It's been 84 years...

 No, actually it's been less than that. Just a decade and five months since I last updated this. I think there were more updates on my Livejournal -- which I will not be linking here -- but who's really counting? Or reading?

That's the better question, really. Who's reading and why bother starting this up again when everybody else is on a different social media site blaring their own horns and basically being their own newspaper/message board/radio station/television station?

The fact that no one's going to be reading is PRECISELY why I'm restarting this thing again. Just making this a space where I can vomit out my thoughts without having to worry about what anybody else thinks. And I'm doing it online rather than in a notebook because I've got no artistic skill and can't do those fancy bullet journal things that always get a billion Instagram likes.

Why they don't call me anal boy

One of my resolutions over the New Year was to keep track of my finances, seeing as I want to get a place of my own. And one of the things I've found after a couple of weeks of doing this is that I would make a horrible accountant.

After the first week, I found out that I was missing P24. Of course I was worried. If I can't keep track of small amounts, how the hell am I expected to handle house finances? The following week I kept receipts and listed down everything -- and I end up with an excess of P631. I was so surprised and worried about my inability to keep things in check that I forget to be happy that I have more money than I thought I had.

It really is becoming clear to me why I failed Math.

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Since I am a man of the gay persuasion, anal sex is something I am familiar with. Or at least something I hope to be personally familiar with. In the meantime, I will look at studies that say women who have anal sex get more orgasms.

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And just so I don't look too much like a whore, I decided to put this up at the end of the post: Check out my book blog!

A long way down

Before anything else -- I did it! I went out there and started a book blog. You can check it out over here. It's pretty sparse at the moment, but I have quite a few entries planned and a thing that I hope people will enjoy.

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Last week, I posted on my Facebook Wall the agonizing last words of programmer Bill Zeller. It's a suicide note written by Zeller, wherein he recounts being sexually-abused as a child and the damage it has inflicted upon him for the rest of his life.

It's a well-written farewell note, and I particularly related to this part the most:

I've told different people a lot of things, but I've never told anyone about what happened to me, ever, for obvious reasons...It feels incredibly lonely to realize you can never share something with someone and have it be between just the two of you. I don't blame anyone in particular, I guess it's just how people are. Even if I felt like this is something I could have shared, I have no interest in being part of a friendship or relationship where the other person views me as the damaged and contaminated person that I am.

I've had my share of childhood trauma, and trust me when I say that it isn't being forced to sing in front of a group of visiting relatives. What I've found out from the five times (yes, I've only told it that many times) I've shared this trauma is that...it only results to more trauma.

The first time I told it was to friends I had when I was a kid. That...ended up badly. Let's leave it at that.

The second time I told it was to a classmate in freshman year, who then insisted that I tell it to our other friends. Other friends then went on to be...not receptive, to put it mildly. That sure taught me to shut my piehole.

The fourth time I told it was in junior year, when I was in a particularly vulnerable situation and was quite frankly overwhelmed by the presence of a guy that I liked. I felt that I was around people I could trust and who would sympathize with me. While I wasn't mocked, I didn't exactly get any sympathy either. More like an apathetic shrug.

The fifth and final time I told it to someone face to face, I was told that I was just using it as an excuse. That stung. On the bright side, the person was extremely apologetic afterwards, and I've learned to dismiss it as just the product of us being stupid kids.

But I did tell myself, never again. Evidently, trusting people with that kind of pain will really just get you a whole bag of nothing in return.

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To continue with this delightfully morbid note, check out this depressing item from Valleywag: Facebook suicide note gets mocked, turns out to be real.

Brand new year, same old assholes

I believe the photo is from the AFP? French Press Agency?

My family welcomed the new year the same way we have for years now -- watching those wounded by fireworks being carried into the hospital right next door to where we live. There wasn't a whole of of them this time around, so I guess the Department of Health's campaign against fireworks really is accomplishing something.

I also went back to work yesterday, after failing at my holiday resolution to get some blogging done and make a dent on my reading backlog. I had everything planned for my first day back, and at first it seemed like everything was going swell. Everything I had planned for the day was progressing the way I wanted it to progress. But since 2011 seems to have it in for me, some deluded twatwaffle threw a monkey wrench into my plans and completely derailed my day.

