Of Jedi's and Eklavu's

10 things lesbians, gays, straights, transgendered, and the straights too, should know about George Lucas’ Star Wars Saga

1. Anakin Skywalker and Queen/Senator Padme Amidala’s love is forbidden because Anakin is destined for another groundbreaking relationship – that with mentor and master Obi Wan Kenobi. The midi-chlorians in Anakin’s cells are receptive to the male and female sexes. The Jedi council has foreseen very controversial consequences as results of Anakin’s emotional entanglements during his youth. If Anakin were to fall insanely in love with a female species, he would be converted to the dark side. Only a requited love – a love from another Jedi - would bring balance to the Force. However, the Jedi Council would not also allow this because…

2. …the Jedi knights are closet queens. A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, the Jedi knights were celebrated as protectors of the republic. However, the empire is characterized by widespread homophobia that’s why it was so goddamn difficult for the Jedi’s to be “out.” Hence, the Jedi’s strictly observe a code that forbids them from nurturing emotional relationships. This way, the Jedi’s apparent lack of interest in women would be justified and society would not become suspicious of them.



3. The Force makes itself available only to hardcore gays or lesbians. Heterosexuals, whether human or alien, doesn’t have the ability to feel and experience the Force. Those who embrace the Force, though remaining secretive about it, become Jedi’s. All Jedi’s are good citizens and they continually foster justice, peace, beauty and glamour in the republic. Trivia: do you know that the techno lights, which are so popular in gay places like clubs and disco bars, were actually based on the light sabers used by the Jedi’s?

4. Princess Leia is a lesbian. Leia’s ability to establish connection with twin brother, Luke Skywalker, even though he is gazillion miles or light years away, are indicators that the Force is also strong in her. In fact, her uncanny abilities to combat troops of droids already gave her away. In an amazing fight sequence in Episode VI: The Return of the Jedi, specifically the hot pursuit in the Ewok forest, Leia could very well be a dyke on a bike! And of course, through R2D2, she urgently pleads for the help of no less than the old flame of his father – Obi Wan Kenobi! Though the identity of his father was still unknown to her, the Force was already that strong.



5. There are many, however, who have the ability to feel and communicate with the Force but cannot accept the staggering fact of their homosexuality - they are the homophobics. By using the Force for corrupt and destructive purposes, the homophobics become the Siths. Darth Lord Siddious, the powerful Sith warrior who is bent on destroying the Jedi’s, clouded Anakin’s mind. He was successful, and Anakin and Obi Wan Kenobi’s desire for each other was doomed forever. Trivia: There was a rumor, apparently from the all-male army of the Dark Lord, that Anakin’s lower extremities were badly destroyed following the thrilling swordfight between him and Obi Wan in Episode III, The Revenge of the Sith. Because his organ is irreplaceable, the Dark Lord made Anakin trans-gendered. But then again, this is just a rumor ng mga chismosang bakleta in the armed forces.

6. At present, 2006, the Force is still with us. It is now called Gaydar. Hence, our greetings and fond affections to our fellow gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered, as well as straights, should be this: “May the Gaydar be with you!”

7. Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” was originally written and composed for Star Wars to be played during the closing credits in all six episodes. But George Lucas feared widespread boycott by the homophobic viewing public because the song was just too pop and too flamboyant. Thus, he commissioned the services of John Williams, a musician more inclined towards the classical genre. John Williams, of course, remains as one of the modern masters of classical music. “I Will Survive” on the other hand, is hailed as the ultimate gay anthem in the past three decades.

8. The Star Wars saga is in fact based on J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings – another fantasy saga that has a gay undercurrent. You might argue, “Hey, LOTR was only released in 2002 whereas George Lucas’ Star Wars was already embraced by the world way back in 1977!” In that case, you are a stupid, illiterate and misinformed dork. The introduction of Tolkien’s LOTR trilogy, The Hobbit, was already devoured by the reading public as early as 1937. Even Gone With The Wind was yet to be shown in America at this time. Apparently, George Lucas was so moved by the special relationship between the ring-bearer Frodo Baggins and his willing companion, fellow-hobbit Samwise Gamgee, that he brought their unique love story from the middle earth to space!

