Bubble Boy

I went to the city park a few weeks ago to meet up with some friends of mine and I saw some 20 or so kids playing inside these plastic bubbles. For only 3 dollars you can be a bubble boy/girl for 20 minutes or so. They were clearly having so much fun. I was even tempted to rent one of the bubbles and try it for myself. The boring adults {me included} relegated themselves to just watching the whole spectacle and taking pictures. I envied these kids. I know its wishful thinking but there are times that I wish I could be like them again. Fragile. Innocent. Genuine. Clear as a 7-11 bottled water. I looked at one of the kids in the bubbles and he was having the time of his life. 20 minutes of pure prepubescent bliss. I wanted to try it. I bet that I would've if I were stoned or drunk or whatnot. Still, there lies an obvious difference between us. When the 20 minutes was over, they were let out of the bubbles and they were still kids - fragile, innocent, genuine and clear as a 7-11 bottled water. But I bet my balls that when my twenty minutes was over, I'd still be one drunk/stoned grown man trying to relive and / or make up for his lost childhood.

to Jerry

Dear Jerry,

May you rest in peace... You may have done a whole lotta things that made gay suicide a household name and a good human interest story. The 9-11 comment was so uncool. But all is forgiven in the end. Surely you will be missed. Now go towards the light and you'll find Tinky Winky at the end of the tunnel. Life, for you my fundamentalist friend, has actually just begun. God Bless us all.

xoxo

oh by the way, can you ask tinky when is pat due.
thaaaaaaanks

The Confessions of an Insom{a}niac XV - my Nanay

I must confess that I am a mother's boy - always have been and always will be. I grew up under the wings of a woman who protected me at all cost, nurtured me no matter what the circumstance and cared for me like no other human being could. I love my nanay. She is, most probably, the only woman that I can truly say that I love. Yes, I have important women in my life but nothing beats the big mama.

I remember the time when I used to promise my mother that I was gonna buy her a wheel chair when she gets old. I was 6 years old then. She used to laugh it off every time I made that promise, but she'd quickly make a follow up and tell me to aim higher and buy her a house instead of a wheel chair. yes she's a natural, my nanay.

She got married at an early age, 16. So young. Back then it was normal for people to get married before they reach their 20th birthday. My mother eloped with my father, a 21 year old guy from Manila who was a son of an Adventist sewing machine mechanic. When they came back to face their parents they were already wearing rings. There was a formal wedding of course, as Catholic tradition would impose. She bore 6 children, with me being the youngest. Six children.

They had to live with my father's parents as times were hard for both of them {funny, that nothing really ever changes}.

I saw nanay's picture when she was young. I was staying at my parents house in the country last summer and I was rummaging through old photos and by chance I saw one of her black and white pictures. It was taken when she was 16 or 17. She was very young, and she was very beautiful. I could not believe my eyes that the woman in the picture wearing skimpy shorts and a white t shirt with matching 60's sunglasses while doing a poster girl pose for some guy mag was the same woman who carried me for nine months. I did notice that her hair changed very little {I keep praying to God that I have my mother's "hair" genes}. I looked at her photo, and it was evident that she was happy. She was sunbathing by the river 2 miles away from their home in the country; her hair, sprawled lazily over her shoulders and her legs were nicely curved. And her smile had that impish quality in it. She was a stunner, my mother. I asked her about the picture during merienda time and she just smiled and poured me my coke. That must have been a beautiful day, I thought.

My mother, although years advancing still looks beautiful to me. Her hands, her voice, her god awesome hair, her face. And sometimes, I could still see that faint glimpse of impishness when she laughs or smiles. But her most beautiful asset is her courage and her pride. I remember one time when I was back in highschool she went home with my sister from church too early from the usual, all angry and boiling. I learned from my sister that she walked out in the middle of a sermon of one priest. Let's just say that she did not like the sermon and she left the congregation and the minister something to think about. I reckon that the priest avoided my mother in many church occasions after that incident. feisty,my nanay.