However, I'm not letting it set the tone for the rest of my year. It's still pretty early, and there's still plenty of opportunities for me to make this year an awesome one for me. Here's hoping that any future complications won't be even tougher than yesterday's.

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Watch it while you still can!

One thing that I was able to accomplish was watch RPG Metanoia.

Truth be told, I was a bit skeptical about this movie the very first time I heard about it. Filipino animation isn't exactly what you would consider cutting-edge, and I was worried that it would be a gimmicky waste of my time like almost all of the films at the Metro Manila Filmfest.

I have never been so glad to be proven wrong.

From its thrilling opening sequence, to how well-written the characters and conflicts were, and even to its musical scoring, RPG Metanoia was such a pleasant surprise and a definite step in the right direction not just for Philippine animation, but for Philippine movies as well. A lot has already been said about this film, and I just want to focus on the fact that RPG Metanoia proves to our filmmakers that you can make a good, exportable film without it having to be about Filipino gays or living in the slums.

There is a moral, of course, and there are values that are being pushed, but RPG Metanoia doesn't do it in the ham-fisted way that mainstream movie productions seem to think will win awards. And unlike independent productions, it isn't grim and foreboding and it doesn't make you want to slit your wrists afterwards. A happy medium can be found!

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I love boys. I love tattoos. Boy with tattoos? SOLD!

HE HAS A NIPPLE PIERCING. HHNNNGGGGGHHH.


HE HAS TATTOOS NEAR HIS CROTCH. ALSO, HE SKATEBOARDS. BOY WITH TATTOOS AND PIERCINGS WHO SKATEBOARDS? THAT'S LIKE ALL OF MY KINKS.

There are three more pics over at Made in Brazil, who just named Mateus Hottest Brazilian of 2010. I have no problem with that.

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Finally:

Let's see if I still know how to do this

Here we are then. More than a month has passed with nothing but silence on my end. Not that anything earth-shattering has been happening in my life or anything.

A lot of things have happened since I last blogged about walking from the Cultural Center of the Philippines all the way to Intramuros. I interviewed two foreign authors -- Vikas Swarup and Lauren Kate -- which I guess is only a big deal because NOBODY COMES HERE. Well, Neil Gaiman, so I guess that evens things out?

I also took up Spanish, but that is on hold right now as my class is dissolved because there weren't enough people taking it. I still have my textbooks, though, so maybe I'll just wing it and try to learn all on my lonesome.

Christmas is also in the air over here, even if the weather is being uncooperative and enveloping us in a blanket of smothering humidity. I've been to a number of Christmas parties and have gotten some really great gifts, and one incredibly hilarious one in the form of a Jacob Black standee.

I've set it up outside our apartment, in a hallway that everyone passes through. So far, we've had three terrorized housemaids and four fawning teenagers.

I'm going to go on a break from work next week, which I'll probably use to catch up on my reading and probably to start blogging regularly again. I had initially planned on visiting again, but my finances weren't in order.

My goodness, I apologize for the utter boredom this entry has brought to all of your lives.

Walk of poverty 2010 edition!

As the people who follow me on my Twitter account already know, I had a #walkofpoverty a couple of days ago. It wasn't fun or pretty.

Those who don't follow me on Twitter are probably asking themselves what the hell a #walkofpoverty is and how I ended up taking one. Let me share my tale.

This isn't the first time I've been on a #walkofpoverty, although this is the first time I've actually named it. The very first one I did was in 2007, the details of which you can read here. That was a very sweaty day.

This year's iteration pretty much started out just like the one three years ago. I was off to cover the press conference of a theater company, and since I was running late I decided to take a cab to the venue, which was the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP). That would prove to be my undoing.

Because just like the 2007 edition of #walkofpoverty, I had forgotten my wallet at home. But unlike 2007, this wasn't a jeepney I was in. This was a cab, and I most certainly couldn't just jump out of it and not pay. And I couldn't just ask the cab driver to take me back to my house and then back to the venue because I was already late.

