His voice was deep, sexy. That’s what got me first. Then when he put on a pair of rimless eyeglasses to read what I wrote, he looked so nerdy-cute that I wanted to pinch his cheeks right there and then. Under better lighting, his skin looked softer and flawless.
“Text me your number later,” I said.
“Sure,” he replied. Then he smiled. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling back at him. He had one of the shyest, sweetest smiles I’ve ever seen.
He said he was going to the Jacuzzi area. “Enjoy,” I said to him. Then I went upstairs to the exit.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Break My Heart
One of my favorite Pet Shop Boys songs is a ditty with one of the longest titles. “Don’t Know What You Want But I Can’t Give It Anymore” is a break-up song that points at infidelity as the cause. I particularly like the song’s structure. It’s composed mostly of questions that hint at the dynamics of a relationship on the verge of a nervous break-up. When the partners can’t agree on basic principles, it’s time to rethink the obvious.
Did you get what you want?
Do you know what it is?
Do you care?
Is he better than me?
Was it your place or his?
Who was there?
Did you think it was wrong?
Do you find that it’s worse than it was?
Has it gone on too long?
Do you mind that it hurts me? Because…
You’re breaking my heart.
I don’t know what you want but I can’t give it any more
I don’t know what you want but I can’t give it any more
You’re breaking my heart
Was it cracking the code
or just filling in time?
Was that all?
So then why’d you go back
to the scene of the crime?
Did he call?
Shall I take the blame
or another assault on how it was?
Then we’ll get to the fact
that it’s always my fault, just because…
You’re breaking my heart.
I don’t know what you want but I can’t give it any more
I don’t know what you want but I can’t give it any more
You’re breaking my heart
Don’t know what you want…
Don’t know what you want…
Did you get what you want?
Do you know what it is?
Do you care?
Is he better than me?
Was it your place or his?
Who was there?
Did you think it was wrong?
Do you find that it’s worse than it was?
Has it gone on too long?
Do you mind that it hurts me? Because…
You’re breaking my heart.
I don’t know what you want but I can’t give it any more
I don’t know what you want but I can’t give it any more
You’re breaking my heart
Was it cracking the code
or just filling in time?
Was that all?
So then why’d you go back
to the scene of the crime?
Did he call?
Shall I take the blame
or another assault on how it was?
Then we’ll get to the fact
that it’s always my fault, just because…
You’re breaking my heart.
I don’t know what you want but I can’t give it any more
I don’t know what you want but I can’t give it any more
You’re breaking my heart
Don’t know what you want…
Don’t know what you want…
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Surprise!
What’s wrong with this picture?
Or this picture?
These were taken between 7:15 and 7:20 this morning along EDSA. It’s just a Thursday, so what the fuck’s happening? Have classes ended? Are most schools closed for summer vacation already?
Driving to work this morning was weird but in a good way, like settling for the runt of the litter of masahistas in a massage parlor, only to discover he is hung like a horse. And I mean the Trojan horse.
Or this picture?
These were taken between 7:15 and 7:20 this morning along EDSA. It’s just a Thursday, so what the fuck’s happening? Have classes ended? Are most schools closed for summer vacation already?
Driving to work this morning was weird but in a good way, like settling for the runt of the litter of masahistas in a massage parlor, only to discover he is hung like a horse. And I mean the Trojan horse.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Just The FAQs, Ma’am
“So when did you know you are gay?”
Growing up I sensed I was different because, even during grade school, I enjoyed looking at the muscular figures of Superman and Batman—the more realistic and muscular the drawing, the longer I looked. I especially liked how they wore their underwear on the outside and wished they were skimpier. But Green Lantern and Flash were sexier: Look Ma, no underwear!
During that time I also discovered that if I wear tight underwear, it gave me a tingly feeling down there. And if I slipped the sides of my briefs in between the crack of my ass like a thong, I could pull up my briefs even more for a tighter fit. Of course the cloth hitting my ass felt so sexy.
During grade school I joined the theater club, and we had to mingle with the girls from St. Bridget’s and Maryknoll. (You know someone’s old when he uses “Maryknoll” instead of “Miriam.”) I had to “force” myself to have a crush on one of the girls simply because everyone else had a crush. I also found myself stealing glances at all the cute guys with big bodies when they were changing into or out of their costumes. Thank god our director was gay and insisted that all of his plays should have boys wearing leotards. While waiting for my parents to pick me up after school, I would research about “homosexuality” in the library. All the books said that everyone goes through a homosexual stage.
By high school I had my first serious crush. By college I had my second and longest-running crush (I got over him only after he got married and moved to the States). By fourth year I told myself, “This is going on much too long to just be a ‘stage’ so maybe I’m gay.” But I only came out to my (second and longest) crush; it was both a coming-out and an admission that I had a crush on him. That wrecked our friendship; it never recovered after that. But I continued to hope against hope for years after; that’s how stupid I was.
So when did I admit to myself? Sometime in college. But I only started coming out to other people outside of friends when I was in my second job back in the very early 90s.
Are you top, bottom or versatile?
I used to be totally top until I read somewhere about bisexuals having twice more chances of getting a date on a Saturday night, so I became a top-but-versatile-wannabe because my first two forays into bottoming for someone was a painful reminder that relaxation and lubrication are musts before the thrusts. But then in recent months I’ve noticed that in bathhouses there seem to be more and more who refuse to bottom. I also hear more guys say stuff like, “Biruin mo, ang laking tao niya pero bottom pala!” with such a condescending tone. And in Bed they flash on the screen: Bottoms rule! So now while I’ve not yet changed my stated preferred role in my G4M profile I’m beginning to seriously rethink my views on bottoming.
I think those who look down on bottoms because they equate it to a female role should be slapped silly by RuPaul. I particularly find it offensive that they equate any “feminine” trait as “weak.” Hello, have you guys heard of gender equality? Bottoming should be seen as a gay act, period.
What’s the name of the spa mentioned in the “Mandy and More” episode?
Let’s play Hangman… sort of. Fill in the blanks: C _ _ _ L _ _ _ s _ _ _ e. It’s in QC. It’s a legit spa, so I refuse to name it outright here.
But don’t you want to have a family, have children in the future?
Having a child, let alone children, is a huge responsibility that will last you a lifetime. Because I take my responsibilities seriously, I seriously don’t want to take on this particular responsibility. Seriously, what for?
So how come you’re still single?
I’ve asked that myself for so long, I’ve stopped. But others still do the asking. So I say, Do you think I have a choice?
But if I really ask myself, Do I want to have a boyfriend? then my answer is this. Actually, yes. Of course, yes na yes naman, noh! After all, I’ve never had a boyfriend. Ever. So yes, I would like to personally experience what it is that a million others have gone gaga over. I would like to personally experience that which inspired a million songs, fueled the industries of motels, greeting cards and flowers arrangements, and caused a billion babies to be born. Okay, so we can skip the part about the babies.
But having admitted that to myself, I realize that while I want to have a boyfriend, I may not be ready to have one. Or maybe I just keep falling for those “unattainable” ones. Why? Cuz it’s easier to fail before a relationship happens versus failing while in a relationship. Gets mo?
