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Perfect Christmas Gift to Bring Hope and Healing This Christmas

A global financial crisis surely casts a dark cloud to dampen our spirits these coming holidays. It will be a great tragedy if we give in to the reality, setting aside the message of eternal hope.

Let your gift be an instrument of healing and hope to your family, friends and loved ones. Harp, an ancient musical instrument even used in Biblical times, is known to bring health and wellness. It is now used in various hospitals especially in recovery rooms as its heavenly sound uplift the spirits of those who listen, without the nostalgia and ache associated with other instruments like piano or flute.

Noelle Cassandra is the Philippines' foremost harp artist. This collection contains various sacred music, liturgical songs, and some original compositions.

For a minimum of four orders, you can get this package for P250.00 only, including a gift tag and a raffia ribbon. Offer good while supply lasts. Price does not include cost of delivery.

Contact: 09278495282






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Mayor In Russia Says He Can See Sarah Palin Showering From His House

(Provideniya, Russia) Governor Sarah Palin, the Republican Vice Presidential nominee, has said that she can see Russia from her house. Across the Bering Strait in Provideniya Bay sits the town of Provideniya, Russia and its mayor Dimitri Andropov. He says that he can see Palin showering from HIS house. "And it is very nice."

Read more... )
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* If you grow up in Hawaii, raised by your grandparents, you’re exotic

   But if you grow up in Alaska eating mooseburgers, you are the quintessential American



* If your name is Barack you’re a radical, unpatriotic Muslim.

  Name your kids Willow, Trig and Track, you’re a maverick.




*If you graduate from Harvard Law School,  you are unstable.


But if you attend 5 different small colleges before graduating, you’re well
grounded.



* If you spend three  years as a  community organizer, become
the first black President of the Harvard Law Review, create a voter registration drive that registers 150,000 new voters, spend 12 years as a Constitutional Law professor,? Spend 8 years as a State Senator representing a district with over 750,000 people, become chairman of the state Senate’s Health and Human Services committee, spend 4 years in the United StatesSenator representing a state of?13 million people while sponsoring 131 bills and serving on the Foreign Affairs, Environment and Public Works and Veteran’s Affairs committees, you don’t have any real leadership experience.



* If your total resume is: local weather lady, 4 years on the city
council and 6 years as the mayor of a town with less than 7,000 people, 20 months as the governor of a state with only 650,000 people, then you’re qualified to become the country’s second highest ranking executive.



* If you have been married to the same woman for 19 years while
raising 2 beautiful daughters, all within Protestant churches, you’re not a real Christian.


 If you cheated on your first wife with a rich heiress, and left
your disfigured wife and married the heiress the next month, you’re a Christian.



* If you teach responsible, age appropriate sex education, including
the proper use of birth control, you are eroding the fiber of society.


* If , while governor, you staunchly advocate abstinence only, with
no other option in sex education in your state’s school system while your unwed teen daughter ends up pregnant , you’re very responsible.



* If your wife is a Harvard graduate lawyer who gave up a position
in a prestigious law firm to work for the betterment of her inner city community, then gave that up to raise a family, your family’s values don’trepresent America’s.



* If you’re husband is nicknamed ‘First Dude’? With at least one DWI
conviction and no college education, who didn’t register to vote until age 25 and once was a member of a group that advocated the secession of Alaskafrom the USA, your family is extremely admirable.





OK, it’s much clearer now. This is called the American Dream. Democracy is really at work in the US.


No End to Palin's Arrogance

  • Oct. 5th, 2008 at 8:41 PM
light

From Particles of Politics

There is just no end to Palin’s arrogance


As if it isn’t enough that we have to listen to the “Hockey mom” and “Joe six-pack” hehehe crap, now Palin thinks she’s so important that she can tell a seasons journalist how to do her job.  

I can hardly wait for the response from Katie Couric to the comments below.  