9. C-3PO is actually a parlor gay robot! You must understand that Barbie dolls were not yet popular girl and gay toys a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away. The strength of the Force in Anakin, although he was still a child, enabled him to create a droid/plaything that would also help them in their household chores. Alas! C-3PO is a very soft spoken droid. He even sways when he walks. And he speaks six million languages. Of course, you might slap me with hateful words, “You are very stereotypical! You should be burned at the stakes!” But in case you haven’t noticed, soft speech, the swaying of the hips and linguistic inventiveness are characteristics of typical parlorista’s!

10. Han Solo is NOT gay! If he were, then there is no reason for everybody else to be not gay and all the inhabitants of the republic might as well be Jedi’s. There were two incidents wherein Han Solo saved the life of Luke Skywalker, specifically the rescues from the Death Star explosion and the ice-storm in episodes IV and V, respectively. Because of these, the gay community might just applaud the blossoming relationship of Han Solo and Luke Skywalker. But the idea is preposterous! Han Solo is just a hunk who happens to be a good pilot. That’s all. In fact, his Millennium Falcon is synonymous with the Ferrari’s and Harley’s that are treated by modern men as their babies. The Force or the Gaydar is non-existent in him. The tender jealousy he displays, which was his unconscious reaction to the bond between Luke and Princess Leia, were no less than expressions of sincere love and devotion. Pare, men fall madly in love too, you know. ‘Di lang mga bading ang napa-praning sa pag-ibig noh!

DISCLAIMER: This is just a spoof. This is not intended to mar the fabulous reputation of the Star Wars saga. Kumpareng George naman, friends tayo, di vah? Alam mo namang luuvv na luuvv ko ang Star Wars mo!

Strange Fat Boys.

She only looked away for a moment, and the mask slipped, and you fell. All your tomorrows start here.

She wonders what her daughter will do.
She wonders what her daughter will be.


Several years later, from a taxi, you will see someone in a doorway who looks like her, but she will be gone by the time you persuade the driver to stop. You will never see her again.
Whenever it rains you think of her.


Thirty-five years a showgirl that she admits to, and her feet hurt, day in, day out, from the high heels, but she can walk down steps with a forty-pound headdress in high heels, she's walked across a stage with a lion in high heels, she could walk through goddamn Hell in high heels if it came to that.


And then, her business joyfully concluded, she forgets him utterly and forever, and she turns her attention to the next.
One day she won't love you too. It will break your heart.


She rides rollercoasters but never screams when they plummet or twist and upside down.
If you told her the jacket was yours she'd just shrug and give it back to you. It's not like she cares, not one way or the other.


She remains on the edges of time, implacable, unhurt, beyond, and one day you will open your eyes and see her, and after that, the dark.
It is not a reaping. Instead, she will pluck you, gently, like a feather, or a flower for her hair.


This is what they do for a living. They walk in, take what they need, walk out again.
It's not glamorous. It's just business. It may not always be strictly legal.
It's just business.


She found the first body in a stairwell.
That night, after the shower, which could not wash what she had had to do away, not really, she said to her husband, "I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"That this job is making me hard. That it's making me someone else. Someone I don't know any more."
He pulled her close, and held her, and they stayed touching, skin to skin, until dawn.

The smell of cordite always makes her think of the fourth of July.
You use the gifts God gave you. That was what her mother had said, which makes their falling out even harder, somehow. Nobody will ever hurt her. She'll just make her faint vague wonderful smile and walk away.
It's not about the money. It's never about the money.


Actually the Gestapo picked her up during a border crossing in 1943, and they left her in a meadow. First she dug her own grave, then a single bullet to the back of the skull.
Her last thought, before that bullet, was that she was four months' pregnant, and that if we do not fight to create a future there will be no future for any of us.


Some of the girls were boys.
The view changes from where you are standing.
Words can wound, and wounds can heal.
All of these things are true.





Written by Neil Gaiman.
Inspired by Tori Amos.

Lives in peril: the oil spill in Guimaras

Last Saturday, I went to Guimaras together with two officemates, Danny and Raymund. Our assignment were to conduct environmental assessment and produce an initial screening report on the impact of the oil spill to the affected communities in the island province. It was my first time in Guimaras, and probably won't be the last should our foundation (PBSP) implement a livelihood rehabilitation program for the affected families, especially those whose source of income is fishing.

