planet xanadu's grand 3rd anniversary

In fitting tribute to the closing summer season and as an opening salvo to the approaching rainy season, Xanadu alternately fires you up and gets you drenched with its searing, slippery 3rd Anniversary grand celebration. Savor the warm and wet feeling as male hotstuffs drive you feverish with their display of sweltering bodies and cool moves that are guaranteed to make you experience the maddening clash of scorching sun and chilly rain. From its young years in peripheral Malabon to its recent invasion of the mainstream Metro Manila, particularly in glittery Quezon City, Xanadu has lived up to its reputation as the pink community’s potboiler which it must prove again as atmospheric changes interplay via Xanadu’s resident male sizzlers. Let the pride of Xanadu keep you wet just enough to keep you from bursting into flames on May 31, 2010, scout borromeo, quezon city!

xanadude: galing ng pinoy

The Filipino talent is very much renowned far and wide, so in recognition of this global acclaim, Xanadu presents its own acknowledgement that Pinoys’s got talent. It takes your dedicated eyes and applauding hands for Xanadudes to be prized for their inventiveness and originality, so watch them as they undress their inner geniuses and astound you with their masculine pride. Crafty, clever, and cunning, Xanadudes have what it takes to show that the world-class Galing ng Pinoy is extraordinarily ordinary for a race that has experienced the world at its best. The talent showcase unfolds on May 22, Planet Xanadu's Scout Borromeo base, Quezon City.

ano'ng oras na ba?

scenes from the recent sexiest men in the city bikini competition in metro bar, west avenue, quezon city, sponsored by planet xanadu.



Here’s a take from the event’s script:
Sexiest Men in the City
A Grand Bikini Challenge
May 16, 2010, 8 PM
Metro Bar West Avenue, Quezon City
Mission
This project conceptualized for young, fresh-looking Filipino men aged 18 to 26 years old is a competition-oriented event geared toward promoting and encouraging others to maintain a good and balanced physical and mental attitude in life.
Vision
This is one-of-a-kind modeling search for fresh faces that possess the perfect cut, sexy curves and the x-factor character. It is unique among local modeling competitions because it is a competition intending to display both variety of productions and showmanship.
Introduction
One’s passion should prove so powerful as to turn vision into reality. With lots of accomplishments tucked under her belt, Bebeth Santa Ana could well be the embodiment of such a passion. A businesswoman by profession, our lady of the hour is an artist by temperament. Her taste for the art is conspicuous, what with her sponsorship of events such as this and many successful others in the past. Her love for conducting events has swept her onto the very stage she has helped erected for art to bloom in full glory. Such a stage stood witness to her romance with the arts along with top-caliber celebrities like Claire dela Fuente, Mark Herras, Aljur Abrenica, Dulce, among other renowned performers. Who could doubt then the many-splendored passions flowing from within the person of Miss Bebeth Santa Ana? From her sponsorship of envisioned spectacles to her own participation in a number of them, indeed passion materializes to make history happen.
Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to this much-awaited event of the year touted to change the way you view male modeling competitions before. “Sexiest Men in the City” is subtitled “A Grand Bikini Challenge” because it is just that: a competition bursting in grandeur, what with its intention of displaying spectacular productions and exceptional showmanship among its partakers. Thus, this is more than just a celebration of the male beauty long immortalized in the pages of history, mythology, art, and other disciplines across cultures and time. It is about how this artform assumes an extended aesthetic function in order to drive the point home that such figures are worth emulating and the good news is, it is going to happen right here, right now. For starters, here are the contestants in their rave wear. The second segment of the competition is a surefire hit, what with the contestants donning the skimpiest bikini attire to show what best forms the male body can transform into, with the right discipline and proper attitude. Let us see our contestants giving the mythical Greek Gods a run for their, well, bodies. Brace yourself then, dear audience, as this grand event unveils before our very eyes.