So rather than take a trip to the nearby police station, I took a chance and offered the cab driver what I thought was a reasonable arrangement: He would wait for me outside the venue, with the meter running, and take me back home, where I would pay him. To my surprise, he agreed, and I thought that everything was fine.

Thirty minutes later -- after rushing through my interviews and not even eating any food -- the cab driver was gone. I spent about an hour walking around the CCP, checking out parking spots and side alleys where the cab driver could have parked. NOTHING.

My first thought was "OMG I DON'T HAVE TO PAY!". And immediately after that, "HOW THE FUCK AM I GETTING HOME?"

I thought about getting on a jeepney and jumping off at my stop without paying, but I was pretty sure that I wouldn't be able to make as quick an escape as I did back in 2007. Taking another cab and paying them when I got home seemed like a good idea, but I wasn't sure if I had enough small bills in my wallet to pay the cab driver. I didn't wan't to fight over change on top of everything else.

That's how I ended up walking all the way from the CCP to Intramuros. Here are six tweets recording the event for posterity.

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This is Joshua Bumpus

One thing I've learned in my years of being a gay man is that you do not mess with the trans folk or with drag queens. They may look fabulous, but they are more than capable of cutting a bitch.

Some idiot found that out the hard way when he tried to rob a transvestite prostitute.

I quote:

"He got the gun away from (Bowman), he grabbed (Bowman) by the hair and beat him down. He beat the (daylights) out of him," [Assistant Hamilton County Prosecutor Ryan] Nelson said.

That's about when several of Bumpus' friends, also dressed as women, flagged down Cincinnati Police Officer Dave Kennedy. Other Bumpus friends helped Bumpus beat Bowman."

I would not want a crowd of angry trans folk ganging up on me. Just saying.

*too sleepy to think of a title*

Brother and sister duo Dylan and Lauren

To call the past two weeks "harrowing" is an understatement.

Two big book events happened a couple of weeks ago, which resulted in me having to wake up at 6 in the morning all of last week. And if you know me, you know that those are UNGODLY hours. And I had to take cabs to the venues because I couldn't trust myself enough to stay awake on a jeepney.

I didn't mess up at the events -- I am nothing if not a trooper -- but it did wreak havoc on my sleep. And it bled into last week, where I would often find myself groggily looking at my laptop's monitor trying to will stories out of it. It wasn't until yesterday that I finally got a lengthy amount of rest.

I'm yawning even as type this out now. Used to be, I could pull all-nighters and still function perfectly the next day. Now I have to get my eight hours in. I hate being old.

On the bright side, my leave has been approved! I just need to get my funds and it's off to Singapore for me!

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I haven't heard of Maureen Johnson or read any of her books, but I do like what she has to say in her blog post Sell the Girls.

And I have to thank her for providing the link to the interview that proves without a doubt that Nicholas Sparks is a grade A douchenozzle.

To quote:

"Sparks' favorite tale of youth? 'I think A Walk to Remember,' he says, citing his own novel. 'That's my version of a coming-of-age.'"

You should read the part where he compares his novels to Greek tragedies.

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I used to be a wrestling fan in the faraway days of my youth. Maybe that's why this is intriguing to me.

Epic self-love

The past week has been pretty hectic for me, what with interviews coming one after the other. It wouldn't be so bad if they were set in the comfortable hours of the late afternoon, when I am no longer groggy, but most of them were set WAY TOO EARLY in the morning. It's a miracle that I didn't make a fool of myself at any one of them.

Next week isn't looking any better either, as the Manila International Book Fair rolls into town. I'll probably be holed up in there for most of next week, and while it's an event I really enjoy covering, it still takes a lot out of you physically.

A big part of what keeps me going is the vacation I've got planned for myself. Thanks to a rather fortunate event, it looks that I will indeed be able to take a short vacation outside of the country. As long as nothing unexpected happens, I may be joining in Singapore for a few days!

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I'd be sleeping soundly too if I had the time to wank four to five times a day.

So, James Franco just said that he masturbates four to five times a day. That's a lot of times for someone who isn't in the 16 to 18 year old age range.

At least now I have a ready answer when somebody asks me what James Franco is probably doing right now.

