Rambling to 2007

Fridays uncommonly serve me as downers.

I’m guessing it’s that feeling of sadness and longing to be home with family and friends.

Hello control dramas, my trusted friend!

Still, in my state of destitution, in the face of all my fashion transgressions, as my spa/sauna-deprived circumstances, I am thankful.

My nomadic, adorable Filipino friends in Port Moresby keep me at bay from insanity-ville. My Caucasian comrades keep me intoxicated every so often and have them to thank for things like yacht in social vocabulary.

I might exploit this into a long, mushy, rambling story. I better do something else.

No, I don’t masturbate anymore. At least I lie that I don’t.

Ever Belina

It was our first heated argument. At the Burger King, of all places. Somewhere at Seoul’s gay district—we had our very first conversation without any mention of Miss Dominican Republic’s national costume for last years’ Miss Universe.

Some remark I made on his lover from few lovers ago ricocheted as retaliatory I-hate-this-and-that-about-you. Like a tong-its game (gin & rummy) in your neighborhood wake abundant with M.Y. San crackers and commoners’ coffee, things went hardcore and hate cards were laid.

Consciously, we’ve been avoiding any altercations on matters that matter. Like that homo sitcom, we were Will and Grace, Karen and Jack: spatting over the artistic merits of Bata Bata Paano ka Ginawa versus Titanic, what is the capital of Gabon, our waist lines and other people’s non-gym-going waist lines, commuting on jeepneys and my I-don’t-eat-at-food courts policy. It’s comfortable stuff only.

It’s as like as chalk and cheese this time: embarrassed stares, wrinkled noses. We said things to each other that we meant to say ages ago. Things we never thought the need to discuss them may arise…like Ever Bilena on cosmetics.

I’m not going to write about it though. I tell about other people too much.

Here’s what I can share though:

One is ever grateful to the heavens for a best friend with
1. two co-dependent nervous systems—for his penis and for himself,
2. with a taste for the mongoloid-ish oriental boys which cuts down any competition between us, and
3. with a twisted understanding of love but with the generosity to parade his broken heart and sore, sometimes violated ass once or twice once and again to set example to the likes of me who understands the game of love less.

Lubid at Lupa

Hihiramin ba ang lumbay ng umaga kung sa krimen ng kahapon ay wala ka
Kahapong sinlapit ng nakalimot na gabi sa isang bulag na pagkakasala
Ang hakbang ba’y pabalik sa kalawakang bubog na may dantay ng lason
Lasong taksil sa pawis at luha

Aalayan ba ng rosal ang libingan ng mga buhay na bihag
Bihag at alipin na di na ma-amoy ang hiwaga ng pulang rehas
Mananatili bang itim ang belong burada ng ala-ala
Itim pa ba ang tema ng iyong dalangin

Sira na ang biyulin at pigtas na ang lubid ng duyan
Ngunit tila ang duyan parin ang kanlungan ng iyong tulirong damdamin
Anong kasabay ng iyong paos na himig
Himig ng iyong hikbing hanap ang mga punit na guhit ng byulin

Halika’t baybayin nating ang bangungot: tapang na tapakan ang mga bubog
Tumayo ka’t Ako at ako ay may paroroonan
Pulutin mo ang lubid na hinahagkan na nang giniginaw na lupa
Sa sapang dilaw doon lahat tayo’y magkita-kita

Di ba’t sa kahariang dagat ang hantungan ng bawat butil ng tubig
Libingnang may sumpa’t pangako nang muling pagkabuhay
Na ang tabang na tubig ay lilipas sa alat ng karagatan
Tubig at tubig, tubig din ang kalalagyan

Arok nawa ang pangitaing may bukadkad ng rosal at tiklop ng belo
Ang pagsunog sa lubid at paglimot sa biyulin
Anong lason man ang pumatay sa iyong maikling kasaysayan
Hiramin mo’t angkinin ang lumbay ng umaga

Papa

It's been a while, what...three years?

I'm not sure if i'd make it to heaven... but if i'm refused entry, i guess we can meet up in a bar somewhere next to the gate and catch up on old times over a few bottles of San Mig.

I miss you dad. Happy fathers' day.

Bryan Anthony

5 PM

5:00 p.m.’s are everyday to anyone as it is to me, but not today…

what and why port moresby’s cold june wind brought breeze of nostalgia, i do not know…

my late father seldom made it home at 5:00 p.m.

his showing-up on time is always a special occasion

for me it’s an answered prayer. it is.

--

papa IS the best cook in the world. although help was always around to prepare dinner, consistently, he does all the cooking every time he’s home by 5:00… making such days so special.

i never grew out of these 5:00 o’clock’s:

us siblings shove ourselves on the passenger seats, thrilled for that special trip to the market.

trips that make my day perfect no matter how fucked-up the rest of it was.

i would trade a day of waking life for another 5:00 o’clock with papa…one is to one...

---

papa always reminded us of two things every time we take these trips:

(1) a good cook buys the ingredients himself &

(2) only lazy people can’t cook.


this is not my fathers’ day blog.

Merry Christmas of 2004

“Merry Christmas my dearest Bryan, although I did not expect you to be back in my life, much less hope you’d be with me again…and talking, laughing and spending time with you, at that moment was way out of mind. But…that night when you texted [sic] me, … that night when I called you twice and finally talked to you…that moment for me was no less than perfect. It’s one of the moments in my life that I’ll never forget. The timing was perfect. The FEELING was perfect. I couldn’t ask for anything more. For what it’s worth, I smiled the whole night after that, and I don’t know why. I just closed my eyes and it felt good. So needless to say, I gave it another chance and one thing led to another, I knew it…I knew it that I love you.

You take care of me, treat me extra special, and you make me laugh… A LOT.

Going thru all this trouble for you is nothing simply because I love you. I know you know what I mean. I love you so much.

Of course its difficult, even hard at times not being able to spend time with you. Everyday without you is such a ++++. So all I can do sometimes is fantasize about you. Parang yung kanta ng The Platters ba yun? Whenever I want you, all I have to do is …dream… dream, dream, dream.

Kasi I know when we finally are together again, pag yakap na kita ulit… everything will be perfect again. Nothing else will matter for a while.

Yung moments na nag la-last forever ika nga, kasi nagmamahalan tayo eh.

We have everything anyone can hope for; someone to love and that someone loving them back.

I await for that day my love!

Take great care of yourself for me, please.

I love you so much.

Have a very happy Christmas.

Can’t wait for you to come home soon.

Always,
++++”

--GREAT MY BREAST LID (an anagram)

This letter is reprinted with the knowledge and permission of the author

Mama Day

Mama,

There'll never be a woman like you in my life.

I love you ma.

Bryan Stars



"A mother is a mother still, The holiest thing alive."

Samuel Taylor Coleridge