Blogavond

Here I go again.

It’s one of those days. I am babbling to myself loud, and yet I hear no sound. It’s as if I’m not in my skin right now, that I am in some place else but here. Typic’ly me.

Could it be that I’m just too wired up with work and more work? Could it be that my mind is just harkin’ at me to give it a rest? Hey, here’s an idea: why doncha do this and why doncha do that? I got this anvil and it’ll look fab if your head is splattered with it! Lotsa gore and blood, that'll be cool. How about this dull bread knife, would you like me to scratch your back? Blabber, blabber, blabber. There’s so much goin’ on inside my head that methinks I need a booking agent just to see myself.

I know, I know. This space has been neglected for the longest time, it’s been set aside to rot in the bin and basically filed under Goner. Well, almost.

My loyal posse of readers--I’ve got two, harhar--have been prodding me to go back and blog.

Justine: “Hey, Skinhead Boy, here’s a bribe, your fave Wasabi Ridges! Now go! Write something, anything!”

C: “Your blog is the only thing that gives me a peek on what you’re up to you silly bastard, so write, write, write!”

As if they never had enough from the musing overdose that they’ve been overkilled with with my two books (Plugging! Plugging!), now they are just on a bloggie diet and are too petulant to say ‘..please…’ Hmp.

And so with the same ol’ sting of Wasabi slushed between my irony and this Mac, I am writin’ again.

I’m guilty as sin. I haven’t jotten (Yes, it’s not a real word) a speck on this space for a while now, but I’ve got legit reason to justify my crime. Lemmesee, one word: Work. Two words: Lotsa work. (Okay that’s three-word hyphenated.) Thing is, I’ve been dawgin’ with neck-deep work to wrestle with, but I ain’t complaining. Usually, I would raise a dirty finger, bludgeon my senses to numbness, but in its stead, I say “Keep ‘em coming!”

I have launched the new music fones of a popular cel brand, mounted a concert with The Ateneo College Glee Club, had the Red Carpet Premiere of my all-time heroine Little Miss Carrie Bardshaw’s Sex & The City and its token tri-bar shindig in fabulous Planet Malate (BED Bar, Club Mafia and O Bar), just concluded an international convention and exhibit at the SMX of The Mall of Asia and that Big Fish thingy last weekend. Now I'm gearing up for the biggie--a grand gala shindig night for all agency peeps! Yes, whew!

I am so inspired to work. It’s such a cool job and I just love my boss (I know it’s pretty unusual to write something too darn positive about one’s boss, but that’s what I sincerely feel--I ain't patronizin'...).

What could the cool gods have next?

My God, I am so freakin' happy I’m beginning to be suspicious.

godhead

bHeya.

I was at TIESTO over the weekend at the World Trade Center with my best bud, Betty Suarez, and whatcanisay, but WHOA! The godhead of beats had me by the first beat! Lotsa familiar faces, some poseurs and the usual 'pilliancs.' Lotsa booze, lotsa boys, lotsalotsa!

Met this hottie by the loo, we've exchanged numbers, but drat, was it a girlfriend he was with?!

More details on my next post.

I gotta go and scram for this important meetingsalsh presentation over at The Enterprise.

Later.

Lalamasin

Pag-aalay

Para sa mga baklang mapangarap at mapangahas
Sa mga lantad at maglaladlad
Sa mga mapagparaya at mapagparaos
Sa mga pinanawan ng ganda
At para sa patuloy na umaasa.
Para sa mga nagwawaldas ng panahon
Sa mga nag-iimpok ng alaala
Sa mga madramang nangungulila
Sa mga nadidighay sa ligaya
Sa mga dyosa ng kahapon
At sa mga erehe ng bukas.


WALANG duda, kung merong isang bagay na kinatatakutan sa mundong ito ang isang maskuladong pamhintang katulad ko, ito ay babae. Specifically, babaeng may suso. More specifically, babaeng may malalaking suso. As in SUSO!

Dyoga, Boobs. Bubella. Hindi ko kayang isiping dumapo ang mga palad ko sa mga ito. Malayong lumapit at imposibleng lumapat ang mga labi ko sa kanila. Bukod sa colustrum supply na katas para sa mura kong gulang (salamat, mudra), wala na akong alam na gamit para sa mga ito.
Pampasikip sa bus, abala sa pila at mahigpit na kakumpetensya--yan ang suso.

Minalas akong maka-face to face ang una kong suso encounter noong high school. Tulad ng maraming pamhintang nangangapa pa ng lugar niya sa mundo, nagkaroon ako ng girlfriend (huwag nyo akong itakwil, mga kapatid..). Oo, girlfriend--as in jowang murat o bilatrang jowa-ers o isang cover girl (pang-cover ng aking pagka-alam-mo-na).

