Kids Are Supposed To Be Seen

...but when they have a message a strong as this, they deserve to be heard. This is Ethan, 9 years old.

Outside The Rain Begins

Jethro walks into the dining area from the kitchen, shirtless and his hands, wet. He stands there for a minute, waiting for the conversation he has walked into to come to a pause. He doesn't want to interrupt his kuya and his nanay. As soon as an opportunity presents itself, he jumps in. "Kuya Law, do you have a strainer?"

Law turns to him and stares blankly, trying to think whether he has any.

Rye stops what he is doing, looks to their direction and bows his head. He was putting down the wicker magazine racks that hang by the windows to let the cool breeze in.

After a beat, Law replies, "Uhmm... I don't."

"Strainers, we don't have any in this house. But strangers, we have a lot in our lives. Real strangers whom we've never really met, and the other kind of strangers: people who were once important parts of our lives that we chose to become strangers, because if we allow them to linger any longer, they might hurt us again," Rye says, still looking down.

Ryan Lee, who is in the living room, previewing "The Love Of Siam", hears all these and solicits, "Who are they, nay?"

"I don't know, 'nak. I don't know them anymore," Rye claims.

They take a moment to let the energy die down and then they burst into corpulent laughters, applauding themselves for another spontaneous dramatic improvisation. Afterwhich, each one of them goes back doing his own thing. Jethro to the kitchen to solve the absence-of-strainer issue; Law to his chopping board, slicing the veggies for his kare-kare; Ryan Lee to "Love Of Siam", Rye to the window.

It is a stormy Friday. The previous night, at 8pm, Rye overheard from his colleagues that the HK Observatory was predicting that Typhoon 8 would be hoisted by dawn and probably even to 9 mid midday. He knew that this would be a non-working Friday. He packed his getaway bag, called Jethro, organized a get-together at Law's even before Law agreed, and headed to Causeway Bay. They kept themselves up all night, monitoring the direction and the speed of the winds, hoping that the storm doesn't decide to take a re-route.

Albeit a few hours delayed, the storm finally settled in at 7 in the morning, and the suspension of work was made official. Ryan Lee arrived. Those were the circumstances that led them here. Now.

The color of the peanut sauce and that of the achuete start to meld, as the oxtail becomes too tender, it begins to disintegrate. The buzzer sounds off, and Jethro gets up from the couch, where he and his brother, Ryan Lee, have been sitting over the last 2 hours, watching the foreign film that Ryan Lee was previewing since he got here. He opens the door to let Enan and Steve in. They have with them a pot of champorado and a hefty amount of fried danggit.

Later on, Josh, Miro and Dan arrive and the party gets started. Jethro gets on the computer and invites some more friends who, after about an hour, come with enough supply of alcohol to feed the whole household until the storm subsides.

On the 18th floor of Pearl Mansion on Patterson Street, the Beckies get lost in oblivion--- celebrating friendship, sharing love, toasting to an extra dayoff, and making a complete fool of themselves while outside, the rain begins. They pray that it never ends.

Remembering A Lesson Learned

Because I had two hours to kill today, I decided to go to the gym.

Because I loved how it felt parading naked in front of strangers the last time I did it, I decided to do it again today.

Because I almost forgot the lesson I learned from my previous experience, I am reposting this piece to remind me.

Lord, please make me not forget again.

I walked into the locker room and found two men: one, probably in his early 40's and the other, in his late 20's. Judging on body language, they didn't know each other. One was just getting ready for his tennis game while the other was still damp from the shower. They were both chinese, and both naked.

As soon as I deposited my stuff in my assigned locker, I marched into the shower cubicle. I was in my trunks and a towel hung in my shoulder. Twenty minutes later, I was wiping myself dry. I was going to wrap the towel around my loin but it was too small for one end to even reach the other. I decided to wear my trunks again. And then I decided otherwise. Come to think of it, I have never experienced parading in any changing room completely naked. Not in the dressing rooms of the company I used to work for, not in any public changing room I have ever been. Other people can do it, why can't I?

With much pride and dignity, I swung the shower curtain open and walked to the locker stark naked. The two men I had walked into weren't around anymore, but another character had appeared: the boy who, about an hour ago got me pissed because he moved the dumbells I was using for my Arnold Press. Few minutes later, I heard somebody walking out of the steam room. And another one coming out of the toilet. We were all bare-assed. Nothing to be coy about.