Anyway, maybe the answer to the question “So how come you’re still single?” is simply “Because I’m still fucked up.”
So how come you’ve never had a boyfriend ever?
At first it was because I always fell for straight guys, hoping against hope that I can turn them over “to the Dark Side of the Force.” Then it was because I kept falling for the ones already taken, and I feared the wrath of karma if I turned home-wreaker. Nowadays it’s fear of failure.
Sigh.
I’m fucked.
Hahaha.
Really? You’re 41 years old? You look younger!
My stock answer these days: “Yes, I know.”
Growing up I sensed I was different because, even during grade school, I enjoyed looking at the muscular figures of Superman and Batman—the more realistic and muscular the drawing, the longer I looked. I especially liked how they wore their underwear on the outside and wished they were skimpier. But Green Lantern and Flash were sexier: Look Ma, no underwear!
During that time I also discovered that if I wear tight underwear, it gave me a tingly feeling down there. And if I slipped the sides of my briefs in between the crack of my ass like a thong, I could pull up my briefs even more for a tighter fit. Of course the cloth hitting my ass felt so sexy.
During grade school I joined the theater club, and we had to mingle with the girls from St. Bridget’s and Maryknoll. (You know someone’s old when he uses “Maryknoll” instead of “Miriam.”) I had to “force” myself to have a crush on one of the girls simply because everyone else had a crush. I also found myself stealing glances at all the cute guys with big bodies when they were changing into or out of their costumes. Thank god our director was gay and insisted that all of his plays should have boys wearing leotards. While waiting for my parents to pick me up after school, I would research about “homosexuality” in the library. All the books said that everyone goes through a homosexual stage.
By high school I had my first serious crush. By college I had my second and longest-running crush (I got over him only after he got married and moved to the States). By fourth year I told myself, “This is going on much too long to just be a ‘stage’ so maybe I’m gay.” But I only came out to my (second and longest) crush; it was both a coming-out and an admission that I had a crush on him. That wrecked our friendship; it never recovered after that. But I continued to hope against hope for years after; that’s how stupid I was.
So when did I admit to myself? Sometime in college. But I only started coming out to other people outside of friends when I was in my second job back in the very early 90s.
Are you top, bottom or versatile?
I used to be totally top until I read somewhere about bisexuals having twice more chances of getting a date on a Saturday night, so I became a top-but-versatile-wannabe because my first two forays into bottoming for someone was a painful reminder that relaxation and lubrication are musts before the thrusts. But then in recent months I’ve noticed that in bathhouses there seem to be more and more who refuse to bottom. I also hear more guys say stuff like, “Biruin mo, ang laking tao niya pero bottom pala!” with such a condescending tone. And in Bed they flash on the screen: Bottoms rule! So now while I’ve not yet changed my stated preferred role in my G4M profile I’m beginning to seriously rethink my views on bottoming.
I think those who look down on bottoms because they equate it to a female role should be slapped silly by RuPaul. I particularly find it offensive that they equate any “feminine” trait as “weak.” Hello, have you guys heard of gender equality? Bottoming should be seen as a gay act, period.
What’s the name of the spa mentioned in the “Mandy and More” episode?
Let’s play Hangman… sort of. Fill in the blanks: C _ _ _ L _ _ _ s _ _ _ e. It’s in QC. It’s a legit spa, so I refuse to name it outright here.
But don’t you want to have a family, have children in the future?
Having a child, let alone children, is a huge responsibility that will last you a lifetime. Because I take my responsibilities seriously, I seriously don’t want to take on this particular responsibility. Seriously, what for?
So how come you’re still single?
I’ve asked that myself for so long, I’ve stopped. But others still do the asking. So I say, Do you think I have a choice?
But if I really ask myself, Do I want to have a boyfriend? then my answer is this. Actually, yes. Of course, yes na yes naman, noh! After all, I’ve never had a boyfriend. Ever. So yes, I would like to personally experience what it is that a million others have gone gaga over. I would like to personally experience that which inspired a million songs, fueled the industries of motels, greeting cards and flowers arrangements, and caused a billion babies to be born. Okay, so we can skip the part about the babies.
But having admitted that to myself, I realize that while I want to have a boyfriend, I may not be ready to have one. Or maybe I just keep falling for those “unattainable” ones. Why? Cuz it’s easier to fail before a relationship happens versus failing while in a relationship. Gets mo?
Anyway, maybe the answer to the question “So how come you’re still single?” is simply “Because I’m still fucked up.”
So how come you’ve never had a boyfriend ever?
At first it was because I always fell for straight guys, hoping against hope that I can turn them over “to the Dark Side of the Force.” Then it was because I kept falling for the ones already taken, and I feared the wrath of karma if I turned home-wreaker. Nowadays it’s fear of failure.
Sigh.
I’m fucked.
Hahaha.
Really? You’re 41 years old? You look younger!
My stock answer these days: “Yes, I know.”
New Guy
Whew! With the arrival of summer (nampucha, ang iniiiiiiiiiit!) comes more work, and I’ve been so busy which explains why the show was quiet the past few days.
However.
There is a new guy in our team at the office. He’s tall, mestizohin, and fairly well-built. He has a body that looks like he works out at home, not in a gym; definitely not the gym bunny type. He’s not typically handsome, but because in our team there are only three straight guys (plus two gay guys and two, uhm, unclassifiables) versus more than ten girls, he’s now the Flavor of the Month. As in! The girls are all a-buzz. And I must admit I’m getting more curious about him because, well, everyone is! Talk about peer pressure. Oh well. At least something, er, someone new to break the office monotony.
However.
There is a new guy in our team at the office. He’s tall, mestizohin, and fairly well-built. He has a body that looks like he works out at home, not in a gym; definitely not the gym bunny type. He’s not typically handsome, but because in our team there are only three straight guys (plus two gay guys and two, uhm, unclassifiables) versus more than ten girls, he’s now the Flavor of the Month. As in! The girls are all a-buzz. And I must admit I’m getting more curious about him because, well, everyone is! Talk about peer pressure. Oh well. At least something, er, someone new to break the office monotony.
Pinoy Gay Bloggers Unite!
If you’re:
[1] Pinoy
[2] gay; and
[3] you have a blog (or Livejournal or any other similar chenez) and constantly update your blog (‘wag naman sana yung last entry mo ay last Dec. 15, 2005 pa na ang title ay, “Hayyy Pasko!!”)
then JOIN Pinoy Gay Blogs! Be part of the glitterati of the Pinoy blogsphere!
How to join: Go to McLinks. Click on “Pinoy Gay Blogs.” Follow the instructions. It’s that easy! Be counted. Be glittering. Be-youtiful!
[1] Pinoy
[2] gay; and
[3] you have a blog (or Livejournal or any other similar chenez) and constantly update your blog (‘wag naman sana yung last entry mo ay last Dec. 15, 2005 pa na ang title ay, “Hayyy Pasko!!”)
then JOIN Pinoy Gay Blogs! Be part of the glitterati of the Pinoy blogsphere!