Si Mina. Short for Carmina. Maganda naman ang lowkah (pero looking back, parang mas mahaba ang bangs ng skihead ko kaysa sa kanya, hmmm…). Madalas ngang mahirang na muse ng mga high school clubs at malimit mangolekta ng mga korona at special awards sa kung anu-anong byukon (beauty contest) si Mina.

Bagay raw kami. Campus figure ako dahil madalas kong ipanalo ang eskwelahan namin sa mga literary inter-school competitions, samantalang si Mina naman ang high school sweetheart ng bayan.

Hindi pa uso ang salitang Bobita nuon pero ‘yun na ang pwedeng ikabit sa level of intelligence ng jowa kong ititch. Binawi naman niya ang kakulangan sa mental faculties sa kanyang mammary glands, Susme, bawing-bawi.

Sa lenggwaheng pang-bagets, mag-on kami. At katulad ng maraming ma-on, inaasahan niyang halikan ko siya paminsan-minsan, at sa mga pagkakataong mag-isa kami (na lubha kong kinatatakutan), kailangan kong maging ‘pilyo.’ Alam ko ang codes of endearment:

First Base: Kiss sa lips. (Pwede.)
Seond base: Hawak sa suso. (Pwede, pero may effort.)
Third Base: Alam-mo-na. (Imposible!)

Saksi si Tita Shawie sa kahihiyan ko. Palabas ang Dear Heart at iyon ang una (at huli) naming movie date ni Mina.

Iniwan ko ang totoong pagkatao ko sa takilyera, bumili ng tapang at pop corn sa Snaxx Counter at ikinumot ang dilim ng sinehan sa pagkukunwari.

Madilim, malamig sa loob ng sinehan. Iba’t-ibang anino ang nasa loob--may mga ulong pinag-iisa ng pagkakataon, may mga ulo namang biglang nawawala, meron namang biglang sumusulpot at meron ding mga ulong tila nakatanim na sa dibdib ng ka-date.

Umupo kami sa Lodge (hindi kaya ng powers ko ang Balcony). Pag-upung pag-upo pa lamang ay dumapo na ang kamay ni Mina sa hita ko. Tinubuan ako ng umay sa tuhod, kinain nito ang buo kong hita hanggang sa gumapang mula paa hanggang sa huling hibla ng buhok ko.

Gaga ka kasi, sabi ko sa sarili ko.

“Ang ginaw naman…” sabi ni Mina sabay hilig sa pagitan ng dibdib at balikat ko. Reflex yata ang tawag dun, pero di ko sinasadyang itulak ng balikat ko ang ulo nya.

“S-sorry…”

Dedma lang si Mina na panay na ang himas sa hita ko. Suggestion: Kung may barf bag sa mga eroplano, dapat ding maglagay ng mga ito sa mga sinehan. Bumabaligtad ang sikmura ko sa mga pagkakataong yon. Lunok-luwa ang ginawa ko sa pop corn. At nang paglaruan na ni Mina ang zipper ng pantalon ko, nasamid ako sa tuya.

SFX: Ubo, ubo at ubo pa.

“Okey ka lang?”

“O-okey lang…y-yung pop corn, masyadong maalat…”

Alam ko na ang susunod na eksena. Hahalikan ako ni Mina. Kaya pinuno ko ng pop corn at pop corn at pop corn pa ang bibig ko.

“Nagugutom ka ba? Gusto mo ng kanin?”

“Zwarzupgwarswarphh…”

“Ang ginaw talaga! Brr!”

Translation: Yakapin mo naman ako.

Hmp, ang bruhang itoh, pabigat--sabi ko na lang sa sarili ko habang niyayakap ng kanang braso ko ang balikat niya.

Dumating ang kinatatakutan ko. Hinahawakan ni Mina ang kamay ko at inilalapat sa, ngiii, dibdib niya. Humigop ako ng hangin at pinigilan ko ang paghinga.

Hawak pa rin ang kamay ko, isa-isa niyang binuksan ang mga butones ng blouse niya. Mula taas, pababa…pababa. Gulp.

Wala akong problema sa suso, madalas na akong makakita ng mga ito. Pero kung nakakabit ito sa isang babae--lalo sa isang babaeng may dambuhalang susong dapat sana’y siningil din ng takilyera--e, ibang usapan na.

