"Let's make a story," I told Darfie. He was downing his third bottle of Tanduay Ice when O-Bar's show girls took the small stage.

"Once upon a time, when O-Bar Ortigas was just an experiment - a doomed experiment I used to say." I paused to watch a tranny lip sync a Rihanna anthem. "These ladies were asked if they like to be assigned there." 

"Or they'll stick with O-Malate."

At that time, every gay guy in the city could be seen in Malate. It's the rainbow capital not even the dingy  and cheap Palawan bars could match.

"Of course, nobody wants to perform in Ortigas. Nobody goes there." I dropped my cigarette and kicked it under the bar table. "So they stuck with Malate, leaving the present Dream Girls of O running the show there."

"For some reasons, they agreed never to switch places."

"Now O-Malate's patrons are fast diminishing. Pansin mo naman, kung hindi mga tanderz ang pumupunta dito eh mga affam* na katulad ni Miss Jay." Miss Jay was the black muscular patron who wore a fit black shirt, a very short, shorts and fishnet stockings to show his skinny legs. He looked like Miss Jay Alexander of ANTM.

"Kaso wala na pumpunta ng Malate. Pansin mo, hindi na jampack dito gaya noon." Darfie nodded. "Lahat tayo, sa Ortigas.

After thirty minutes of lip syncing and sashaying, the girls' performance had concluded. They went down the stage to collect tips. Unlike in Ortigas where I hide from these drag performers, I dropped bills enough to buy a bottle of San Mig Lights for tips. The lady holding the collection bag thank me before shoving the bag to the guy behind me.

It was one of those chilly Sabado nights. I was restless, lonely and feeling a bit blue. I was allowed at home to stay out but I had nowhere to go. Evading boredom, I went back to the dance floor. I chose Malate over Ortigas this time because the cover charge was cheaper. Darfie, my twitter acquaintance was also there.

"Felt like I leveled down." I told him after the party. "Pansin mo, kung hindi estudyante eh mga laborers kasama natin." I was telling him earlier of a friend who is a Starbucks Executive who goes to Ortigas. Meanwhile, a barista was one of the revelers among us when we were in Malate.

The call boys still lined the stretch of Nakpil even when daybreak was fast approaching. Desperately in need of customers, some of them even tried to call our attention. I traded glances with them.

"This place is dying."

No longer the fairy land of our time, Malate is now an echo of its colorful past. Gone are the nights when men of every shade of pink spilled on the streets after packing the bars with their presence. The corner of Nakpil and Orosa used to be a melting pot of ideas and dramas. And while love and lust have been found and lost there, people return to purge themselves. To renew the bonds that attached them to the place.

And until I find that courage to start anew, there's no doubt that I'd stay resident of that rainbow corner. Even when the dance floor who had seen me in my best and worst times will be, but a history come February.

"After seven party years, O Bar Malate will be closing its doors on January 31, 2013." I read on Facebook. "We would like to thank everyone who helped us become what we are today. More power to all of you! See you all at O Bar Ortigas!

Party out......Party loud!"

Like all dance clubs and watering holes before it. O-Bar Malate has served its purpose. No longer a place to have fun or forget one's sorrow. I hope those who have seen its pink walls and green laser lights more than half a decade of their lives will find a place to perform and begin anew.

*affam - white/black gay men

Patient Diego (First Part)

A slight, barely noticeable fever lasted for days. My sister began to worry. Her son is barely a year old. But her hesitation forced my mother to intervene. On a cloudy Sunday a week ago, the couple had to bring baby Diego to a medical clinic. My mother's instruction.

Within the day, the blood test results came in. Doctors ordered immediate confinement. The baby's blood platelet count dropped below 100. Possible cause: Dengue Fever. I was at work when the news broke out. Coming from a crisis after our network had been hacked, the family emergency had me telling the boss that I would go half-day. Understanding my situation since he too had gone through such ordeal with his son, he let me go.

Grim images ran through my head as the taxi sped to Manila Doctors. Where did the mosquito come from? What about the dozen kids who live in our compound? Was it the dirty driveway? Was it because of my plants? Between the empty streets and cluttered thoughts, I didn't notice that I was already approaching the Emergency Room. There, inside the Pedia quarters, screams of a baby boy can be heard. A huge needle had pierced through his underfoot for the intravenous fluid to flow. His body temperature shot to 40 degrees an hour before I came in.   

"Kuya pupunta ka ba dito?" I read the message on my phone. "Nawiwindang na ako."