Although I didn't pretend to be straight, I also didn't announce I was gay. Maybe they knew and didn't mind at all. Or maybe they were too busy to even examine. Or maybe, they really thought I was straight even though my blonde lock screamed faggotry. Here in HK, I have learned that to judge a book by its cover is truly unwise; because here in HK, metrosexuals do exist.

Everything was going well. By that, I meant I wasn't having trouble co-existing in an enclosed space with other men in such vulnerable state. Neither were they. I could say so because none of them made me feel they were uncomfortable. Well, until I headed to the sink, and, out of habit, applied my cheek tint right after applying my moisturizer.

The Boy Scout Vs. The Drama Queen

"I'm gonna need to call in today," the drama queen exclaimed in frustration.

"No, stupid!"

"Ok, maybe I won't. I'll just call them and tell the truth."

"Tell them what?" the boy scout, close to the end of his patience, asked, almost in a condescending manner.

"That I can't come to work because I don't have dancewear today. And I don't have access to all my essentials: my wallet, my Ipod, my Octopus, my phone even.. (Oh shit! How will I call them anyway?) ...because everything's inside the house, and..."

"And we locked ourselves out. You think they'd think that's cute?"

After just a beat, the Drama Queen's face lit up as an idea suddenly popped up. "Oh my God! Maybe I should just go and meet up with Dan in Disney so I can borrow his housekeys. Do I have time? If I go now..."

"In boxers? You're actually thinking to travel to Disney in boxers?" The boy scout was now torn. They were standing behind Kenny, the landlord's son who was relentlessly trying to open the steel door with two pieces of 3-foot iron wire. He slid both wires between the grills which were on the same level as their heads and painstakingly tried to get their hooked ends to clasp onto the door latch inside. It had been 10 minutes, and still, there was absolutely no sign of salvation. Kenny was in his mid-30's, a bit chubby and quite nerdy too. His fashion sense was what a lot of people might consider passe; and his english vocabulary was limited to "hi" and "sorry". He certainly was not, in fact he was not even remotely close to being, the drama queen's type of guy. And this only made the situation worse, because the boy scout knew that if the drama queen fancied Kenny, even the slightest bit, she wouldn't be as panicky as she was at that moment. Standing beside the drama queen, the boy scout was having a hard time deciding which of his urges to act on first: the urge to mock and belittle her concerns by laughing at her, or the urge to put her bickering to a screeching halt by spanking her in the head.

"You're right. I can't take the train to Disney. My Octopus is inside the flat." Her voice started to shake as if her world was about to shatter to a million pieces and she was ready for a major breakdown scene. Like the way she did when she was 9 and her grandma refused to buy her a toy iron and ironing board because they were for girls.

At this point, the boy scout had already moved from where his was standing over the past 15 minutes. He looked out the window that was on the other end of the hall. "Kenny!", he called out enthusiastically. "Don't bother anymore. I think I know what to do."

Kenny stopped what he was doing and stared at him. He obviously didn't understand what the boy scout said.

"What are you gonna do?!" the drama queen asked with both excitement and fear, and she was ignored by the boy scout.

" I. Go. Out. Here. Go There. Go. In." In the most elementary of words and the biggest, most indicating of gestures, the boy scout spelled out the plan to Kenny. He was gonna go out of the window, onto the hanging ledge and into their balcony, where the door was unlocked. He smiled at Kenny and waited for him to reciprocate, as a sign of approval, but Kenny just stared at him, dumbfounded. He smiled at the drama queen briefly and looked away before she could even try to stop him.

Without hestitation, the boy scout raised his left foot chest-high, climbed the windowsill and pushed himself out. The drama queen clutched his pearls in horror and gasped, praying that the wind wouldn't blow and throw him off-balance. Less than two minutes later, the front door opened and the boy scout showed himself to Kenny who was still holding the wires and didn't seem to know what was happening.

"Oh, good!" Kenny said, which surprised the boy and the drama queen. They didn't know Kenny knew a third word in english.

"No sweat," the boy scout affirmed. And he wasn't lying. Contrary to what the drama queen might have projected, it wasn't that dangerous. The ledge was about 2 feet wide and the concrete fence that separated their balcony from the ledge wasn't more than 4 feet tall. And their flat was only on the second (first floor, in HK) floor. Even if he fell, the worst that could happen was a sprain.

Still, the drama queen thought it was a scene from "Mission: Impossible". So as soon as I got my hands on my computer, the drama queen in me defied the boy scout in me and typed: "Rye did the unthinkable" in my Facebook status.