How to join: Go to McLinks. Click on “Pinoy Gay Blogs.” Follow the instructions. It’s that easy! Be counted. Be glittering. Be-youtiful!
Monday, March 26, 2007
Haylavhet!
This is the TV commercial for H&M featuring Madonna. While she still cannot add “actress” to her various hyphenates (singer-songwriter-dancer-producer-Kabbalist-adopter-whatever), she—and the whole TV spot—is just so hilariously dead-on. It’s Project Runway meets America’s Next Top Model meets The Devil Wears Prad—er, H&M.
My favorite moments?
Madonna: “What are we going to do with it?”
Faux-Euro designer: “Leaf it to ahhssssssssssssssssss…”
Madonna: [slaps him]
Faux-Euro designer: “I lahv you!”
And
Madonna: “You made it.”
Faux-Euro designer: “No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no, you made it!”
Madonna: [almost falls, then kicks away designer]
And the soundtrack is freakin’ bitchin’! Definitely Madonna still has “it.”
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Dialogue
Leigh and I were having dinner at the al fresco area of Greenbelt 3. For some reason the area was full of people, like it was a weekend.
Leigh: Look! Is that a gay couple?
Me: (turns around to look) Yup, I think so.
A few minutes later…
Leigh: Oh, another gay couple!
Me: Uh-huh.
As we were finishing our meal…
Leigh: There seems to be many gay couples out tonight.
Me: Leigh, this is Greenbelt. They feel safe here.
While smoking cigarettes after dinner…
Me: Oh, another gay couple. (slight pause) Damn them all.
Leigh: And that’s the quote for tonight!
Leigh: Look! Is that a gay couple?
Me: (turns around to look) Yup, I think so.
A few minutes later…
Leigh: Oh, another gay couple!
Me: Uh-huh.
As we were finishing our meal…
Leigh: There seems to be many gay couples out tonight.
Me: Leigh, this is Greenbelt. They feel safe here.
While smoking cigarettes after dinner…
Me: Oh, another gay couple. (slight pause) Damn them all.
Leigh: And that’s the quote for tonight!
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
All Rise For The National Anthem
I was going to watch the last full show of “Pursuit of Happyness” in SM Megamall when I saw the national anthem that SM Cinemas co-produced with ABS-CBN. Naloka ako, especially when I saw Papa Piolo in an unbuttoned shirt with a tight-fitting… uhm, is that a sando? Teeekaaah… hindi ba pagbabastos sa flag ang pagbibihis niya? But seeing his well-toned body as his wind-blown shirt hugged it, I realized na mapapatayo talaga ako nitong version ng national anthem na ‘to, thanks to Papa P!
(This version of the national anthem is shown in SM Cinemas, Rockwell cinemas, and during sign-off in the various ABS-CBN channels on free tv and in cable.)
Petty Woman
This morning I needed to break a five hundred-peso bill. So I go up to our group secretary.
Me: Girlie, meron ba tayong petty cash?
Girlie: Ay oho, ser. Magkano po kelangan n’yo?
Me: (holding up the bill) Actually Girlie, puwede mo bang i-break ito?
Girlie: Ay ser, wala po akong pamalit niyan.
Me: Ano? Kulang ba petty cash natin? O wala ka lang smaller bills?
Girlie: Ay hindi po. Kasi po ang petty cash po natin, tseke.
Me: (natigilan ng bahagya) Ahhh… ummm… eh di dapat pala “petty cheque” ang tawag.
Girlie: Ahihihi… si ser naman, nagpapatawa.
Me: Girlie, meron ba tayong petty cash?
Girlie: Ay oho, ser. Magkano po kelangan n’yo?
Me: (holding up the bill) Actually Girlie, puwede mo bang i-break ito?
Girlie: Ay ser, wala po akong pamalit niyan.
Me: Ano? Kulang ba petty cash natin? O wala ka lang smaller bills?
Girlie: Ay hindi po. Kasi po ang petty cash po natin, tseke.
Me: (natigilan ng bahagya) Ahhh… ummm… eh di dapat pala “petty cheque” ang tawag.
Girlie: Ahihihi… si ser naman, nagpapatawa.
Friday, March 16, 2007
My Current Soundtrack Is So Old School
For the past month(!) I’ve been tripping on the album The Filipino Classics by Basil Valdez and the San Miguel Philharmonic Orchestra with the master conductor and arranger himself, Ryan Cayabyab. I listen to it in the office and in my car. There’s something intrinsically sad with all, as in all, of the songs—Basil’s voice, the arrangement, the lyrics. Maybe we Filipinos are masochistics at heart.
Anyway, I found out early this morning that the album is best played when your car is stopped at a police checkpoint. When I rolled down my window, the song “Bayan Ko” was playing full blast. “Ser, saan po kayo papunta?” the policeman asked. I pretended not to hear him and instead just popped open my glove compartment and opened my bag as well (it was on the passenger seat) to show its contents. He merely flashed his light briefly then paused; he was obviously listening to the music, his head cocked to one side. Then he waved me off with a, “Salamat po, ser.” I guess he thought I was a harmless, boring prude who stays at home with his cats weekday evenings and watches shows at the CCP on weekends. As I drove off, the car in front of me was still being thoroughly checked, with their trunk opened and the contents being examined one by one.
But I digress.
I can listen to the whole album again and again without skipping a track. Of course I have my favorite ones: “Babalik Ka Rin,” “Bituing Marikit,” “Madaling Araw,” “Sa Ugoy Ng Duyan,” “Bakas Ng Lumpias.” I particularly get mental goosebumps when I hear “Sa Ugoy” and makes me long for our house in Bilar, Bohol. “Babalik Ka Rin” sounds like a song I can use as soundtrack for a ghost movie. And of course, “Kami Ay Tao Lamang” is the ultimate “not guilty” plea for love:
Puso, kahit hindi turuan
Nakapagtataka, natututuhan din ang magmahal.
Tunay kami’y nagmamahalan,
Kung kasalanan man ay sapagkat
Kami ay tao lamang.
Kahit Diyos na ang Siyang may utos,
Dahil sa pagsinta
Damdamin din ang siyang nasusunod.
Di ba tayo ay tao lamang?
Ganyan tayong lahat—
O kay saklap ng buhay!
Kahit Diyos na ang Siyang may utos,
Dahil sa pagsinta
Damdamin din ang siyang nasusunod.
At kung iyan man ay kasalanan,
Ay sapagkat kami ay tao lamang.
Recently they announced in the news that San Miguel Corporation has pulled the plug on their orchestra and their master chorale, whose legacy includes the abovementioned album plus several more. I also bought a second album, Great Original Pilipino Music from the Movies which includes a chorale rendition of Gary V’s “Kailangan Kita” as well as Aiza Seguerra’s “Pagdating ng Panahon” (it’s funny when the chorale sounds like they’re singing: “Baka tibo ng puso ko’y maging tibo ng puso mo,” but that’s just me). Regardless of what you feel towards San Miguel for yanking support for the arts, go buy the albums. It may just save you several minutes of checkpoint hassle in the future.