What confronted us were very sad images - stained white beaches, patches and patches of mangroves buried in bunker fuel from the waist down, lifeless fishes in the water's surface, waters perpetually polluted. But just as man is responsible for the destruction of Guimaras' marine ecosystem, there are also so much that man can do so the future of this island paradise would not remain as bleak.

Here are some of the pictures that I took last weekend.


Almost dead from the waist down.



Life amidst death.





This used to be a sea of honey.

If my life were captured in a book

If my life were captured in a book, I would want a lengthy title for the book, something that would ultimately encompass my life and times, just in case the more than 5 billion people of the world would be too occupied to even read the back cover text of my book. Thus, spake zarathustra, the recommended book titles:

1. How to dismantle an atomic bomb without losing a finger but compromising your sanity: the life and times of Jessie Cubijano

2. How to kill a monster and secure a place in heaven: freeing the human race of Jessie Cubijano

3. Werewolf from the firmament: loving and hating the montrosity that is Jessie Cubijano

4. Tinimbang ka ngunit kulang: ang mga pakikipagsapalaran ni Jessie Cubijano sa buhay at sa pag-ibig

I Want You To Know

I Want You To Know

I
I want you to know
that I love you.
Though this I’ve said
a hundred times before.

Still, saying these words now matters-
this hour, this minute,
because here in this place that you built for me,
I never wanna stop loving you.

II
I want you to believe
in my trust for you.
Though my fears are like open wounds-
dripping with blood.

These wounds are gaping holes that flinch
with your cotton touch drenched in liquid medicine.
Still I wanna kiss your sting because it will heal me-
always, I know, completely.

III
I need you to understand
the strength of my loneliness.
Though your own shouldn’t make you
a stranger to this feeling.

I create my imaginary company, some of which are angels
while many are monsters and demons.
Yet, you were a warm body who rose above the fiction
that seemed never-ending.

IV
You may not feel it at times,
but I’m with you always.
Heart, mind, body, spirit-
Your presence within me, around me, yes, always so fierce.

12 August 2006

The boogieman on happiness, peace

Peace, happiness - they don't happen or occur forever. One just can't live 24/7 and have happiness and peace in his backpack or drawers. The happiness, or the peace - it just happens and you meet it head on, and later on you will realize that you've done the right thing when you seized it when it was there.

The boogieman on truth

Most often, truth advertises itself as the key to redemption. It is. But truth itself has multi-personalities, different contexts, objective and subjective presentations of itself. Once in a while, the litmus test of truth's virtue is this - is it going to enshrine peace in your heart and mind?

Of beauty queens and men in trunks

bi131_5: wat's funny?
bi131_5: akong email? hehehehe
TYLER TYLER: i arrived sa office
bi131_5: and then?
bi131_5: jess?
TYLER TYLER: im back
bi131_5: ok
TYLER TYLER: i arrived around 9.30
TYLER TYLER: mostly ang mga people sa office are girls
TYLER TYLER: they arrived between 7.30-9
TYLER TYLER: but it was yours truly who invited them to watch miss universe sa tv sa conference room
bi131_5: hahahaha
TYLER TYLER: that fact - they pointed out to me - over lunch
bi131_5: pero its not gay if a man watched ms universe, in fact murag boys jud cguro mo invite to watch, i think
bi131_5: cguro ako if motanaw ko lain ang motive jsut like guys heheheh
TYLER TYLER: hello, the evening gown competition is my favorite part of the show!
bi131_5: hahahhahah, okay projecting in other words heheh
bi131_5: akoang iwatch kay swim suit hehehe, not that i wana wear them heheh, just ogling lang hehehehe
TYLER TYLER: in swimsuit - they all look the same
TYLER TYLER: but boys in swimwear - thats another story
bi131_5: bitaw pero ud know kinsa lami irainbow over who's lifeless in swimsuit, hehe, bitaw, nahan sad ko men in trunks
bi131_5: like sa katong bench email ni ody hehehe
TYLER TYLER: naa ko i-send nga file ha
TYLER TYLER: ay bad its no longer here, i brought it home
TYLER TYLER: yummy guy in white tapis
TYLER TYLER: and angel wings
bi131_5: i think i saw na, murag u sent me na. mga goodlooking guys with very bug angel wings
bi131_5: big
TYLER TYLER: no, singular, one guy only
TYLER TYLER: though his sex appeal is very much PLURAL
bi131_5: heheheheh, i hear ya!