Candidate #3, Please Step Forward

Host: So.. are we consenting prisoners of our own boyfriends or are they of us, we, unrelenting watchguards?

Ms. Sheung Wan: Sus, eh iba't iba lang ang style ng mga hirit. But in truth, LAHAT tayo paalaga lang! Kaya nga nadevelop yung Stockholm Syndrome diba, which explains how victims develop a loyalty to their kidnappers. SO to answer your question, we are never strictly top or bottom. Deep in our hearts, we are all versatile. I thank you. *wave*

With Pride & Feathers

It was the 13th of December. With clear skies and a thousand participants, the first-ever Pride March of Hong Kong was realized. And with much pride and some feathers, I was there, taking part as the gay men and women of Hong Kong marched their way from Causeway Bay to Wan Chai and made history.

Everybody, genuflect. It's the Pride flag.

Dan said, "If you wanna attract attention,
which really is the point of Pride march,
wear the follies headdress that we used for Halloween last year."
And boy, was he right!
The attention whore that I am could never wish
for so much attention in the streets, in broad daylight!

Crowd was too thick, it was difficult to find me at certain times.

A Pride card for La Rems. On it, I wrote --
"I am proud to be gay because my momma loves me!"

Birds of a feather
With Glenn and OutinHK's Antonio Licon

The silk rainbow flags prepared by Eric of Fruits in Suits

photos courtesy of Ad Takumi, Rey Asis, Prash Prashoun, Bhisan Rai

Sat -Through Day

The past month and a half can probably be chronicled as my busiest 6-weekends-in-a-row for 2008.

November 1
was the day Dan, I and a couple of other friends brought our beloved ex-flat mate to the airport. Mamu was flying back to Manila after his stint here in Hong Kong --- another landmark in my HK lifeline, since it was the end of our 3 and a half years of bahay-bahayan. It was the final "Bye! I love you, Dan & Rye!" that he exclaimed as he was getting in the immigration, that marked that finality. It was, however, that finality that marked the beginning of yet another long, rocking night. As soon as Mamu disappeared from our sight, Dan and I wiped the miss-you-already tears off our eyes and took the bus to the city. Lugging our weekend getaway bags and looking forward to a very promising evening, we showed up at Law's doorstep where the rest of the guys were waiting for us. Forty minutes later, we were already being frisked by the bouncers that guarded the door of Cliq. Another Saturday night that went by unnoticed, because we were busy dancing our butts off to the music of DJ Chris and DJ Thomas C of Party Demon.

November 8
started rather early. Even before the clock went past the thin red midnight line, Enan, Steve, Law & I were already painting the town pink. Around 3am, all four of us headed to Law's for some sinigang then we evacuated to Steve's to continue on with our intimate bonding. We couldn't abuse Law's hospitality because we didn't want to wake his parents (whom we were to have lunch with that day) who were visiting from Manila and were dead-tired after spending a whole day at Disney. After a while, Enan got tired and slept. So did Steve about three hours later. I tried to keep my eyes shut so I could eventually succumb to sleep, but it never came. It was 10 in the morning when I got a surprise sms from a good friend, Christy. She wanted to meet up for coffee. Wasting no time, I hurriedly put on the same clothes I wore the previous night and hailed a cab that brought me to Central. Later that afternoon, I got a call from James and he invited me over to his. "I have company though," I warned him.

"Huh?!" He seemed to be disappointed. He probably thought it would be an afternoon spent exclusively for us two.

"Christy."

"Whaaaa?!?! Get that bitch over to my place!" He sounded more excited that he was two minutes back.

By sunset, I had to leave and meet up with T. I spent that next few hours at his place, trying to catch up on sleep but excitement won me over. We'd been invited for dinner at his Italian neighbor's place. Who wouldn't be excited? Italian. That meant a splendid full-set meal. And boy, was I not disappointed!

November 15 started with me and my anak, Jethro running around my flat like goats trying to flee castration. It was Volume's 2-year anniversary, and we were putting together the perfect outfit for the night. The three perfect outfits for the night: the cocktails ensemble, the costume, and the after-party attire. After cutting the low-turtleneck of one of my most antiquated articles of clothing into a low-V, he laced the boots that he wanted me to wear after the show and packed them in my bag. Then I set off for Central, trying to get there before my 4pm-call time. The last run for the release of DJ Stonedog's Rainbows finished a few minutes earlier than scheduled. That meant that drinking started earlier than anticipated as well. By midnight, as we were going up the stairs to the dressing room to change into our Rainbows costume, I was already a few kilometers ahead of tipsy. Lucky, we got through the whole number blunder-free.

