Color Me

Kid parties are ethereal when you've been to Georgia and California and sipped champagne on a yacht and seen some things that a woman aint suppose to see.

Yesterday at a Disney-themed merry making kids were thoughtlessly asked to 'polychromatize' some Winnie the Pooh drawings with crayons lacking of the basic gay colors. Nonetheless, since I am a big advocate of wholesomeness, I decided to join in the fun. I approached one of the kids and told him that his mom has left and he should start looking for her before Michael Jackson drops by. Apparently he understood his situation and fled. Needless to say, I stole his flaky set-of five lead-rich China-made crayon and worked my magic. Voila!




The exercise was calming and even elating.

For a moment I forgot all about my worries. I regressed into a time when life, excuse the lack of poetic skills-- is as simple as crayons and papers.

Here's to life's way of reminding us of its little treasures!

Gay Onions

"Apart from being a complete lie, it contained words and phrases sufficient to leave in the minds of the readers that we are gay men engaged in a romantic dalliance, an imputation which seriously damaged our reputation as bankable actors..."
– Sam Milby & Piolo Pascual

If anything, the Filipino people should sue these two boys:

1. for assuming that Lolit Solis and Pilipino Star Ngayon is our source of truth;


2. for their homosexual prejudice. re: homosexuality is injurious to a person's repute of profession;


3. for actually believing that they are bankable actors;


4. for assuming that we actually consider them as actors;


5. for diverting public service time of the Manila City prosecutors’ office on trivial matters.

Mariannet Amper Decided to Die

Mariannet is a fellow diarist. We thrive on ranting online about our lousy jobs, bad airline food, and our past lovers' personality disorders while Marrianet penned hope to see her family out of poverty.

She was 12 years old. Her family is so poor she was out of school for two fortnight--they have not a centavo to spare for her transport money.

Mariannet's cold neck found a nylon friend. Perhaps life's not so UNfriendly after all.

May she rest in peace.

Tell and Tell

Your antics are not exactly the The Da Vinci secret. You must have realized by now that people talk. People you slept with talk. Now connect the gossip-loving dots and voila: your bed time stories on broadband.

Personally I don't have any issues on your sexual escapades. In fact I am a big fan of your work. What I am telling here is: it is not right when people are wronged in your attempt to cover-up your not-so inviolate past. Honesty is the only way to free yourself from the shadow of your promiscuous past without hurting other people. Do a Kris Aquino (re: her STD extravaganza). Admit that you were horny all decade, endure chastisement for a while and no sooner than the next Pinoy Big Brother nomination night earn peoples' respect for your honesty and for your courage to be so.

Save your worries; I don't have to mention your name here. This is not about you. This post is to vindicate people you have badmouthed just so you can keep a perfect picture of you.

Don't they teach this on Sunday mass you so frequent? Oh well.

Visits

Dad,

Hello there!

You've been frequenting my dreams again, really it is alright but here's my deal: maybe we should cook up themes that are tad less scary?

Apparently, your frightening visits are well-timed for the Halloween but my guess is that you're on for a haunting spree in my dreams.

I did not really mean to make mom cry. Understand that 'bread winning' is not exactly the most promising career path. I am complaining, yes, but I'm not the type who peters-out from his obligations.

I hope that rests you in peace.

Since today is supposedly your day (along with the many who have gone to their rest in the hope of rising again), I wish you a rokin' and rollin' time.

Dreaming of your divine pinapaitan & heavenly (pardon the pun) dinuguan,

Bryan



P.S.

I travelled a bit and have dined on expensive and cheap tables alike and I'm proud to say that you remain to be best cook in the whole world!

MY FRIENDSTER IS SWARMED BY TINY BALD BEINGS

Unless some magical shit has turned my friends into midgets suffering from severe case of hair loss and some dental disease, I’d like to think that all of these profile photos of bald, toothless beings in my Friendster list are human babies.

These babies aren’t my friends. They’re my nieces, my nephews who will one day show up at my doorstep with a warrant of arrest for multiple gift evasion suits.

