Monday, January 31, 2011

Beautiful, dirty-rich

The approaching month made a group of kids restless. About the group of kids, well, they're just a bunch of misfit losers but not the cliched types you'd watch on Glee. The more realistic ones, meaning the less chessy. And they're extremely poor! Yeah, they're poor. I'm sorry I have to emphasise they're poor. Anyway, back to my story.

There's this long time honored tradition within the gang where they would huddle up during the period of "love dates," take a trip down to some paradise of loud thumpa thumpa and bright strobes lights to simply get high.

The girls would dress down to their most revealing and alluring dresses. The men would have their hair trimmed matching a newly bought polo or shirt hugging their not so well-defined built [but all the same handsome], a blessing of their youth.

And why would they do these? Simple. They want to show the brethren, even for that single night, that they too are demigods. That despite the absence of a partner clasping their hands or giving them roses and all that shit, they too can smile [more of a smirk], strut and definitely fuck around!

They would conquer the dance floor with their inviting moves. They do that on purpose. So that when somebody try and dance with them, they would turn to an accomplice brother/sister, then would share some lips on lips action to the horror of the poor victim.

They would laugh at the poor guy or girl's stupidity. They would laugh at their own stupidity. They would drown themselves with alcohol until nobody could notice that they are the same outcasts of the everyday life. They would smoke cigars so their angsts and anguish would trail up in the air, leaving them peaceful even for that merciful split of time. Behold, the bad-asses!

Oh but the gang was not all that losers. One or two, the luckier get hitched. They couldn't come. Or they could join the ritual if they promise they would be the "guardians." Poor creatures who could only take a bottle of venom, a maximum of three depending on his/her capacity, so they could prevent the other kids from lying down on the street, taking the poor cab driver's vest, the girls flashing their tits at unsuspecting passersby or simply just to make sure that they all go back to their headquarter the same number as they checked out.

At late morning, the smell of a brewing coffee would wake them up to a painful reality. There are laughters as they they try recall the happenings of the previous night. High-pitched laugh to hide the vexation. Crazy humor to bury down the infection. After a hefty breakfast, one by one they would leave. And so the cycle continues.

There's a Master to all these rituals. Even by the absence of decree, it just came naturally that he is to be the Master, not only for such ceremonies but the unspoken leader of the gang. They would wait patiently as the Master frowns scratching his chin trying to drag out a diabolical plan that would blow everybody's mind out.

Now, the Master of these ceremonies is wondering. He has some questions. Sure he wants to join his herd for good times. But in the very essence of the ritual, is he still worthy of it? A part of him is nudging him saying, "no, you won't be a part of it this year honey" while the other part is laughing at him, teasing, "you hopeless-romantic-stupid-schmuck, yes, you sir are hallucinating!."

No matter what, one thing is sure. The Master would always be the same loser. The same misfit. The same outcast. After all, the Master has to live by his name -the Désolé Boy

"Beautiful, dirty-rich" by Lady Gaga

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Ipahintulot nawa

May mga bagay akong gustong sabihin pero hindi ko masabi. Hindi ko alam kung hindi ko lang ba matimpla ang mga tamang salitang dapat kong sabihin o sadyang hindi ko alam ang sasabihin. O kung gusto niya, nilang marinig ang sasabihin ko. 

May mga bagay din sana akong gustong itanong pero hindi ko rin alam kung dapat bang itanong. O kung may tanong nga ba talaga. Ano ba ang pinagmumulan ng tanong? Ang kagustuhang malaman at maliwanagan sa mga bagay-bagay? Isang masalimuot na sitwasyon? O isa pa ring tanong? Kaya walang katapusan ang samu't-saring tanong?

May mga taong gusto ko sanang makasama. Yung iba hindi pwede kasi malayo. Yung iba hindi ko alam kung papayag silang makasama ako. Kung magugustuhan nila akong kasama. At siyempre meron ding yung ayaw talaga akong makasama.