November 22 was when, for a few hours I thought I didn't want to be a rockstar anymore. That time, being a groupie started to seem more appealing to me. It was the night of the Party that a good friend, Brad Schofield, had organized for a quaint but sophisticated restaurant on Gough Street called Palate. It was also the night I had been too excited about for many days --- Hed Kandi night at Club JJ's. I almost decided not to go to either party for so many reasons. But that's another post altogether, so allow me to digress. The Palate party was fun, because it gave me (and the rest of the familiar guests) a chance to interact in a totally different atmosphere. It wasn't too late in the evening and people were sharply dressed, so there was very little drunken talk, if there ever was any. The crowd was neither too big that people were encouraged to shove one another to get to the bar or to the john; nor too little that people were encouraged to talk things less sensible than rumors. By midnight, T and I walked up the hill to Dragon-I to catch the Hed Kandi shuttle that would take us to the Grand Hyatt. But after two minutes of looking around, the impatient Virgos that we were just decided to take a cab. As soon as the Club JJ's lift opened, I was just shot with extreme gladness that I didn't give in to my bratinella attack. I would've regretted it for months had I decided to snub the Hed Kandi party. Duh! I was a fucking groupie for the night, for Chrissakes! I (and T) drank from the Hed Kandi Moet bottle and partook in their refreshments. Thanks to the graciousness of our dear friends, James and Noel who led the team to make that event possible and oh-so-fucking-successful!

The November 29
gaiety started on November 27, the KylieX night. It was Law's birthday weekend. Enough said. (P.s. I didn't like KylieX. But, again, that's another entry altogether. So moving on…)

December 6
was the day I sat Saturday through, for a change. An excerpt:

(Around 2AM)

Rye: Chardonnay?

T: Sure.

Rye: What time is it anyway?

T (teasingly): It's the time you normally would only be starting to have fun on a Saturday night.

Rye: Oh! By now, I would guess, the guys are drunk already.

T: You would be too if you were out tonight.

I would be too if I was out that night. But I wasn't. I had no internet connection and my phone was disconnected. I was neither dressed in my clubber outfit nor in my champagne-and-strawberries smarts. I was in faraway Tung Chung, totally disjointed from the islands that lie beneath the boundaries of Lantau. I was in my boxers and robe. All I had was a half-empty bottle of shiraz, a fresh bottle of chardonnay, a can of beer, some crisps, the complete first season of Lipstick Jungle and T, whose arms kept me warm all night. I was having more fun than I thought I would, sitting my Saturday through than dancing it away on oblivion. There was no party I'd rather be than were I was.

Two More Celebrations Pre-Christmas

December 1 is World AIDS Day.
What have you done to show you care?
Wear a shirt?

"Please post this image on your super walls.
Help me circulate my advocacy posters.
http://delfindjmontano.blogspot.com/"
Love Brian Gorell

This year marks the first-ever official gay pride celebrations in HK.
Let's stand up and be heard.

"Hong Kong is a cosmopolitan city, so it’s not hard to notice LGBTs more openly on the streets, and occasionally you will see them display their affections by publicly holding hands. Do you admire them? Or does that trigger conflicts within you?

Everyone loves their partners with a sense of pride. It’s the love between us that makes us proud. Our sexual orientation is not as important as our love.

Every person is born equal and free. If we truly believe that we all have the same human rights to live proudly under the same sun, we can live honestly as our real selves.

Will you live in the shadows of the closet feeling sorry for yourself, or will you march proudly together with us under the rainbow?

Rainbow colors represent accepting diversity and respecting differences. We encourage lesbians, gays, bisexuals, pansexuals, the transgendered, cross dressers, transsexuals, BDSM, queers, peoples of any sexual orientation or gender identification, and straights who respect sexual orientation and gender diversity, regardless of age, race, religion, or physical capability to join us to march on the street for love.

Don't miss the chance to shine, and join us in our Pride Parade.

December 13 Tongzhi March for Love at Causeway Bay at 2 pm. See you there!"

Something To Smile About

"Friend, thank you for a great weekend
and for spending your time with me."

-via sms
24 Nov 2008
10:48:43

Calling All HK-Based Gay Men!!