Sort of related, here's a compilation of ten horrible masturbation stories.

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I was totally a Tommy/Kimberly shipper.

Growing up, I followed the Power Rangers religiously up until the movie came out, after which I lost interest. I didn't really think anyone of them would be gay. I would wish that Tommy was, but that's about it.

Now, it turns out that the Blue Ranger is one of teh gays. Imagine that.

Logan Lerman as D'Artagnan in 3 Musketeers.

Yes, Percy Jackson's wig really is that horrible. Funnily enough, it reminds me of the epic Hans Jensen interview.

The universe and a dead girl

That picture up there is apparently the universe in full. I can't help but be reminded of Orion's Belt. And yes, I am aware that he was talking about a galaxy and not the universe.

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I've been feeling a little down on myself lately, which I guess is odd since everybody around me has been nothing but supportive of the boring sideshow that I call my life. This past week I've felt nothing but trepidation and anxiety over the smallest of things.

Hopefully, a short break from work will help fix things, because I will be taking one next month. I still haven't fixed the particulars, but I'm thinking of maybe going somewhere outside of the city for a few days. That plan, however, is heavily dependent on how much money I have. Here's hoping that I get the chance to escape.

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Child plays dead on Google Street View, horrifies a nation.

Just as most of the commenters pointed out, why didn't the guys inside the Google car get out and check if the kid was still breathing or something? I mean, she wasn't really dead, but what if she was?

A lesson in humility

The calendar on my laptop tells me that it's been a month since I last blogged, and I can't really offer a decent excuse as to why that is. Work? Real life? My unfortunate dependency on Twitter? I'll use whatever reason is acceptable.

My life, so far, seems to be in the doldrums, as always seem to happen halfway along the year. My life isn't bad but it isn't spectacular either. It's more of a "meh" edging precariously towards a "bleugh".

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One meme that has been making the rounds lately is the I Write Like... quiz, which analyzes your writing and compares you to brilliant writers or Stephenie Meyer. Of course I had to take the test.

First, I put in a sample blog post of mine, specifically The Pee Lady, and hoped for the best.

I got this result.

I write like
Cory Doctorow

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

In case you don't know who Cory Doctorow is, check him out here.

Of course I was emboldened by such a favorable result. I had to do this with everything else I've written. I. HAD. TO.

I first put in my short story Night Out, which was the first time my fiction ever got awarded anything.

While waiting for the results to appear I was quietly thinking "Good golly gosh, I wonder which writer I idolize will I end up being compared to?" Then I got this.

I write like
Dan Brown

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

I think I had a stroke or something, because for a few moments I could not move except to open and close my mouth like a goldfish. I consoled myself by thinking that this was when I was just starting out and probably reflected how green I was back then.

So I put in two more stories, Writer's Block and Absolution, hoping for better results.

I write like
Dan Brown

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

I GOT THIS. BOTH. TIMES.

I was inconsolable for a few minutes. Was this karmic payback for being a snob at the call center I used to work at? Back then, I would read Vonnegut during breaks, and when somebody with a Dan Brown book in hand approached me asking "You read books?" I would reply with "Yes, but not Dan Brown."

Thoroughly humbled, I entered Nazareno. It's never been my favorite work, and I always thought of it as foolish, childish, and contrived. Which was why I was surprised with the results.

I write like
William Gibson

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

I had to do a Wiki search on William Gibson just to find out who he is! (The "noir prophet" of cyberpunk, it appears.)

But I did feel a little better then. That's an improvement, right? So I put in Sameness.

I write like
Stephen King

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

IMMENSE SIGH OF RELIEF. I haven't really read any Stephen King, but surely his international appeal must mean he's doing something right. Right?

Finally, I put in Vignettes, an unfinished story that I wrote late in 2005 and uploaded to Fictionpress.com just now so I could link you guys to it.

I write like
Vladimir Nabokov

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

FINALLY. I will never discriminate someone based on their reading choices ever again.

A little something something

Yes, I am still alive. I am constantly on Twitter, but I just haven't found the energy or the inclination to come up with an actual blog post. It takes too much work and actual brains to come up with something halfway coherent.