May mga bagay, tao at pagkakataon akong nais sanang hanapin. Pero hindi ko matagpuan. Hindi ko rin alam kung saan sisimulan ang paghahanap. Hindi ko nga alam kung dapat ba silang hanapin. Kung gusto ba nilang magpahanap. At kung talagang posible silang mahanap. 

Ang dami kong kinatatakutan. Na alam kong hindi rin naman dapat katakutan. Takot ako sa payaso. Takot ako sa sarili kong dugo. Takot ako sa mga pangarap ko. Takot ako sa sarili ko. 

May gusto akong sabihin. Gustong-gusto ko. May gusto akong gawin. Gustong gusto ko. May mga tanong ako. May mga hinahanap at nais mahanap. 

Pero may takot. May tanong. May alinlangan. 

May gusto...

"Isn't anyone tryin' to find me? Would somebody come take me home?"
-"I'm with you" by Avril Lavigne

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Wonderful shadow

At 70, he holds court in a classroom of thirty students, shuffling through a stack of yellow index cards with one hand, holding a microphone with another.

He selects a card at random, and reads out a name. A girl springs to her feet. The professor peers over his black-rimmed glasses.

“If a boy is in love, and stands outside the home of the girl he loves, should he be denied this right? If you were in Congress, would you support an anti-stalking law?”

The girl pauses. “Yes, I would, because—”

“If he does no harm, and all he wants is to stand on the street where she lives, would you deny him that right?”

The professor raises his arms and looked into the distance, a white-bearded Romeo to his invisible Juliet.

“If he says, ‘How canst thou break this heart whose only sin is to be is love with thee?’ Could you break his heart?”

Laughter in the room.




The professor props his chin on his hand.

“Does loving thee have no legal weight?”


The above was taken from a draft of an article by Patricia Evangelista to be out this coming Februrary for UNO Magazine (The constitutionality of love and lepers). The 70 year old professor was no other than Rene Saguisag, a law professor and a former senator, whose legislative record shows 415 days of perfect attendance in the sessions of the 11th Congress of the Republic of the Philippines. 

I'm amazed, really! For one, I love great teachers. Because I think there's a scarcity of them here in the country and the sooner we realise that, the better. Second, I actually have plans to enter law school. 

I started contemplating on the idea of me studying law right after I landed on my first job at ABS-CBN. I thought, "a life of a student was way better than this running errands and left and right kissing of somebody else's ass."

It was very hard adjusting to the idea of you grinding even on Sundays just for a few bucks instead of just asking them pronto from your parents. Plus the culture inside the company didn't make it any easier for a neophyte like me to make my way within such urban jungle. I thought, "life at school would be easy." "That's where I belong."

But three years have passed and still I'm a slave for the media industry. Last year was probably the hype of my intention to enter law school. I started jaunting one law school to another and started asking for their offers and even consulted my father about it. Even the fraternity that I'm gonna be a member of is already decided. I was almost ready. By the coming semester of 2011, I would be a law student.

But things changed, well not really unexpectedly. I left ABS-CBN hoping to get a normal 8-hour office job, an ideal set-up for me to be able to attend school during weekends at the same time still earn decent cash to support whatever it is that would come along the way. But it didn't happen. 

I'm still here floating in an industry where you have to leave your mother in a middle of a Holy Mass because your editor called and he needed this video material. And so your mother would wait for 4 hours [which would mean 4 holy masses for her to sit in and listen]. This industry where holidays aren't really marked red in the calendar and the pay...the pay...well, there's no other word to describe it but - terrible. 

But I love law. I would read law textbooks in my spare times and discuss them with my uncles and cousins who are mostly cops. I think I would be a good criminal lawyer. Or a political lawyer, perhaps?

In a gathering of journalists some time late last year, I proudly declared my intention to enter law school. The announcement was met with sounds of crickets while others remained unfazed. Some gave me a quizzical look. 

One veteran journalist made sure my mind would be rocked. That was Ellen Tordesillas. She said, she too thought of studying law because she thought it would help her understand more the technicalities and even the boundaries of her writings. But then here's the problem, she said. "The study of law would derail your journalistic mind, eyes and heart."