body heat wave

As the national election reaches fever pitch, another high-temperature phenomenon hits this side of town, and we’re not talking of the current El Niño. It’s about boys, yes, but more appropriately, boys with burning bodies whose heat can compete with both the hotly-contested Philippine polls and the blistering global atmosphere. Let their infernal flesh pump your blood to a boiling point in fulfillment of your most passionate desires. Ride this body heat wave towards the crest of your fiercest sensual longings and that can only be realized here in Planet Xanadu, Scout Borromeo, Quezon City, on May 15, 2010.

the eighth wonder of the world

again, here's another ad from my good friend genesis, whose managed bar planet xanadu celebrates a month-long anniversary in its scout borromeo, quezon city homebase, highlighted by a weekly spectacle including the following:

The Hanging Gardens of Babylon. The Pharos at Alexandria. All but one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World have forever vanished from the face of the earth, yet the eighth wonder in our midst remains officially unnamed despite the awe it inspires among us. Let Xanadu help you discover this wonder that can rival the beauty of the Statue of Venus, or that is as magnificently erect as the Alexandrian lighthouse. This wonder can make you reconsider the huge quality of the Colossus of Rhodes or the massive characteristic of the pyramids of Egypt. Rigid, enormous, and splendid, the eighth wonder that’s the male wunderkind is all yours to appreciate on May 8, 2010.

planet xanadu's 3rd anniversary launch

my good friend genesis is managing the popular gay bar planet xanadu which will soon celebrate its month-long anniversary. i'm posting this ad for the love of this wonderful friend as well as for the interest of the bar-going pink community. see you there!

As the midsummer rages, Labor Day serves as a witness to the month-long celebration of Xanadu’s 3rd Anniversary. Workers from all walks of life shall be treated to an initial albeit spectacular presentation in which pumped-up men straight from our dream fantasies will endeavor their way to our realities. Glistening with manly sweat, exuding masculine scent or preppy in their crisp uniform, these men of the industry are hard, big, and bold, so why not strive and get one, two or all of them? Refuse to be collared by the blues—your belabored selves deserve some pampering from rippling muscles and worked-out bodies. Toil no more as Xanadu employs all its manual means to bring an entire sought-after workforce to you on May 1, 2010, Scout Borromeo, Quezon City, behind Crossings Quezon Avenue.

queer love, actually

because love permeates the air of this gay planet, here is what the best in philippine independent queer cinema has to offer in celebration of the valentine's month (click image to enlarge):





















spread the love, everyone!:)

chasing lady luck: charlon suerte in focus

Blame colonial overload if up to now, the mestizo look still prevails as our social standard of beauty and with this domination subsists the investment of virtues and class. Sure, we have Nora Aunor, a morena, for a superstar and a host of fair-skinned contravidas who give Philippine cinema and television audiences some hypertension pangs, but the Spanish and American descendants and, of late, the racial hyphenates (Fil-Aussie, Nippo-Brasileiro, ad infinitum) remain entitled to the notions of “mukhang mabait” and “mukhang mayaman.”
Case in point: Charlon Suerte. This eighteen-year-old native of Southern Tagalog is admittedly good-natured, but he easily dismisses the preconception that he is rich. With excellent mestizo genes to thank his Capampangan mother and Lagunense father for, Charlon confesses that economic lack significantly fuels him to try it out in the big city. The escalating tuition fee in the University of the Philippines (where his elder sister studies and where his running-valedictorian brother is gearing for) prompted him, despite high academic standing, to enroll in a computer college with tuition fee afforded via scholarship grant. To cover other expenses, he worked part-time for a multinational food corporation and presently models on the ramp for local clothing companies. Then, the casting call for an independent film beckoned so he auditioned and luckily passed. “It’s a minor role, yes,” muses Parisukat director Jonison Fontanos, “but it’s an excellent springboard. Some of the big names in showbiz started out small,” ends Joni, whose debut film Hugot earned well enough to fund the homoerotic thriller that stars sexy stud Toffee Calma.
Charlon capitalizes on his mestizo features to break through an industry already awash with fair-complexioned wannabes to fifteen minutes of fame, but it will be a disservice to forget that he also banks on his talents in acting and singing and, as naming schemes would have it, “suerte.” He hopes that all of these rolled into the hotstuff that he is will help him finally bid goodbye to his rural hardships that seem drawn straight of One Hundred Years of Solitude’s pages: having to fetch water from the well (that, gratefully, built his muscles) and having to reach his forest home through the country staple kuliglig. He hopes, too, of being able to pursue his dream of putting up a pastry shop where acoustic nights, literary events and film screenings—his artistic inclinations—may be staged on a regular basis. Let us see if our starry-eyed mestizo promdi talent lives up to the fullest meaning of his Hispanic surname.
Parisukat will have its commercial run starting February 17, 2010 in selected theaters nationwide.