I was doing my report but the thought of Baby Diego, smiling, showing off his tongue, leaping from one side of the bed to the edges of the mattress kept me from accomplishing anything. I was beset with gloom. 

On the phone, my mom tried to down play the situation, but you can sense her alarm by the sound of her voice. Knowing what's need to be done, I was already on my way when she asked for assistance. "They might need a down payment before admission." I thought. And knowing it will take ages before the matriarch can prepare, (she looks after Baby Lenin) my timely arrival eased the young couples' trouble.

The Favorite Aunt soon followed to make sure the patient is well attended. Being the only doctor in the family (and a caring relative who's always been there every time there is a medical emergency) her presence had wiped away every fear clung to my skin. 

"Hindi ko na pinapunta si Ate para hindi na siya mahirapan." She was referring to my mom. I saw her gently touching Baby Diego's forehead before a hunky nurse told us that the semi-private ward is ready for occupancy.

My nephew showed signs of improvement soon after we moved in. He began to smile again, crawl across the bed, stick his tongue out and even mimic the baby sounds we did. It felt like he had no illness at all. Our best guess was that he regained his strength after being re-hydrated.

The Favorite Aunt left at the same time provisions from home began arriving. After carting the bags and baby stuff from the lobby to the room upstairs, I told my sister that I'd be leaving as well. I have work at six the next morning, and our mother was eagerly awaiting news.

"Get well soon," I kissed my nephew goodbye. He smiled at me.

That night, my sister sent a text message.

"Please pray for Baby Diego," the message read. "Mataas ulit ang lagnat niya."

- tobecontinued-

In Your Dreams | Visions


Mankind sending massive solar panels to float in the sky. The size of a small town, the arrays are capable of harvesting sunlight enough to power a machine that creates clouds. Think of the solar arrays being positioned into orbit; into places across the planet that are in desperate need of water. With the rain maker high in the atmosphere, (carried there by balloons the size of jumbo jets) clouds begin to appear. Soon, wisps become Nimbus. Thunder and lightning follows. And then, just like nature does it, the ground flows the rivers of life. 

It is beyond my imagination how the apparatus can wipe out global famine, or stop bush fires from spreading. I do not know if it can ease the worse effects of heatwave or it can grow forests and jungles out of barren lands. It is beyond my thinking if it can resolve humanity's problems, especially its need for clean, drinking water. But who knows. We have eliminated Polio from the face of the earth and made correspondence faster with Internet. 

All I'm saying is that I had a vision, while looking at my seatmate's fancy Iphone as the vehicle we found ourselves crosses a dead river, in a city that is becoming less and less breathable with more lives it takes in.


It must have been Bon Ivler's Stacks that first caught my attention, or the playlist where the song used to be a part of. It might have been the pictures of the city we both love (and loathe). Maybe it is our passion for history, our shared cat personality, the joy we get from sunsets and breathtaking urban landscapes, or our intimate knowledge of trivial facts. It is his interests that kept me returning to his Tumblr account. I remember saying, "he must be an amazing kid!" I kept the thought bubble to myself. In the folded layers of my heart, I longed for his attention. For his world could have been carved out perfectly from mine (or ours could be fused so perfectly, we can speak of the same objects with different perspectives). The quiet admiration in a time when the shaky union with someone else could anytime fall apart, blossomed underground, until one day, I decided to send a word on his Twitter account. I no longer remember the exact and carefully crafted thoughts or how he received my letter. Only the conveyance that we connect on so many levels and that, I look forward to getting to know him, more.

Every Vice Has A Price

O Bar, Ortigas

Strange how stage lights and full-blast speakers take your life a little, and yet, when mixed with high doses of booze and unnumbered sticks of nicotine, they keep you going when smoke-screened nights become a bitter aftertaste.

Do it again and again, and in no time your words will be laced with electronic dance music that speaks nothing but the emptiness that comes after a feel-good Progressive house set.

War Tunes


No longer at the mercy of random encounters, I can now laugh at the thought of sex eye balls and even ditch the idea completely. One may point to the years of experience; of finally gaining supremacy over the pursuit of flesh.

But I didn't get there without stumbling, and doing regrettable acts this blog (and its previous reincarnation) have written. They may be hidden beneath the layers of sentimental and cerebral stories, but the memories bond - in songs and bittersweet flashbacks every time scenes and landscapes alter my perception. 

One such song reminds me of those misfits. It remains on my playlist, for it happens to be among my favorites. Every time the music player picks the track, memory harkens me back to a time when naughty games used to be the routine.

A history I cannot undo, along with the song's haunting vocals comes the memory of that wild abandonment.

