reviews!!!

as gay as it can be.

bad education. saw bad education over the weekend, which instantly made me a certified almodovar fan. for starters, the movie was unbelievably gay and when i say gay, i mean tranny gay. there was none of the macho / paminta posturing one finds in queer as folks episodes. to begin with, you have the latino heartthrob gael garcia bernal in drag looking in some light like juliet lewis. a few minutes into the movie, gael in drag picks up a cute biker wearing a black leather jacket. they repair to the biker’s apartment whereby gael gives him a blowjob. the biker, however, has drunk too many beers so he dozes off even before he could cum. gael, indignant, decides to steal the bike but not before finding out that the one that he has just blown was a childhood crush. so what does a fabulous tranny to do in such serendipitous situation? sit on the cute biker’s lap of course! (or in swards-speak, nag-pauring ang lolah mo!). at that point i was already sold! but the movie has plenty of things to offer other than such tabloidish descriptions. the script never ran out of surprises and paradoxes and you never know where the movie will take you, which if you think about it, is an accomplishment in itself. watching the movie reminded me of another favorite, ishmael bernal’s manila by night. boy, if ishma were alive today, he just might give almodovar a run for his money.

queer as folk. my boyfriend brought a collection of queer as folk (or qaf, as the series’ fans call it) dvds, which my housemates have been watching. qaf reminds me of the malate crowd: happy go lucky, party hungry, and sex driven. watching it made me ask myself who among the four characters best represent me? is it the geek with the low self-esteem, the cute boy next door who is in love with the handsome lothario, the queen or the sexual predator? believe me, the answer didnt came easy. i much prefer to watch sex in the city though. for some strange reason, i could relate more to carrie and the gang.
 

Look, there’s an angel on TV!

The floor director raises his hand. “One, two, three, four, and…”

“Welcome, back. In case you just tuned in, we were discussing about angels. Are they real or are they just a figment of our Catholic imagination?” said the slender, glamorous host. “So, Mrs. Ching, you collect these angel figurines. Do you believe in angels?”

“Yes, of course, they are as real as you and me,” Mrs. Ching said, smiling. “In fact, I have brought some of my collection in the studio, could we show it to the viewers?”

“Direk, do we have time?” the host asked, looking beyond the camera, into the dark, stuffy studio. “Could we show the viewers Mrs. Ching’s collection? We could? Okay.”

Mrs. Ching signaled to her helper, who promptly wheeled into the set three angel sculptures.

“Careful, careful,” Mrs. Ching warned, as the helper pushed the cart into the elevated set.

“Oh wow,” said the host. “Where did you buy them? They are so beautiful!”

“This one I got from Barcelona. This one is from a little nook in Italy. And this one I got from an artist in Cebu, who made it especially for me.”

“My god, this must have cost you a fortune.”

“As I’ve said, I’m really into angels. You know, Lili, I have five children but they are all grown up na. So now, I consider them my kids.”

“Is this real jade?”

“Yes.”

The host turned to the stoic, corpulent priest who sat beside Mrs. Ching. “Father, is it okay to, you know, lavish your angel sculptures, or any religious statue for that matter with gems and precious stones?”

“Well…” began the priest, sluggishly picking the microphone from his lap. “The church doesn’t really have any specific rules on how people should take care of their saints or, in Mrs. Ching’s case, angels.”

“Well, Lili, as I’ve said, I really believe in angels. They are our guardians. They take care of us. They are…”

“But have you had any encounters with them? Could we see them with our own naked eyes?” asked the host, her eyes filled with intense concentration. Mrs. Ching was caught unaware with the host’s question that she did nothing but stare at the seemingly focused interviewer. “… But before you answer that, we have to pause for a commercial. Please stay tuned. This is really getting interesting.”

The floor director raises his hand. “One, two, three, four, and…”

“We’re back. To those who just tuned in, Mrs. Cruz here has just shared to us her passion for angels and even showed her precious angel figurines. But unfortunately, we had to wheel them out of the set for security reasons, didn’t we Mrs. Cruz?”

The two women smiled at each other, as if they have just shared a private joke.

“But now, we have Nenita here…”

The camera shows a small, emaciated girl beside the priest. She had an oft-white dress on, which contrasted her glistening brown skin. Her black shoes seemed to have been worn a tad too long and her hair appeared stiff on the camera.

