adventures in neverland

"the road to fame (and fortune) is paved with shame. and lots of whoring!" -- mahatma gandah. last night, as i was browsing through the unbelievably fabulous photos of the homes of the rich and famous, i was wondering how  come these people, some of them are not even as talented and as brainy as moi, accumulated so much money to afford their hedonistic lifestyles that even marie (let them eat banana cake) antoinette would surely envy, enough to turn her pale, pale skin to green. i want to be them. not in my next lifetime, but now! %%%%%%%% anyway, as my insomnia attack worsened, i thought of clever ways to attract fame. and in the process, fortune. don't they always go together? as any media savvy would tell you, under our contemporary crassy culture, the road to fame is paved with shame. therefore i need a scandal or two to propel me to.......stardom(?)! but at forty five, with receding and greying hairline, bulging belly and crea

what do you know? while we are all loving (or cursing) the scorching summer, a new gorgeous boy flew in to town not so unnoticed, mind you, to set stomachs aflutter, steal our picky  hearts,  and reduce all of us, fabulous members of the pink community, into a chorus of swooning teen-age girls who have just escaped the clutches of the overly strict catholic convent somewhere in the east of paris. his name? jeff langan. a veteran model at twenty one who had been shot by famous lensman for the fabulous set bruce webber for an ad for that sexy clothing brand a&f.  jeff breezed into town to get acquainted with the culture of the other half of his parents (ok. i'll make it simpler, he is half-filipino. i am guessing it's his mother who is from the philippines. the blogsphere is quite vague on this important piece of information. it's like giving us a gdp growth figure without saying from which period it is). according to the bench website (he has just been anointed by

"after many a summer, dies the swan." -- aldous huxley. to the one who got away: first of all, i want to make it clear. i am not mad at you. nor do i feel bad about anything that you have or have not done for me. you'll always be a friend. in fact, i am writing this with nothing but joy in my heart knowing that i am setting you free. yes, i am setting you free. i get the feeling that you have outgrown me and you just don't have the heart to say it. i am therefore making this decision for both of us. let me apologize if i have not always been a good friend to you. for sometimes failing to appreciate you. i know i am not a good person, and a good friend. let me thank you then for being a friend. for being kind, thoughtful, nice, and always (well, almost always) hearing me out and understanding the complicated me. more complicated than you are. having said that, i really thought that you'll always be there for me. especially at those times when i was

paul woke up with an unbearable headache and found the whole country in grief. it was two in the afternoon and the room was bursting with the summer sun that penetrated through the glass sliding doors that led to the terrrace. he forgot to shut the blinds last night before he went to sleep. he felt sticky and hot. he was bathed in sweat. for a while, it hurt to open his still drowsy eyes. with his eyes shut, he groped for the strings on the side of the door and closed the blinds. with his eyes now opened and the room enveloped in the darkness, he found the tv's remote control underneath the pillow and opened the cold, black, fifty-inch gadget mounted on the wall. the room was now sparkling with the lights and vibrant colours emanating from the television. then he headed to the bathroom to wash his face and look for medicines for his headache and hang over. before he could even wash his face and swallow panadols to ease the paralyzing pain on his he