Itinaas ni Mina ang bra nya at kumawala ang mga alaga niya. (SFX: TOINK!) Unang nakilala ng palad ko si Kanan--makinis, malusog at tila palaban--meron itong sariling pintig nang madama ng mga daliri ko. At si Kaliwa na walang pinag-iba kay Kanan. Pareho silang makinis, malusog, malambot at parang gelatin na buung-buo. Ang ipinagtataka ko ay parang may mga sariling isip ang kambal. Tila ‘lumalaban’ sila sa bawat obligadong himas ng kamay ko.

Hoy, hindi sekswal ang nararamdman ko. Naaalala ko ang female anatomy drawing sa Colliers Encyclopedia. Peksman.

Ah, ito pala ang areola…at ito naman ang, ew, pasas!

Umuungol si Mina.

Pumutok ang thought balloon ko ng female anatomy drawing at tumambad sa akin ang isang akting na akting na Sharon Cuneta.

“Ang galing umarte ni Sharon!” bulalas ko sabay palakpak para kumawala ang kamay ko kina Kanan at Kaliwa.

“Uh, hmp, oo!”

“Ayusin mo nga ang butones mo, mag-iintermission na.” sabi ko kay Mina. At kahit madilim sa loob ng sinehan, alam kong tatalunin ng mga kilay ko ang mga nakaguhit na kilay ni Mommy Elaine Cuneta na umabot hanggang sa kisame ng Balcony.

Paglabas namin ng sinehan, matulis na ang nguso ni Mina. Hindi na maalis ang hmp! sa kanyang mga labi.

Wala akong pakialam, in short, care ko?!

Lumabas ako sa sinehan bilang isang bagong tao--matapang, maganda, totoo…at isang Sharonian.

(Mula sa susunod kong libro, Brusko Pink 3: Mascula-doll, ang una kong paglalayag na sumulat sa Filipino.)

A new guy.

I can’t, I won’t give it up--my singular life amidst the pleasures of my multiple self. No, not just yet.

Funny, it’s when I’ve decided to simplify that I find myself leaping out of my skin with joy. I am happy right now, so happy that I am a walking fiesta with my sleeves swaying with buntings and my steps peppered with confetti.

Once, I have decluttered, vowed myself to a life of simplicity. Redundant entities were filed under excess baggage, unnecessities were thrown to the fire and irrelevant nincompoops were fed to the shredder. I’ve gunned my trusty, venomous and apathetic dedma to purge people not worth my while. This goes true--especially true--with my mumba of romantic engage-,uh, entanglements: flings that have flung, ex’s who’ve mutated to full-fledge cretins and would-be bfs who turned out to be unworthy wannabe’s.

But some things cannot be ignored, especially when it comes knockin’ at your door. You can’t simply exclaim eureka! when the person on the other side of the door turns out to be hot and smart and…oh, sigh. Just when I wasn’t looking, this stranger came barging into my life and since then, I can’t seem to strip this smile off my face. : )

Gosh, I’m too old to blush but I’m turning pink with giggles.

Good morning

To sunrise and cloudy skies, to missed calls and dialed numbers, to erring lovers and betrayed hearts, to trials and triumphs, to work and traffic and bosses, to friends and acquaintances, to wishful thinking and answered prayers, to coffee and bacon and cheese—good morning.

Hell, I'm busy.

I AM busy, so this would be quick.

I am reeking with work (just loooovvvee it!), wrestling with my own thoughts and having a freakin’ senate committee up my head. Have you tried brainstorming by your lonesome? I find it weird when I talk to myself (weirder if I answer back), so I’ve created Another Me (taller, more buffed, and tad more hung—though I’m quite a loader myself awready…).

It’s wonderful and it works, A.M. churned out lotsa cool ideas and they are all amazing!

We are tidying up some loose ends for our pet projx and we are presenting ‘em tomorrow to the Big Boss. It’s really nice to see your creative juices squeezed from your own pores.

...and then later

Ruminating on the heart-wrenching, mindfuckery of relationships, I slip to my Carrie Bradshaw mode—I couldn’t help but wonder, why do we choose to hurt when we can choose to forget? I believe it is totally the Conspiracy of What If’s. What if you can still save it? What if one succumbs to change? What if you compromise? I often speak the courage of my conviction and I often wear my putrescent wounds up my sleeves (and fuck yeah, I cry too), but I am as guilty as you are of this crap. And then I came across an old entry from my journal and it all made sense…


"Tatlong letra, tatlong hakbang papalayo.
Paano nga ba lumayo kung minsan ko nang
inukit ang pangalan mo sa puso ko?
May dahas ang kalungkutan, may hagupit ang pagtangis
—tumatatak sa isip, nagmamarka sa gunita.
Hindi sapat ang lumayo kaya’t humukay ako ng libingan.
Inilibing na kita. Ipinagluksa.
Wala na. Tapos na. Nyeta ka."