the king intoxicated

Not unless my brave estimations fail me for the nth time (my numerical faculty is insecure, remember?), you are a sweet sixteen going on seventeen: so young, so vibrant, so much in the prime of your life. The cosmos at large teems with many awesome fields for your boldly driven curiosity to explore, experiment on, discover. You jot these down: girls, fads hard drinks…
Amazingly, I was not in the least shocked upon learning from my good friend Claudette that you along with your equally daring chums were in PNR Site emptying bottles of Red Horse beers (or Colt 45, I wasn’t sure), their contents washing your unbaptized stomachs. It was not that I did not care for you, I always did and still do, but it would appear irrational to find myself nagging you unstoppably while sending you and your companions home. That so, Claudette and I nonchalantly whiled our time away in Old Market chatting to people crossing our lane, until we happened to see your unusual self skulking in the dark Ladies Dorm # 6 Alley. The Lantern King—all but drunk, drowsy, queer behaving, no control of both his words and his deeds.
Look: I reserve to your dear parents the right to sermonize you for taking in more than your bodily system can tolerate. I hate being an antagonist to people whom I am concerned about, but face the truth: you have gotten nauseated in so small an amount. Reason: weak resilience.
Secondly, I am not a puritan to advocate a liquor ban on anyone’s esophagus, much more on yours especially because you discard your own money. I confess that once (and only once) I tried downing loads of Tanduay with my fellow bothered friends; afterwards, I felt guilty doing so because of the forgettable embarrassment that ensued. Picture this: a first-timer throwing up insides. I hope you won’t get as excessively dizzy as I did then.
Lastly, do not use your youth as an excuse: you are old enough to delineate the right from the wrong. You could have decided to stay at the dorm attending to more productive activities such as washing dirty clothes or reviewing in advance, you gave in to occasional hedonism. Drinking is neither you’re vice, cup tea nor priority, you might rebut: you drank anyway.
Act under your own discretion. You are in complete hold of your life.

la frontera

sometimes, what english majors see as pinoys' glaring errors in the colonial language may actually manifest a subversive side. caribbean stories with native characters mouthing off broken english have done it; paolo manalo's jolography has a brilliant take on it. anyhow, these domestic rental ads were posted (but eventually removed--somebody must have gotten the message) in an overpass connecting the state university and the iglesia ni cristo central church. postcolonial feminism ito, gloria anzaldua.

