offered as a gift. Choosing to love is undeniably a nobility in itself. Therefore, we should give the gift of forgiveness with no conditions--just the fact that we choose to love. So, I did...and boy, it felt great...
Here's to the death of hate...well, at least hate placed in a cryogenic state. (Hehe! Let's be realistic...)
Malate Virgin No More
I went to Malate last October 30 in most ways a virgin. It was my first time to attend a Halloween party. My first time to see so many gay people converged in one place. It was exploding with fabulousness! My first time to really savor Malate at its finest. Adjective sounded good that’s why I used it but I really didn’t totally mean it.
Okay. With the God-given imagination that I have, I went there with an expectation that it would somehow have the atmosphere of Mardi Gras in New Orleans. People letting go of inhibitions and just celebrate life, love, and freedom. But most of the people (not all ha?) were so conscious about their images. There’s nothing wrong with that but they try too hard to present themselves in a way they want to be seen instead of just expressing their freedom and individuality. Sorry for the arrogance but I felt it was so pretentiously bourgeois. Case in point: It rained…wait, let me rephrase that, it was just a drizzle. People rushed to find shade. I, on the other hand, wanted to sit outside and continue drinking beer and tequila coz a little rain won’t hurt me. Okay, I admit we could catch a cold or contract pneumonia and eventually face death when untreated but hey! This is just one night of fun and organized joy so why spoil it with the thought of being ill, being bed-ridden, and potential death? Sigh! The shot momentum was equivalent to
coitus interruptus and while I was the one of the few (most of them are foreigners) who braved the rain, most of the people are under a shade protecting their hair styles, make-up, and their fabulousness in general. Goodness! An hour-and-a-half later, the drizzle stopped and the Cuervo street party sponsored by “Out!” started. There were men clad in masks with a theme of Ancient warriors dancing on ledges. Now this is a nice gender-bender switch to see men being exploited while they crazily (but not gracefully) gyrate in front of a hedonistic crowd. There was this one guy though who was waving a DLSU flag while cheering for the dancer and I said to myself, “Dude! This is a street party and not the UAAP.” I was laughing in amusement while this guy in leotard tights proudly waved the flag of our alma mater as if he’s watching the DLSU Green Archers handle the ball. Oh, wait! There’s no difference! There you go! Hahahaha! Animo La Salle! You go and wave that flag, girl! Then the hosts of “Out!” went on and the adrenalin drastically declined. They killed…and I meant that in a bad way. Gods in the heavens, they were soooo lousy! There was already this epicurean, Sodom-and-Gomorrah-esque atmosphere and they just failed to sustain that let alone capitalize on it. Professional eye-roller that I am, I smirked in disappointment and went to look for Jose Cuervo and Miguel to seek refuge and solace.
Okay, my being devirginized by Malate was not as bad as my first sexual experience. I had a good time. Maybe next time it will be better. For now, I’m thankful that I’m a Malate virgin no more. Next step is to experience going to BED…and maybe I get to snag someone and go to bed. (naughtily winks) At least, carpe diem right?