A lot of stuff's been going on. For one, I have once again become a victim of the unwashed masses. This is the second time in the space of six months. And I think the fourth or fifth time since I started working. I keep on wondering why I always end up being the target of these things when I look about as presentable as a hobo.

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Moves like a butterly, stings like a bee.

Remember the Star Wars kid? There's a video reminder above if you don't. After that video got posted on the Internet, he "dropped out of high school, was diagnosed with depression, and became an in-patient at a psychiatric ward for kids. His family then sued the families of the classmates who leaked his video for $250,000."

Well, he's studying to be a lawyer now.


Hopefully he'll live this down.

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Let us all mourn the passing of an incredibly sexy firefighter.

A little breather

I'm a little tired today, as the past week has consisted of me and my co-workers going all around the metropolis interviewing people for our section. We've talked to a senator, a councilor, a furniture designer, and a broadcaster in many different cities, and doing that in this heat isn't exactly at the top of my favorite things to do.

Physical discomfort notwithstanding, the conversations we've been having with these people have been very interesting. I've had my school insulted("That university's only claim to fame is its longevity."), asked to vote for a certain party, and gazed at really beautiful furniture. The week certainly hasn't been boring.

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This is Elian Gonzales.

You probably remember him from this brouhaha. Also, for this picture when he was six.

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A Contract Between the Gay Community and our Straight Neighbors.

Maybe it's not quite the same thing, but it always puts a smile on my face that whatever the new hot spot in the metro is, the gays are always there first.

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Three videos today. One has a spoiler for Glee, one is an actual glee club performing, and the other features 8-bit characters decimating New York.


Kurt's going to be a Cheerio!


I love the costumes!


The Arkanoid shoutout is my favorite.

Lesbians and Chatroulette

I went on Chatroulette for the very first time today, and it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I was very much aware that penises have a habit of popping up over there, so I girded my loins and prepared myself for the inevitable assault.

Maybe because it's the middle of the night or maybe because Chatroulette's creator wants to take all the dirty fun out of it, but I did not encounter even one penis on my short Chatroulette sojourn. Granted, I only managed to talk to about three people: the first two seemed as confused about the site as I was, while the third one was from Albania and did not have a firm grasp of the English language. It wasn't that bad of an experience.

I'm thinking of trying it out again later today. Let's see if I change my opinion of the site.

* * * * *
Two videos today. One is about lesbians and the other was made by two lesbians. One of which is Sue Sylvester. Or Jane Lynch, if you prefer her real name.


I. LOVE. THESE. BOYS. ALSO NICHOLAS HOULT IS THERE.


I CAN'T BELIEVE SUE SYLVESTER IS GETTING MARRIED.

Possibly groundbreaking things

There was a big fire yesterday, as most of you know. It was so big, you could see the smoke all the way from our office building.

* * * * *

Work was really exciting today, as we just finished a photoshoot with Rica Paras, who along with Justine Ferrer made Philippine television a much friendlier place for transfolk.

Rica isn't just fun to have around, she's fiercely intelligent as well. She was very articulate during the interview and held nothing back, and was game with anything that we asked her to do.

And to see how people would react to her! We shot some of the photos at a high school near the office, and male and female students would follow her around and had no qualms at all telling her that they loved her. It was such a beautiful thing to watch.

Another great thing: When this issue goes out, our paper will be the first one in the country with a trans person featured prominently on its pages. At least as far as I know.

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Gay teen worried he might be Christian. I quote:

""I don't know what's happening to me," Faber admitted to reporters Monday. "It's like I get these weird urges sometimes, and suddenly I'm tempted to go behind my friends' backs and attend a megachurch service, or censor books in the school library in some way. Even just the thought of organizing a CD-burning turns me on."

* * * * *
Pope says gays endanger humanity. I won't even bother with you, Papa Razzi.