“She came from Taytay, Rizal and claims to be possessed by an angel, whom she calls Angelo. She would be talking to us as Angelo…” The host switches from speaking in English to Filipino so the girl could understand her. “Now, Angelo, bakit mo naman napili si Nenita.” (Angelo, why did you chose Nenita to be your vessel?)

A high-pitched voice came out of the girl’s lips and proceeded to tell the story. The angel supposedly found the girl while she was gathering dry woods in the mountain. It was noon then and the girl was encumbered with what she was carrying so he decided to help her. They have been friends since then.

“Mabait naman ba si Nenita?” (Is Nenita a good girl?)

The angel said that Nenita was a little angel herself. Always doing housework and helping out with her parents to earn money as a charcoal vendor. But, the angel added, she could use more praying.

“Nakita mo na ba ang Diyos? Harap harapan, I mean.” (Have you seen God?)

Of course, the angel replied. He has blue eyes, cool, calm, and beautiful. His hair falls on his shoulders like silk, and His robe is so soft it is as if clouds were perpetually enveloping Him.

“Mrs. Cruz, do you believe that an actual angel has possessed this girl?”

“Well, it’s hard to say. But angels are very close to God. They are his right-hand men. They do the good deeds for him. They are very caring creatures, don’t you think father?”

“Yes, of course, especially with kids that are in need.”

“Well, do you think an angel is in her right now?”

“Um, it’s hard to say because you never know.”

“Do you think she’s, you know, faking it?”

The two guests smiled.

“Do any of you think that…?”

“Well, it’s for your viewers to judge, not us,” explained Mrs. Ching.

The host paused and looked straight into the camera.

“And with that, we will go for a short commercial break…”

The girl sat silent while the three chat about the trip the host is making to Italy.

“Have you been there?” Mrs. Ching asked.

“Yes, twice in the last five years. Isn’t it gorgeous? The frescoes are just lovely.”

“Ay, you should visit this café. They serve the best cappuccino.”

“Is it as good as the coffee in Rustico?”

“Do you mean Rustico in Quezon City?” asked the priest.

“Yes, yes, the one near Timog.”

“I love the coffee there. We should all three go there sometime. How about after the show? I’ll tell you what I really think during coffee,” the priest said with a wink.

“Pilyo ka talaga father.” (You are so naughty)

“How about you Mrs. Cruz?” the priest asked his seatmate.

“That would be nice but I have to drive my three little angels home first. Perhaps if you come with me maybe we’ll have time to view the rest of my collection before we head out to coffee,” Mrs. Cruz said.

“Okay,” said the floor director. “One, two, three, four, and…”

“Welcome back, I have here some phone in questions from our viewers,” said the host, flipping a stack of white index cards on her lap. “From Sitio Reyes of Quezon City: ‘Why doesn’t Angelo use po and opo? Aren’t angels respectful too?”

The host giggled.

“Oo, nga naman,” she said. “O, Nenita, bakit ka daw hindi nagpo po at opo. Hindi ba magagalang ang mga angels?” (Aren’t angels polite? Don’t they use po and opo?)

Nenita picked up her microphone and said, “Kasi po…”

Later in the café over cappuccinos and pastries the three indulge in a post-show analysis.

“The girl cracked me up,” said Mrs. Ching. “She sounds so phony.”

“Well, what can I say, I hear things are bad in Taytay,” replied the host.

“I hope you gave her a talent fee,” the priest said, “because she has a gift in changing voices.”

New

jan. 10, 2007 / 10pm / xavierville

I have a new boyfriend. The relationship is just a week old but i’m so intense that i ask him to sleep over in my new apartment almost every night. yes, i have a new boyfriend and a new apartment just as the new year kicked in. fortunately, he lives just a few blocks from where i live.

we met through an internet gay site. we’ve been exchanging text messages since august but we were only able to go out a few days before the 31st. contrary to what he kept on telling me, i am quite sure that i was the first one to ask him out. during that time i was getting frustrated with the kid i was dating and i wanted to keep my options open. “I’m dating someone right now,” my current boyfriend said through a text message, immediately blowing me off.

a few months after that, we saw each other in malate. manila has just experienced a particularly disastrous typhoon and half of malate was in darkness. i was with my officemates and he was with his boyfriend. i saw him from the other end of the street. i wasnt sure if it was him since we have never met in person. he was smiling, looking in my direction and i kept on checking if the cute short guy was actually looking at me. i actually half-wished that we would bump into each other later that night. but of course we didnt because apparently he and the boyfriend had other plans. it was his birthday that night.