Tori

The Goddess of SinSuality

Years go by will I still be waiting for somebody else to understand. Years go by if I'm stripped of my beauty and the orange clouds raining in my head. Years go by will I choke on my tears till finally there is nothing left. One more casualty you know we're to EASY easy easy. Silent All These Years

Maybe I ain't used to maybes. Smashing in a cold room. Cutting my hands up every time I touch you. Maybe maybe it's time to wave goodbye now, time to wave goodbye now. Tear In Your Hand

Can't reach you. Can't reach you. Give me life. Give me pain. Give me myself again. Oh these little earthquakes, here we go again. These little earthquakes doesn't take much to rip us into pieces. Little Earthquakes

He says when you gonna make up your mind. When you gonna love you as much as i do. When you gonna make up your mind, cause things are gonna CHANGE so fast. All the white horses are still in bed. I tell you that I'll always want you near. You say that things change my dear. Winter

Look i'm standing naked before you, don't you want more than my sex. I can scream as loud as your last one but I can't claim innocence. I could just pretend that you love me, the night would lose all sense of fear. But why do i need you to love me when you can't hold what i hold dear. Leather

All songs by Tori Amos from Little Earthquakes.

Tori

The Goddess of SinSuality

Clouds descending, I'm not policing what you think. And dream
i run into your thought from across the room. Just another trick, can i weather this? I've got a fever above my waist, you got a squeeze box on your knee. I know the truth is in between the 1st and the 40th drink. Concertina, concertina, a chill that bends. This i swear, you're the fiercest calm I've been in. Concertina

You say you don't want it again and again but you don't really mean it. You say you don't want it, this circus we're in but you don't you don't really mean it. You don't really mean it. How many fates turn around in the overtime. Ballerinas that have fins that you'll never find. You thought that you were the bomb yeah well so did i. Say you don't want it. Say you don't want it. Spark

Hey Jupiter, nothings been the same. So are you gay? Are you blue? Thought we both could use a friend to run to. And I thought I wouldn't have to be
with you something new. Sometimes I breathe you in, and I know you know. And sometimes you take a swim. Found your writing on my wall, if my hearts soaking wet,
boy your boots can leave a mess. Hey Jupiter

To the line. Through the dawn. To the light. To the turn. When you said -- You could drive all night. Drive all night. So I let Crazy take a spin. Then I let Crazy settle in. Kicked off my shoes. Shut reason out. He said "first let's just unzip your religion down" Crazy

Where the river cross, crosses the lake. Where the words jump off my pen and into your pages. Do you think just like that you can divide - This You as yours, Me as mine to before we were Us. If the rain has to separate from itself, does it say "pick out your cloud?" Your Cloud

Thought I knew you well. Thought I had read the sky. Thought I had read a change in your eyes. So strange, woke up to a world that I am not a part
except when I can play it's stranger. After all, what were you really looking for and I wonder when will I learn. Blue isn't red, everybody knows this. And I wonder
when will I learn, when will I learn. Guess I was in Deeper than I thought I was
if I have enough love for the both of us. Strange

Had a northern lad, well not exactly had. He moved like the sunset,
god who painted that. First he loved my accent, how his knees could bend. I thought we'd be ok, me and my molasses. But I feel something is wrong, but I feel this cake just isn't done. Don't say that you don't and if you could see me now, said if you could see me now. Girls you've got to know when it's time to turn the page. When you're only wet because of the rain, you know it's time to change. Northern Lad

I guess i'm an underwater thing, I'm liquid running. There's a sea secret in me, it's plain to see it is rising. But i must be flowing liquid diamonds,
calling for my soul at the corners of the world. Liquid Diamonds

Rolling and unrolling, coiling emerging running free, running through the underworld into your room. Is he real or a ghost-lie. She feels she isn't heard. And the veil tears and rages, til her voices are remembered and his secrets can be told. Lust

These tears i've cried, i've cried 1000 oceans. And if it seems I'm
floating. In the darkness. Well, I can't believe that I would keep keep you from flying. And I would cry 1000 more if that's what it takes to sail you home. Sail you home. Sail you home. 1000 Oceans

All songs by Tori Amos.