The terrace where the opening salvo began was dark and the lights around us were switched off. Downstairs, a group of ladies were having late-night chats with their friends. In front was the panoramic view of Pioneer Street; with its glittering skyscrapers, sparkling billboards and office tower lattices that are still being constructed.

And there he was, between my legs. Sitting on a chair with my pants just above my knees, his head bobbed up and down the entire length of my manhood. His hand occasionally squeezed my wet and sticky shaft, I could only close my eyes in sheer ecstasy as he rolled his tongue around my cock.

It was good.

But it would have been better if it was done by someone manlier than me

In the Name of Unholiness
January 16, 2008
Fullmetal Dreams

Artist: Deep Dish - Say Hello (Radio Edit)

Home Improvement


All the maid has to do is tell me that our dust pan is broken. 

"Nasira? Paano?" Heaps of trash covered the floor. I decided to move the spilling garbage from the bins to the trash bags.  

The maid showed me the poor thing to prove her point. It's edges were torn. It's scooping capacity, reduced. 

The state of the dust pan didn't surprise me at all. I have seen it around the house for a decade and nobody thought of replacing it. 

They say it can still be used. 

However, the cleaning object's neglected state reflects how things are at home. The hampers are shredded, bars of soap rest on puddles. The helpers have grown used to such waste. Nobody pays attention. The matriarch keeps forgetting what needs to be replaced. The married couple doesn't care. 

So when I was told about the trash pan, I gave my word and said that it will be replaced the next day. After all, the matriarch has somehow acknowledged (despite my wicked habit of giving away and throwing stuff that are no longer needed) the part I play in keeping the house in order.

And so I bought a new pan at Uni-Top for 85 pesos, and replaced the wire and cotton mesh hampers with plastic ones from the same department store. Not yet satisfied with my home improvement itch, I went to Dapitan Arcade that afternoon to procure ceramic soap dishes and a soap pump for less than 2 hundred.


Soap Dish

Dust Pans

Much is still needed to make the home improvement a worthwhile pursuit. Trash sorting is still disorganized, and the hoarders must be kept in-check before their unneeded stuff overruns the corridors.

To make the change permanent, and hopefully, be passed on to the next lords of the house, no longer can I stay idle while we let the kasambahays do all the back-breaking work.

"Ako na maghuhugas ng mga pinagkainan." It must have been music to their ears to hear those words for the first time.

I have this undying belief that I am an excellent home maker. While still unproven, I will start breaking that myth, and put my skills to good use.



Some of us have always known that the world used to spin in uneasy peace. There were the stars and stripes, and the hammer and sickle. Two global superpowers, whose array of Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles pointed at each other. Under constant threat of annihilation, people devised ways to put sense into their lives. There were the flower hippies, whose music, spoken words and non-protest protests had born a generation of pacifists. There were also the revolutionaries who wept and wailed in podiums, and in the streets, invoking rage from men demanding equality and justice.

As soldiers and guerrillas shot each other in the jungles of Vietnam in the name of ideological supremacy, and washer-sized machines lifted into space for scientific discoveries, the irony of the time had sparked an idea.

What if instead of mankind destroying the world, they become peaceful spacefarers who wished nothing but explore the galaxy?

That spark gave birth to what would become the Star Trek franchise. I was told the original series lifted the curtain of fear and opened the eyes of men to possibilities; of the what-ifs should nations and people were united in peace; and the color of one's skin never limits her aspirations in life. Sure, there were hostile alien civilizations, and galactic anomalies that threatened the Alpha Quadrant. But in Gene Roddenberry's imagination lies the promise that should mankind avoid self-destruction, we will sooner or later, leave the cradle that is earth and sail the ocean of stars aboard a space vessel similar to USS Enterprise.

I first thought that this blog would be about my attachment to the franchise, and how its massive fleet of starships had fascinated me at a young age. Later in life, I would recall playing Birth of the Federation on my desktop computer, and staying past midnight to watch an episode of Voyager before heading straight to Malate to resume my unceremonious binges.

There too were the scattered, fragmented recollections of watching Star Trek movies, in theaters and rented VHS cassette tapes. Most of these memories have been lost to oblivion - even the question of how I got hooked to the franchise will be forever unanswered. What endured, however, was the undying belief that we are meant to leave this soft ground to set foot on worlds not different from our own.

With the indoctrination successful, and with the news circulating lately about the contact between two commanders existing in alternate and present-day timelines, this post has gained significance. The story must now go beyond my own experience.

