A Kind Of Rebirth

If the reason that I decided to quit smoking was that I was pregnant,
I would already have given birth a few days ago.
It's been 9 months.


Happy rebirth, lungs!

...That Ends Well

Merlot.

Life Salad.

Home-cooked Beef baltic curry by T.

The mere sight of him.

...All's well
--- even a grueling 2.5-hour staging of "Consider Yourself"
from Oliver with a cast of 4 dozens---
that ends like this.

Thank you, T, for being the light at the end of my tunnel;
the bearer of comfort food at the end of my rehearsal;
the spooner at the end of a long, tiring day.

Body Of Evidence

On Friday, a few minutes just before midnight, my flatmates and I were roused from our peace and quiet upon hearing a loud banging of the steel gate of our building and the frantic running of several people in our hallway. Gil and Razel looked out from the balcony and I hurried to the peephole and looked through it. Cops. They were there to raid our neighbor.

After more than 2 hours, my neighbors-- 20 of them-- were loaded onto a van and taken away. The press, along with the police, left as well.

Before they did, I had already updated my Facebook status to:

Rye Bautista 's building is being watched by cops, photographers and nosy neighbors and he has no idea why.

Friends posted comments, but none of them really showed that they were alarmed. The running joke was, they were looking for a drag queen: my sister, La Chiquitta. It was funny. But then I got to thinking, if that evening, the legislators of the HK government changed their minds and decided that homosexuality was a crime after all and the cops came to my flat to arrest me, there was no way I could deny the allegations. They won't even need a witness, just a few photos.

Would they buy it if I said, this was a religious altar...

...and that this was MY god?

That this was the angel that watched over our door so that evil would never come in?

And what about the 6-inch boots and the other 15 pairs of high heels (not all Chiquitta's by the way)? Sacred footwear that lead us to eternal bliss, perhaps?

Oh, and we haven't even reached the bedroom. Death sentence!

Kainan Na (Naman)!

We are seldom complete in our flat, and so when we are, we make sure we have a nice dinner. Not necessarily swanky or traditional. Just nice enough to make us guilty and at the same time, gratified and smile and say, "Oh god! I overate!"

And also, whenever this happens, I try to document it and blog about it to make some people envious. Like Julius, for example, whose regular diet contains only three vowels: "fish and chips".

So for tonight...

Tinolang tulya (clams)-- cooked the traditional way (simmered with garlic, ginger, long green peppers and fish sauce) and flavored even more with chives and basil.

Tita Mike's Pinatisang Manok-- chicken wings cooked the way Tita Mike makes her Pinatisang manok (simmer in tamarind broth then drizzle with fish sauce and then fry) but smothered with ground garlic, rosemary and siling labuyo.

Steamed choi sum with spicy shrimp paste and green mango

Piping hot white rice

This house needs a food stylist.

On Monday morning, March 8, we are complete again. And it coincides with the Oscars. Does anyone wanna join us for Oscar's breakfast? We'll provide the hotdogs, fried rice and eggs. And maybe some homemade tapa (beef jerky). Hit us up!

The (Week)End

Like every movie, book or song, every week deserves a good ending. I realized that today. No, not realized-- I decided that today.

I haven't had a Sunday off since July of last year, until today. To celebrate that, I decided to do something I hadn't done in a long time: to walk around and window shop without being pressured by time constraints. I ended up fulfilling my duties as Chiquitta's personal shopper. And it felt great! I got for her a black corset, a choker, two lip liners (Miro and Jeth, no need to get her those. I already did.), four brushes ("one brush for white eyeshadow, one for black, one for color," according to my makeup teacher, Ricci Chan. Plus a smudging brush, for the pasmado in me.) and a few MAC things. (Vivian of MAC, Lane Crawford, I hope you come across this entry someday. You are a star! Thanks for being my guardian angel!) I also got to shortlist the three gown designs for La Chiq to choose from, for the "Finals Night". (Prodyu, ready ka na ba? Wendell, flash?)

After three hours of walking, examining, trying on, and swiping, I called T and asked whether I should go back home, or meet up with him for dinner. He suggested the latter. I am glad he did. For there couldn't have been a better way to close the week than by sharing with T, the simple, yet sumptuous pleasures that the Three-Sixty organic food court bring.


Here's to the many endings in the future!

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

It's been great knowing you. You have been loyal.
You witnessed everything that has happened in this home for more than four years--
every person, every occasion, every heartache, every joke, every dish
and every liquid that evaporated through your power.
Mamu. Ben. Dan. Me. Gil. Razel.

The time has come for you to go.

Goodbye, microwave!

Even Now

After all these years, he still brings a certain kind of tears to my eyes. Seth. Seth Table. The angel who gave up his black coat, jumped, fell, and embraced all the pain and hunger that came with the promise of romantic love.

"I'd rather have one breath of her hair,
one kiss of her mouth,
one touch of her hand,
than an eternity without it."

Working Lunch

*inspired by Tita Mike's Facebook status
---

Oh and add "Sunday" to that too.
Sunday working lunch.

(Around) This Time, Last Year

Sunday, January 25, 2009
About A Boy Crossing The Border
-------
For the first time in his current journey, the road seemed bleak and uncertain.

For the first time, he felt his arrogance -- the arrogance that he always depended on to conceal his weak, vulnerable, human self -- abandon him as the rest of his defenses melt away and disappear in a heartbeat.

For the first time in his current journey, he wasn't too proud to admit what he was feeling. He wasn't scared or ashamed to say, "Please forgive me. Give me one more chance. And the only reason that I need that one more chance is that I love you."

The boy was, for the first time in so long, at that point where something ends and something bigger begins. He knew what lay ahead beyond that point. And with much hope and faith, he decided to do what felt right for him. What felt good for him.

It was past midnight. Just a few minutes before that, he was on a cab racing against time, crossing the tunnel that connected Lantau and Hong Kong Islands. Then without him noticing, in just a few minutes, half the world transitioned from Jan. 22 to Jan. 23 --- from Thursday to Friday. At about the same time, he crossed another border: that where fascination ends and love begins.

It was the beginning of a new journey.
------

AUMULU, t!

Not A Whore

Katy: Where have you been?

Rye: Audition.

Katy: Oh Rye! You are the ultimate theatre whore! You just don't stop, do you? (laughs)

Rye: (laughs) Hahahaha! Yes. Yes, I am a whore.

---

And just this morning, I woke up and realized that i am NOT a whore, because I don't even do it for the money. Slut. I am a slut.

And it's not a bad thing.