psychedelic dreams and the gorgeous angels that inspire them

not too long ago, i was floored by a question in a job interview: "so what have you been doing?" (presumably, the interviewer wanted to know how productive my days were while looking for a job.)

the question was rather unexpected (i was expecting a more difficult one like what can you say about the refusal of the european central bank to further ease monetary policy? i guess it's the simple ones that get us), all i could say was : "reading books."

that merited a hmm. and a few notes on his note pad. of course, i had no idea what he actually wrote. maybe, impressive? geek? a fool? stupid? or nothing at all. he was just trying to give an impression that he took his job seriously.

on my way to a  coffee shop to meet a friend after the interview, i was so mad at myself. i thought i sucked big time. well i really am not good at job interviews. or at taking exams. any kind of exams. i always thought: if you want to hire me, then just hire me. fire me afterwards if you think i failed to deliver what i promised for based on my cv. too, i am lazy when it comes to writing application letters and resumes. it is ironic then that i always find myself jobless in recent years more often than i should.

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anyway, it's three in the morning. i slept at around ten last night and woke up around two. i tried going back to sleep but it eluded me. i tried reading nineteen eighty four, watching a really bad indie film about a male prostitute and the gay man who is secretly in love with him, counted one to one thousand, and even cleaned up the kitchen, but to no avail.

i am sleepless.

so i thought of what's been going on in my life. but if you think that what will follow is some serious analysis about myself and my life so far, well you have not been paying attention. that's not what i am. like going through the employment process,  i also suck big time when it comes to self analysis. i failed psychology, by the way. and freud, i think, is a fraud.

don't you just think it's odd to think about life when you are trying so hard to fall asleep? hindi naman boring movie ang buhay ko ah (this last sentence spoken with a crisp british slash french accent).

i used to hate this. being awakened middle of the night because it's so hard to go back to sleep. in the process i end up depressed, agitated, angry. so many thoughts would cross my mind: former lovers who abused my generosity and whom i abused in return, boys who left me without some form of closure, editors who were psychotic with brains smaller than a pea but insisted they were geniuses, expensive things that i want to buy but i can't afford or i am too guilty to buy, places i want to visit but i can't because i am too scared to fly (a three hour flight already gives me a fright), delusional people who keep on hounding me like freddy krueger even in my sleep, gorgeous men who are as elusive as sleep.

you see it's always about boys: those gorgeous angels whose names and faces i can hardly recall.

enough said.

i am now off topic.

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where was i?

oh yes, what have i been doing while i was looking for that elusive dream job, which is turning into a nightmare judging from the length of time it's taking me to find one while my savings are going down, almost near the negative zone. afraid! (here is a question that's been bugging me these days: will my friend who owns my temporary shelter kick me out if i fail to pay my rent next month? what will i do? what else will she do? this is not a charity ward.)

so back to the original question: if i am not blogging, surfing, facebooking (clicking likes on posts. it's addictive by the way that i started doing it even on posts that are not supposed to be liked like funerals, death, sickness, bad hair day, lost wallet or iphones. i used to hate people who do this, but now it has become me. i guess it's true. the people we hate most are mirrors of ourselves. deep!), reading a book, walking around the ccp complex to breathe and sweat out the toxins, then i am meeting friends for lunch, coffee, dinner. or even to watch an indie film that is soooo bad as if it was done by kids at a malate bar or a basketball game (ginebra versus talk and text) at the far away araneta coliseum, home of the bb. pilipinas universe.