“I did feel there were a lot of things she was missing in terms of an opportunity to ask what a VP candidate stands for, what the values are that are represented in our ticket,” Palin said. “I guess I have to apologize for being a bit annoyed, but that’s also an indication about being outside that Washington elite, outside that media elite also, and just wanting to talk to Americans without the filter and let them know what we stand for.”

In two separate and lengthy interviews with Couric over the last week, Palin seemed to struggle with a number of answers, including a defense of McCains record on regulation issues. She also appeared to stumble when relating her views on the financial bailout, her foreign policy credentials, her preferred news sources of news, and a Supreme Court case she disagrees with.

“Man, no matter what you say you are gonna get clobbered,” Palin told Fox about her heavily-scrutinized performance. “You choose to answer you are going to get clobbered on the answer. If you choose to pivot and try to go onto another subject that you believe Americans want to hear about, you get clobbered for that too.”

via CNN Political Ticker: All politics

WHY I HATE SARAH PALIN

  • Oct. 4th, 2008 at 9:47 PM
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Yeah right. I know I am not an American citizen.

I am just part of the viewing and reading public.

I cant explain it but i really, really, really HATE, as in H_A_T_E, Sarah Palin.

For me she is vile, despicable, and I shall never insult any member of the animal kingdom by comparing any of them to her.  She was created way below the food chain, and why some Americans love her is something I will never understand. And if they will elect her as Vice President, I shall laugh in the face of EVERY AMERICAN i will meet, whether here in the Philippines, or abroad or online! I swear!

So until the American Elections come, I shall post my hatred of her in this site.

Because it makes me feel good.

DURING THE DEBATE;
"Nice to meet you. Hey, can I call you Joe?"
"Say it ain't so, Joe."

WHATEVER!!!!!








Spot the Difference

  • Oct. 3rd, 2008 at 6:52 AM
bold


Which of them is running for vice-president?

Which of them is more qualified?






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palinbike3.jpg I

These are signs of a highly-developed democracy!?  The one which we Filipinos are trying to emulate. I think we are way ahead of them in matters like THIS!

In an interview this morning with NPR, Sen. John McCain (R-AZ) said that he has often turned to Gov. Sarah Palin (R-AK) for foreign policy advice:

NPR: Given what you’ve said Senator, is there an occasion where you could imagine turning to Governor Palin for advice in a foreign policy crisis.

MCCAIN: I’ve turned to her advice many times in the past, I can’t imagine turning to Senator Obama or Senator Biden because they’ve been wrong. They were wrong about Iraq, wrong about Russia –

NPR: But would you turn to Governor Palin?

MCCAIN: I certainly wouldn’t turn to them, and I’ve already turned to Governor Palin particularly on energy issues and I’ve appreciated her background and knowledge on that and many other issues.

According to the McCain campaign, Palin’s foreign policy experience that the senator is relying upon includes: 1) the fact that Alaska is near Russia, and 2) she allegedly “knows more about energy than probably anyone else in the United States of America.” In the NPR interview, McCain talked about Palin’s proximity to Russia, stating that it was important because “they have had certain relationships.”


the rest of the article

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DEMURE?


XXXXXXXXXXXXx


 
VA VA VOOM???





Which would you prefer?
Vovovo Ring!!!!
Vava Voom

when he sleeps

  • May. 27th, 2008 at 9:04 AM
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MY FRIEND IS A SCHIZO 3

Narcolepsy is a neurological condition most characterized by Excessive Daytime Sleepiness (EDS). A narcoleptic will most likely experience disturbed nocturnal sleep, which is often confused with insomnia, and disorder of REM or rapid eye movement sleep. It is one of the dyssomnias.

A narcoleptic may also fall asleep at any random time.

And Steven does just that. He falls asleep anywhere, anytime.

The first time i met talked to him, he fell asleep in the middle of a sentence. When he woke up, he was asking who i was.

Once, when we were walking to church, he fell flat on the road, sleeping.

I am not so sure what triggers this episodes. They say it might be extreme emotions like anger, fear, or even laughter. Some say, it could be extreme temperatures.

