adventures in neverland

there was this poignant scene in that 90s postcard to the youth (the so called generation x) film - reality bites - where winona ryder (who graduated on top of her class) was asked to define irony during a job interview. and for all her academic brilliance, she simply can't define it. what made the scene even more ironic is that later on, when she asked ethan hawke, the slacker in their group, he gave her its definition without losing a sweat. (it goes something lyk this): the use of words to express something different from and often opposite to their literal meaning. i was reminded by this because in the past few months, nay years, my life has been a constant tidal wave of ironies (is there a plural for this one? sorry to the grammar police out there). if i were an island, i would have sank (or is it sunk) by now. or maybe i am just full of contradictions - typical for someone who does not know what he wants, only what he does not want. thus, my lyf has been, was

lady luck has taken a shine on paulo (or paolo) avelino. after being elevated as the country's hottest heartthrob and dethroning quite a few not so hunky at the benchfeast, his talent has now officially been recognized by the prestigious gawad urian, one of the few credible award giving bodies in the local filmdom. he won best actor for his role as a student infatuated with his professor in ang sayaw ng dalawang kaliwang paa.  i caught this gorgeous film when it was shown at a local festival in makati and i was simply awed (or simply whelmed. haha.) paulo was really good in the movie. very natural. convincing. and i fell in luv with his character. (jean garcia deserves her win as well). oh well. if you haven't seen the film, look for its dvd copy. you won't regret it. for once, you must elevate your taste for movies. chos! ****** here is hoping that despite his big win, paolo will continue to remain sexy on and off the big screen. after all, this is w

hong kong nyt lyf never ceases to surprise me. or amaze me. (i know, i know, i sound lyk a hallmark card. cheesy.) last nyt, for instance, i was seated in a bar with a group of friends when this hunky lad sat beside me. his friends said he was drunk and wanted to rest. i let him. since it was a very small lounge chair (good for two, but i was fat, so it was more lyk a one-and-a-half seater), we were seated very very dangerously close. i could feel the heat emanating from his young body. his right arm was stretched on the back of the sofa, touching my beautiful shoulders (eto na lang maganda sa akin. chos).  in a few seconds, he was asleep. my friends did not mind us. they were busy with their own business. one of his friends introduced himself. he said his name was france (because he is from france), while his friend who was sleeping beside me was allen. (i first thought he said alien. we laughed at this). i looked at allen - he looks lyk the young tom cruise, with prominent

(i wish somebody wrote these lines for me; or i wish i wrote them for someone else. they are so romantic, i wanted to cry. chos!) sabi mo walang tinig ang pag-ibig nakahimlay sa kailaliman umuusok sa ibabang alon nilalakbay ko ang katawan mo buwan akong umiikot sa iyong sinko nilolokob kita hanggang panaginip nilalagok ang iyong tinig natitikman ko hanggng buto hamahagod sa ligamgam ng iyong hininga humihimlay sa iyong mga halik hanggang alaalay mapaknit at sa puso koy sumagi (my apologies to the author of this gorgeous poetry.)

(for jojo. who says he always reads this blog. chos!) when all has been said and done (so cliche no?). when all the tears have been shed. credit cards have been paid. ugly memories have been thrown away. when all his pictures have been discarded. when  you have unfriended him on facebook and deleted his mobile number on your iphone. we begin to realize that to love someone truly is simply to lose yourself in another person. you try to lyk and luv (if not, just appreciate) the food, music, drugs, beer, wine, books, clothes, shoes, shows, celebrities, people, events, places, among others, that he is into. (in turn, you also learn to hate, dislyk everything that does not appeal to his senses.) before you know it, you share the same thoughts, you understand each other without saying a word. then all of a sudden you are no longer you. so that when the relationship is gone, you are left with nothing but the shell of your former self. then the process of unlearning, unlyking, unlu

typical of his generation, he writes to impress. not to express. he uses big words. drops philosophical ideas without bothering to explain. elaborate. or give any background about them. this is not writing. it's name dropping or brand whoring. it's more like trying to impress a lover, who doesn't return the affection. writing should be simple. clear. direct to the point. superfluous it's not. call me old school, but that's writing for me. (ps: photo above is not mine. it was taken from a web site. no copyright infringement intended. please inform the blogger if you want it taken out. thank you.)