This group of students from the HK University is conducting a survey among gay men based here in HK. They're probably proving that tops and bottoms do differ in their taste of clothes. Wanna know why? Take this 15-item survey. It's easy and fun. And you don't have to give your real name, but don't leave that field blank or type in ANONYMOUS.

Come on, guys! Don't be such party-poopers... Please? He promised to take me out to dinner if he reaches his quota. Imagine how happy you will make me if you just took 3 minutes out of y0our time to answer this.

Here's the link---

http://www.online-survey.net/survey-2324#

And The Stars Shall Guide Me Through

As exciting or tantalizing as they may seem, other people's dramas are going to do nothing but add trouble to your life right now, so steer clear! There is no need to get involved in anyone else's problems, even if you think you have a solution for them. They are different from you, so what worked for you might only make things worse for them. You can express your ideas, but do not offer advice and do not take anyone's side. Stay neutral right now.

-- Astrological Forecast for Virgo, for Nov. 10, 2008

How fitting! But what if it is I who's on the other side?

How To Lose A Ghost In 10 Minutes

For about 6 minutes, the ghost went on and on convincing the boy to go out to dinner or coffee or some drinks with him. And for about 6 minutes, the boy just kept declining. Finally, the ghost gave the boy a window to say what he really feels about the whole thing. He said, "Isn't there anything I can say to make you say yes to one harmless dinner? Or coffee? Or chardonnay?"

The boy frankly replied, "You know what, I'm a busy person. And I am so over you. Maybe I would say yes if I had so much free time in my hands, but I just don't. And I won't make an effort to make time for you."

Taken aback, the ghost asked, "That's it? You're gonna brush me off just like that without even an apology?"

"For what? For being busy or for being so over you?"

"You're mean," the ghost remarked after a breath.

"I know. I've been told many times," with an overflowing dose of self-assurance and self-esteem, the boy punctuated their conversation and hailed a cab. He didn't say goodbye. He was mean, after all.

My Past Is Haunting Me

When I was little, I adamantly believed I was dumb. And I did, not because of my drama queen nature, but because I had valid reason to believe so.

I didn't play Scrabble because I was always kulelat; and in the worst possible way. Like, all my opponents would already be scoring hundreds and I'd be scoring 30. Or less.

I grew up not knowing how to play Monopoly or Millionaire's Game or Cluedo. I veered away from board games that required strategy and in effect, the only board game that I got to use on a regular basis was the only board game that nobody else was interested in: Snakes & Ladders. In fact, there was absolutely none that I knew of that was interested in it, I played it in on my own. ALWAYS. I had the dice to myself and I competed against myself. Not bad. That's how I learned the importance of introspection and also, I was always certain I would win. And I did.

But the worst of all my enemies were riddles. Ask Dan, my flatmate-slash-bestfriend-slash-podcast-partner, and he will attest to that. In the Kitschy Bugtungan Episode of our podcast, he threw a riddle which I confidently answered, and of course, I was predictably wrong. As a kid, I would always show disinterest whenever my teachers played the riddles game. And whenever my classmates traded riddles and puzzles books, I'd always obnoxiously remark, "You wanna borrow my Sweet Valley High, nerd?" That stage of my life, I would consider pivotal because looking back, that's probably when I started being seen by people as a mean, cold-hearted bitch. Even Nancy Drew didn't fascinate me. Or the Hardy Boys. They required too much brain cells from me. And I was dumb, for Chrissakes!

So two nights back from now, as I was saying good night to this boy we will call T, he replied, "I AUMULU". I asked him what it was, and he playfully replied, "You have to work that out." The only hint he gave me was that all U's stand for "you".

It's been two nights. And I still couldn't figure it out. He's been teasing me about my not being able to figure it out, and I though it was cute and funny. But it's not anymore. I'm starting to think I am dumb again.

Anybody out there willing to help a dumb 28-year old boy?

Kreis

sequel to "The Stalker In The Rye" published on September 9, 2007
__________


Here we are again: in the middle of the room where I once watched you, fascinated with your beauty; mesmerized with your charm; wondering what on earth I had to give to have you.

Here we are again: in the exact same time when outside, the clock continued to tick and the sun continued to rise to its peak, but where we were, there was only the now and the world was a tiny place of perennial night.

Here we are again: making our way to lands far off, to places we've never been to, and to places none but us knows exist.

Here we are again: amidst familiar faces and familiar music and sweaty bodies of men bobbing involuntary to the mechanical sound that envelopes us.