Just last week, we were having a small party and ice cream was served. He took one spoonful of ube macapuno, and fell asleep on the plate filled with spaghetti.

Other people were afraid of him. I am not. I just find it pitiful that no one pay attention to his welfare and attends to his being.

His mother always insists that these attacks are intentional. "ksp kasi iyan. ginagawa niya iyan para mapansin." his mom said.

Maybe she is right. Maybe these are steven's ways to get people's attention and  the care he badly needs.

That's how desperate he is?

my first night with a schizo

  • May. 25th, 2008 at 8:11 PM
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MY FRIEND IS A SCHIZO 2

his nightmares

The first time we spent the night together was almost traumatic, if not for a little bird.

steven said he needed a place to sleep since he was rejected by his latest boarding house. steven had been to more than a hundred boarding houses, sometimes he was lucky to last for a month. oftentimes before a week, the landlord would ask him to leave because he posed a danger to the rest of the boarders. it's because he sleepwalks, like zombie.

i asked him to bring his sleeping bag and prepared myself for a terrible night. but no amount of preparation was enough to shield me from what happened.

i woke up at around 1 am because he was mumbling and moaning interchangebly. then he stood up with very angry eyes. he acted as if he was removing somethings from his wrists, like bracelets perhaps.

then he walked towards the door, and spent few minutes trying to open the door. just turning the knob again and again. when he was able to open it, he ran outside, and it was raining. i did not have time to get an umbrella. he was near the edge of the pine forest when i caught up with him. i held his hand and led him back to the hermitage. he obeyed dutifully and went back to sleep.

while i spent the rest of the night trying to calm myself down. then i saw a little bird, just moments before daybreak, land on his face from the window. he opened his eyes, cupped the bird gently with his hands, and freed the beautiful creature outside. then he went back o sleep again. i believed it was his kindness and gentleness coming out.

the next day i talked to his sister and found out the source of those nightmares.

when he was still a little child, he was very difficult and hyperactive. his mother would always tie him in bed and lock the door, sometimes even for four days until someone remembered him.

every night, through his nightmare, he was able to do what he couldnt do then. set himself free and run away.

my friend, the schizophrenic

  • May. 24th, 2008 at 8:05 PM
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Gwen, his amiable psychiatrist, ran a laundry list of the mental conditions that Steven (not his real name) is suffering from: schizo-affective, bi-polar disorder, non-epileptic attack disorder, antisocial behavior, compulsive liar and manipulative.

I said, wow, that is way beyond the word insanity!


And oh, he is also a sex addict as he masturbates twice a day.


He has been my friend since February, and at a certain point I felt he trusted me. He is tall, chinito and with the kind of face that you would not regret if you go out on an seb with him. Just don’t allow him to talk, because the moment he opens his mouth, you would know he comes from another universe.


For more than three months, I have been a witness to his mood swings, to his erratic behavior, to his seizures and his propensity to imagine new diseases. Just yesterday, he was fully convinced that he was suffering from food poisoning and for ten straight hours, forced himself to burp. Ugly sight, I can assure you. But then I have to be there because no one else could stand it. After all, he is my regular visitor at the hermitage. Last week, he used the force of his will so that he would have constipation. I always kept all those things in secret, afraid that it will hurt him if I will share those incidents to others.


Today, I finally succumbed to the temptation of telling his story. Because this morning was the first time that I actually saw his rage, as he shouted at his doctor. Bitch! Bitch! He almost broke his neck in the process of trying to dismantle a wall using his head. He was drooling saliva all over his white t-shirt, while his eyes were on fire.


Before this morning, I always saw him as a gentle soul. Just misunderstood. Just unloved.


He always asked, “kahit ako baliw, do you think some guys will love me.?”


I didn’t know what to say then. But now I would say , “No,. Steve.” That monster I saw this morning? All guys will run away from that, even the bravest of them all.


And I don’t want that monster to come out again, whether from him or from friends and strangers. That monster could not possibly be human. It has to remain in the darkest, farthest cell in our human psyche. Only intense trauma and pain could free that monster.