i had great fun that night though. after our first encounter, i brought my friends to a gay bar and we danced our heads off until dawn. i got so drunk that when a stranger came to dance with me i kissed him full on the lips, much to the shock of my officemates.

the next day, however, i received a text message from my future boyfriend, asking me if i was, indeed, in malate that night. eventually, he would also bump into my twin brother during a premiere of an indie film, mistaking him for me. 

i was still dating another guy when my current boyfriend and i finally met in a mall to watch zsa zsa zaturnna.  it is usually not my style to watch a movie on the first date. after all, why would my date and i engage in a passive activity when we should be sitting somewhere, in a cafe most probably, probing each other’s life (or desire, for that matter). but i agreed to go to the movies since i was already resigned to the fact that we would eventually become not as lovers but friends. however, i was surprised to find myself going bonkers for the guy. i was so into him that our date, which began at 5 in the afternoon, lasted until 12noon the next day. in fact, i even invited him to our house to celebrate the New Year with my family. we’ve been inseparable every since.

i think the first time i knew i love him was when we were watching a gene kelly movie on cable. instead of watching the movie, he was explaining to me the story of the binukot, a tribal princess that can be found in panay island. and as i listened intently to his stories, i was suddenly reminded of what i felt during our New Year’s eve celebration. it was my first time to bring home a lover during a family gathering (of course, i didnt had the courage to introduce him as my boyfriend) and i was trying to observe my mother’s behavior. usually, my mother frowns at me whenever i bring home boys to the house. this time, however, she was rather cordial. my boyfriend and i sat in front of our house, along with the other guests, and watched our affluent neighbor shoot up firecrackers in the air. i remember thinking how happy i was at that moment: firecrackers lighting up the midnight sky, my boyfriend looking at me from the other side of the table, my family all around us. it felt like a lovely ending of a feel good gay movie.

my boyfriend also works in the media so we are forever trying to find time for each other. right now, im in an editing house working while he is at home writing a script. i’ll be seeing him at dawn since i promised to bring some food and medicine to his house. he has been sick for a few days now. he told me that he is not used to being fussed over. normally, he was the one taking care of the boyfriend. i guess, i told him, it’s about time that somebody took care of him instead. 

he has already told me a lot about himself but what bothers me most are his previous relationships. between us, perhaps, there are a dozen or so men that we have dated, fucked, and even loved. and now, as i promise to take care of him, i would like to think that among all of his lovers i am the only one who loves or who has loved him honestly and wholeheartedly although im quite sure many of them did practically the same thing in the past. in fact, they can be in my place right now had things turned out differently. but we have already talked about trusting each other and staying monogamous. But it is not the present temptations i am frightened of. what i am frightened of mostly are the echoes of his past lovers because i know very well that they are the ghosts that i have to eventually contend with.

blind date

“Punyeta!” sa isip isip ng bakla. Nilabas niya ang kanyang Eskinol at bulak at nagsimulang mag-clean ng fez sa gitna ng Adriatico. Kesihodang pagtawanan siya ng mga passersby basta feeling byuti siya pagnagkita sila ng kanyang date. Sino ba naman ang hindi maiimbay sa lecheng shukab driver na pinababa siya sa kahabaan ng Taft avenue dahil nagluluko ang makina niya. “Never mind the bullocks,” sabi niya sa sarili na parang mantra habang binabaybay ang kahabaan ng Padre Faura para lang marating ang Malate.

Dumiretso kaagad siya sa meeting place at nagsimulang i-compose ang sarili. “Hey cutie,” patawag niya sa waiter ng café. “Isang cappuccino please.” Amoy na amoy pa niya ang facial cleanser at medyo nahihilo pa siya pero keri lang, oiliness is next to ugliness nga naman. Nagsindi siya ng sigarilyo at nagsimulang magmasid.

“Nakakalurlay na ‘to,” pagbubuntong hininga niya. “Nandito na naman ako.”