She need not explain it further. I understood what she meant immediately. The dawning of thoughts made me sad. Maybe law school is just a childhood dream. Maybe it isn't for me. 

But honestly, the thought never left my mind. I think it is still waiting, sitting patiently inside my clattered mind for me to summon it again. How about a talk with a lawyer to balance the argument? Or a class sit in? Ask more people about it?

There are many things I could do. But I guess I don't have to hurry. Everything will probably fall in their right places. After all, it is I who would command the universe to make it happen. It is I who would captain this world to sail into a horizon I want it to claim. Until then, I would tell you the stories of word battles and reason intercourses. 

Until then...

Article draft taken from Pat Evangelista's Facebok account. No intention of copyright infringement. 

"Wonderful Shadow" by Tanita Tikaram

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Stories about love (but not love stories)

We ever always find answers and solutions to this word -love. As for those cynics, indeed it is a question. Meanwhile, the lucky and the blessed take it as the answer itself.

Let me take you down to a story by Aristophanes, a great Greek playwright who lived around ca. 446-ca. 386 BC, who tried to explain in his infamous speech - the origin of love.

There were originally three sexes born of the Sun (males), Earth (females) and Moon (hermaphrodites). Each of three sexes were doubled over and united as whole. 

Each form of person was round and all over with back and side encompassing it in every way; each head has four arms and legs to match these and two faces perfectly alike on a cylindrical neck. There was one head to the two faces, which looked opposite ways; there were four ears, two sets of genitals, and all the other parts as may be imagined in proportion. 

One day this entire race mounted an attack against the Olympic gods. All three sexes somersaulted up towards Zeus. Zeus was furious with such a show of arrogance. But he didn't want to destroy the entire race. 

"I think I can contrive that mortals, without ceasing to exist, shall give over this excess through a lessening of their strength. I propose now to slice every one of them in two, so that while making them weaker, we shall also find them more useful by reasons of the greater number." 

Being cut in half immediately resulted in the forms of heterosexuality (from the hermaphrodites) and homosexuality (in both male and female forms). A further consequence of this split, (beside the origin of the bellybutton which was used to seal each wounded half) was that each half crave for it's other half. 

When our first form was cut into two, each half in longing for its fellow would come to it again and then would they fling their arms about each other and in mutual embraces yearn to be bound together. 

This is the origin of love, continues Aristophanes, and why human beings are constantly chasing after one another...

Friday, January 21, 2011


An old painting of my Lolo on his wedding day
August 16, 1920 - January 21, 1999

Langit sa gabing maligalig
ay walang ala-ala
ng naglahong saya.
Sa lansangan
nagkalat ang mga dahong lagas
at ang hangin
ay umiiyak.

Buhay na dati-rati'y makulay
ang siyang naaalala
sa aking pag-iisa.
Sa isipan 
ang kulay ay hindi mawala
bigyang buhay
ang gunita.

Gunita ni Pete Lacaba, halaw sa orihinal na awiting Memory ng musical na Cats

Today, I celebrate your freedom from this world;
your freedom to all the pains of your illnesses. 

Twelve years ago exactly this date.

But today I continue to mourn
the loss of a lolo;
a father;
a mentor;
a hero;
a playmate;
a friend.

Rest now my lolo. I will be just fine. I promise  

But you know it will take me a lifetime to stop me from 
missing you. 


Monday, January 17, 2011

Venus as a boy

Chapter 1

"Nang mawala ka sa akin ikaw at ako ay nawalan. 
Ako dahil ikaw ang minahal ko ng lubusan; 
ikaw dahil ako ang nagmahal sa 'yo ng lubusan. 
Ngunit sa ating dalawa ay higit na ikaw ang nawalan
dahil pwede kong mahalin ang iba tulad ng pagmamahal ko sa 'yo
ngunit ikaw ay hindi mamahalin tulad ng kung paano kita minahal." 