Steven was abandoned by his family, after his stepdad abused him. Yes, his stepdad abused him: physically ( a series of beatings); emotionally (verbal attacks) and sexually (he was forced to suck his stepdad’s dick.) And, oh yes, the mother thinks it was Steven’s fault for acting like a girl.

This is Steven, he is my friend.

This week, I will tell you his story.

One episode at a time.

Tags:

a typhoon and a threesome

  • May. 21st, 2008 at 8:53 PM
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It was almost like a ballet. I don't mean the sight of old Benguet pine trees swaying their trunks and branches as they reckoned the force of typhoon Cosme.  That too was a sight to behold, almost like a macho dancer on Prozac.  By ballet, I mean the threesome I had while the rest of Baguio was reeling in heavy winds and torrential rains.

The malicious and brutal downpour brought them to me, these two young men from Urdaneta, and lovers  for two years. They were celebrating their second anniversary here in Baguio when Cosme overtook their pace and transformed their honeymoon into an episode of Amazing Race.

I was desperately holding on to my umbrella when Nick, the younger guy smiled at me while they were wading in the ankle deep pool of raindrops.  I thought, “Great, just when I am losing my poise trying to keep myself dry, a cute guy is flirting with me.” But since all plans of drinking the night away in Nevada Square were previously and obviously abandoned, might as well make do with surprise blessings like this.

“If you guys don’t have a place to keep your self warm and dry, I am checking in at a nearby hotel. I would like you to come.”  Yes, pun intended.

Within seconds after we closed the door, the three of us were already naked. Not because of our libido, but because we were soaking wet and those drenched clothes can cause hypothermia, trust me. But the spectacle of naked bodies was too much to handle. Despite the storm, the erections were almost simultaneous. The bodies did the talking, no need for words.

I was fully aware of the howling sounds of the ferocious wind and the agonies of trees suffering from the torture of the typhoon, but our bodies moved and danced with these sounds. Our moans and sighs, and yes, even shouts, were drowned by the catastrophic symphony outside.  Our three bodies, sometimes in triangle, sometimes all aligned, found a rhythm that connived with the wildness of the weather.

It must have been four hours after when we decided to stop, catching our breathes.  It was during this recess that I learned about their relationship and their adventures.

And I thought, wow, I was making love to these young partners. I was the odd man out. I was the third party. I was, well, like a whore. And I loved it. So the erection came again.

The next day when we woke up, the skies were still dark, but the rain was gentler. I kissed them both goodbye, and braved the storm once again, alone.

As I always do.

For the love of God, i am AGING!!!!!

  • May. 17th, 2008 at 5:36 PM
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i looked at myself lately
and i must admit i was shocked

jeez, i am old
i look old
i feel old


i prepared myself for life's most difficult situations
death of loved ones, bankruptcy, cyclones
heck i am even prepared for the next ice age

but nothing prepared me for the awareness

that my time is almost up

i am nearing deadline

and i haven't open the test paper yet

cause i am wandering around



before



AFTER

ARRGGGHHHH


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to a wounded lawyer

  • May. 15th, 2008 at 5:38 PM
garden

Long before the intricacies of the law captured your attention and defined your present mode of existence, I have known you as a farmer whose object of affection was a rose garden hidden from all the pretensions of urban and mundane interactions in which your legal profession thrives like Fudge’s cretins in a petridish. Till today, I always wonder whatever happened to the roses, or whether Dodong is still there tending them. Perhaps inside my dreamworld, I always wish that you would always remain a farmer.

Yet, prior to that, perhaps in another lifetime even, you breathed poetry. Your craftsmanship as a wordsmith found its gallery in this website, undoubtedly the haven of artists and storytellers way back then. Men like you can tame unyielding words and phrases like circus ringmasters to their performing beasts: making it appear effortless yet constantly at risk. Sometimes, the words get back at you and wound your heart. You were a bleeding poet the last night I saw you.