We've come full circle. Everything is back to where they were in the not-so-distant past. Everything seems comfortingly familiar. It almost is a deja vu. But it's not. Because in the past, you were just an ideal. An icon that represented my desires. A ghost, an apparition even. But this time you're real.

Briefly, I close my eyes. And in that fleeting moment of trance, you hold my hand and I know you are real. My body grows numb and all I could feel are your fingers between mine. Then I open my eyes and I see you --- needing me more than I need you, like you never did before. My heart rejoices that I'm no longer just your stalker.

It almost is a deja vu. But it's not. Because now, I am your safe place --- your refuge from the harm. Your comrade. Your brother.

It almost is a deja vu. But it's not. Because then, I was your audience who wished I could take the place of your prey for the night. Tonight, I still am not your prey. But I'd rather not. Where I am now is even more that I could ever ask for. And there's no other place in this room, or in your life I'd rather be.

For F

It's funny how I would always tell you, "I can't. We're friends.", but never really knew you until I saw you that way for the first time.

For more than a year I'd constantly seen you in your various degrees of happiness and bliss that I forgot you were also capable of feeling pain. For countless of times, I'd reveled in your smile, that I never imagined you also cried. For a few other instances, I'd seen you stripped naked of your clothes, but never imagined you stripping your soul bare of the pretenses that you protected it with against the bile and bitterness human beings are innately capable of causing. Human beings --- I included.

With your tears, you acquiesced to the weakness you tried so hard to conceal all your life. But with your tears, you dauntlessly taught me a indispensable lesson I vow to never forget. Until this very moment, I vividly remember how, like a delicate snail robbed off of the shell he was born with to safeguard himself, you curled up in pain in wept. Until this very moment, I vividly remember the sound of your sob and how you fought to keep it from coming out. Until this very moment, I vividly remember those that I tried to keep you from seeing and hearing: how my heart bled and how it shattered to a million tiny pieces.

F, my friend, I am deeply sorry. This is for you ---

image credit: PR Starter Kit

You with the sad eyes

Don't be discouraged
Oh I realize
It's hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness, inside you
Can make you feel so small
But I see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Like a rainbow

Show me a smile then,
Don't be unhappy, can't remember
When I last saw you laughing
If this world makes you crazy
And you've taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know I'll be there
And I'll see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Like a rainbow

So sad eyes
Discouraged now
Realize
When this world makes you crazy
And you've taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know
I'll be there

And I'll see your true colors
Shining through I see your true colors
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors, true colors
Cos there's a shining through
I see your true colors
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors, true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Beautiful, like a rainbow

About The Birthday Cake And The Mickey Hat (Pt.1)

Years and years from now --- long after I've retired from the party scene and all that's left of my hair are a few strands of grey --- I shall look back at my youth and remember the two weeks that had just passed with much fondness. It will be written in my personal chronicles as a milestone that culminated with a sudden debilitation of my immune system brought about by extreme physical fatigue and emotional exhaustion from too much fun, too much tears, too much physical activity, too much partying, too much drinking, too little sleep, too little eating. In other words, from trying too much to live la vida rockstar.

Because of the enormity of the energy I had to put in, in order to secure the life I was to start building outside the castle, there was virtually none left for my own birthday. It was gonna be the first time for me to not plan anything fabulous (or at least blog-worthy) for "big day". And there wasn't even enough energy left to feel bad about it. Nonetheless, I knew that whatever happened, there was no way I was gonna miss reflecting on my life and re-examining my values. That was one tradition I couldn't afford to break, no matter how difficult the circumstances got. With that to look forward to, I knew my birthday would be worthwhile, in spite of.

The eve of my birthday, I was invited to a dinner which would be hosted by a friend of a friend. There were only 6 of us (2 more came by after dinner and joined us for drinks) and I knew everyone except for the host. At midnight, they sang me a Happy Birthday song and a good friend whom I hadn't seen for so long, Corrine, popped the Veuve Clicquot Rose that Steve brought. Later that night, Steve remarked, "Friend, it is your birthday." And it was. An evening with friends, good food, champagne, strawberries, and a surprise visit from a dearly beloved friend whom I have missed so dearly. What more could I ask for?

