Archive for April, 2011

At a Crossroads

Posted: April 26, 2011 in Creative Writing

For three long years I tried to play the role of a good son (I did okay) in a faraway place at the bottom end of the Philippines. In the end, after everything went south, I have nothing to show for it, just a chapter down the drain. What I had worked hard for in that span of time was actually nothing, plain and simple. There is no validation, only a life altering realization. Now I have a chance to strive for something concrete. I may fail, I may succeed, at least there’s  the consolation that I tried to reach a goal I believe in and I did not while away my life chasing air another time.


Fireflies On The Acacia

Posted: April 25, 2011 in Creative Writing

* A story about forbidden (homosexual) love laced with verities of youth,everyday struggles, war and subversion, poverty, distorted ideals and innocense lost in the accelerating deterioration of generations. I hope its artsy and thought provoking enough for a Palanca award. (Author is NOT gay.)

The scarlet field lit in radiance beneath a sunny August afternoon. From a lonely dirt road, the myriad of roses seem like a bed of molten ember, ready to burst with every passing of the wind. Lorenzo Romano fell to his knees. It was here high up in the mountain province of the cordilleras that the first Romano was overcome by abjection once more. Weakness and defeat that he had only known in his young years back in Zapanta, in the island of Mindanao. The blurred images of his unhappy past, that for so long he had repressed, is torentially leaking into candid recollection.

” Speak clearly!” he shouted. ” Stop eating your words you sonofabitch!”

Smelling of whiskey and red all over, the bear of a man rose from his chair with the same snap of a general and towered over the timid boy. A young Lorenzo froze where he stood, shaken and too afraid to conjure a syllable with his mouth. He was breathing too fast and started to worry that if he did not recover his voice in time, his father would completely loose his  temper and hit him.

“Speak up boy, stop acting like a fairy” this time he spoke with a graver tone. Lorenzo could only keep his head down fearful of meeting his fathers glaring eyes.

In a quick motion, he grabbed Lorenzo by the collar and let out a roar that curled the blood in the boys veins.

“What do you want! That is a very simple question. Are you stupid?”

Tears began to roll from Lorenzo’s eyes, the strength on his knees were lost to the shiver of fear. As he tried hopelessly to open his mouth and speak, his fathers heavy hand struck him on the left side of his face. A sharp ring reverberated in his ear, at the same time half of his head started to feel numb.

Kristina, Lorenzo’s aunt who had been standing behind him, stepped in between and bound her brother with her arms.

“Thats enough Antonio, please”

She turned to lorenzo and almost pleaded

“Go to your room, I’ll handle this.”

“Don’t you dare walk away you little faggot!” his father commanded.

Lorenzo did not know what to do as he sobbed uncontrollably, planted on his feet.

“Go up to your room Lorenzo Go now!”

The tug of wills lasted a few more repetitions until Antonio Almost broke loose and tried to lunge at his son.  Stimulated by the instinct of self preservation, Lorenzo ran up to his room, as fast as he could and locked himself inside. An indignant march followed him and kicked and pounded at the door. “Open up!” his father demanded and spilled a string of wild obscenities.

After awhile Kristina was able to placate her brother.

But even before peaceful silence came, young Lorenzo Escandor had already wept himself to sleep. That was how his eleventh birthday had passed, receiving a slap across the face, instead of a Mountain Bike he had dreamt of having since he was eight.

To be continued…

Heart Unmasked

Posted: April 17, 2011 in Creative Writing

Come away from me wicked beauty!

Set my heart free from your torment.

For too long I have lost my serenity,

caught and entangled in your sweet beguilement.

Silence became your song. I am hollow, abandoned and cold.

Yet your voice echoes in the distance

piercing my mind and soul, keeping me in your hold.

Will your spell ever break and release me from your sway?

That I may at last forget the fragrance of your skin,

the tender feel against my body.

That I may yearn not for what had been,

and be rid of your mouth’s taste in my memory.

I ache to be a man for another,

carry through my ideals in love and fidelity;

An angels vow that betrayed you, trust a fool chose to squander.

Come away from me wicked beauty,

let another kindle my fire.