And thus, after reading your entry “my pain today”, I succumbed to the temptation of dissecting who is he that speaks? The lawyer, the poet or the farmer? Perhaps, all three, in unison like a Greek chorus in a tragedy. Or maybe, it was someone else?

You always have that gift of reinventing yourself. And every time you metamorphosed, you waved a wand that drew poor souls to make commitments with the old self you left behind. They were making love to a ghost. And I can name some of them.

So it is not surprising that even if I have slept with you several times, yet I have never slept with you. You were not there, it was someone else.

I saw glimpses of who you are in fleeting seconds, like that time when you introduced to me a single rosebud, or when you waited for the fog to descend outside my room in Baguio. One of my best memories: a rosebud, the fog and you. It was always a privilege.

As it is now. To read that you are in pain about a loved one actually made me happy. This is one of those graced moments when you actually revealed yourself. This pain that you talk about will not destroy you, though it will burn and consume you to ashes. But you always rise again like that wretched bird whose tears can heal a wounded spirit.

And so you will.

I have loved you then. I love you still.

And my prayers and blessings are for you.

life as a hermit

  • May. 12th, 2008 at 8:55 PM
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view of  baguio city from my attic room in the hermitage




the hanging bridge that leads to the hermitage

Today I mark the 50th day of living in a hermitage in the midst of the Maryknoll Ecological Sanctuary in Baguio City. As usual,i started the day at 4 o'clock,not only because i made it a point to make my dawn meditation while waiting for the sunrise, then do yoga; but also because the birds wake up early in this pine forest, and there is a nest just outside the attic room where i sleep.

The butterflies were very friendly this morning,unlike yesterday when they scampered in a hurry at the scent of me. Maybe i passed their test of fidelity.

I made brewed coffee from the beans which i harvested from the small coffee plantation near the igorot houses.then i had pancakes with homemade honey and strawberry jam. i made sure that i left some breadcrumbs outside the ruins now covered with wallclimbing star flowers. the little birds love those honeycoated breadcrumbs.

These and more are the gifts of living as a hermit. Here, the place is the healer, the fresh scent of pines serves as the balm to soothe a tired spirit. The organic vegetables from the terraced biodynamic farm down the slopes nourished my drained body.

I thought I would not last for one week, after all, I have lived a nomadic life, being a backpacker. But here, the bamboo forest that survived as an undergrowth to the first generation of Benguet pines protects me from my own desires of moving around, and shields me from a life that led me to nowhere.

But i know i could not possibly live here forever. I wouldnt want to own the place and deprive others of this wonderful experience. Should i go back to a life of penishunting? I don't think so. Should i return to the road with my backpack? Maybe, i dont know.

But tonight, the thunder speaks a significant message. It is asking me not to think of tomorrow. Only today. Only tonight. And tonight, i will sleep with the fog as my blanket. Maybe tomorrow, the mushrooms will be ready for picking. I shall have a lovely breakfast. But then again, i shouldnt be thinking even about that.

Purpose-Driven Gay Life

  • Apr. 2nd, 2008 at 4:07 PM
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Decades ago, gay children only dreamed of one thing: to become a beauty queen. Now,  dreams abound in the gaylandia. From landing in the moon, to starting his own country. The promotion of purpose-driven life among the prominent gay bloggers serve as a benchmark for the rest of the population.

1. Danton Remoto is driven to be a member of the Philippine Senate in 2010. If he wins, he will not be the first gay senator, but at least he will be the first one to be honest about it.


2. Ageage Matela "dreams of that day when gay and lesbian rights are respected and protected by laws of the Philippines". I also dream that. I also wish that there will be no more TV commercials to pollute the minds of the young ones, or that people will walk to their offices to prevent global warming. But the bitch in me says, ala Meryl, "That's not gonna happen darling!" But still, I salute this guy.

3. Bryanboy wants you to shower him with attention and inflate his ego. Err. Okay. I think i can ask AJ do to that for him. But i think his wishes are coming true.

4. Jessica Zafra, the only gayman i know who is gifted with real breasts and a vagina since birth, wants to rule the universe. And she's gonna do it.