Sarah

“My husband - my loving, dear, patient husband who put up with me through all this insanity - I thought I’d better do something really nice for him. So I wrote him a love song. And for the first time in my career, I’ve managed to write a happy one. So here’s my apology.” – Sarah McLachlan
Push

Every time I look at you the world just melts away
All my troubles all my fears dissolve in your affections
You've seen me at my weakest but you take me as I am
And when I fall you offer me a softer place to land

You stay the course you hold the line you keep it all together
You're the one true thing I know I can believe in
You're all the things that I desire, you save me, you complete me
You're the one true thing I know I can believe

I get mad so easy but you give me room to breathe
No matter what I say or do 'cause you're to good to fight about it
Even when I have to push just to see how far you'll go
You wont stoop down to battle but you never turn to go

Your love is just the antidote when nothing else will cure me
There are times I cant decide when I cant tell up from down
You make me feel less crazy when otherwise I'd drown
But you pick me up and brush me off and tell me I'm OK
Sometimes thats just what we need to get us through the day

Moving On

Moving On

Almost one month earlier, I treated my tired soles to the most expensive pair of shoes that I’ve ever bought – a Merrell footwear that the according to the price tag costs P4,590. For a poor bloke, it’s pricey, considering that it was something I bought impulsively. I just woke up one Saturday morning with this thirst for a better perspective of the world. I was Mrs. Dalloway, and instead of flowers, I told myself that Yes, I will buy a good pair of shoes today! I will explore my city, and I need a new pair of shoes to take me to the source of the stink, to the heart of the heat. What a lark! What a plunge!

And so the shoes have traveled to places and now refuse to be kept in its box – his box. In his place, instead, are letters, email printouts, cards, pictures, post-its and mementos of a love that all of a sudden seems so long ago – a pair of blue boxers, an orange shirt, LBC pouches in different sizes, torn gift wrappers, a hand puppet, a hand woven wallet, a PDI clipping on Sagada, a toothbrush that for a time had a conjugal role, and plastics and papers that, for sentimental reasons, were never discarded.

In another box, a sleeping white bear stuffed toy that snores when its paws are squeezed occupies the space. The cute thing might give some homey comfort in any spot in my little room. Ironically though, it also suffers the fate of its kind – that of dust gathering and seeping in its softness.

The next to go were the books, a DVD of Before Sunset, and the CD’s. No, they won’t be kept out of sight. Rather, they will just be among the stacks and piles that populate my space – Cummings, Dickinson, Neruda and the poets and love letter writers in the company of Garcia Marquez, Proulx, Salinger and Tolkien; and the Filipino sounds in harmony with Bach, Debussy, Rachamaninov, Tori Amos and Sarah McLachlan. They will continue serving their purpose, they will remain timeless. But they have stepped down from their little towers because they are humbled.

And the framed, handwritten Walt Whitman poetry? Something more recent is encased in glass this time – the lyrics of the song “Gorecki” by Lamb. Although this is a fairly recent song that gathered a cult following sometime in the 90’s and even until the present, it speaks of a love so fierce, its sound has a Gothic tranquility, and it’s homage to a late Polish composer.

That was almost a month ago when I paid the pleasant cashier and thanked the sales clerk, and my brown rubber shoes have since proven himself to be a good companion. He took me everywhere, then to a familiar place. It’s a different place though – new, special, beautiful.

And so I have once again cleared my table, shelves and spare shoeboxes for the letters and keepsakes that will be born out of this new acquaintance. I took a dive, a plunge, a freefall without security nets. I am young but I have learned early. I am mighty sure that I would land on my feet and not flat on my face. And I’ve got my good shoes on!

The entire world is a stranger.

The entire world is a stranger.

A few times, though, anything within its sphere could be a friend - a lady, a woman, some guy, a man that holds a secret in his jeans, a boy showing off his kindness, a movie, a song, a good book, lines from a poetry, a photograph, a painted picture, freshly brewed coffee, smoke rising from the mouth and the nostrils, a glass filled to the rim with beer, bubbles and ice, a box of chocolates, a keyboard, a blue ballpoint pen and a clean paper, a bottle of water, iced tea, cold evening breeze, soft large-sized pillows.