Anyway, I found out early this morning that the album is best played when your car is stopped at a police checkpoint. When I rolled down my window, the song “Bayan Ko” was playing full blast. “Ser, saan po kayo papunta?” the policeman asked. I pretended not to hear him and instead just popped open my glove compartment and opened my bag as well (it was on the passenger seat) to show its contents. He merely flashed his light briefly then paused; he was obviously listening to the music, his head cocked to one side. Then he waved me off with a, “Salamat po, ser.” I guess he thought I was a harmless, boring prude who stays at home with his cats weekday evenings and watches shows at the CCP on weekends. As I drove off, the car in front of me was still being thoroughly checked, with their trunk opened and the contents being examined one by one.
But I digress.
I can listen to the whole album again and again without skipping a track. Of course I have my favorite ones: “Babalik Ka Rin,” “Bituing Marikit,” “Madaling Araw,” “Sa Ugoy Ng Duyan,” “Bakas Ng Lumpias.” I particularly get mental goosebumps when I hear “Sa Ugoy” and makes me long for our house in Bilar, Bohol. “Babalik Ka Rin” sounds like a song I can use as soundtrack for a ghost movie. And of course, “Kami Ay Tao Lamang” is the ultimate “not guilty” plea for love:
Puso, kahit hindi turuan
Nakapagtataka, natututuhan din ang magmahal.
Tunay kami’y nagmamahalan,
Kung kasalanan man ay sapagkat
Kami ay tao lamang.
Kahit Diyos na ang Siyang may utos,
Dahil sa pagsinta
Damdamin din ang siyang nasusunod.
Di ba tayo ay tao lamang?
Ganyan tayong lahat—
O kay saklap ng buhay!
Kahit Diyos na ang Siyang may utos,
Dahil sa pagsinta
Damdamin din ang siyang nasusunod.
At kung iyan man ay kasalanan,
Ay sapagkat kami ay tao lamang.
Recently they announced in the news that San Miguel Corporation has pulled the plug on their orchestra and their master chorale, whose legacy includes the abovementioned album plus several more. I also bought a second album, Great Original Pilipino Music from the Movies which includes a chorale rendition of Gary V’s “Kailangan Kita” as well as Aiza Seguerra’s “Pagdating ng Panahon” (it’s funny when the chorale sounds like they’re singing: “Baka tibo ng puso ko’y maging tibo ng puso mo,” but that’s just me). Regardless of what you feel towards San Miguel for yanking support for the arts, go buy the albums. It may just save you several minutes of checkpoint hassle in the future.
Aftermath
A big heartfelt thanks to everyone who partied last night in Bed. The party was a smashing success with almost everyone getting smashed, some more than others. It’s really great how the spirit of alcohol, uhm, moved people in mysterious ways.
Several things running through my head when I woke up midmorning today.
[1] A freight train, or at least it felt like one. Not a bad hangover, just lack of sleep. And the effects of several pitchers of a deadly concoction called Blue Frog. Or was it Nightmare? Uh-oh, freight train’s coming back again.
[2] I need to save around Php30,000. So if anyone has some racket, please throw some my way.
[3] I’m a terrible host. Or at least, I should have just herded all my invitees into one area instead of them scattered all over. Then it would have been easier for me to mingle more with each and everyone. But it was great to see my different friends mix-and-match after a while.
[4] Then again, it’s my party (along with other Pisceans, but so what) and I’ll party how I want to.
[5] It’s great to pour your heart out to a guy and tell him everything you feel, knowing full well that nothing will come out of it. All he can do is listen, not reciprocate. And afterwards you get that queer feeling of in between emotions. And you’re telling yourself, “You did the right thing. Now you just need to convince yourself that you’re happy doing the right thing.”
[6] Then it hits you after you just write about it in #5: Shet, how baduy naman me. And you snap out of it. Literally. As in, snap your fingers and go, “Snap out of it, gurrrl.”
[7] I witness something that should have been painful for me to watch. It should have made me feel so envious, so excluded, so unwanted, so useless. But instead of moving away I stand my ground, take several sips of Blue Frog—okay, gulps actually—and… and… make my mind go blank. It’s not exactly Zen. It’s more like numb. It’s self-preservation.
[8] Then I realize after I just write about it in #7: Shet, how baduy naman me.
[9] A guest of mine sent me the following SMS this morning: Hi friend! We saw you two talking by the street corner. ☺ Ang sweet. Ang sabi namin, not just 40 is the new 30 but Joel is the new kid on the block. ☺ So I replied: More like around the block.
[10] Final count: one hooked up with someone (not my guest) for the night, two guests threw up, three got to swap spit and exchange tongues, and everyone got tipsy. Did everyone have fun? I know I did.
Several things running through my head when I woke up midmorning today.
[1] A freight train, or at least it felt like one. Not a bad hangover, just lack of sleep. And the effects of several pitchers of a deadly concoction called Blue Frog. Or was it Nightmare? Uh-oh, freight train’s coming back again.
[2] I need to save around Php30,000. So if anyone has some racket, please throw some my way.
[3] I’m a terrible host. Or at least, I should have just herded all my invitees into one area instead of them scattered all over. Then it would have been easier for me to mingle more with each and everyone. But it was great to see my different friends mix-and-match after a while.
[4] Then again, it’s my party (along with other Pisceans, but so what) and I’ll party how I want to.
[5] It’s great to pour your heart out to a guy and tell him everything you feel, knowing full well that nothing will come out of it. All he can do is listen, not reciprocate. And afterwards you get that queer feeling of in between emotions. And you’re telling yourself, “You did the right thing. Now you just need to convince yourself that you’re happy doing the right thing.”
[6] Then it hits you after you just write about it in #5: Shet, how baduy naman me. And you snap out of it. Literally. As in, snap your fingers and go, “Snap out of it, gurrrl.”
[7] I witness something that should have been painful for me to watch. It should have made me feel so envious, so excluded, so unwanted, so useless. But instead of moving away I stand my ground, take several sips of Blue Frog—okay, gulps actually—and… and… make my mind go blank. It’s not exactly Zen. It’s more like numb. It’s self-preservation.
[8] Then I realize after I just write about it in #7: Shet, how baduy naman me.
[9] A guest of mine sent me the following SMS this morning: Hi friend! We saw you two talking by the street corner. ☺ Ang sweet. Ang sabi namin, not just 40 is the new 30 but Joel is the new kid on the block. ☺ So I replied: More like around the block.
[10] Final count: one hooked up with someone (not my guest) for the night, two guests threw up, three got to swap spit and exchange tongues, and everyone got tipsy. Did everyone have fun? I know I did.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Notes On A Scandal
A.k.a. On A Scandalous Note. After all, it’s the nota of a 15-year old that triggers the scandal. It was a joy watching Cate Blanchett and Judi Dench going face-to-face: after all, how often can one see two Queen Elizabeths (the same Elizabeth, mind you!) fiercely at each other’s throats.
Notes also shows how a poorly hidden but well crafted, fiercely written diary can ruin relationships. Having a diary is like having a mistress; your diary and your lover should never know of each other’s existence. Online journals and blogs don’t count, of course. They are about as private as a whore’s tits.