-salin sa Tagalog mula sa orihinal na Espanol na tula ni Ernesto Cardenal


Chapter 2

I heaved myself from the dark hell hole that is rejection and failed love. I was tormented, shattered with few more slabs that are missing. I bathed myself with my own blood out from my dripping chest that you pierced with your sharpened words and thoughts. I had no choice. I had to scrub myself with the little less pride that you've left me with. I've faced the dark heavens crying psalms of deep sadness. But heavens weren't kind. Instead of a ray of hope, it unveiled to me a constellation of stars depicting you, cradling another creature in a bliss as dazzling as Aurora. I shed tears no further. I grab a dagger from my pocket. I slashed both my arms and welcomed the blinding pain of loss. Alas, the aching was gone. I was given wings in replacement of my arms. I glanced back at your high spirited image. One last look of longing. One last look of hope. You're happy with your choice. It's time to loosen my hold. I spread my wings determined to reach further and higher. Wherever and whatever direction, I knew nothing. But I'm flying. Yes, I am flying. 

-because I wanted to sleep in a bus ride and the dancing morning sunshine invited me to join her ritual


Chapter 3





-ulat ni EPT para sa DZIQ 990 Radyo Inquirer 


"Venus as a boy" by Bjork


This entry is created for the amusement of the writer and therefore has nothing to do with any person living or dead or his current status in this so-called life. It is fiction except for the last chapter which is a real and a legitimate news report. 

Friday, January 14, 2011

Come fill me in

Parang ganyan yung utak ko sa larawan sa taas. 
Mukhang blangko.
 Sinasabing blangko. 
Pero hindi naman talaga. 
[Tignan mo may nakasulat namang blangko di ba? So, hindi siya talaga blangko, tama?] 
Hindi makapag-blog. 

Hindi ko alam kung dahil nauubos na sa trabaho lahat ng ideya ko sa pagsusulat o talagang wala lang ako maisip i-blog. 
[Mahirap pala mag-full time writer!]

May ilang teorya pa ako kung bakit 'di ako makapagblog:

Una, wala akong inspirasyon ngayon. 
Pangalawa, wala din masyadong drama sa buhay. 
'Di din naman yung sobrang saya. Sakto lang talaga. 
Parang robot lang na kumikilos dahil kailangan at may nag-uutos. 

Naisip ko nga, the best pa rin talaga 'pag broken hearted ako, hehe. 
Inspirado magsulat. 
Inspirado gumawa ng magagandang musika. 
Inspirado din magpasexy. 

Kaya naisip ko maghahanap na lang ako ng pwedeng manakit muli sa 'kin. 

Sino kaya ang pwedeng sunod na sumugat sa puso't isip ko? Baka sakaling magkalaman...

kahit dugo.

Monday, January 10, 2011


The boy tried his might arranging words in his mind but the throbbing pain at the back of his head is too much to ignore. He removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes carelessly then closed them tightly. He counted, one, two, three…the monotonous ascension of numbers just made it worse. It was decided that he’s going to sleep early despite the continuous beeping of his mobile phone and the crazy shrieking of his neighbor’s dog.

When he slept that night, he expected the pain to wane so he was disappointed when he found out that morning that the discomfort was still knocking persistently at the back of his skull. As with the advice of his two med-student friends, a hospital visit, alas, is inevitable.

The trip could’ve been good if not for few things. For one, the doctor scolded the boy for his uncanny talent of taking care of himself since it was only a few months ago when he was confined in that same hospital for dengue. Second, the boy is now under observation and is to take 3 different pills all according to the doctor are targeting his brain. Lastly, the cute guy who nursed him months ago is nowhere to be found –fat chance for whatever it is the boy is thinking!

Now, the pounding pain was aggravated by many other things such as career choices and those who are trying to make him a “career” [I was kidding]. Decisions, decisions, decisions! Everything seems to be cracking the boy’s skull severely and yet no answer is still popping out. There’s this big commotion inside him shouting things like “coward,” “pompous ass,” “future,” “responsibility,” “dreams,” “plans” then finally the word “sick.”