The following day, September 21st, was of course, just as exhilarating. I woke up to a full SMS inbox of birthday messages on my mobile phone. And as if that wasn't enough to start my Sunday brightly, I logged on to my online accounts which revealed even more touching greetings. Then there was the community singing of the birthday song at work, and the heart-warming happy-birthday-hug from 2 people whom I knew didn't like me that much. By mid-afternoon, a lengthy sms-exchange with two of my exes took place. One of them commented, "We may not have worked as a couple, but that doesn't change the fact that you are a good person, Rye. You are a bitch, but you are a good person. That's why you are loved by many." In the evening, I went to FINDS where I was treated to on-the-house glasses of Moët et Chandon courtesy of Pink Taskmaster James. I was joined by Dan, Enan & Steve, who were still tired from the previous night but were loving enough to show up in their cargos and flipflops to spend my birthday with me, and my sai lo, Heihei, who missed dinner with family and traveled all the way from Sheung Shui to give his birthday present --- a white Starbucks mug.

captioned fittingly on the Pink Sundays at FINDS Facebook Group page as:
"The Pink Taskmaster with the aforementioned fabulous birthday gal,
both looking shockingly sober"

September 22 was the day the HK Government gave me its present. Still dressed in the floral shirt I wore to FINDS the previous night, I walked in to the IRD Building to settle my tax. After less than 15 minutes, I finished the whole process, which comprised of getting on the elevator 6 times in order to do business in 4 different floors with 5 different civil servants, and going for the loo twice. 15 minutes. That's all it took. The best part: I left the building with a cheque for tax refund.

Later that night, I went over to Victor & Vincent's, two of my favorite straight boys, for a couple of drinks. They tried to throw me a small surprise party for two nights, but because I was scared to sit still and get bored on my birthday weekend, it had been difficult to get a hold of me. SO when I finally showed up, the bottles of Chardonnay that Victor bought for me and the pasta that they made were already extinct.

Jethro slept over that night and when we woke up the following day, I found out that he had raped me. Kidding! Jethro slept over that night and when we woke up the following day, I asked him to make us lunch. He willingly obliged and even after we've consumed what he prepared, he made sure I wasn't going anywhere that day. The reason being, we were expecting another friend of ours to come at 3pm. I was sitting in front of my computer when Ryan arrived without me noticing. He came into my room and took advantage of me. Kidding again! He came into my room and said hi, at which point, Jethro went into the kitchen. Few minutes later, Ryan excused himself and I went back to my computer. And before Facebook even loaded, they went back to room and burst into a birthday song. I turned around and saw them marching in with a chocolate cake in their hands.

The chocolate cake and the Mickey hat aptly define the 2 weeks that passed.

In Oprah Winfrey's 50th birthday, her best friend Gail said that no birthday is complete without a cake. The cake that Ryan and Jethro surprised me with was my first birthday cake for this year. It marked the completion of my birthday, and the Mickey hat they made me wear for the photo opp marked the beginning of another story.

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....Part 2 coming up

It All Started On A CX Flight (Part 3)

delete reply dtsalvanajr wrote on May 27, '07, edited on May 27, '07 Rye keeps the recipe for his menudo a secret - he even closes the door of our kitchen when he cooks menudo. I tried several times to ask him what's his secret, but he never told me until that day when he had to ask me to cook his recipe because he did not have the luxury of time to prepare his menudo for his "special friend's" farewell party... and so he didn't have any choice but to rev eal the secret to me and made me promise not to tell anyone. Upon knowing, I realized Rye's secret was so simple, yet it creates a very delicious version of menudo. Just like Rye - a flamboyant, expressive and colorful individual who brightens the day of many people around him, be it at work or on a yacht full of strangers. And his creative juices just keeps on flowing! Just like his menudo, beneath Rye's dynamic persona is a simple secret - a recipe I can not tell anyone, but I'm sure anyone can tell.

--posted as a comment on the original Multiply entry.

It All Started On A CX Flight (Part 2)

The Swarovskis are currently accepting applications for Julius's replacement. As most of us know, our dear Julius aka Walnut Swarovski, is moving to London in a couple of days to settle down with his partner, Nige. As a result, we have one vacant spot in the Swarovski family.