On many different occasions, they step down from their little towers to offer their alliances and their loyalties. But what is this is madness, this monstrosity that prevents one from becoming all too grateful of their acts of kindness?

Perhaps one remembers the magnitude of his loneliness after turning off his lights at night and nothing from his day could accompany him through his hours of sleep – nobody to share the heat under the white sheets, nobody to accept the tenderness and strength of his embrace, no other sound except his own breathing, no beautiful reason why he should linger in bed in the morning.

But one will always live a new string of hours and the previous night’s sad passions will always momentarily melt with the heat of the day.

In this brand new day, the world will, once again, give birth to new acquaintances – a piece of literature sold at a bargain price, a hard to find CD, a pirated DVD copy of an old movie, the undying passions of Neruda, Cummings or Dickinson, funny and sometimes corny vignettes gathered from spending moments with the ladies and the women, a text message from some guy, a meaningful look from a man with a secret, a new box of Marlboro lights, a tall serving of brewed coffee, scoops of ice cream, an email from an old flame, a pen or a keyboard that helps weave words to become phrases, sentences, thoughts.

The world is a kind stranger, a compassionate stranger, and within its sphere is a man and many others – lonely hunters and willing friends who embrace the day but cry silently in the night.



June 11, 2006

For Leah

For Leah

You would know that the room is about to be filled with her presence. Not because there are drum rolls or musical preludes. There is just a progression of thud, thud, and more thuds from a certain weight, actually high heels, hitting the wooden or concrete floor. Yes, these sounds introduce her. Yes she is approaching and pretty soon you’ll warmly welcome her high-pitched voice and infectious laugh. Oh, she’s wearing her spaghetti-strapped tops today. Wait, is it March or April already? Are we done with Easter Sunday? Hey Leah, how was your Holy Week? And how was your latest performance as the Virgin Mary?

Leah is one of my newest (and closest) friends, having known her only in 2002 when we both joined PBSP (the Philippine Business for Social Progress is a non-profit corporate-led foundation dedicated to the promotion of blah blah blah) around the same time (she was two months ahead of me). In the four years that she was with PBSP, she mutated from being a finance staff to a program officer (wherein she had to hurdle both fortuitous conditions and suspiciously man-made challenges in order to perfect the mutation).

She neither smokes nor drinks anything with caffeine or alcohol, thus good friendship can actually be nurtured in places aside from bars and supposedly hip places. We both love to eat thus friendship can actually grow over slices of meat, cups of rice, slices of cake and bars and mouthfuls of chocolates. Thanks to the food, I have become heavier while she remains frustratingly slim (the world is so unfair, but surprisingly, I am not vindictive).

There were hilarious days including the V-hire fiasco that resulted to the departure of the dreaded zinger (resolved, that what transpired was simply a private matter among close friends). There are also confidences and chikas (factual or speculative in nature) over lunch and snack breaks (including unconstitutional nutrition breaks bound to occur anytime within the day), while exploring the malls, or while riding in the jeepney bound for Consolacion (my stop is Mandaue City).

And then, there was the affirmation of love (the beautiful that is a cause for celebration; the mysterious that is always nice to dissect and analyze piece by piece; the irrational that paralyzes the brain and momentarily maims the heart).

Hey Leah, why do we fall for people not within our daily reach? What’s the glory of missing? Why travel miles just to see them for a few days (he traveled or you, I traveled for him)? Why do we spend hundreds, even thousands, on phone bills and concrete little thoughts (for your guy: a greeting card, a tropical shirt, your studio shot; for my sweet baby: CD’s and books) that have to be transported by air? What is it about local boys that is/are so… uninteresting?

There are answers. There are more answers.

And there are actions - brave actions. The willingness to freely fall. In Henry James’ words, “to dig deep into the actual and get something out of that.” For you Leah, it’s that one-way ticket that would take you to New York and to a new life this coming June 16, 2006. It's that sixteen-hour threshold. Thus, my respect and admiration. My beautiful visions of love. My prayers and best wishes. Break a leg and always be in touch!