The boy figured out he wasn’t what he used to believe a healthy outgoing kid frowning over his classmate under asthma attack. He’s the one who’s constantly under attack now.

There are many things he wishes. Like the ability to decide over his career. Chances to leave the very same field he fell in love with but is also now dragging him 6 feet under. Money and talent to pursue his passion in writing and film making. And an idea on how to end his boring entry which will ensure the continuous patronage of its reader and the satisfaction of its owner.


"Leave me here Lord. Leave me in the valley.
Let me rest my weary head
Give peace to your survivor
Put all my fears into bed
You lose your way you've got to land
You gotta make another plan
But sometimes I'm inspired
You're gonna sing another song
You're gonna sing another song
You're gonna right another wrong
And sometimes I'm inspired."
-from Wind and the Mountain written and performed by Liz Phair

Sunday, January 9, 2011


All photos taken by DésoléBoy using Samsung ES15 Digital Camera
"Nazarenus: Translacion de Nuestro Padre Jesus Nazareno"
January 2011 Quiapo, Manila

Sunday, January 2, 2011

There's the rabbit, then prophecies, resolutions and a newfound hope

Alas, I gave in to writing tradition of resolutions, forecasts and other whatnots as this brand new year is unfolding right in front of our noses and the smell of freshly laden hope is just too much to ignore, yes? While I was optimistic with the idea that I was born under the sign of Rabbit (1987) and the Chinese Lunar Calendar is paying tribute to it (or something like that) I know this boy won’t be oblivious to the crimes of the world and carrying myself still is the topmost task in my list.

Let me share with you some of my prophecies for this year 2011.

1. I would remain as this hot-single-bachelor-boy (I had to include the word “boy,” sorry)

2. I would have achieved a smokin’ body that all the guys and babes would be hot for thus;

3. I would go on travel A LOT to avoid the frenzy of my mounting admirers 

Alright, I can see now that you’re moving your cursor to the unfollow button, haha. But really, don’t we all want to hear something like this instead of the usual warns of dooms and poofs?

Second, resolutions are good. Whether we’ll be able to stick on it or not, isn’t it just fun going back on it by the end of the year and check for ourselves what we’ve done and the things that we haven’t?

Here’s mine.

1. Be more organized. Solution to this is to buy a new cabinet or a decent bookshelf and a huge laundry bin so my room won’t be littered with newspapers, books, used underwears and porns.

2. Study more on film editing especially Avid and watch more art films

3. Attend firing lessons with my uncle and behave myself to create this image of mature-enough-to-own-a-gun-someday

4. Get serious in toning my body


6. Lessen the cynicisms 

Now I must admit all the above six would be as hard as my stiffy every morning. For one, burara talaga ko sa gamit ko at obvious na obvious yan pag sinilip mo ang bag ko dahil siguradong tatawag ka ng DTI representative dahil magulo pa siya sa tambiyolo.

On number two, I now have more problems with my attention span compared to my school days, so learning about it I know would be tough.

Third point, everybody knows I have a terrible temper with slight autism. But really, I wanna own a gun someday.

The problem with number four is that my friends and I would be merging on a single gym (clue: somewhere near GMA7) this year which means more distractions not to mention all the hot guys and girls in there. Whew!

Five, I don’t think I need to elaborate on it more. And six would be like telling Patrick the Starfish to go get an IQ test. So good luck to me!

New Year doesn’t mean new life coz we only have one neither that it’s a fresh start coz we’ve started all the way long before. Whether we like it or not there would always be the pasts that are once the present and are all attached to us. All we can do is just to deal with whatever shits that may hit the fan and absorb all the good things while they last.

New Year to me is new hope. It is hard, I know. But hoping, like I always say, is better than being optimistic. Optimism is to expect things to be better while hoping is the conviction that even if things didn’t turn out quite right, we stand anyway. That way happiness would be more graspable even if it is only by default –like mine.

Copyright © 2010 Désolé Boy | Blogger Templates by Splashy Templates | Free PSD Design by Amuki