beauty judge, second time around

i was again invited to judge in a high school beauty pageant somewhere in my neighborhood. i'm wondering whether or not the organizers ever found out my ambivalent take on beaucons, but something in my personal profile--probably the entry on socio-cultural criticism--won over their urge to cancel the invitation altogether. meanwhile, i accepted upon the agreement that it will not match or even outdo the catatonia-inducing length of time of the latest tilt i appeared in. i was assured that it won't; in fact, the organizers had the brilliant idea of splitting the program in two parts, the pre-pageant being that day and the finals having been set two weeks from now.
i arrived just in time so i didn't get to enjoy the opportunity to buzz my fellow judges in the cheek. to begin with, i don't know any one of them. which is such a bummer: i noticed, upon the introduction of the board of judges, that seated next to me was a cute starlet who has speaking lines in some independent films. i asked which films he appeared in, and he bashfully admitted that my ignorance of the titles he had mentioned might be largely due to the fact that they were being produced for a foreign audience. aray. neocolonial commodification ito.
anyway, the pre-pageant was held in a makeshift stage that called to mind mutya ng barangay beauty quest locations, the ones adorned with tarpaulins bearing local politicians' reminders of the forthcoming elections. however, seeing the young male and female contestants in their made-up selves, i could surmise that their transformation from budding flowers to ravishing beauties must be tremendous. the female bets were elegant in their choices of dresses, while the male bets looked rather mature for their age, and that's a compliment. i'm looking forward to a more spectacular finals night on the 31st.

from x to your desk

You now receive tailor-made essays from a relatively unspecified source. You get bewildered why you are the only subject of all these compositions, as if you are the sole rich attention-drawing specimen there is. Maybe you are dead sure, you are truly the lonhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gife alive reason for the eloquent words you, your dorm mates and classmates constantly browse from the wee morning hours until midnight. You might turn out to be the beautiful, inspiring world around which the lingering sight of the anonymous author seriously resolves.
You formulate wild clues regarding where the expositions hail from besides the official carriers Kuyas Wacks and Bojo, two of your USSC acquaintances. You discount the inkling that these have descended from the high heavens, and your classmate Romualdo’s brother has tumbled upon them by chance. Likewise you scarcely entertain the concept that your kalalawigan Kuya Bojo has craftily woven them himself, you being English-proficient than he is. Well, they can’t either have flowed out of the dorm water tank’s canals then have darted straight into the lavatory, quite implausible. You then cling to the solid fact that someone makes then somewhere in the University, highly presuming the fountainhead to be within the USSC Office confines.
“Hmm…Could Tere have initiated the writings?” you query yourself, basing your hypothesis under the ground that Tere has a feverish desire to become your resident phone pal. “That’s one difficult maze to untangle,” you simply relieve the notion, since Tere singly resorts to the secret (sic) admirer she claims herself to be who allegedly dwells in the uncharted telecommunications dimension. Needless to declare, you freely junk Tere’s possibility of punishing herself even worse through burning your dorm’s cable simultaneous to winning you as her regular paper subscriber.
You pass up the suspicion on Chairman Glen, Kuya Joy, Pre, Cani or GH—they are perfect strangers to your system. Similarly you dismiss the opinion that the coveted eggs in your Easter Hunt certainly represent any of the five other unmentioned councilors—Tony, Tina, Bien, Ron and Cesario—but with the last. You have yet to meet the first four, meanwhile you got introduced to Cesario one August evening of 1999. Is he the unknown?
Mystery deepens so you must delve more into the pitch-black abyss.

up-d sightings

after meeting my essay coach who possesses this reliable midas' touch (for she continues the streak of making her student trainees win championship trophies in regional competitions), i went to fetch my gay colleague at the bus terminal. i convinced him to promenade first in elegant gateway, but he chose to cruise the up-diliman campus instead. since most of his adult years were spent in the lovely los baños campus, i thought that it would do him good for me to tour him around my pamantasang hirang. it happened that apart from my staple blackforest shake, skewered chicken entrails (read: isaw), pancit canton toppings and such, we would be treated to several other goodies for patiently sashaying the grandstand area, the shopping center, the sunken garden and, yes, the graduation site behind dear, old oble.:)

pinoy filmmaker wins cannes' best director plum

my sincerest congratulations to sir dante mendoza for romping off with the cannes film festival's best director prize for sir bing lao's "kinatay," beating the likes of quentin tarantino, ang lee, jane campion and pedro almodovar. mendoza and lao compose the same team that produced last year's "serbis." it's the philippines' time to shine in world cinema!:)