Leah is enraptured by the descent of an erotic spirit (she was just expressing her gratitude for the PBSP people who gave her an ice cream and junk foods party.


Some of the staff of the social development foundation who threw the party. There were speeches. There were wishes. And hungry mouths were fed.


A final treat at Sbarro in Ayala. One of Leah's last lunches as a virgin - splurging on Chicago pizza, pasta with tomato sauce and meatballs, macaroni salad, edible oils, olive oils, vegetable oils, and facial oils.


The writer himself and the subject (in one of her last pictures as a virgin).

Live Poem

In posting this intellectual property in my infamous blog, I neither have the proper permission nor the blessing of the author, publisher and copyright owner. My act, conscious and intelligent, self-serving however noble, may be felonious. Let me, instead, advertise the source of this work: One Hundred Love Poems: Philippine Love Poetry Since 1905 published by the University of the Philippine Press (2004). This is the mitigating circumstance of my crime.

Live Poem
By Anna Bernaldo

"Love is always a choice," my mother always says,
But this time her spatula did not point
Pragmatically in my direction.
It stirred silence on the boiling broth,
Ripples matching the excited rhythm
Of the TV sports anchor's voice
In a basketball game my father is watching.

Now that I'm older, I'm forced to reconsider
You and my fixation on the Addams couple
As our role models forever.
One always hungry for the other.

I never listened to my mother,
But everyday I see her.
And I'm older and love must be domestic,
Responsible, sensible as a haircut in summer.

Is it possible for us to make something more
Out of what we are about to have?
Of course, you do not know.
Even I do not know.
Why did I even begin asking questions?
I just wanted to write you a love poem
But I can only live one for you.

The Tale of the Socialite

To be labeled a socialite is definitely not something that I would be proud of. One shouldn’t expect my expression of gratitude if he or she happens to bestow upon me such a supposedly generous compliment because the world, i think, is already crowded, unnecessarily crammed with first ladies and their respective victims. Thus, I feel most positive in perceiving a world populated with the excrements of J.D. Salinger and other dead artists and dreamers. One can’t really be too optimistic these days, but one may be driven to imagine better years ahead if confronted by their conviction, strength and tenacity.

So there, I am done with my little, hopefully profound introduction. Actually, what really triggered this little fuss about being a socialite vis-à-vis the virtues of J.D. Salinger and his contemporaries is my submission, once again, to the lure of this mildly popular online conspiracy – the Tickle Test.

According to the innovators, creators, psychos and artists who are behind and in control of this online conspiracy, Mr. Jessie Cubijano is a Socialite! Yes, I hate to admit it but I am a socialite. But – a socialite – in the REAL sense of the word.

Now let’s take a look back at the path that led me to this present day grandiosity. The phrase ‘present day’ may be vague, often misleading because I have been, and always has been, a socialite.

Basically, I just cruised along a fifty-item instrument that inquired about the intensity of my agreement or disagreement to life-affirming and life-altering situations. The immediate result of the five-minute exercise was both breathtaking and staggering. Breathtaking because I have lived my twenty-five years in such perversity to be anything but a socialite. Staggering because my being a socialite, apparently, is a vindication of my comfort zone.

But read on, Green Creation, Romantic Kisser, because the words ahead are positioned to distort, even shatter, your conventional beliefs:

You, Socialite, are unusually warm, generous and caring. Your natural friendliness and charm mean you're great at meeting people. People sense that you won't desert them or their causes, and that kind of loyalty already places you leaps ahead of many. You've got an exceptionally active imagination, which allows you to come up with innovative ideas. Your piercing social insight probably attracts people to you naturally. The world is a better place because of you.

So what makes the Romantic Kisser a Socialite?

Socialite, your two sub-types are Golden and Thinker. You have relatively high self-esteem and very conscientious. You tend to be someone others rely on since you're responsible, dependable, and dutiful. You like to go about life with a positive attitude — both about yourself and the world around you. You're known intellectually as a careful, deliberating thinker. You are the rare being who wants nothing more than to have a positive effect on the world. Not only are you are driven to make the world smooth and efficient so that everyone can live in harmony, but you actively look for ways you can make this dream a reality.