The movie is a bit frightening to watch, especially for someone like me who’s still single at a mature age. Mature daw o! I particularly loved the malicious glee in which Cate’s character spits out the words to Dame Dench: “You old virgin!” Thank god I’m only old, hahaha!
The problem with Dench’s character isn’t her sexual orientation. So what if she’s a lesbian? Her problem is that she felt entitled to a relationship with Cate’s character, a friendship that’s out of proportion. Dame Dench’s character is a monster, but she made her understandable and, amazingly, somewhat sympathetic. Her skill is matched by Cate’s portrayal; her character also does an amazingly stupid act, but she manages to make you understand why and also feel some sympathy for her.
The best argument for growing old with a healthy perspective of one’s place in the larger scheme of things, Notes is a must-watch movie. It would be scandalous if you miss it.
FYI: Cate Blanchett will reprise her Queen Elizabeth I role in The Golden Age, a (gasp!) sequel to Elizabeth. If she gets nominated for the same role in two different movies, we can call that a Royal flush.
Notes also shows how a poorly hidden but well crafted, fiercely written diary can ruin relationships. Having a diary is like having a mistress; your diary and your lover should never know of each other’s existence. Online journals and blogs don’t count, of course. They are about as private as a whore’s tits.
The movie is a bit frightening to watch, especially for someone like me who’s still single at a mature age. Mature daw o! I particularly loved the malicious glee in which Cate’s character spits out the words to Dame Dench: “You old virgin!” Thank god I’m only old, hahaha!
The problem with Dench’s character isn’t her sexual orientation. So what if she’s a lesbian? Her problem is that she felt entitled to a relationship with Cate’s character, a friendship that’s out of proportion. Dame Dench’s character is a monster, but she made her understandable and, amazingly, somewhat sympathetic. Her skill is matched by Cate’s portrayal; her character also does an amazingly stupid act, but she manages to make you understand why and also feel some sympathy for her.
The best argument for growing old with a healthy perspective of one’s place in the larger scheme of things, Notes is a must-watch movie. It would be scandalous if you miss it.
FYI: Cate Blanchett will reprise her Queen Elizabeth I role in The Golden Age, a (gasp!) sequel to Elizabeth. If she gets nominated for the same role in two different movies, we can call that a Royal flush.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
McPeeved
Peeve One:
My officemate treated me to lunch on my birthday at a fairly expensive restaurant. And although I offered repeatedly to foot the bill, she insisted it was her treat. I didn’t feel embarrassed about her paying for my expensive meal; as a group head in our agency, she earns more than I do. But that’s not the point here. The point is she treated me on my birthday.
I’ve often maintained that most Filipinos have gotten it the wrong way. When it’s someone’s birthday, they peer-pressure the celebrant to treat everyone around them. With certain offices, groups or barkadas that is the norm, and everyone expects the celebrant to feed people on their birthday.
Now that’s sooo stupid.
It is the celebrant’s special day, so shouldn’t he be the one to be pampered and treated? Besides, do the math: it is more expensive to feed a group versus the group pitching in and buying the celebrant a gift, or a cake, or even a tacky singing telegram.
So to anyone who’s expecting me to treat him or her because it was my birthday, I say: [1] my birthday’s passed already; and [2] manigas ka, linta.
* * * * * *
Peeve Two:
Has the following ever happened to you?
You’re on the ground floor patiently waiting for the elevators, some which are still on the upper floors, to arrive. An obviously in-a-hurry guy comes along and starts jabbing furiously at the elevator’s “down” button. Repeatedly. So you think, “Boy, this guy must really be in a hurry to go down to the basement.”
The first of the elevators to arrive opens its doors: naturally it’s the one going down. But lo and behold, Mr. Can’t-You-See-I’m-In-A-Hurry doesn’t enter that elevator. Instead he waits until the next elevator—the one headed up—arrives and he jumps on it, along with you and the others. He stabs the button to his floor and starts tapping away at the door. You look at him and it dawns on you: Oh! He pressed “down” not because he wanted to go down to the basement, but because he wanted the elevators to quickly go down to the ground floor.
As if pressing the “down” button will make the elevators go down faster. As if tapping the doors impatiently will make the elevator go any faster.
Hay naku.
My officemate treated me to lunch on my birthday at a fairly expensive restaurant. And although I offered repeatedly to foot the bill, she insisted it was her treat. I didn’t feel embarrassed about her paying for my expensive meal; as a group head in our agency, she earns more than I do. But that’s not the point here. The point is she treated me on my birthday.
I’ve often maintained that most Filipinos have gotten it the wrong way. When it’s someone’s birthday, they peer-pressure the celebrant to treat everyone around them. With certain offices, groups or barkadas that is the norm, and everyone expects the celebrant to feed people on their birthday.
Now that’s sooo stupid.
It is the celebrant’s special day, so shouldn’t he be the one to be pampered and treated? Besides, do the math: it is more expensive to feed a group versus the group pitching in and buying the celebrant a gift, or a cake, or even a tacky singing telegram.
So to anyone who’s expecting me to treat him or her because it was my birthday, I say: [1] my birthday’s passed already; and [2] manigas ka, linta.
* * * * * *
Peeve Two:
Has the following ever happened to you?
You’re on the ground floor patiently waiting for the elevators, some which are still on the upper floors, to arrive. An obviously in-a-hurry guy comes along and starts jabbing furiously at the elevator’s “down” button. Repeatedly. So you think, “Boy, this guy must really be in a hurry to go down to the basement.”
The first of the elevators to arrive opens its doors: naturally it’s the one going down. But lo and behold, Mr. Can’t-You-See-I’m-In-A-Hurry doesn’t enter that elevator. Instead he waits until the next elevator—the one headed up—arrives and he jumps on it, along with you and the others. He stabs the button to his floor and starts tapping away at the door. You look at him and it dawns on you: Oh! He pressed “down” not because he wanted to go down to the basement, but because he wanted the elevators to quickly go down to the ground floor.
As if pressing the “down” button will make the elevators go down faster. As if tapping the doors impatiently will make the elevator go any faster.
Hay naku.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Bloody Good Movie, Literally
Before, I only knew Leonidas as a brand of terribly expensive Belgian chocolates. Sure, the logo had a Greek guy holding a spear, but hey, I originally thought the chocolates were from Greece, for crying out loud. Then I watched 300, the movie adaptation of Frank Miller’s graphic novel of the same title, and I realized there was nothing sweet about the tale of Greeks versus Persians. It is the story of King Leonidas and his army of 300 Spartans (plus some other Greeks) going up against thousands, nay, millions of pixels of CG images of Persian men, horses, rhinoceros, elephants, arrows and artfully-directed blood splattering. Oh, and the king and his half-naked Spartans should also thank the mouse-pushing folks at post-prod for giving each and every one of them their gorgeous abs! 