Bigla niyang naisip ang unang beses na napadpad siya sa Malate. “Juice ko, years na,” think niya. White party ng 1999. Everybody was wearing white but he was wearing gray. Naunshami pa ang gabi nang himatayin after two rounds of San Mig light ang kanyang diyosang kasama dahil may-I-drink beer without eating dinner ang lola kasi extreme dieting ang drama. Hayun, nag-gay pride na lang sila sa emergency room ng PGH. “In Fairview cutie si doctor,” remember niya.

“Your cappuccino sir,” sabi ng cute waiter. To mimic those flowery Tagalog short stories na nabasa niya sa Lit 101, parang lobong hinatak pababa ang kanyang thoughts at nagbalik siya sa reality. “Teka, 9:30 na wala ang date koh ah!” Pero before he could react, nag-tootoot-tootoot ang kanyang fone.

“Wer u?” sabi ng text.

Si Chaotic cute. Ka-chat sa net. Winner.

“Malate, waiting for a date. U?” Reply niya.

“Drunk. Can we meet tonite?” sagot uli sa text.

“Gagah ka ba,” sa isip isip niya. “Nasa date nga ako eh.”

“Of course, later perhaps?”

“Now na.”

Demanding ang putah.

“Can’t. Where are you anyway?”

“QC. Maybe you know someone I could date tonite.?”

“Acheche! Ginawa pa akong dating service,” think ni bakla.

“Um, sure, I’ll ask around.”

“Thanks. Am touched and have a hard on at the same time.”

Hard on! Aba ibang level na ‘to.

“Anytime dude,” text niya. (DUDE?!)

Hay mga bakla nga naman. Parang mga karneng kinikilo sa wet market. May mahal.May sariwa. May bulok. May pwedeng tawaran. At ang iba dapat nililibre na lang. At pag-trip ng orgy, may wholesale pa. Ako kaya, ano kayang klaseng karne ako. “To be honest,” pagsasagot niya sa kanyang sariling tanong. “Bulok na. Way way too long to be in the market. I should have been bought years ago. Years when I was still fresh and idealistic. Hindi ngayon na puno na ng adult angst at adult woe.”

At for the first time that night, nanglumo ang bakla. “Nasan na ba ang ka-date koh!” isip isip niya. Pero tulad ng isang professional beauty queen, inalis niya sa kanyang isipan ang kahit anong negativity at tumayo. “Kailangan ko na nang mag-retouch,” sabi niya.

Pinasok niya ang dark at cozy interiors ng café. Mas prefer niya ito kesa sa bagong coffee shop na nagbukas dun sa tabi ng Library. Para nga namang old man’s drawing room ang drama ng coffee shop na ‘to. Everywhere he looks, may wood. May history. Naalala niya tuloy ang isang eksena sa Broken Marriage na diyan sa baba lang shinut. Si Vilma, PM sa isang TV show. Nagsisigarilyo, nagrereklamo sa kanyang mga industry friends na si Sorayda at Juan Rodrigo tungkol sa married life niya. “I’m bored,” sabi ni Vilma sabay hithit sa yosi. “I’m so bored.”

“Ako rin,” think niya. “I’m bored. I’m bored of waiting. I’ve been waiting for the past 28 years I think I already have the right to be bored.” Napa-smile siya. Ang drama ng linya, pang-Urian. Best actress talaga siya, sa isip isip niya. Pumasok siya sa CR at sinuri ang kanyang award-winning self.    

Hair? Short and nice, courtesy of his suking beautician sa Bench Fix.

Skin? Freshly Eskinoled.

Utong? Perky under his tight cotton green shirt.

Abs? May love handles pero pagbibiro niya sa sarili, loveable pa naman.

Outfit? Medyo tight but not so tight na nagmumukha na siyang mumurahing call boy.

Package? Freshly scrubbed and nicely ensconced inside his faded tight Levis.  

Pagbalik niya sa kanyang upuan, wala pa rin ang ka-date. Punyeta, one hour late na ang putah. Na-indiana Jones na kaya siya?

“Wer u?” text niya sa date niya. Wait siya sa reply.

Too-toot. Too-toot. Kapag sinabi nitong “on the way” palang siya, magwa-walk out ako, sabi niya.

Pero hindi ka-date niya ang nagtext. Si Becky also known as Bekekang, ang kanyang parlorlista friend. Addictus extraordinaire. Maasahan sa mga pang-hits pero parating nangungutang.

“Leche,” mahinang pagmumura niya.

“Wer u?” text nito.

“Malate.” Reply niya.

“May pera ang lolah.”