5. And Brian of course is driven to recover his 70,000 dollars from a Filipino dude. Hmmm. good luck.


My friend Leon wants to have a threesome with Piolo and Sam. While Michi dreams of having sex inside a funeral car while the grieving family marches to the tune of Ave Maria.

That's what you get for drinking so much Red Horse. 

And me, i am driven to dream of a future when i will be allowed to wear g-strings in baguio, and no one will take pictures of me.

Fellowship of the Red Horse

  • Mar. 31st, 2008 at 10:39 AM
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Like a tangled tapestry, or  an assortment of overlapping cobwebs in caves abandoned for centuries. That's how I describe the fellowship of the red horse, an appropriate term we  call ourselves since that beer is what keep us alive and sane. There are ten of us, at least the regular ones because membership is so fluid it can reach up to thirty during semestral breaks, holy week or summer vacation.  What we  consider as the hunting seasons.

There's Niko, Michie, Leon, Topher, Melvin, Al, Skies, Spikee, James and I.

Niko, a former masseuse in a clinic near Santa Lucia East, and whose listed occupation is to jump from one rich boyfriend to another as fast as you can say Western Union, (how else can he afford  prada shoes) was the boyfriend of Michie for two weeks and lover of Leon for two years (at least during weekdays).

Michie was a convent boy who dreamed of becoming a monk and was about to finish his novitiate when a postulant complained that Michie raped him. He now teaches moral theology in a catholic school here in Baguio. He is live-in partner of Melvin, regular fuck buddy of James and weekly costumer to Spikee.

The only student in the gang, Melvin comes from Pampanga and  the son of  a priest and a convent laundrywoman. He used to run around the altar while his dad delivered homily. Melvin was a regular costumer of Skie until he met Michie, although Skie told me in confidence that they still go out together, mostly when Michie goes home to Vigan (which of course means that Michie is actually out with someone)

Leon, who loved Niko to the point of suicide is actually the lover of Jericho, a nurse in Australia who sends him 1000 dollars a month, making Leon the only breadwinner in the family without a job. (Saying sweet nothings during long distance calls does not constitute a career). When Niko found out about this, he was raging mad (heard about this kettle who called the pot black?) and broke up with him. True to form, Leon slashed his wrist and demanded that he should be brought to the hospital, where he met Topher, a nurse , who could pass for a bench model. Two days later, Leon was discharged from the hospital and moved in with Topher. Leon is the cousin of James.

Topher, before he passed the nursing board, was a gym instructor who also serviced his clients off gym-hours in almost any position. He had a brief affair with James, three days before Leon slashed his wrist. It was the time when James joined the Mr. Baguio pageant and had to go to the gym to trim down his waist. They would have made a lovely couple, if Leon didn't materialize in the hospital.

Skie and Spikee are bestfriends and callboys who parade their stuff at night near Burnham Park. When drunk, they service most of the members of the fellowship for free, including me. They said its their way of contributing since they always run out of cash during gimmicks. Oh well.

James, who now drives a Ferroza and works as a front office manager of a small hotel here in Baguio was first runner up of Mr. Baguio few years ago. The car is courtesy of an old politician. For a time, he was my fuck buddy.

Al, is my best friend, the only guy in the fellowship with no secrets to hide and no skeletons in his closet to protect. He owns a silvercraft store for a living, an inheritance from his parents who died during that tragic earthquake in 1991. Al was raised by his Tita Nena, his aunt who was the godmother of my boyfriend Benjo.

When Benjo died in a motorcycle accident, Al took me in as his bestfriend.

That's how this chapter of my life began.

Again.

Baguio city's gay paradise

  • Mar. 18th, 2008 at 11:02 AM
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There is a little place, just ten to fifteen minutes away from the boundaries of Baguio City, nestled in a valley where strawberries once grew, hidden from the judgmental eyes of mortals by a thick cover of pine trees old enough to have witnessed the headhunting days of my ancestors, a square piece of land called Aipotu. It is a genuine gay sanctuary available to those who seek refuge and who desire an experience of freedom, acceptance and understanding in a caring and carefree atmosphere.