bewitched yet again

Just today, I found out that at least two of my friends in Facebook were connected to this charming student of mine whom I lost touch with for years. After his brief sojourn at the tutorial and review center I taught him in, I had seen him in a TV commercial for a telecommunications network which Judy Ann Santos now endorses. Often, when I chance upon old print ads featuring him, I never fail to be reminded of how I enjoyed reviewing with him way back when he was still an incoming senior at Xavier. How time flies! And how it effects maturation among young, reckless people! My Italian-Chinese student—I’ll call him L—was the makulit type, sporting a cap that reads “pornstar” and claimed he moonlights as one, for example. However, that one fiery summer afternoon when he was scheduled for a special session changed all the brat attitude perception I had about him. Whatever transpired then, I’ll leave you to guess because my lips are sealed (to borrow from my Pangga, “period lips”). All the same, what you’ll about to read below shows the conventional notion of time lending wisdom.
***
Littlegapanese: hi, L. how are you? graduating ka na, right?:)

L: i'm doing good! i've graduated na!! hey i wanna be totally honest, i know that i know you, but i forgot from where! hehe sorry!

Littlegapanese: haha. this is teacher cesar, remember, from where you reviewed for college entrance exams?:) i've left since; i'm now connected to both up and la salle univ systems. too bad na kung kelan pa ako natangap sa la salle, nakaalis ka na pala. what are you into now? it surprised me to discover that we have the marcos siblings (eo and mandy) as common friends. hope to see you around.:)

L: Aha! Now it's all clear.
Well, i graduated a few months ago. I went straight to work for my family business up to now, pero part time lang. I’m also doing some modelling and acting. I intend to pursue that and am going to pull out of my family business as soon as it picks up.
Yeah! neighbors ko sila dati. They also used to attend there. How about you, you’re a professor now?

Littlegapanese: good for you; my belated congratulations! hamo, ipagtatayo kita ng fans' club, pangako 'yan.:) i believe you mentioned in passing that your family biz is about hotel or something; good luck.
eo and mandy used to be my students, too. kinda miss them; they're mabait like you.
hmm, yeah, i'm just a junior faculty, not naman a prof. i'm still rounding up my thesis in the state u; pagkatapos nun, prof status na, haha. all the same, it's gonna be enjoyable teaching the new arrivals in college.:)
last i saw you was in a cosmo mag supplement; hope to see more of you in the future. wherever you're headed, be in your best elements. tc.:)

L: Haha, thanks for the support! i believe i'll be needing all the support i could get as this industry is pretty unpredictable. Yep, we are into hotel and restaurant supplies, but for now, i wanna make it within my own means.
mabait? if i remember it right, medyo pasaway yata ako! hahaha! Either way, i'd like to believe i've grown up to be a purposeful human being which i have you to thank as well because you contributed to me by helping get a great college education.
If professor is what you're intending for, then my bet is that it's gonna be in the near future. I'm sure it will be enjoyable as well as fulfilling sharing your knowledge and contributing to even more students in that profession of yours.
Yep. I've got some pretty ambitious goals this year with the best intentions in mind. I'll see you around!

Littlegapanese: true, showbiz turnover's so rapid that it takes more than good genes to last. talent for reinvention, huge fan base and sheer luck often do the trick; these have made judy ann, for instance, a pop culture icon. whaddahey, count me in as your fan.:) i'm positive that you'll make your mark in due time.:)
we all pass through a phase naman (i've been a bully back in high school, can you imagine?), and it's not as if you're the troublesome type. up to now, my colleagues at the center consider you adorable whenever we get the chance to wax wistful of our memories with former students. a number of you have chosen the path leading to tinseltown, as it turns out. lately, i saw two in some prestigious modeling competitions. lots have appeared in tvc's.
haha, baka matawa ka, i appeared albeit briefly in a very controversial film that did (and is still doing) the rounds of festivals abroad. but apart from doing that fully-clothed, i just agreed to be a sort of filler as per the screenwriter's request and it's not something i'll do often. i'd rather write reviews which preoccupies me besides teaching. like you and the rest of the thinking humanity, i want to gain an identity, too. when a suite of poems of mine gets anthologized in a UP publication, i'll reserve a copy for you.
thank you for looking at the teaching profession in a wonderful light. it's challenging and, indeed, fulfilling. i can't imagine trading this for anything else.
hay, naku, this verbal gymnastics is becoming a mouthful. let me end it with my sincerest wish that your well-motivated objectives for the year will all be realized. i'm pretty sure you'll make it. keep on rocking!:)