King Leonodas is played by Gerard Butler, last seen—or half-seen—as the Phantom in Joel Schumacher’s movie version of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s The Phantom of the Opera. As the Phantom he proved he could sing; as Leonidas, he proved he could shout out most of his lines, like: “Madness?! This is SPARTA!” and “Tonight, we dine in HELL!” and “This is where we FIGHT! This is where they DIE!” and “Action speaks louder than VOICE!” and “What do you take me for, GRANTED?!” and “You’re nothing but a second-rate, trying-hard, PERSIAN CAT!” I suppose all that shouting was historically accurate. With no megaphones or walkie-talkies at the time, what can a king do but scream at his men just so his instructions could be heard? But don’t look for complete historical accuracy in this movie. I honestly doubt they were accurate about the Persian King Xerxes, played by gorgeous Brazilian actor Rodrigo Santoro, he with the fabulous eye shadow, gold foundation, and plucked-to-within-an-inch eyebrows. I mean, how can a Persian king look that gorgeous and fabulous in the middle of a war, right? But I must admit the kinetic energy of the battle scenes was contagious. Halfway through the film I was ready to grab my noisy seatmate’s drink and stab his throat with his straw just to shut him up. But then the movie kept cutting back to the subplot involving Lena Headey’s Queen Gorgo, who really should consider a name change. The movie screeched to a boring halt every time the queen’s scenes came on. But I guess the producers must have thought, “Hey, there’s just too much man-to-man action here! We need tits to keep the geeky straight boys in their seats!” Speaking of man-to-man action, there was more sexual tension between Leonidas and Xerxes (who were both half-naked and deep into negotiations) versus Leonidas and Gorgo (who were totally naked and deep into sex). Much like the sexual tension between Sam Milby and Zanjoe Marudo in You Got Me!, but then it may just be me.
It’s visually arresting, historically inaccurate (on purpose), structurally flawed, but oozing with testosterone and blood. Go watch 300. I swear by the time the end credits roll, you’ll want to be a Spartan: go without a bath for days, shave your torso for a sleeker look (oh my, ancient Greek metrosexuals!), and show no surrender, no mercy, no emotions (other than anger and triumph), and no t-shirts. It’s tough to be a Spartan, but you’ll surely end up a tough one.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Open Invitation
On Thursday, March 15, I will be celebrating my birthday in Bed. Yes, I’ve signed up for the Zodiac Party series, and on Thursday is Pisces Night. Come in at 9:30pm, open bar c/o Smirnoff (until supplies last).
I’m inviting the viewers of The McVie Show to celebrate with me. As per Zodiac Party rules, I need to submit my list of guests on or before March 14. I can invite a total of 50 people so please don’t be shy to invite yourselves. Just email me your full name so I can leave it with the reception, and you can come in for FREE (otherwise, paysung ka ever!)
If feeling shy ka and you want to bring along a friend, please do! Make sure you include your friend/s name/s in your email.
Email me at joelmcvie@yahoo.com on or before March 14.
I’m inviting the viewers of The McVie Show to celebrate with me. As per Zodiac Party rules, I need to submit my list of guests on or before March 14. I can invite a total of 50 people so please don’t be shy to invite yourselves. Just email me your full name so I can leave it with the reception, and you can come in for FREE (otherwise, paysung ka ever!)
If feeling shy ka and you want to bring along a friend, please do! Make sure you include your friend/s name/s in your email.
Email me at joelmcvie@yahoo.com on or before March 14.
Radio Gaga
I used to just listen to Chico and Delamar at RX93.1 on my way to the office. But then I realized it’s just their banter that I enjoy; the rest I can skip. So I switched stations whenever the two fell silent, and that’s when I discovered Mo Twister’s show at 89.9WTM. There they were more talkative. But I noticed I could tolerate Mo’s schtik for only so long; after a while his put-on bravado was off-putting and grating to the ears (especially when he performs a tirade). So again I looked for alternatives, and lo and behold, I discovered this classical music station. When Chico and Delamar weren’t talking and when Mo and Mojo weren’t funny, I’d listen to strings and wind instruments.
But then one morning I stumbled upon this particular radio duo: Chris Tsuper and Nicole Hiyala on 90.7 Love Radio. They are the morning “Tambalang Balasubas at Balahura.” They are hilarious. Nicole plays the baklang babae who says things like “Ka-lurkey!” and laughs at all her punchlines; Chris plays the straight man (literally too) in this comedy duo. He laughs along with Nicole at all her jokes. Sometimes they laugh at their own laughter. They have a particular schtik: they say things in unison, like one would say, “Based on…” and both of them will chime in, “…experience!” (that’s one of their favorite phrases).
After listening for three mornings I discovered that they aren’t on the whole morning; in fact, I think their tandem comes out in portions during the morning timeslot. Which is just as well, I guess; pakinggan mo sila ng tatlong oras, sasakit ang inyong tenga sa ingay at panga sa katatawa.
But then one morning I stumbled upon this particular radio duo: Chris Tsuper and Nicole Hiyala on 90.7 Love Radio. They are the morning “Tambalang Balasubas at Balahura.” They are hilarious. Nicole plays the baklang babae who says things like “Ka-lurkey!” and laughs at all her punchlines; Chris plays the straight man (literally too) in this comedy duo. He laughs along with Nicole at all her jokes. Sometimes they laugh at their own laughter. They have a particular schtik: they say things in unison, like one would say, “Based on…” and both of them will chime in, “…experience!” (that’s one of their favorite phrases).
After listening for three mornings I discovered that they aren’t on the whole morning; in fact, I think their tandem comes out in portions during the morning timeslot. Which is just as well, I guess; pakinggan mo sila ng tatlong oras, sasakit ang inyong tenga sa ingay at panga sa katatawa.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Kailangan Pa Bang I-Memorize Yan?
As with most Star Cinema movies, they try to come up with a line that they hope will become one of the more memorable movie lines, like:
Vilma Santos and Carlo Aquino in a shouting match in Bata, Bata, Paano Ka Ginawa?:
Vilma: “Wala akong ginawang masama!”
Carlo: “Akala mo lang wala! Pero meron, meron, meron!”
(Vilma slaps Carlo)
Jolina Magdangal tearfully tells Marvin Agustin, her childhood friend and long-time unrequited love, in Labs Kita… Okey Ka Lang?:
“Oo! Kaibigan mo ako! Kaibigan mo lang ako!”
Judy Ann Santos to a comatose Leandro Munoz in Kahit Isang Saglit:
“Mahal kita hindi dahil yun ang tama, kundi dahil yun ang totoo....”
Sharon Cuneta to Christopher de Leon in Madrasta:
“You’re absolutely right. I’m not your partner. I’m just your wife!”
* * * * *
In You Got Me!, Sam Milby tearfully tells an unbelieving Toni Gonzaga:
“Mahal na mahal kita. Kahit yun lang, paniwalaan mo ako.”
Toni then turns to Sam and just as tearfully retorts:
“Minsan Kevin, kapos pa rin ang ‘mahal kita’ lang.” Tapos walk off ang bakla.
Well, what do you think? Memorable or not memorable? Deal or no deal?
Vilma Santos and Carlo Aquino in a shouting match in Bata, Bata, Paano Ka Ginawa?:
Vilma: “Wala akong ginawang masama!”
Carlo: “Akala mo lang wala! Pero meron, meron, meron!”