“Bakit mangungutang kah?”

“’Tang ina mo, nasan na si Archie?”

Huh, anong pinagsasabi ng baklang bakulaw na ‘to? Think niya.

“Sinong Archie?”

“Wag ka ng mng-etchng, kw si Mdm Auring ano?”

“Lecheng bakla ito, mangungutang nga!”

Nag-reply siya. “Wala akong pera. Ililibre lang ako ng ka-date ko.”

Thank god wiz na reply ang parlorlistang kamukha ni Bakekang. Pero tuluyan nang na-imbyerna ang bakla at nilisan na ang Café Adriatico. Kung sabagay, whaz niya type ang hombreng ka-meet. Pang-filler lang until the real thing comes along.

Naglakad siya patungong Orosa kung saan naruruon ang epicenter ng kabadingan sa Pilipinas. Nagiba na ang mga mukha ng establishments. Ang dating Piggy’s nagging Oh. Ang Kenkoy naging isang cheap videoke bar. May Chelu pa at Fluid na umeeksena. Ganun na rin ba kabilis magsara ang mga dating tinuturing niyang home? Kasing bilis nang pagpapalit ng lalaking kung minsan hindi man lang rumirehistra sa memory?

Bigla niyang naisip ang mga boylets na wish niya kasama niya. Si Ruel na cutie pie na halos hindi marunong magbasa na pera lang ang habol sa kanya. Si Mark na may nice smile at soft lips na pinahabol habol lang siya. Si Edmond na ayaw makipag-commit kasi di pa over sa dating boyfriend na isang taon na siyang iniwan. Si Greggy na isang gay beauty queen na makati pa sa gabi.

Midnight na pero super feel niya na nasa baywalk siya, naglalakad habang sunset at ang kanyang shadow niya ay kasing haba ng buhok ni Rapunzel. “Ya,” isip isip niya. “Depressed akoh.”

Tumuloy siya sa Rainbow na dating New York café at umupo sa isang sulok. “Hey cutie, dalawang Strong Ice nga,” utos niya sa waiter. Pinagmasdan niya ang dalawang bote sa harap niya. “I should be having fun right now,” sabi niya sa sarili. Pero hindi, magisa siya sa isang gay bar nakatitig sa mga boteng tila pinagpapawisan sa lamig.

Pagkatapos niya magpakalasing, umakyat siya sa second floor. Disco forever ang drama niya. Pagpasok na pagpasok palang niya naka-encounter na siya ng isang couple na mukhang serious ang dilemma.

“I mish shoo.” Sabi ni Bakla 1.

“Ewan ko sayo.” Reply ni Bakla 2.

“Pramis.”

“Echosera.”

“Kung na-miss mo ako bakit hindi mo sinasagot yung mga text messages koh?”

“Hon, bhishi ako. Plish understand.”

“Ewan ko sayo. Bakit ako hindi ba ako busy? Eh mas busy nga ako sa yo eh.”

“Eh hon, magaling kang mag-multi task eh.”

“Ay sus, may nalalaman kang ganyan.”

“Ang mga bakla talaga mahilig sa revivals,” sabi niya sa sarili. “Nagoyo na minsan ayaw pa ring madala.”

Biglang may nag-Too-toot. Too-toot.

Aba may nagtext. Ka-date niya.

“Sori Im late. Wer u?”

Punyeta!

Gusto niyang ibato ang cellfone at magmumura sa loob ng bar pero whiz niya type ang magpaka-lucrecia sa isang bayot na tangengot sa oras. Plus, beinte mil pa ang bili niya sa fone niya na binabayaran pa niya kay Tita Josie. Sa isang monument, naisip niya, baka siya na nga ang iniintay niya. Latecomer nga lang. Pero on second thought, ‘di rin. “Punyeta sha.”

Sinuksok na lang niya ang kanyang fone sa bulsa at nag-hope na may isang cutie na lumapit sa kanya na of course hindi naman nangyari. Pero miracle of miracles. Nagsalang ang DJ ng kanyang paboritong Kylie Minogue song at kahit na bad trip ang gabi at Luz Valdez ang bakla, nag-astang Winnie Monsod siya at nagsimulang sumayaw. Sumayaw siya ng sumayaw hanggang ang buong kwarto ay umikot at ang mga tao dito ay nagmukhang mga planets sa Solar System at siya ang kanilang Sun.

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