And thus, this post celebrates the vision of Star Trek, and how it continues to inspire others to study the heavens. In the early years of the series, when the episodes were seen in monochrome television sets and not on flat screens attached to room walls, not one among the casts would have ever imagined how the future would come too soon. Not Captain James T. Kirk or Commander Spock. And yet, in their lifetimes, they would receive a message transmission from a human outpost suspended half-way between the moon and the blue-planet's surface.

I still look at the faint lights in the night sky, and think of the Federation.

Shatner and Nimoy, the lead actors of the original series may never go to places where some men have gone before. But in their place are souls who were once silent and faceless witness to their voyages. 

And they remember. As we all do.

If the power of imagination rests in one's ability to turn dreams into reality, then Star Trek's vision has at long last, been fulfilled.

Highlights of 2012 at South Brunswick Public Library

2012 Highlights Final

This past year was bursting with lots of good news and tempered with some not so good news.

While Hurricane Sandy was surely not good news, it did remind residents without power that the South Brunswick Public Library has more to offer than just books, which was great news for them and for us!

Extensive power outages after the hurricane in October prompted extended operating hours and service for several days, bringing literally hundreds more residents through our doors as we operated as a day shelter and power charging station. Residents found needed power, heat, camaraderie, and resources during the crisis and the Library made a lot of new friends.

Another weather related celebrity graced us with a more enjoyable experience earlier in October. Channel 7 weatherman Bill Evans acted as our featured author for the Foundation’s annual Book & Author Dinner at Pierre’s Restaurant. Generous with his time, Bill stayed late into the night at the Foundation fundraiser, signing books and chatting with guests.

The Library’s usefulness after Sandy and throughout the year was recognized with a Community Partnership Award from the South Brunswick Board of Education. Also, longtime Library volunteers Lease and Ruth Ruddick were awarded a Certificate of Appreciation plaque from the Libraries of Middlesex for their many years of service to the Library and to the Friends of the Library.

Improved services for the public in several areas came to fruition in 2012. After a year of combined staff efforts our new website went live with a more interactive digital component. We built a new web site to include more user-friendly features and an extensive e-branch to keep up with today’s user needs and desires. A new print and pay system was installed to protect user privacy and also offer a color option for a few more cents.

Throughout 2012 our bi-monthly Compass newsletter went from 8 to 12 pages to accommodate the expanding variety of programs offered to the public. There has been an increase in programming for all ages and interests including tweens, technology, special needs, and ESL.

Programming highlights earlier in 2012 included the SB Reads partnership between the schools, Library and community featuring Alice in Wonderland. We expect to go from wonderland to fairytale land in 2013.

Thanks to combined efforts, the Friends’ Daphne Powell Concert Series presented not one but ten different musical performances in the library throughout the year. Thanks to combined efforts, the Friends’ Daphne Powell Concert Series presented not one but ten different musical performances in the library throughout the year. This program was funded in part by a grant from the Middlesex County Cultural and Heritage Commission and sponsored by the Friends of the S.B. P. L.

In the spring our partnership with Aging in Place prompted a community panel discussion on The Faith Club and was part of the Continuing Cultural Conversation Initiative.

Our bookmobile marked its 35th anniversary of curbside library service to the community in April.

We dedicated two collaborative murals in 2012. In February a Teen Mural was dedicated and now hangs in the Teen Computer Lab. Teens had worked many months to complete the collage of characters from popular literature for young adults. Adults in the Summer Reading program created panels puzzled together of Van Gogh’s Bedroom at Arles, which now brightens up the Computer Lab.

Three successful Foundation fundraisers and three Friends book sales were held. The Friends also began a successful partnership with the Defensive Driving program.

We welcomed new Board of Member Trustee Janet Campisano.

Although there was not much bad news in 2012, it surely was significant.

Sad and totally unexpected was the recent passing of SBPL Board President and community activist Ellen Gambatese, wife of Mayor Frank Gambatese. Ellen founded several of the Library’s successful fundraisers and was active in the Hugs for Brady organization, among many others. She will be sorely missed.

Of course the property damages to homes and power outages caused by Hurricane Sandy were bad news though we did all make the best of it together. Other not so good news would be the six furlough day closings in 2012, needed to stay within budget; as we will have to do again in 2013.

In 2013 we are looking forward to even more good news! To receive current Library news check the bi-monthly Compass newsletter, our website and social sites, and subscribe to our e-mail news blasts.

SBPL is proud to be the community’s Guide to Discovery for information, culture, continuing education, and entertainment. We thank the residents, town officials and partners for their continued support.