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Channing Tatum's meat is well done. I quote once again:

"Channing Tatum's penis is gross. It looks like a hot dog that's been left too long on the grill. The tip is hot-pink, singed, and shriveled. It appears angry. And it's painful to view. My penis hurts just from looking at it. Movie stars tend to be vain, by nature and profession, but Chan—that's what everyone calls him—does not mind one bit showing me his sad, withered wiener. 'It was the most painful thing I have ever experienced in my life,' he says, flipping through photos on his iPhone until he lands on a grainy snapshot of a scorched member. His scorched member. 'I'm good . . . now,' he says with a grin. 'Now my penis is fantastic! One hundred percent recovered. Put me back in the game, Coach.'"

Koalas and walruses and Bear Grylls, oh my!

Getting back to work after the holidays has been a little rough for me. Nothing to do with my colleagues, of course, mostly just me having a hard time shaking off the holiday mindset. I'll hopefully be back in working mode by next week.

Work has certainly not been stuck in the holiday spirit. Just this past week, we had two celebrity interviews, with loads more coming next week. I really should start shaping up before I get myself fired or something.

* * * * *
It's been a mixed bag with regards to the gay marriage question all around the world. While Martha Stewart and Portugal are okay with the gay, New Jersey voted 20-14 against gay marriage.

Oh well. I guess it's better than nothing?

* * * * *
Scientists say dolphins should be treated as "non-human persons"

I am reminded of Douglas Adams and "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy".

* * * * *
Videos under the cut for you guys, ranging from koala sex shows to walrus self-pleasuring to Bear Grylls giving himself an enema. Yes, you are reading everything correctly.

Two female koalas put on a sex show wile Andy Roddick is being interviewed.

Presented with no comment.

I should really start watching this show. I swear.

Band Aid

I think it's been more than a month now since I last put up a post, and trust me when I say it's not from lack of trying. It's just that the past month at work has been incredibly taxing, what with a co-worker going on maternity leave when our group is understaffed already, and I've had to do a lot of extra work.

It hasn't been all bad, though. Just yesterday I was covering Rock Ed Philippines' Rock The Riles, an annual event held in celebration of International Human Rights Day. There were about 120 bands scattered in eight stations of the Metro Rail Transit, and while it was tiring making my way from station to station, it certainly was exhilarating to listen to these bands play and have the opportunity to dance and sing and just make a fool of oneself on the train stations without having to worry about being cuffed by guards.

The week before that, I was coordinating with Rock Ed for a project our section was working on for our office, which involved me helping organize a concert featuring four bands. Definitely not the easiest thing in the world to accomplish -- I was running around wringing my hands up until the very last minute.

I have returned

Yes, I've been gone for almost a whole month now, and even then I won't be bringing much to the table in terms of this post. Just wanted to remind everyone who isn't following me on Twitter that yes, I am still alive and well.

Aside from work, I've had time to do a little reading as well. I finished reading Let The Right One In, although I haven't gotten around to writing about it yet partly because I don't have the time and mostly because I am lazy.

I also meandered around with the girls following around Sam Bradley, which was a lot of fun, if I say so myself. I even got myself a hug!

* * * * *
Dublin says good-bye to Boyzone star Stephen Gately.

* * * * *

James Franco owns a mask of his prosthetic penis. Which no one in the Philippines got to see because they cut up that scene in Milk.

* * * * *

The Marge Simpson spread in Playboy.

When I first saw the cover, I thought I would be ok with it, but now that I've seen the pictures...it kinda feels weird to me.

What's it to you

People are apparently protesting against the Stanford Hotel in New York's meatpacking district because you can see naked people through the windows.

To quote: "Note to parents strolling the High Line: Don't let your kids look up.

The Meatpacking District's newly opened, much-touted urban park along an elevated, former railroad trestle has unwittingly turned into a peep show near The Standard hotel, as randy hotel guests perform sex acts in front of floor-to-ceiling hotel windows."

Neighbors are "outraged" to have seen people performing sexual acts through the hotel's windows, some of which include the shooting of porn films, masturbation, and plain old vanilla sex. The concerned citizens want the "obscenity" to stop.

But my thing is, you're not required to look. It's not like not paying attention to these exhibitionists would be detrimental to your life. And besides, it's a hotel room that I'm guessing they paid for, so what do you care what they do inside it?

This is sad

ARE YOU ME?