Your ghost and mine belong in times past.

The dawn approaches, we are but a shadow cast.

Troubled 9-14-10

Posted: April 12, 2011 in Creative Writing


breaking from within

virulent melancholy

I fall apart

Rust that eats through the sloughs of pride

Layers of sand clawed by Neptunes retreat

steady knees buckle in utter  defeat

a lone tear rips as sorrows wept

I tread empty in spaces of chaos

neither in cold calm is there peace

even in sleep there is no rest

an angel with broken wings

a captive of guilt and regret

‘Circa’ Part 1

Posted: April 9, 2011 in Creative Writing

Tiny strands of dust dance on a pale ray of light that snuck its way between curtains, into the dusky room. The modest space feels more constrictive from all the clutter gathered in the many weeks of idle ruminations. Books, magazines, food wrappings, beer bottles, laundry and a bunch of other stuff sprawl the floor and every available surface. If not for the thick blanket of dust, one might think-at first glance- that the place was ransacked in a crazy indoor luau the night before. But the place had been this way, stale, on its own. A chorus of horns begin to scream from outside, blending with the steady noise of rumbling engines, growing as more people trickle into traffic. Another bustling Monday morning comes to life, and as he had done for the past several weeks, Oliver Clio lay spread eagle on the bed, staring at the ceiling. alone in life, out of work, ridiculously broke and utterly clueless. his reflections  momentarily interrupted by a curious little lizard gaping intently at him, it does seem as though the passerby  was in concerned speculation of what could be the matter, then loosing interest, scurried on its way.

how did everything go so wrong? he endlessly searched himself. in the not too distant past, all the good breaks were going his way, a promising young career, a sweet caring and supportive girlfriend, that took on the roles of lover, assistant, secretary, nanny,  best friend, creditor and even a young sugar mommy; and also a merry group of friends. then all of a sudden everything  was swept away, his perfect life inexorably taken from him, whether by cruel fate or his own undoing, Oly is yet to discern, but the present outcome is easily perceptible, he is left with nothing. at 24 years old his life had been reset, forced to start over, but with a bevy of hurdles to overcome, souvenirs from the disaster of his past life. months into his despondency however, Oly is yet to find a direction. swaying from  defeatism and sporadic urges to be resilient.( the latter gets continually drowned in depression.) He has made a few spirited attempts to pick himself up, it just so happens that luck has not been on his side, on the contrary it has been mischance that continues to pester him. closed doors greeting him at every turn.

An impatient and familiar wrapping at the door jolted Oly out of his reverie.

“what can i do for you Mrs. Ramirez” he lethargically rang back, rising and walking to the door to unbolt it. a jarring scowl greeted him as he pulled on the knob. arms folded across her chest, a short and stout woman stood menacingly, like miniature troll in a floral night dress.

“rent Mr. Clio…” her round face contorted into a smile. ” i need your rent, your already three weeks behind, i’m not running a hospice.” a fluffy bunny slipper begins to thump impetuously on the linoleum floor. between gritted teeth she puffed profusely on her cigarette, blowing a haze of smoke that hovered over them.

” I—I’ll have it by next week Mrs. Ramirez…” Oly stammered, running a hand on his nape. “I’m really sorry for the delay, my—uncles been ill and I’ve been…helping out with his medications. but I’m sure to have the money by next week, he’s expecting a check from hisss—pension. He dug deep into his pockets and dredged up his best impression of a reassuring smile. It sounded plausible enough, it wasn’t over creative, maybe a bit cliche but still passable.