It does not have the fame of Puerto Galera, and that is a conscious decision of its founders: three gay men who felt a call to serve their kind in a most unusual way.

Wild free sex is not its main attraction, although it is allowed. But those who have been there could attest that after the first night, wild sex becomes unnecessary. Inner freedom is more pleasurable.

The only qualification is attraction to the same sex. Labels such as bi, curious, discreet, effem or straightacting are immaterial. Looks while appreciated are not preferred. Even cleanliness and hygiene, though encouraged are not required. Nor decency. Definitely there is no dress code. An igorot g-string is available for those wish to wear it, while some guests prefer to be fully dressed up in black turtlenecks, a few prefer to go naked as the day they were born. Nudity though is discouraged at night as it might cause hypothermia.

There are no parties. Food is sublime, almost always a vegetarian fare, although meat and junk food are provided for those who require them. There is no canteen or store in the vicinity but an errand boy, a glorious looking man who used to be a masseur, volunteers to do the grocery every morning. But what is served is so fresh and delicious no one gets hungry.

There is no bar. The only drinks constantly available are homemade tapuy; the finest strawberry wines and a bottomless punchbowl that can knock one down to kingdom come if he underestimates its strength. But the mood is so intoxicating that alcohol becomes a redundant.

There are no organized activities, no sportsfests and pageants. No TV, internet, radio, viodeoke, darts, heck, not even play cards. The place operates on spontaneous combustion. After dinner, a camp fire warms the place and anything can happen after that: storytelling, poetry reading, singing, monologues, debates, performance arts or stargazing. Mostly the night ends with a prolonged silence to listen to the rare orchestra by forest dwelling creatures.

One hut serves as an art workshop, only for those who are interested. There are free materials for painting, maskmaking, wood carving, origami, and pottery. There are no books available but guests are encouraged to share reading materials, including rare pornographic ones.

Lovemaking can happen anytime. Be it in the privacy of the huts or in full view of an appreciative public. Tradition has it that everyone claps his hands after someone comes. In my time, a couple had multiple orgasms my hands ached from the repetitive rounds of applause.

The spirit of volunteerism permeates the running of the place. The small kitchen with an affable cook welcomes volunteers who love to be involved in the meal preparations. The small patches of vegetable and flower gardens are there for the green thumbs. As each hut is home to five individuals, its cleanliness depends on the mood of its occupants. When I felt lazy, I hanged a laminated card that said NEED HELP IN CLEANING, and voila, our hut looked as sterile as a hospital room courtesy of an obsessive-compulsive guest. Although one can prefer the card that said I LIKE MY BED DIRTY, and dirty it shall remain. There are no rules nor reminders written or posted on the board. The only reminder you can hear is the soft voice of the host saying JUST BE.

There are no hot waters, though guests are allowed to bring their own heaters. What is practiced though is to do group showers so that you can rub each other warm. I had my stay there last January, the coldest month in the mountain, so I took my shower at 11 in the morning with six other guys. Nobody noticed the cold waters.

The practice of faith and religion is highly recommended but not enforced. A guest who happened to be a priest said mass to us on a Sunday. There were two seminarians who always prayed vespers using their breviaries. Some conducted prayer meetings and bible sharing. A forty year old banker began the day by worshipping the sun while a 19 year old UP student kept on chanting to awaken his inner goddess. But guests would always say that the place itself already gave us a taste of the divine.

A counselor is on hand for those who require assistance in understanding their life history and working out their basic issues. A trained reflexologist provides free massage for tired bodies. But mostly, it is the life energies of the place that bring healing, accompanied by the harmonius friendship established in such a short time.

Payment operates on a Pay It Forward system. I was there because someone sponsored me, a previous guest. If one found the experience meaningful, he can recommend a friend for the next batch, but he has to sponsor his fee, a minimal amount of P250.00 per day to cover for his board and lodging. Only previous guests can contact and are entertained by the hosts.