Qualifications for "Swarovski #4" are as follows:

• has to fit the physical sketch of a typical "Asian hottie" (i.e., is naturally tan; has full and solid pecs, rock-hard abs, tight butt, and fine, black hair; has strong black eyes and luscious lips; is not too tall and not too short; has well-developed lats, delts, biceps and triceps; has disproportionately long arms)
• has to be fun-loving, energetic, dynamic and drama-free
• has to be patient enough to deal with nutmeg's quirks and drama queen-ness especially when nutmeg is in love or is trying to fall in love
• has to be humble enough to deal with coco's mood swings especially when they are left to share a room for more than 6 months
• has to be mature enough to deal with almond's immaturity especially when he's bored and he turns on his ipod
• has to be willing to share his last few dollars when his friends have absolutely nothing
• has to be able to muster enough pride to be part of the Swarovski family
• has to be willing to wear humiliatingly short cut-off jeans and perform "YMCA" in front of a multitude of people he works with
• has to be able to articulate his dreams, regrets and passions and be willing share them to his Swarovski family
• has to be capable of discounting coco's, almond's and nutmeg's flaws in order to let their bond grow and mature
• has to have the heart to love selflessly, give whole-heartedly and accept people unconditionally
• has to be tolerant enough to allow each individual Swarovski to make his own choices in life and learn from them
• has to be appreciative of his friends without being cheesy
• has to be able to know when to tell his friends to stop when his friends are being self-destructive
• has to be loved and admired by our close friends: verna, the sea creatures, the fegis, etc.
• has to be able to confidently, but not conceitedly, stand in a room full of people who fancy him
• has to have mastered his own adobo and shrimp in butter and garlic recipes

If you think you have what it takes to take over the spot of Walnut, email us. Otherwise, don't waste your time and ours. We won't settle for anything less than Julius.

NOTE TO JULIUS: We love you, Julius. We hope you know that. We will miss you terribly. I doubt we will find anyone as good as you to replace you in our hearts.

P.s. Don't call us, we'll call you.

---originally published as "Casting Call: Swarovski #4" on April 27, 2007

It All Started On A CX Flight (Part 1)

It seems to me that despite the wide variety of dishes we three (four, including Julius) are capable of making, these three stand out to be our own trademark recipes. The reason is not that these are what we make most often, but that these are what people equate our personalities with.


Chris’s Binagoongan, for example, has the balanced qualities of extreme saltiness and extreme sweetness. He keeps his culinary interpretation of Pork Binagoongan minimalist. Unlike the elaborate versions one could find in Filipino specialty restaurants, the only non-pork ingredient he includes are subtlely-flavored, separately-fried eggplants. So there are basically just 4 flavors one can experience in his binagoongan: that of the shrimp paste, of the pork, of the eggplant, and of the sugar. Only four, but in a heightened, emphatic fashion. The same is true with Chris’s personality. He has very few moods – fun, child-like, artistic and bitchy. What you see is what you get. No hidden agenda, no pretensions. Only four, but in a heightened, emphatic fashion.

Dan’s Bistik is characterized by a heady tug-o-war between citrusy sourness and soy saltiness and a sweet-piquant hint of white onions. Much like his Bistik, Dan is a typical Gemini: interestingly bi-polar. He can be the wildest, craziest person in the room one minute and be an uptight prude the next. He can sing “Someone Like You” to his heart’s content at 7:00pm and be talking to me about the pitfalls of falling in love again at 9. Very few people know that beneath Dan’s cynical, jaded façade is a sweet, loyal person who’d go the extra mile and sacrifice his own comforts for a friend.

My Menudo is just delicious. Period. Very much like me. Dare to cotradict?!?


---condensed from "A Reflection On Julius Ebreo's Blog, Et Al.", published on May 26, 2007

No Ordinary Sunday

Enan needed to stay in bed.

Dan needed some peace and quiet (and darkness).

Steve needed to find an ATM machine.

So did Law.

I needed some Sunday sunshine.
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Insisting on going with them, I went on the elevator with Steve and Law and took Dan's camera with me. It was no ordinary Sunday. It just had to be documented.

August 17, 2008.
10ish in the morning.

right outside of Steve's building.
Despite Steve's protestations against me bringing a camera,
he smiled when I pointed and shot.

they walked fast, trying to lose me,
because I was too bubbly for a Sunday morning,
and I was starting to wear them out.

the blind leading the blind
(private joke. don't ask.)

Ok, so in this photo...
Steve just finished his business with the machine.
I, obviously was behind the camera.
What was Law doing?

After being rudely ignored by fellow Filipinos
who probably thought we were a trio of misfits who would kikil them,
(ugh! what judgement!)
we finally got a HK local passerby to agree to take our picture.

We then went back to Steve's place, a little after 11 for brunch: vodka, coke and Yahoo Messenger.
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