I wonder why they are posing as my friends.

My friends party hard! My friends eat Cosmopolitan for breakfast and devour Vogue for lunch. They chain smoke. They drink too much coffee and live on tequila.

They don’t watch Tagalog movies (at least they pretend that they do not). They pick-on my bad English. They’ve been to an Alanis tour and would be at a Tori Amos’ given a chance.

They gyrate with INOJ. They sleep late and wake-up later.

Gad I miss my college friends.

Perhaps they’ve left.

Cry-fitting infants are standing-in for them while they’re gone to some where-adults-should-be-when-they-turn-30 convention.

Diaper clad kids have taken their place.

Maybe they’re all gone.



Maybe I stayed behind.

I Wish the Tales of Mother Goose are true.

I feel lazy, gang-raped tired and sleepy.

In many ways a week long repose in Pangasinan is a viable relief. But getting haunted by VISA receivables department people for months end may not worth a few weeks of fucking rest.

Wouldn’t it be great if we humans can elect to die temporarily?

I’m not talking about being medically dead and then waking-up from coma later or the excommunicable undertone of death and resurrection and the founding of a new religion. I’m thinking more in the vein of death-like deep sleep—ala hibernation.

Falling into a cavernous sleep ala Sleeping Beauty without the need to eat and excrete, do debit-credit, answer phone calls, send tuition-money back home, add weird people to your FRIENDSTER list, blah blah blah and wake-up like you’re zany Cameron Diaz the morning after an earth-shattering Justin Timberlake shag is not too much to ask, is it?

Dear Sibling

Dear sibling,

How have you been spending your first pay? I say spend it all on something lavish and I’ll answer for the rest of your expenses until your next wage.

I can only assume how you feel about the board examination result. I am not happy of course. I am not sad either. I understand.

I rang up the night before day-1 of the examinations. We went on and on cracking old jokes. Then you mustered your courage to tell manong Bry that someone broke your heart—your first time.

I can tell as you blether hate, anger and hope that you’re in a flat spin. I can feel through each sob, you’re smashed to smithereens.

Your phone line's end is flooded with tears.

You tried haplessly to put into words your pain.

You told me it’s unfair and then asked me why?

Hey, you didn’t tell me there’s someone there to cause all these in the first place.

No sibling, I don’t grasp it no more than you do. Love is messy. Sorry, but that’s the best I can come up with. At any rate Manong will be here to help at every turn.

Sibling, hang on there. The raining and pouring shall end.



I’ll remain,

Manong Bry

Filipinos You Meet in Port Moresby

"Seven Kinds of Filipinos You Meet in Port Moresby

1. The Pioneers.
Legend has it that they paddled their way to pre-independence Papua New Guinea fleeing the Imelda Inquisition.

This is the bunch I don’t know much about but ever so easy to spot in a crowd.

From the grannies with faux Australian accent and their SM-deprived offspring they’re almost always vexingly together anywhere they go thronging the ever few expatriate-safe locations in packs like a grade school fieldtrip.

2. Second Generation.
The OFWs.
Like the Pioneers, they are ever present during them infamously banal June 12 Independence Day celebrations where you’ll die of boredom from the shitty appearances of minor over-sensationalized Pinoy celebrities, Bingo craps, Christmas whatnots and basketball blahs.

3. Cross Breeders.
For socio-economic reasons, they breed exclusively with Caucasians.
If there’s too much carats going on, that’s them.

4. The Entertainers.
They’re prostitutes.

5. Churchgoers.
Well, you see them in church every Sunday and at majong tables after mass.

6. Accountants.
Grace Adler once said, “I hate clowns. They think they’re so funny”.

Delete “clowns”. Insert “accountants”. Delete “funny”. Insert “smart”.

7. Then there’s this gang of five. You’ll live life regretfully if you never get to meet them.

Nothing extremely special about this party of five but they guarantee an experience second only to that feeling of orgasmic headboard-rocking coitus.
Ever genial and handy, they paint the town red onboard a green Mitsubishi."