Before departure, guests are invited, not compelled to join a commitment ritual, the central part of which is when they form a circle, in their birthday suit and masturbate together, their semen should fall on the ground. Fertile soils will cover the fluids then seeds are planted on them. No one explains the meaning of the ritual, it is assumed that meaning will reveal itself in the ripeness of time.

Aipotu is only open five days a month, around the time of the full moon. For what reason, nobody bothers to ask.

The rest of the month, the place lies fallow so that it can rest and heal from all the negative energies and pains poured down by its previous inhabitants. It seemed such a long time, but after hearing all the trauma and the tragedies of the people in my group, I wondered if three weeks is enough to heal the place.

But it does. And it is always fresh and ready for the next people who comes when the next full moon shines.

Enrique found his man

  • Mar. 13th, 2008 at 6:35 PM
dining

SM Baguio three days before Holy Week looked and felt like Divisoria at the height of the Christmas season, except that its a lot colder. But still despite the dramatic increase of lowlanders whose idea of vacationing in Baguio is to go malling (please, be creative, if not, stay at home), I was looking forward to a "quiet time" doing my groceries with Al, who had been my lean-to these past few days.

Just when I was about to go to the counter,  a familiar shriek followed by an earthshaking sound of tincans tumbling, accompanied by an aristocratic reprimand (Manong naman kasi, hindi maayos ang pagkaarrangggeeeee) made me brace myself for an unexpected encounter with Supreme Gayness himself. Al, sensing my alarm, put his arms around me. I was half-praying that he would not see me, but it was too late, Enrique's voice filled the whole SM grocery.

"Reiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii"

Enrique is always unmistakeable, what with a fashion sense designed to go against the season (yellow cycle shorts and sleeveless green shirt last New Year's eve, for one), but this time he outdid himself. At the onset of summer, when at least the sun shines four hours a day undisturbed, he was wearing a pink leatherette winter jacket over an orange turtleneck and black snow boots.

"Hey, musta???" I said almost in whisper as the crowd of shoppers began to raise their eyebrows. I stopped telling Enrique not to shout in public,the last time I did that, he looked hurt and told me, "Rei, I am not scandalous, I am just being patriotic!" (Don't ask, this is his normal conversation mode)

"Oh my God!!!! You are back!!!!" He was holding a can of Del Monte cocktails in one hand while his other extremities were wrapped around the waistline of a fiftyish man with salt and pepper hair and eyeglasses that fail to hide the naughty twinkling of his eyes. An old woman almost dropped her basket in fright.

With all the remnants of common sense he could muster, Enrique hastily placed the grocery item on the floor while he reached out to hug me. Unfortunately, in the process he kicked the aforementioned Del Monte can which rolled towards the counter, hitting a milk-bottle-sucking toddler down, who bawled and cried for his mother. Enrique loosened his embrace, looked over his shoulder and said, "Ow, why is that cute little boy crying?"

Then he jumpstarted a monologue that combined questions ( where have you been?), news updates ( alam mo ba namatay na si Eric, yung friend mo na callboy dahil sa AIDS), gossips (hoy, hiwalay na si Miko at si Marvin) and notes on a scandal (alam mo ba iyong Nevada scandal, friend ko iyong girl ) and a host of other items that sounded like the kilometric lines of Vilma Santos in her movies before. Then he realized something, "Oh my god, i forgot to introduce you to my Daddy.. Daddy this is my soul friend Rei.. he was the one who helped me when I committed suicide before. (That last line with a sense of achievement!)

Al, always tactless, asked, "I thought you said your father is dead."

Enrique slapped his face so hard it turned red. "Nooooo, daddy ito as in daddd--deee" And kissed Daddy in order to prove his point.

I was amused at the way this friend of mine has recovered his zest for life after a serious betrayal left him an emotional wreck years ago. This new guy is way older, but the happiness is very genuine.

At last, Enrique found his man.

If only he discovers a new fashion sense. But never mind, he is happy. That is the only thing that counts.

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