i have a fascinating (an understatement, mind you) day today, which can be summarized into this: spirituality, extraterrestrials and the forces that keep us from moving on with our lives. ******** i woke up quite early to meet a friend whom i haven't seen for quite a long time for coffee at greenbelt three. still sleepy (i had a late night last night as usual) and hung over, i managed to take a very cold shower, put on my favourite weekend outfit (shorts, shirts, jacket because it might rain again and comfy shoes) and stepped out of the old, creaky building. outside, it was windy and the streets were still wet from the rains the previous night. it was a pretty quiet morning, without the usual crowd of office workers, businessmen, hawkers and policemen. makati on weekends is a ghost town. abandoned, the tall buildings stood still like unwanted luvers. i wanted to walk,  god knows i need to exercise (i feel bloated from all the late night eating and drinking).  but

what's a reunion among the gay squad without talking about the boys (past or present)? while sipping coffee at four in the morning at a posh coffee shop inside the venetian, the topic shifted towards luv from fashion, food, politics, pacquiao. specifically, the one we can't forget. or as a puts it, the one who got away. blame it on the caffeine, or the time of the night (witching hour), or the fact that we haven't slept yet, but we all turned sentimental. all of a sudden. it's like a witch has cast a dark spell and we all turned gloomy. a said she can't forget g. the one who offered his body to her, but she turned him down because she was in luv with him. in a voice so soft, as if she was about to cry herself, q asked her why. without batting an eyelash, or brushing her long hair using her fingers, a answered: "nirespeto ko sya eh," said a, tears nearly falling down from her cheek down to her expensive latte. "pag mahal mo, syempre busilak

for the past few weeks, i have been seeing this movie poster every morning on my way to the office. it's like posted in every bus station, like the images of christ on the station of the cross. i was drawn to the guy on the picture (but of course). he looked simply sexy and boyish. a lethal combination. at least in my book. i have known quite a few guys with this combination and i tell you (without sounding lyk kissing and telling) that they are simply the best. that's all i am going to say. chos! obviously, since i am at the age when i am no longer that curious about movie stars (heck, i don't even know who are the current hot stars in manille. after piolo pascual and claudine barretto, i lost track of philippine showbiz. chos), i have no idea who this cute guy is in the poster. so i googled (the only time when this site is useful to me) "first time" and saw his name. mark chao.. he is a famous taiwanese heartthrob pala. why are the taiwa

life's twists and turns. i've been here before.  i should have not. but this is where i found myself after a moment of weakness. there are no lessons learned. each situation, each problem, each test is unique on its own. nothing can prepare you for anything. even prayers. the best thing to do is just accept that it happened, then move on. indeed we can never be free. i am tired, and i am not making any sense. i wish i were a vampire, then i could just sleep for a hundred years and then wake up to a new world, new generation, new set of people. ah, where is lestat when you need him most?

the rain was relentless like a virgin longing for his first kiss under the green lush tree one stormy summer day.. if the rain should fade and we don't have to brave the angry winds and unforgiving nymphs tell me, will you? can you? do you? are you? the bottle is empty the music is mushy my eyes are sleepy my fingers are dreamy i am still here will i? can i? do? am i? or......................                                      can we?

last nyt i witnessed one of the most romantic scenes i have ever seen. sadly, i wasn't in it.  as usual. i maybe the most romantic person on earth, but romance is allergic to me. the feeling is mutual. a few tables away from me was a couple -- in their fifty's -- dancing joyfully to every song by the filipino band. the woman looked splendid in a black, but not so tiny, dress. one shoulder was bare. the length was just enough to show a little of her well shaped legs. she has long, curly hair that swayed to  the beat as well. she was beautiful, asian. the man was wearing a grey suit, a westerner. they were both trim, firm and graceful dancers. after a few songs, the man approached one of the guitarists on the stage and whispered something on his ear. my guess was right, he asked him to play a love song, the theme song from one of julia roberts films (i forgot the title, but she was paired with hugh grant. julia played a superstar in the film, hugh grant was a bookstore own

after six months of living again inside the constricting white walls, blue carpeted floors of the castle, the princess is getting restless. suffocated. she misses her life in the jungle, where she was free to do what ever she wanted. she could wake up late in the day to the sound of the humming birds, swim naked in the river after doing the laundry, gather some food, cook them and wait for her wandering princeling to come home, drenched in her favorite perfume: his sweat. when he comes home, princess will ask him cheerfully (she is always filled with joy to see him) "how's your day?",  while helping him take his sullied clothes off. then princeling will tell him happily how he spent the day running around the jungle with tigers and lions, hunting wild deers with monkeys, while she was playing with his sword. the princeling always comes back home with fresh meat that they could share for three months or so. princess used to be a vegetarian (at the palace,