L: Best of luck with your endeavors! We'll be in touch!
***
End note: Good luck, L.:)

happy egghunting, easter bunny!

after a slow, dry holy week steeped in suggestive words like pagpapako, pagtitika, pag-iwas sa karne and the like, don't you feel the urgent need to catch up on the lost, forbidden time?:)

eureka! i found out taquito sweet!

vintage nonfiction this is. enjoy still.:)
***
Couldn’t figure it out. I thought at first it was you-know-who, but I should have done so with cunning. Again I attempted by assuming it was he-is-himself, yet I could be disqualified joining this quiz show still without the exact person’s embodiment talking to my face. Futilely I pressed the buzzer and, looking up the ceiling like it could supply the correct words, guessed, “It’s X, right?” “It’s Taquito Sweet,” the quizmaster swiftly pronounced; seconds later I was dragged by the guards and was pushed into the ravine half-filled with black beans labeled “tausi” in the market.
“It’s unfair!” I protested while I wiped away the slimy bean tinge that stained my skin. “From the start I was ill-favored, how much more could I give the perfect answer considering I was poorly reinforced?” In my misery I silenced, meditating how I could leap out of the gaping earth. My mind bulb lit up like I just conceived a brilliant idea of establishing a no-Math school, yielding an intricate plan which might salvage me from twice losing unarmed in an I.Q. (Idiot Quest/ Intelligence Questionable/ Ignoramus, Quite) show.
Rising from the prune pool I rendered myself fit for a mental combat as to unveiling this Taquito Sweet. I hurried home, thrust my survival kit inside a bag, and then began my surveillance. I found myself in the Men’s Dorm neatly stalking, a job in which James Bond was deemed best. Warily I sneaked into the room the person with the physique-less bio data was supposedly lurking (in lurking I meant religious molting of filthy shirts, ceaseless littering of unwashed dishes, anything whatever which could shoot up the already high blood pressure of the house parent).
I waited and waited in my hiding place, afraid I did for Godot. As the good stars would have it, an angelic countenance dashed into the room, seeming weary from class’ torture. “He is the one,” I whispered to myself. I watch him as he casually propelled his tired body in bed: soon he could soar off this planet, as he was fast asleep. Taking advantage of this scene I looked on his hung I.D. which broadcast the initials K.L. in his locker, my eyes fell on “Lantern King” scribbled in various font sizes and styles.
Whether or not his name is King of the Lanterns, he would remain the Taquito Sweet that got me trounced in a mind-above-all contest. I shut up.