(Vilma slaps Carlo)
Jolina Magdangal tearfully tells Marvin Agustin, her childhood friend and long-time unrequited love, in Labs Kita… Okey Ka Lang?:
“Oo! Kaibigan mo ako! Kaibigan mo lang ako!”
Judy Ann Santos to a comatose Leandro Munoz in Kahit Isang Saglit:
“Mahal kita hindi dahil yun ang tama, kundi dahil yun ang totoo....”
Sharon Cuneta to Christopher de Leon in Madrasta:
“You’re absolutely right. I’m not your partner. I’m just your wife!”
* * * * *
In You Got Me!, Sam Milby tearfully tells an unbelieving Toni Gonzaga:
“Mahal na mahal kita. Kahit yun lang, paniwalaan mo ako.”
Toni then turns to Sam and just as tearfully retorts:
“Minsan Kevin, kapos pa rin ang ‘mahal kita’ lang.” Tapos walk off ang bakla.
Well, what do you think? Memorable or not memorable? Deal or no deal?
They Got Me
I actually hesitated for more than five minutes—thinking once, twice, three times a lady (only a child of the 80s will get that reference, ha!)—before finally lining up and plunking down my money to buy a ticket for…
(videoke music before announcing the score)
…Star Cinema’s You Got Me!
Yes, watching the Sam Milby, Toni Gonzaga and introducing Zanjoe Marudo starrer should have been a no-brainer. As in, don’t-use-your-brains-just-buy-the-damn-ticket! Hahaha. In fairnezz, na-entertain ako. Watching it really was a no-brainer; just take your brain out and place it on the chair beside you. As in, forget logic and plausibility. Still, I could see how this movie could have been the equivalent of a disposable Hong Kong rom-com starring the ubiquitous Andy Lau or Aaron Kwok or Jacky Cheung.
I refuse to give any critical comments about this movie. It defies critical thinking. Nay, it defies thinking. Anyway, let me just state my reactions:
[1] Action Toni, or Tomboy Toni becomes her. She’s actually appealing when she’s tough. Tough chicks rule.
[2] Nerdy Sam? Mournful Sam? Longing Sam? Not cute at all. He uses just one expression throughout most of the movie, but instead of looking like Pitiful Sam, he comes across as Constipated Sam. Nope, not cute at all.
[3] Oh! My! God! Putanginang Barumbado Zanjoe yan o! He is just sooo much sexier when he’s being so jologs! Actually he can’t help but look and sound jologs, so there you go. But so what, right? There are these two scenes in the movie. First, he’s in a sando and he’s all sweaty; and I’m all sweaty. Then he’s just in a towel and he’s all wet; and I’m all wet. Swoon.
There’s a scene when he and Sam are talking to one another mano-a-mano, and I swear there was so much sexual tension between the two! Or at least I think there was. Or maybe I wish there was. Oh well, who cares. Basta. Basta! Between the two of them… why not?! McSandwich Spread-Eagled! Ahahahaha!
With You Got Me!, they got me at heller.
(videoke music before announcing the score)
…Star Cinema’s You Got Me!
Yes, watching the Sam Milby, Toni Gonzaga and introducing Zanjoe Marudo starrer should have been a no-brainer. As in, don’t-use-your-brains-just-buy-the-damn-ticket! Hahaha. In fairnezz, na-entertain ako. Watching it really was a no-brainer; just take your brain out and place it on the chair beside you. As in, forget logic and plausibility. Still, I could see how this movie could have been the equivalent of a disposable Hong Kong rom-com starring the ubiquitous Andy Lau or Aaron Kwok or Jacky Cheung.
I refuse to give any critical comments about this movie. It defies critical thinking. Nay, it defies thinking. Anyway, let me just state my reactions:
[1] Action Toni, or Tomboy Toni becomes her. She’s actually appealing when she’s tough. Tough chicks rule.
[2] Nerdy Sam? Mournful Sam? Longing Sam? Not cute at all. He uses just one expression throughout most of the movie, but instead of looking like Pitiful Sam, he comes across as Constipated Sam. Nope, not cute at all.
[3] Oh! My! God! Putanginang Barumbado Zanjoe yan o! He is just sooo much sexier when he’s being so jologs! Actually he can’t help but look and sound jologs, so there you go. But so what, right? There are these two scenes in the movie. First, he’s in a sando and he’s all sweaty; and I’m all sweaty. Then he’s just in a towel and he’s all wet; and I’m all wet. Swoon.
There’s a scene when he and Sam are talking to one another mano-a-mano, and I swear there was so much sexual tension between the two! Or at least I think there was. Or maybe I wish there was. Oh well, who cares. Basta. Basta! Between the two of them… why not?! McSandwich Spread-Eagled! Ahahahaha!
With You Got Me!, they got me at heller.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Sick Mind
If we don’t tolerate intolerance, does that make us intolerant? What would Pixar’s first flop look like?
* * * * *
This is what happens when I stay at home, sick. I end up thinking of silly questions.
* * * * *
This is what happens when I stay at home, sick. I end up thinking of silly questions.
Bar None
When I first started going out and exploring the life of a gay person in Manila, Malate was the place to go. At first we’d go to Penguin Café, where the culturati and the artsy-fartsy converged. But across Penguin was Zoo Café, which was co-owned by a friend of mine. He was in advertising, so a lot of folks from agencies and on supplier side would go to Zoo. Then we discovered Giraffe in Makati, and from then on I never saw my bedroom on Fridays and Saturday evenings. We’d go to Zoo around 10-ish then transfer to Giraffe between midnight and 1am. Some people I know chose to stay in Malate, opting to move to Mr. Piggies or the Library instead; these people found the crowd and atmosphere at Giraffe too hoity-toity and upscale. Little did they know that these expats and label-wearing hoi-poloi would scream with delight at the intro to “Macarena” then danced on top of tables, knowing the choreography by heart.
I dropped off the scene after three years, tired and unhappy and still single. When I went back to Malate, Zoo was closed already, and the gay scene had transferred to Orosa Street. There Joy reigned. By this time Giraffe was also cooling down, and Makati was turning out to be a no-gay’s land again. I didn’t frequent Joy as much, because right beside it was a restaurant called Pepe ‘n Pilar. Owned and operated by several of my friends in advertising, it served comfort food like tuyo and kesong puti in pan de sal, champorado, even Spam sandwiches. I would hang out there instead.
When I moved out of advertising and worked in Quezon City, I again abandoned the scene. Cut to several years later. Bed Bar was the place to go to—it was small and narrow, and got really crowded Fridays and Saturday nights. Which was part of it’s charm: it was difficult to ignore anyone, especially if he’s mere inches in front of you; you get to touch and be touched by hotties; plus it was a test of skill to navigate from one part of the room to another, where a cute guy has been giving you the eye the whole night. Beside Bed were various gay-friendly bars. Malate was again the hub of gay nightlife.
Then Makati responded with Government Bar. It was a blast of fresh air; at last in the heart of the Philippines’ central business district, an honest-to-goodness gay bar opened. Giraffe was at best a gay-friendly place; the bar placed in the middle served as a sexual Berlin Wall—straights on one side, gays and gay-friendly on the other side; those who crisscrossed sides were considered open-minded. But Government was an openly gay bar. Now gay yuppies and those who found Malate too risqué and too open had a place they can slip into quickly and quietly, to be amongst men who liked other men.