“you don’t have an uncle Mr. Clio.”  She scoffed, both hands now pressed on her waist. ” You have nobody, I’ve heard your story. Not that it matters. you see i cant take your apologies and promises to buy a pack of chiclets, can i? you have till next week Mr. Clio.” Her stern look traveled from Oly’s head to foot, and back. After a derisive smirk she was on her way, marching down the corridor and disappearing beneath the Stairway. Damn… that went well he thought to himself, easing the door shut. He looked up the clock and caught a glimpse of the time. Twenty minutes past eight, twenty minutes past eight! He suddenly recalled a job interview he’s supposed to be in at nine, that’s today!  In a panic  he hurriedly put on pants, grabbed a shirt from the drawers and ran to his desk scouring the mess for his CV, then stuffed it unceremoniously in his bag. Forgetting to put on socks, he stepped into his shoes and fumbled his way out the door. Monday morning rush hour is unforgiving, if he takes the metro, he could be stuck in the long cue of commuters for quite possibly an hour. Same if he takes the bus. Unless angels would swoop down from heaven to fly him across the city, he had no other choice but to ignore austerity to hunt down a cab. He hailed from the porch all the way down the corner, cutting between other commuters, until a beat down yellow Corolla screeched to a halt a cars length past him. He brazenly caught up and climbed inside, giving directions as he was catching his breath.

” I don’t think I can take you to Ortigas…” the driver pretended. “the traffic is really bad along edsa.”

“I’ll add another fifty on top of the fare.” Oly bargained right away.

” Can you make that eighty? Gas price went up again the other day. Those bastards are really eating into our income. they make millions and their still not satisfied, they have to reach into the pocket of the little guy” Oly’s heart sank, there goes his cigarette ration for today. Precious time is ticking away. “fine! can we just get going, I have to make it to an appointment in thirty minutes. is there a faster way to get there?”

” No problem, I know a few shortcuts, with some luck we’ll make it. ” The driver grinned and happily pulled and pushed the gear stick.

(to be continued…)

Get Over

Posted: April 6, 2011 in Creative Writing

Love songs play over and over on the radio. You get familiar with some of the music and lyrics over time, as you would with Hi’s and Hello’s. They pass without concern. Your girlfriend kicks you to the curb, all of a sudden Barry Manilow’s “Somewhere Down The Road” speaks to you. Before you know it, your hopelessly holding on to a bottle of beer, staring blankly into nothingness with Lionel Richie’s “Baby Come Back” nagging on the background.

Get a hold of yourself or you could end up a creature of Tim Burton, very sad and very creepy. No one will want to do you then. Pick yourself up and dust yourself off. The world is full of unexplored corners, look around you, happiness is always waiting to be found. In the mean time check out this compilation of suggestions on how to get over a failed romance.

Friends- It looks a lot saner when you get shitfaced with company rather than by your lonesome. Play down the mellow-drama, your pals will play sympathetic for a night, but don’t think they will spare you once the dust settles. Roll with the jokes, don’t be in one.

Rebound- Ever used a crazy pick up line to score a chick in a bar? If you haven’t then maybe it’s better that way. If you want an instant bedside companion, or a looker to show-off in your ex’s favorite hangout then play it smart. By my experience when it comes to picking up women in a bar, words need not be spoken. All you need is charm and gestures. First, you bite your lower lip, give your most debonair smile then wink. If you don’t get a positive response and she raises an eyebrow at you, you can always pretend you were blinking because you have something in your eye. If that makes her laugh (co’z she will most likely think your retarded) go for the kill! Ask the waiter to send her table a round of drinks plus pulutan. chicks dig pulutan. Attach a napkin with a note asking for her contact details. Now that her group is having a swell time at your expense, she is obligated to at-least give you a fake name and number. But don’t fret! your pals don’t know that. You still get bragging rights and on the Donny Osmond side, it’s a learning experience. Try this a couple more times and you will learn the most valuable lesson of all, with all the money you are wasting you might as well pick up a hooker.

Useful bit: Don’t take any of this seriously.

Gentleman’s Club- This will validate your ex’s decision to ditch you. If she hears about it, she will definitely regard you with utmost disgust. Make little-miss-prissy-pants cringe! deep down she’ll feel as though she were placed in common ground with less dignified honeys. Ho-Ho, you’ve just managed to put one over her. Congratulate yourself asshole.

If your curious about syphilis, chlamydia and gonorrhea, skip the show and save your budget. come approximately when the establishment is about to close. Tip the floor manager P100 to line up her wards available for “outing.” Remember the prettiest one  usually has had the most customers.

Useful bit: Personally this is not advisable until the double-layered condom is invented.