classical meets postmodern meets postcolonial in "the necklace" stage play

My junior English majors’ theatrical adaptation of Guy de Maupassant’s “The Necklace” is a manifestation of the degree to which my students understand and apply what they learned out of two years of tutelage under me. It was beyond my imagination that lessons on postmodernism, postcolonialism and Aristotelian poetics will figure in that explosive production. Perhaps you ask, “What is Little Gapanese talking about?”
First, the play turned out postmodern by way of inserting numbers (dance, etc) in order to fragmentize the plot. It would have been easy if the class just spoonfed the audience, but the latter might as well be driven to piece out the puzzle in order to form the larger whole. The insertions were there supposedly to alienate the audience regarding the gaps in the progressing story. I know, it’s so Bollywoodish, but why go far when our classic Tagalog movies were given to scenes of singing and dancing in the middle of a chase or a funeral episode?
Second, the indigenization of a French text in English translation was meant to provide familiarity to the audience. I pointed out to my students that French terms are spelled in such a way that their pronunciation is different. To give it a Philippine touch, the class grounded the story in the local setting, the dance hall turning into the recognizable Malacanang Palace and the promenade, into our beloved Luneta. The minister of Education is rightfully Jesli Lapuz, and where would our wretched protagonist haggle over cheap vegetables and double-dead meat except in a dingy, noisy talipapa?
Finally, Aristotle’s anagnorisis (or realization in the end, a classic take on James Joyce’ epiphany) was present. When I saw the play’s teasers posted around the obscure college, I was taken aback by the mention of the term. I thought, if the prospective audience would be led into concluding that the story is going to end tragically (who doesn’t know that? Maupassant’s stories are canonical readings), the screenings might be snubbed. Fortunately, the strange term turned out rather intriguing, so the stage presentation was well received.
Congratulations, junior English majors namely Cris, Chan, Che, Wheng, Teng, Kel, Jen, Bacs! I love the colorful sets and costumes, and the varying emotions that our homegrown actress showed from the vain beautiful lady that Madam Loisel was to the impoverished woman that she turned into. Thanks to the Math majors and the Elementary Education students who assisted in the performance and technical productions. My delight was such that I grooved nonstop not to the campy “Dito Ba?” but to Rhianna’s “Disturbia.”

notes on a family breakfast

Before attending my Saturday class, I visited the family corporation purposed at sharing Mariliese’ homemade cookies to the ones manning the kiosk, in this case Lette and Leo. We were munching on our last chips when Mr. Spectacular appeared in view. Alarmed that he would throw a fit for not having been able to taste the goodies, I offered to treat the siblings to breakfast, to which they readily consented.
While his elder siblings were choosing sunnyside up (which the dear canteen owner calls "upside down") and fried tinapa with fresh tomatoes, chili and soy sauce, Mr. Spectacular rubbed my back and whispered, “Sir, na-miss kita a.” We weren’t able to see each other the night before, so probably he was just reciprocating my message of ardent longing that night. I smiled sheepishly, for if I so much as utter a word I might start reciting any of Sappho’s love poems.
We boys were about to finish eating when Lette began rummaging through her bag. I saw that its contents were a motley array of various articles including a wallet, notebook, hairbrush and the like. She seemed apologetic for the distraction she was creating, and then she fished out what she claims as any girl’s two most important accessories: lipstick and cake foundation.
While at the subject of searching, Mr. Spectacular himself browsed for something in my TV phone. Confident that he would discover nothing outrageous except for the wallpaper and screensaver featuring the pictures I downloaded from his homepage, I let him check the images. Someone’s picture caught his attention, upon which case he declared, “Sir, kilala ko ito a. Kilalang-kilala ko,” referring to a former boylet who resembles Aldred Gatchalian. He said that the boylet, a schoolmate of his, was the erstwhile boyfriend of his ex. They are in good speaking terms, though; in fact, they are sort of buddies who comfortably joke with each other despite the common romantic link that’s the girl. His brother nodded in agreement.
Thinking of N and the boylet who are inextricably connected to Mr. Spectacular and me, I silently swore yet again—right there before my partly consumed egg and smoked fish—that I will be saintly good before conspiratorial destiny goes full blast in unbraiding my karmic dues.