Poverty of the Gut


Spent the holidays food binging and gym procrastinating. Ergo, I gained mass. I feel it every time I slip in my skin-tight jeans, and wear my medium-sized tees. Family pictures taken showed a much wider girth. My face is puffy. My arms, sagging. 

I returned to Eclipse on the second to reboot my progress. Tough love as Coach Blakedaddy said. It will take some time to undo those nights of reckless drinking and gluttonous eating. And I am not done yet. Parties still line my social calendar. I am still itching to go clubbing. To counter the spooky signs of obesity, I started walking to work again. I've also been abstaining on sugar, leaving my sweet tooth craving for chocolate cookies.

It will be an uphill climb this time. Metabolism has slowed down, and the strength I once had - when I was 28 - is no more. But to stir life into a seasonal campaign; to remind myself that I am bringing back the old times, the presence of an oatmeal lunch box on my work station may induce a poverty of the gut.

A Familiar Sight

But it's an unmistakable reminder that I intend to hit my target no matter the sacrifice. 

Double Take


Along the railway, between the train stations of Pandacan and Paco were tents perched not far from the rail tracks. These homes were patched using snatched tarpaulins and old cardboard boxes salvaged from the side of the road. 

When I saw them from inside the passing train, they seemed smaller than a German Shepherd's dog cage. A closer look however might reveal a roomier floor space than the junk pickers' wooden cart turned into sleeping quarters. 

As the tents disappear from my sight, thoughts float in the air. I wonder how many souls these homes shelter at night?


Still along the rail tracks near San Andres was a waterway narrower than a two-person street alley. Along its banks were wild grasses taller than an average man. There were shrubs too and small trees not seen in that part of the city. They are thriving. 

They have altered the once-dead landscape.

Has the Kapamilya network's Bantay Ilog really succeeded in bringing the creek back to life, or I was being toyed by my audacious visions?  

Caulk Party

Get your mind out of the gutter.

Today, day 2 of our vacation, we tackled the sunroom. Before it was a puke looking green, with green floor, ceiling green, and it just reminded us of the *beep* that used to live here. So this morning, we got all dressed up (and for us while renovating that means showered and not in hobo-esk clothing) and went to breakfast at the Waffle House! After that we decided on a whim to go to a place called Orr Reed Wrecking Co to check out the cool old stuff they have, we were in heaven. We didn't buy anything today but we will for sure be back.

Once we stopped by the Restore (Habitat for Humanity place that sells cool things, and cheap paint supplies) we went to work. Primed the sunroom and started painting. The colors? Yellow for the walls, and navy blue for the floor. I'm pretty excited to see the end result on this one.

After priming the walls, ceiling and floor we decided this room was pretty revolting as far as the lack of caulk goes, so yes folks, we had a caulk party. We caulked E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G! Used about 6 tubes of caulk:

     Yes thats right folks, I am wearing war paint. We have declared war on this *beep* who used to live here.

Then we painted it the first coat of yellow, more tomorrow on the finished product. For now we are having some champagne and Whiskey to celebrate the engagement of my cousin Austin to a wonderful woman and the start of a new year!


Finished pictures to come tomorrow. :-)

The Cinderella of light fixtures

You know you are doing something right when your husband walks into the room yall just worked on for two days and says " WOW! IT LOOKS AMAZING IN HERE!" :-)  The dining room is finished, and we are so completely thrilled about how it turned out! We painted the ceiling, walls, one door, and re purposed our ugly light fixture.

The light fixture was an ugly-stupid-colored-with-stupid-looking-globes-crappy-ass-light-fixture.  So since we are poor, we decided to paint it and put in false hoity-toity light bulbs (edison bulbs, you remember when we were sitting in our kitchen drinking whiskey wearing sunglasses in awe of our newly found favorite $8 light bulb?) I do. Well, we spray painted the light fixture that made us want to puke before and now we are just so in love with it. Mind you, the bigger and more amazing Edison bulbs are about $10 a piece. * also, as a bonus our local Home Depot has a "coin star" type coin acceptor in the self check out line so we were able to take our mason jar filled with coins and it was enough to pay for two!

Here are some pictures of the dining room that is done!

PS. whenever you are taking down trim and crown molding always number or label the pieces so it makes it easier when you put it back in. Unless you just love puzzles, then why the hell not just scramble it all up.

Disclamer: the camera phone (thank you yet again jerk face who broke into our home and stole both our cameras) doesn't truly express the beautiful color the room is painted.

More to come tomorrow, 5 days off work together, this is so amazing.