Intellectually, Thinkers like to dig deep into a problem to solve it — even when others grow impatient and move on to other subjects. As consumers of entertainment, Thinkers enjoy media that is sentimental, peaceful, and like heartwarming stories. They are interested in books, inspirational media, self-improvement, and arts and crafts.

Uhmmm…

In faraway Bohemia

In the faraway galaxy of Bohemia, 15 light years away from the more popular Milky Way, a planet reigned in peace and magnificence during the past 20 millenniums. That planet is Natasha, most astonishing in all of Bohemia because it is blessed by 18 moons, 2 harmless balls of fire, and 35,000 shooting stars.

The Order of the Pretty Immortals, Natasha’s most high life forms, has never ceased in maintaining happiness and grace in the planet. They will continue to be responsible in shaping the never ending future of Bohemia’s economic, entertainment and political capital.

The Order is composed of one supreme chief and five associate immortals. The Royal Cupcake, Natasha’s supreme immortal, remains instrumental in maintaining intergalactic, interplanetary and interkingdom business cooperation. One of the tremendous results of the cooperation is the advocacy to the principle of interplanetary social responsibility, which has helped preserve Bohemia’s marine, upland and urban ecosystems.


The Royal Cupcake in an intimate moment with the Royal Hubby

The Bloody Mary works closely with the Metabolism Master. The former creates, pilots and replicates responsive education system while the latter strengthens Natasha’s workforce composed of elves, mutants, humanoids, gremlins, fairies and groupers.


Bloody Mary and the Physical Fitness Guru in a photo taken at Natasha's Grouper Preservation Camp.

The Level-Headed Fashionista is the overall in-charge of the planet’s administration, most especially in ensuring the steady supply of laser beams that fuel Natasha’s industries and corporations. Meanwhile, the Physical Fitness Guru perseveres in developing and strengthening the galaxy-wide web.


The Level-Headed Fashionista is cooling.

Finally, the Romantic Kisser is relentless in promoting arts all over Natasha and in many zones and regions in Bohemia. He is ceaseless in his quest at discovering films that inspire and uplift, music that sings to the heart, and literary pieces that are truly slices of life.


The Romantic Kisser is wallowing in romanticism.

But alas! A new millennium is fast approaching and Bohemia’s Executive Committee issued a memorandum that challenges the galaxies’ attitude towards Food and Health. Upon receiving the information, the chief and associates of the Order of the Pretty Immortals unanimously asked: is there a potential in the aforementioned development challenge?

How would major players and other stakeholders, e.g. Krua Thai, Sbarro, Kublai Khan, McDonalds, KFC, Shawarma, Chowking, AA, Larsian and Ice Castle, react to such kind of pronouncement?

But The Order, who has been unfailingly consistent in promoting mechanisms and strategies that ensure the growth and long-term sustainability of Natasha, ruled affirmatively. Yes, the challenge has been accepted!

Thus The Order embarked on a series of engagements that will ensure the physical well being of all its planet’s inhabitants:

The Royal Cupcake focuses on the science of physical therapy and the preparation of food varieties that are mostly boiled and lacks oil and other cholesterol-inducing substances.

The Bloody Mary is very religious in culturing white pearls that melt fats.


Bloody Mary and the Royal Cupcake are having a very focused and emotional discussion about he future of Natasha's fairies and gremlins. Photo taken during the training workshop for Natasha's garment workers.

The Metabolism Master is consistent in discouraging the intake of beverages that trigger hyperacidity.


The Metabolism Master is happy and refreshed.

The Level-Headed Fashionista is relentless in building a database of laxatives and substances that can cause stomach pain and heart failure, among other ailments.

The Physical Fitness Guru illumines the virtues of regular exercise, proper breathing and intimate evening acrobatics that are good for the heart.


The Physical Fitness Guru is being shy and modest.

And the Romantic Kisser concocts mixtures of fibers and acticol, which are plant sterols that reduces cholesterol.

Choose wellness!


The Level-Headed Fashionista, the Romantic Kisser and the Metabolism Master are cooling in the quarters of Natasha's highest governing institution.


The Super Supreme Chair of Bohemia's Executive Committee is celebrating the survival of 10,000,000 forest and fruit tree species planted in Natasha's Watershed Forest Reserve.