downtown spectacle

Alas, after two days of waiting with bated breath, Mr. Spectacular’s national-level table tennis competition pushed through. His brother Leo and I agreed to meet at the family corporation, and off we went downtown, unmindful of possible rumors of Tuhog remake within the nasty community grapevine.
I expected the venue to be jam-packed with cheerers of all sort, from those who wear seductive cheerleader skirts to those who seem to have built-in sound blasters with which to yell. However, only a few were there, most of whom were athletes lifting the spirits of their fellow athletes. I surmised that the more popular basketball game drew in the crowd, until I gathered that the visually interesting swimming competition was simultaneously being conducted along with Mr. Spectacular’s. End of speculation.
As for the object of affection, he looked stunning in his navy blue-collared white uniform, blue shorts and black rubber shoes. He thanked me for coming, but I was just too glad to see him play against the best of National Athletic Association of Schools, Colleges and Universities’ (NAASCU) best. Something about his excited movements made him all the more adorable. Teaming up with a Palarong Pambansa veteran schoolmate, he went on to trounce representatives from San Sebastian College and AMA Computer University.
Until he and partner faced the dreaded pair from Holy Angels University, whom they referred to as “halimaw” for being indestructible even in Palarong Pambansa. Twice they met for the finals, and no amount of dancing tricks from Mr. Spectacular distracted the opponents from advancing to the top three, shutting the pair we were rooting for from the medal tally.
My personal and his university’s star player bore the heavy responsibility of winning in the singles to secure a medal for the entire team. However, just when he was to start the best-of-three match, my inbox received an urgent message asking me to edit a paper due in two hours. That posed a personal crisis: do I ignore the plea in order to see Mr. Spectacular’s triumph, or do I abort my moral support for him in his deciding game in order to beat the paper deadline? I ultimately chose to be professional, since from where I plugged my laptop I could still take a glance at the contest every so often. It was the last encounter for the day, and the university’s team and supporters like Leo were around to cheer him on. Twice the pingpong ball hurtled in my direction and when I looked up to see who picked it up, it was Mr. Spectacular, asking if I was just fine. By the time I finished editing for less than half the time it usually takes me, the whole team was rejoicing for Mr. Spectacular. He bagged a bronze medal, which to me was as good as gold because hey, it’s a national tournament. Not everybody gets a chance to shine after beating all but two. It remains to be seen if Mr. Spectacular gets to defeat his ultimate opponent—himself—in order to be in tip-top shape to win the gold next year.
From Mendiola, we traversed Earnshaw because I promised to treat the brothers anywhere in España. How I loved that kilometric walk with Mr. Spectacular, especially if instead of the goon-like drumbeaters we passed by, some crooner performed rica peralejo's cover of "let's stop and talk a while." In Spain, the coziest place we could eat in was a pizza parlor opposite the royal and pontifical University of Santo Tomas. I urged them to order whatever they wanted, since the victor deserved only the food of the gods. When both eventually settled for a family pizza, I smiled my island fiesta smile over the befitting term.
Since he was sitting beside me, I could see Mr. Spectacular feeling dreamy, probably out of the combined exhaustion (he played in both individual and team division for the entire day) and fresh accomplishment. I teased him for being a national runner-up, which is just my way of motivating him to wrest soon the top plum on his last year in the university. He mentioned that wearing the shirt I gave him last valentine's could have earned him the grand prize, but he already had it on during the first day when the table tennis game got postponed (first for the next day and finally for the day after). He would later transmit a text message that my presence must have been the lucky charm for his victory.
Owing to the rush hour, we had no choice but to hang around the pavement opposite UST until such time we could grab an FX ride. Which was just perfect, for I didn’t—don’t—want that bonding moment ever to end. The vehicles shuttling toward Quezon City, the pedestrians hurrying along the sidewalk and the starlight above Manila passed us by, but we remained transfixed, chatting about life in the old country, their studies and mine, the possibilities in the future. Finally, an FX with three vacant seats accommodated us, and understandably, the star player fell into unconsciousness. I began to go on Scheherazade mode to enthrall Leo about the hidden messages of innocuous-sounding fairy tales: the Lolita complex in "Little Red Riding Hood", the yonic symbol that’s the glass slipper in "Cinderella," among other tales meant to resolve psychological issues in children. It probably escaped Leo that I was calling to mind Sleeping Beauty who was roused to life via Prince Charming’s smack on her lips. Needless to say, everything, especially the kiss, escaped the sleeping beauty next to me.