Comfort Foods- Allow yourself a little pleasure without having to masturbate. You can hang that healthy diet plan for a week, a broken heart is license to indulge in delectable delights. I doubt that if for a limited run, it will backlash in epic proportions.  According to Dr. Chalabi Aziz Ul-Haq an alchemist at the Institue of Advanced Medical Research in Ashgabat, Comfort foods boost mental health and are good for heart and emotions, and have been proven to counteract loneliness.

Useful bit: Try Mauna Loa’s. If you still cant forget the ex, you will forget about diabetes.

Casino- Grab a hammer and take a swing at your piggy bank. Go for broke! let loose on the slots then drown yourself in the euphoric excitement around a Craps table. There are so many places where you can bleed in a casino. Who knows, you might end the night worth twice the man you were or just some douche bag who lost his grandfathers watch. Brush up on your card reading abilities, it may come in handy when your finally betting your cab fare.

Useful bit: when your crunching numbers in your head, don’t look up and do shut your lips tight.– The webs best kept secret. Take a break from the politeness of facebook and troll hot lesbians in this online gay community. you’d be surprised at the audacity of its members. what makes it so enticing is that these are beautiful day-to-day women in painfully revealing or almost naked pics. The third sex had always been (and caters for) the ultra liberal. You wont find many shy lasses here. Just be careful where you click or you might catch a glimpse of Fred & Barney pecking between the sheets.

Useful bit: To get around privacy controls, you can create an account posing as a group of DL’s finest or whatever you can think of that is irresistible to their vanities. This is one of those exceptions when to “just be yourself” is not the way to go.

Take A Trip- Go someplace far and away, to a place your language skills are inconsequential. Typically somewhere that if something goes wrong, there is no one to claim you. I don’t plan many travels, as a matter of fact, i don’t believe I’ve ever planned one at all. But I do get exiled a lot.  A lot. Angry fathers make bad travel agents. Presently, I’ve been marooned in Mugat, Mindanao. It’s been fun, I take on the role (and exact circumstances) of a castaway in survivor. I’ll be sure to show the bastard my appreciation when I get out. Much like Marco Polo I’ve had prolonged stays in unfamiliar territories. Gradually I learn to walk talk and squawk according to culture. The best way to explore a locality is to take a walk around. Get close enough  to touch the way of life. Meet the vendors, shopkeepers, bystanders, snatchers and pickpockets. After tiring yourself sauntering aimlessly, find a place that serves exotic delicacies. Don’t be squeamish to try out new things. If the menu reads Locust, Slug or Gecko, then that’s your meal. Take a picture and post it on Facebook. I have no idea why people like to display their food on Facebook. Who’d be interested to know if your eating a plate of spaghetti? unless there was something crawling out of it.

Useful bit: Don’t get exiled.

Amnesia- A very imaginative concept was broached in Michel Gondry’s “Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind”. In the story Jim Carrey’s Character, Joel  undergoes a procedure to have memories erased, particularly those of his former lover Clementine (Kate Winslet).  Unfortunately there is no such contraption in real life that can do that, other than a concrete wall. The next best thing is suppressed memories. yes you can do that. block it out of your mind and eventually you’ll get the amnesia effect. It helps to zap yourself with something like a Taser everytime you remember your ex. But seriously when you stop thinking of something, it stops bothering you. You do have control over that.

Useful bit: Since your break-up, she’s been skewered by seven pigs.

That’s basically it. I hope some of this can be helpful. Good luck and take a step forward. (I hate typing, so I’ll end it here.)

There are times when I miss her, I want to hold her tight, give her a kiss and love her in my arms and in my eyes, then my strength falters when I remember you are no longer mine.

Tough Question

Posted: April 2, 2011 in Creative Writing
I was asked the most boggling question I ever encountered. How does one deal with nymphomania if your partner, paradoxically is lacking in libido? Without having to commit infidelity to achieve satisfaction. And separation is admirably out of the question.

I find this conundrum more complex than the theory of relativity. hehe 🙂 whoever has an answer to this does something wonderful for preserving true love between two misfits that find virtue in one another . If that is too cheesy too bother with ( I concede) , you can answer it for the novelty of its difficulty.