adventures in neverland

last friday, while the rain purred and poured heavily like an angry and sex-hungry cat, rich jetsetting friend and benefactor (patron) decided that we should just stay at the nearby hotel rather than be stuck in manille's infamous traffic. i said yes right away since i haven't been to that hotel for a few years now. it's not one of my favourites, and it's usually out of my radar (i need a visa to get to this place). surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, not much has changed in the lobby's interiors and decor. the arrangement of the comfortable sofas and tables are still the same. fresh flowers artfully arranged on a huge center table, and on every smaller coffee tables. there's still a huge glass wall at the far end of the lobby that will give you a sweeping view of the swimming pool and the lovely garden outside. that night, even if it was raining, there were a few children playing on the pool, followed by their uniformed maids with umbrellas and towels.

it was a forlorn sunday afternoon. there was a slight of a rain and the sky was a gloomy grey. most of the bars and restaurants along the hilly part of the city were shut. except for this one, although some sections of it were also closed, with the chairs neatly stacked on top of the tables. luckily, the stalls (read: tall stools) lined up in the bar were available and that was where i sat. i conversed jovially with the filipino bartender about the political situation in manila, unmindful of the depressing weather. i tried so hard to shake off the sadness and homesickness that usually enveloped me every time it rained in the former british colony by talking about home. at that time, the only son of president corazon aquino and senator benigno aquino jr., who was assassinated at the country's only international airport in august nineteen eighty three just as he was getting off the plane from the united states, was in a dilemma: whether to give in to the clamour for him to r

hey hottie you think you're so hawt the way you strut just because you have   sick-pack abs? a hair style straight from the old f-four band the epitome of all things "bakya?" you keep on saying: "that's so gay!" every time a handsome young man approaches our table to shake my hand or "i am not gay" when i tried holding your hand under the table, of course. but when you finished downing two glasses of cosmopolitan you kissed my lips not just once, or twice, or thrice to the delight of everyone in the club. "i am not gay, hey!" you shouted when i tried touching your face with my trembling hands yet you keep on touching my thighs and admiring their firmness then later at night you can't help but touch and clutch the enormous thing in between those thighs. you think you're smart and well-read just because you have an opinion about kris aquino's love life and how she only falls in love with the wrong men because deep inside

i am a bitch, err, i mean a beach person. but sometimes, i long for the different kind of peace and cold air that the mountains and trees can offer. i remember when i was a little boy, i and my friends used to hike the mountain right next to the military camp where i grew up. there, we would lie on the grass and look at the blue and white sky that seemed so close that we could almost touch it. then dream. it was a lovely place for peeking into the future. when i was living in hong kong, i and a friend would hike up to the victoria peak, a good one and a half hour (sometimes two when we were both feeling so sluggish) climb from my flat. we would pass hilly roads made of concrete, of course, tall apartment buildings, rows of trees. when tired, we would rest for a few minutes to catch our breath, and then resume our walk. sometimes it was just the two of us under the sheltering trees, sometimes there would be a number of hikers just like us, sweaty, exhausted, but determined to re

two things lured me to watch k'na, the dreamweaver. its beautifully shot and colourful poster (luckily, i was able to buy one at the ccp lobby) and mara lopez, who plays k'na, a t'boli princess. but more mara really. the daughter of former beauty queen turned actress, the feisty but lovable ma. isabel lopez, mara has proven to be one of the country's boldest (in terms of choices of roles and movies that she was in) and versatile young actresses around that made her not only interesting to watch, but endearing as well. too, she registers so beautifully on the big screen. k'na is a folklore or a local tale, much like ang kwento ni mabuti that also starred mara and superstar nora aunor. mara plays k'na, a t'boli princess who is not only an expert weaver of colourful fabrics, a skill that she learned from her ancestors, with intricate designs that the people belonging to the ethnic group use as clothes, bags, wall decorations, but also a peacemaker. (by

for the first time in her five decades or more as an actress, nora aunor, the most talented and amply awarded living filipino actress, played against type. in hustisya (an entry to this year's cinemalaya film festival), the superstar is not your usual underdog who is a victim of oppression or injustice or circumstances. for a change, we are given a nora who is capable of doing the most vicious crime there is (human trafficking, corrupting a priest, bribing government officials), who will fight for her rightful place in the sun even if it means killing somebody. my most favourite scene in the movie is the one towards the end: showing the bejeweled and well-dressed nora aunor laughing out loud, as though telling everyone, including the government who refused to give her the national artist award that she truly deserves, to go fuck themselves. pardon the french, please. for that scene alone, she rightfully deserves the festival's best actress trophy. if you think that you

over an hour before the screening of nora aunor's latest film -- hustisya (justice) -- at the cultural center of the philippines, a long queue was already formed at the side of tanghalang aurelio tolentino theatre, the biggest in the complex. the film was one of the entries to the directors' showcase of this year's cinemalaya , which is also the tenth year of the festival for independent films. ahead of me in the line was a mother and her teenage daughter. the mother, in her early forty's, was posing in front of the movie's poster, as her daughter took some photos. after a few more shots, with the mother asking her daughter to show to her the shots and when she didn't like it, she would ask her to take some more photos, the photo shoot was over. when the daughter was standing in front of me, i smiled at her. she smiled back, bit shyly. her mother smiled at me too. there was already a camaraderie among us fans even if we haven't officially met. that

when the broker, a middle-aged chinese lady, showed me a tiny two-bedroom flat (at the second floor of windsor court) along castle road that was renting for ten thousand hong kong dollars (that was eventually lowered by one thousand hk dollars), i fell in love with it right away, even if it was located on top of  a hill. because it was quite far from the bars, restaurants and malls, it was quiet, except for the occasional horns from cars, the screeching of tires and the sound of fighting cats that were in heat at night and looking for their sexual partners. having said that, it was still walking distance (a good twenty to thirty minutes) to and from the office (the thomson office at landmark), as well as from several nice shopping malls particularly ifc, where the train that links the city to the airport is located. even if it was a bit pricey, i took the flat. as i mentioned before, i preferred to stay at a place that was walking distance from where i worked. the fl