I remember last summer after the two of us went back to manila, the two of us were eating in a fast food joint. I was munching away my amazing aloha burger and fries like there was no tomorrow while she was eating her fried chicken. Then she said to me in Filipino "Alam mo, ok lang sa akin na chocoleyt ka, uso naman yan ngayon eh" {You know, I don't mind you being chocolate, it's the "in" thing now anyways.}. I almost choked on my fries and asked her what a chocolate was. Then she said "Chocoleyt, alam mo na yun" {Chocolate, you know what I mean}. I didn't know where the hell she got her terminology but I understood. And it was heartfelt. She continued eating her chicken while I tried to wash away the grease with my soda. Then she said while I was in mid gulp - "Nakailang boyfriend ka na? Sa palagay mo, cashier chocoleyt din ba?" {So how many boyfriends have you had already? Do you think that guy in the cash register is also chocolate?}. Let's just say that it was a good thing I'm used to gag reflex.

She may have her flaws but she is perfection to me. She may have made some mistakes {some I know of and some I do not}, but she has done what she thought was best. She maybe 66, but she still kicks a lotta ass. I love my nanay. And I am proud to say that I am a nanay's boy... always have been... always will be.

wendy bird flagging to the tune of scissor sisters

filthy gorgeous!

taibeshe being taibshe. the cat fucking bit me.

a random blog entry of Omar's undertakings and life's vicissitudes

It has been a long time since I have written something real sensible on this blog. I must confess that I have not been in a writing mood as of late. It's very evident with my recent blog posts - short and simple and laced with expletives {like fuck, damn. darnit, shite and the like} just to fill in the gaps. I decided that there will be no cussing on this blog entry. I am not apologetic though.


I kind of enjoyed this "silence", truth be told, as it made me think {yes I do think} of some things other than blogging... like my floor for example. Or my bathroom. Or my dying rose plant which I named Emily; Or my blooming Narcissus Tazzeta flower which I named Esmeralda. Or the coming spring. Or the world outside my apartment.


I keep forgetting sometimes that there is a world outside the world wide web. And yes, that world is kinda purrrty. I look at it outside my window as I type this sentence and it is so inviting that I might run later. Ahhh, spring... It does bring out the romantic in me. One day I might leave the Noodle Kingdom for another country or continent. I will miss a lotta things here but one of the biggest things that I'll miss is the spring time in my city. I may move to other places in this lifetime, experience numerous springs and winters and autumns and summers; but I reckon that I shall never forget the seasons on my part of the Noodle Kingdom - with it's sombre autumns and cruel winters and embracing summers and most of all, the romantic spring.


It just dawned on me the other day that I have a problem with my floor. I clean it too much. Like 8 to 10 times on an ordinary day. I guess if Freud were alive, he'd have a field day talking to my id and my floor. I made a mental note that I ought to clean my floor less and less, like five times in a day tops.



I've been thinking of shaving my head recently. I have gotten tired of my long hair and to be honest, I really don't have the patience to maintain it. And some kids have been calling me "foreign thief" when they see me on the street. I kinda like the"foreign thief" bit, but the combing and styling is just way too cumbersome for me. I made another mental note to have a haircut next month. I'll prolly buzz it or just shave my head. Oh yes, I miss my orange hair.





I have been trying to execute my QUIET DAY PROGRAM - with no success. The whole rationale for the QDP was for me to be able to spend a day to myself without uttering any word and just try to introspect and shit. But I always end up talking to myself. Or singing a random song in my head. Maybe I should try Valiums. I heard they come cheap here.

I miss halu halo. I have been craving for it recently. Call me a loser or whatnot but I also miss Jollibee. One time, I went to the Jollibee website and I ended up masturbating so I could get rid of the longing for Chickenjoy, Amazing Aloha and Peach Mango Pie. I vowed to myself never to go to the Jollibee website ever again. Utter torture, it's inhumane I tell you.

I was surprised that I have kept doing yoga on a regular basis. I guess it's good to have a yoga partner, all thanks to Nina. I reckon I'm starting to get real good with my downward facing dog pose... or maybe it's just me.



I'm trying to finish three books this month.



Conversations with God

All That Is Solid Melts Into Air

The Zahir



I am hoping to have them finished by the end of this year. So help me God.


I'm signing out for now. I've got no idea what else to write. Maybe I'll be inspired tomorrow. Or maybe not.

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