Monday, February 28


Love, love

You make me feel like a sticky pistil...
leading into a stamen
You make me feel like a mister sunshine...
You make me feel like splendor in the grass...
while we're rollin'...
Dance with me baby
You make me feel like the Amazon's runnin' between...
my thighs


You make me feel love, love, love, love, love
love, love, love, love, love
You make me feel love, love, love, love, love
love, love, love, love

You make me feel like a candy apple
Red and horny
You make me feel like I wanna be a dumb blonde
In a centerfold, the girl next door
And I would open the door and...
I'd be all wet
With my tits soaking through this tiny little t-shirt...
That I'm wearing
And you would open the door and tie...
Me up to the bed


Lover, I don't know who I am
Am I Barry White? Am I Isis?
Lover, I'm laced with your unconscious
Oh baby babe babe baby
I will be your Desdemona ahhhhh...

Take your time...

You make me feel Ahaa
You make me feel WooWoo baby
You make me feel Ahaa mmm
You make me feel loved

Thursday, February 24

Road to Dead

Back in college, some of my friends used to talk about a particular professor who often cried in class. As she talked about how our country has been governed over the years and how she has participated in many government fact-finding commissions with their recommendations remaining as just that - recommendations - she'd stop for a second or two and continue with her lecture, teary-eyed and frustrated.

Last night, I knew how she felt.

Watching the news and seeing how difficult it was for our officials to evacuate our overseas workers from Libya, I felt that same frustration. How bureaucratic can you get when there's imminent danger to lives? And the gravity of the Filipino diaspora suddenly dawned on me, of how we need to leave our families and loved ones just so we could provide them with a better, more financially secure life. That's when I started to cry.

The previous day, I sat in a meeting with one of our public partners and she lamented the lack of direction they've been receiving thus far. Apparently, the "matuwid na daan" was just that: matuwid albeit with nowhere to go. And it doesn't exactly help when your President promised to be different from previous administrations, that he'd be responsive and would listen to us, his "boss," then buys himself a Porsche and test-drives it through the SCTEX in the wee hours of the night. How insensitive can you get? And how selective this "matuwid" but directionless "na daan" is is becoming more apparent as this administration fumbles through one gaffe to another.

Good intentions.
Depth of character.
Depth of thinking.
Life experiences.
Unfulfilled promises.
Lip service.

They say that waiting is a sacrament and that the fruits of change will blossom in a year or two. But then how could there be fruits when to this date, no seeds have been sown? Romanticizing this whole business of a "matuwid na daan" has been the biggest frustration. And when the hard realities of incompetence knocks at the very door of lives, it is high time to re-examine the leadership we've been getting.

Amidst the EDSA songs playing in the background as I write this, one can only hope... and then act some more.

Friday, February 18

How do you know when your heart cries?

When the pounding in your chest finds its way to your eyes and the blank stares that you give betray the somber space of your soul.

Tuesday, February 15

Finding Strength

My sister's high school friend walked from the Philippine Heart Center to their house in Mandaluyong because he had no money... his family had no money. His mom was fighting for her life at the hospital. A few days later, after reports of a seeming recovery, the kid's mom passed away. That fateful morning, I was walking along Makati Avenue on my way to work. A buzz from my phone saw a message from my sister: "Kuya, namatay na iyong nanay ng kaklase ko."

We were never the touchy-feely kind at home but at that point I replied: "Papunta ako office, naiyak naman ako dito sa daan."

And she replied: "Oo, ako nga rin naiyak."

Friday, February 4

Of Guns and Tanks and Moving Out

Two weeks, two phone calls, one former professor, one job.

He's been Assistant Secretary of the Defense Department for over a year now and he's building his office, among his key requirements is a policy analyst. Good news is that the Budget Department has approved his request for permanent posts, plantilla, as government jargon says.

At the back of my mind this spells pay cut for sure. It's the government and not much can be expected in spite of the newly introduced salary standardization. But then, admittedly, those phone calls had in themselves immense psychic rewards. No longer recommendatory but actual policy, he says. A level up from what we used to do a couple of years back. Lots of travels, he adds. But then would I really want to travel with military escorts at hand? In the few instances I did that before, I used to think of it as joining a moving target. Ambush anyone? But yeah, me and my girly self writing what the Defense Department should do? Ironic yet it definitely boosts my pride. One small step for me, one big leap for gayhood. It's like figuratively emasculating the defense establishment. Lol.

But seriously, it has been my dream to be sent to the Spratlys. I just might be able to do it this time.

Still, the question remains, to move out or not? If yes, then why there?

Wednesday, February 2


This is the same sadness I felt when I found myself floating in a pool, face up, staring at a sky half-afternoon, half-night. It was raining but the gray clouds allowed for some tiny lights to peep. Almost dinner, I thought. And from a distance I could hear the South China Sea crashing against a beach of pebbles. The coast was more of a reef really, a stretch of calcified corals whose puddles of water during low tide allowed one to "swim" in salt water. At the end of that stretch though was a deep drop. The fishermen and other locals warned us not to go near that border. Though we may be prudent enough not to jump that steep underwater cliff, the waves are not as forgiving. They pound and in a split second, they could sweep us off our feet and have us floating to the sea.

It was gloomy to say the least. But that gloom was a perfect fit to what I felt. And when you're sad and tired at the same time, emptiness creeps in. Twisted, yet that emptiness provided some solace. At that point, I felt a sense of peace.

I was at peace... floating in a pool, staring at a conflicted sky, gray clouds sending me wet kisses. I close my eyes, and sigh.