For a time the weekend migration pattern of birds of the same pink feathers was as follows: Greenbelt 2 or 3 before midnight, then fly to Government when the clock strikes twelve, then go to Bed at around 3am, sometimes earlier. Meanwhile Bed expanded and widened up considerably.
At first Bed and Government acknowledged each other’s importance in the over-all gay scene. But now I noticed that the pink gloves have come off. Sadly, there have been badmouthing on both sides. Both claim that the other one is a haven of drugs and drug dealers. There are t-shirts that state, “I am loyal to Government” while Bed proudly flashes on its walls, “Malate will always be our home.”
I find it sad that people would want to pit the two bars against each other. I’d feel better coming to a place that welcomes me instead of frowning at me because I choose to visit a competitor’s place from time to time. And why view each other as a competitor? In fact in the early days both bars fed off the same customers. Of course there will always be customers who would prefer one to the other, whether it be because of the location, the crowd, or the kind of music played. But do we really have to badmouth one another?
A few days ago I read an article about CocoBanana, the hottest spot in the Metro during the Marcos years. There opposites mingled, the ordinary with the high society, the straights with the gays, the unknowns and the celebrities. There was no other place quite like it. Perhaps there never will be another one like it again.
Recently I’ve been told about Palawan, a bar in Cubao, QC that’s fast gaining buzz. If the Makati crowd thinks that Malate is downscale, wait ‘til they step into Cubao! Though I’ve not been to Palawan, I’ve been told that it’s the Cubao version of Bed and Government. And because it’s in Cubao, people seem to just toss away their pretensions. Hello, Cubao na po yan, noh?! Despite the presence of Gateway Mall, Cubao will always be Cubao. If any bar maintains an alienating attitude, people will gravitate somewhere else. Maybe even in Cubao.
I dropped off the scene after three years, tired and unhappy and still single. When I went back to Malate, Zoo was closed already, and the gay scene had transferred to Orosa Street. There Joy reigned. By this time Giraffe was also cooling down, and Makati was turning out to be a no-gay’s land again. I didn’t frequent Joy as much, because right beside it was a restaurant called Pepe ‘n Pilar. Owned and operated by several of my friends in advertising, it served comfort food like tuyo and kesong puti in pan de sal, champorado, even Spam sandwiches. I would hang out there instead.
When I moved out of advertising and worked in Quezon City, I again abandoned the scene. Cut to several years later. Bed Bar was the place to go to—it was small and narrow, and got really crowded Fridays and Saturday nights. Which was part of it’s charm: it was difficult to ignore anyone, especially if he’s mere inches in front of you; you get to touch and be touched by hotties; plus it was a test of skill to navigate from one part of the room to another, where a cute guy has been giving you the eye the whole night. Beside Bed were various gay-friendly bars. Malate was again the hub of gay nightlife.
Then Makati responded with Government Bar. It was a blast of fresh air; at last in the heart of the Philippines’ central business district, an honest-to-goodness gay bar opened. Giraffe was at best a gay-friendly place; the bar placed in the middle served as a sexual Berlin Wall—straights on one side, gays and gay-friendly on the other side; those who crisscrossed sides were considered open-minded. But Government was an openly gay bar. Now gay yuppies and those who found Malate too risqué and too open had a place they can slip into quickly and quietly, to be amongst men who liked other men.
For a time the weekend migration pattern of birds of the same pink feathers was as follows: Greenbelt 2 or 3 before midnight, then fly to Government when the clock strikes twelve, then go to Bed at around 3am, sometimes earlier. Meanwhile Bed expanded and widened up considerably.
At first Bed and Government acknowledged each other’s importance in the over-all gay scene. But now I noticed that the pink gloves have come off. Sadly, there have been badmouthing on both sides. Both claim that the other one is a haven of drugs and drug dealers. There are t-shirts that state, “I am loyal to Government” while Bed proudly flashes on its walls, “Malate will always be our home.”
I find it sad that people would want to pit the two bars against each other. I’d feel better coming to a place that welcomes me instead of frowning at me because I choose to visit a competitor’s place from time to time. And why view each other as a competitor? In fact in the early days both bars fed off the same customers. Of course there will always be customers who would prefer one to the other, whether it be because of the location, the crowd, or the kind of music played. But do we really have to badmouth one another?
A few days ago I read an article about CocoBanana, the hottest spot in the Metro during the Marcos years. There opposites mingled, the ordinary with the high society, the straights with the gays, the unknowns and the celebrities. There was no other place quite like it. Perhaps there never will be another one like it again.
Recently I’ve been told about Palawan, a bar in Cubao, QC that’s fast gaining buzz. If the Makati crowd thinks that Malate is downscale, wait ‘til they step into Cubao! Though I’ve not been to Palawan, I’ve been told that it’s the Cubao version of Bed and Government. And because it’s in Cubao, people seem to just toss away their pretensions. Hello, Cubao na po yan, noh?! Despite the presence of Gateway Mall, Cubao will always be Cubao. If any bar maintains an alienating attitude, people will gravitate somewhere else. Maybe even in Cubao.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Vanity Fair
Last night my friend Leigh was trying to put accurately in a sentence an observation she had on vanity and gay men. She came up with the following sentence: Vain men aren’t necessarily gay, but all gay men are vain. I immediately complained, saying that it’s a generalization and that not all gay men are vain. So she turned to me and said, “Well, you’re vain. So can you name me a gay guy who isn’t vain?”
I was stumped. I told her, “Wait. Wait. I’ll think of someone.”
It took me more than ten minutes to give a name, and although she kinda agreed with me (she knows the person though not as well as I do), upon reflection I thought it was unfair of me to name that person “unvain” since he really is very conscious of his preferred look, which is scruffy-rough.
Which brings me to you, dear viewers of The McVie Show: Do you know any gay man who is not vain? (Let’s just limit ourselves to those who are out. Closeted gays are a different species altogether.)
(For the grammar-police: Vain here is limited to mean “excessively proud of or concerned about one’s own appearance.” It does not mean “ineffectual or unsuccessful; futile” as in “a vain effort” nor “without real significance, value, or importance; baseless or worthless” as in “vain pageantry; vain display.”)
I was stumped. I told her, “Wait. Wait. I’ll think of someone.”
It took me more than ten minutes to give a name, and although she kinda agreed with me (she knows the person though not as well as I do), upon reflection I thought it was unfair of me to name that person “unvain” since he really is very conscious of his preferred look, which is scruffy-rough.
Which brings me to you, dear viewers of The McVie Show: Do you know any gay man who is not vain? (Let’s just limit ourselves to those who are out. Closeted gays are a different species altogether.)
(For the grammar-police: Vain here is limited to mean “excessively proud of or concerned about one’s own appearance.” It does not mean “ineffectual or unsuccessful; futile” as in “a vain effort” nor “without real significance, value, or importance; baseless or worthless” as in “vain pageantry; vain display.”)
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