(i remember a famous fashion designer once invited me to watch the pageant at araneta in one of my reincarnations as a lifestyle journalist. i wanted to, but i had another appointment at that time. now i regret my decision not to go because come to think of it, at forty four, i haven't seen a beauty pageant live and i am supposed to be gay and fabulous!)?

anyway........

meeting friends is fun. you get to listen to their dramahs. listening to their stories is a welcome respite from my own dramahs. a welcome distraction, so to speak. it's like watching other people's movies because i can't stand my own film. movies and films, by the way, are interchangeable. some smart asses argue they mean different things. but i don't care. que se hoda!

speaking of dramahs, if joey gosiengfiao were alive today, i would seek this genius out so we can discuss my favourite movies that he directed, most of them starring his muse, ms alma moreno, the actress with the prettiest face to ever grace philippine cinema, the original tanga queen, the loveliness, the woman whose lovers had been snatched from her by wannabes. i can actually recall a few of alma's movies directed by joey at this ungodly hour of the day without alcohol or mj: nympha, the diary of christina gaston, the rape of virginia p., bomba star.

but my favourite joey gosiengfiao film will always be the ultra campy temptation island (sadly, alma was not in it). joey's taste by the way is way too sophisticated (and so ahead of his time) for the small minds of our local film critiques and cineastes, that is why he never once won any award, not even for best screenplay. (come to think of it, his muse alma was never recognized as an actress either. in my book, ness is just as good as an actress as nora, vilma, hilda and gina.)

(i saw ms. moreno once in malate -- cafe adriatico -- after a drinking spree. i knew it was not cool, but i kept staring at her face. she was so beautiful even without make up and at late at night. an ageless goddess. she was then with now manila vice mayor isko moreno, no relations i believe. alma moreno and isko moreno are not their real names. alma's vanessa lacsamana. i don't know about isko.)

now, that says a lot why geniuses like me (chos!) are more appreciated overseas or by companies owned by foreigners that are operating locally rather than in this country. is this the reason why i can't get a decent job with a respectable pay at home? i have been offered several lucrative jobs overseas, but i turned them down because i want to stay in manille for my mother (channeling pedro almodovar's all about my mother. didn't you notice that joey and pedro both have the same cinematic sensibilities? campy, gay and the plot is too ridiculous they are actually fun and realistic? like joey, pedro too has his resident muses on his movies: antonio banderas, penelope cruz, to name a few.)

quick! here are my favourite joey gosiengfiao lines:

- the name is pura. pura titiwang!
- you may kiss me if you like.
- rub a dub dub, two bitches in a tub.
- na shipwreck lang tayo, naging komunista ka na.
-maria, pakikuha ang iced tea ko sa kabilang bundok. bilis!

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so what have i learned from listening to my friends' woes? just this week i met two of them. one was mad about her temporary driver because the old man is not familiar with her usual route: her office in intramuros and her flat in makati. her permanent driver's on vacation and will be gone for a week. the other one who just arrived from abroad is complaining about the cruel heat in manille.

yes, my friends are actually fabulous. they are well travelled. cultured. their problems are different from us, ordinary mortals.

that makes me wonder how did we ever become friends?

the lesson: there is none. go read history books if you want a valuable lesson. this is trash. this is life.

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if you are wondering what's the point of this post, or where is the kicker? wonder no more. there is none. life does not have a point, so why do you expect this famous and award winning blog to have some? as for the one liner kicker, sorry dahlin! this is not a bloomberg or an iht (international herald tribune for the uninitiated, where some of my previous stories were once published) article.

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it's almost five now. soon, the cruel sun rays will penetrate my room. at last i am feeling sleepy. i have to catch it before it slips away. who knows, i might also catch the boy of my dreams while on it.

more gibberish next time when the muse awakens me again in the middle of the night and remind me that life, indeed, is pointless. that you are born helpless -- without giving you a choice of who your parents will be, family, country, gender, and most especially, your name.

so we have to make the most of it and make sure that everyday, we exercise our right to choose. even the manner in which we will die. have i told you already how i want to die, at what age, and what will my funeral be? i did. read my previous entries.

so choose, darling, choose! even if it's a poor choice, it doesn't matter. as long as you choose. (double chos.)

(ps: if you are wondering what happened to that job interview. i declined the job. i found out that the company is not at all that generous to their staff.)