Recently received this gift from my room-mate, who returned after almost 2 months in Jakarta. Who would’ve thought of finding truth in something so trivial? Hahaha! Thanks a lot, Vic (for the bottle of perfume as well)!
True
May 24th, 2009 § 2
No boundaries
May 22nd, 2009 § 3
I have never been able to watch any of the previous American Idol finals night, due to various reasons. This season, however, that has changed. I went back to Phnom Penh after a week in India and Thailand, in time to watch the final performance night of this season’s finalists: Adam Lambert and Kris Allen.
To the non-followers of American Idol, Adam and Kris can be easily described as studies in contrast. Where Adam is a sleazy and flamboyant goth-emo guy who wears black nail polish and guy-liner, Kris is your squeaky clean boy-next-door type who wears collared shirts and loafers. While Adam’s vocal range seems to defy gravity, or any natural explanation, Kris’ is decidedly limited and his voice is, well, also squeaky.
It’s obvious that I favor Adam and anybody with a clear understanding that American Idol is a singing competition would. And should. But of course, the idiotic voters of this television show shrank in awe of Adam’s talent and in-your-face rogue charm and instead chose to embrace the vacuous church-going niceness of Kris Allen. Case in point, listen and compare Kris’ version of the same song (at the top) to Adam’s version HERE.
I had a sinking feeling Adam would not be crowned as the 8th American Idol, simply because his appearance and (perceived) sexual orientation is not palatable enough for majority of the show’s voters. He is over-the-top, and probably too much of a character that he makes these voters cringe in fear–or repressed desire. Kris Allen, meanwhile, seems to fit the bill of these stars who seem to come from a common mold of pretty-ness, aw-shucks religiosity, and tempered sexuality. Never mind that his voice and musicality is far below than the other members of the top 13 such as Alison Iraheta, Danny Gokey or Matt Giraud. In my opinion, the only contestant inferior to Kris is that awful Nunez guy.
Kris is as bland as unsalted and un-buttered boiled potato.
But he won, anyway. Thanks to the voters who didn’t seem to know what a good singer is even if he bit them in the ass–pun intended. Truly, there are no boundaries to idiocy!
One more reason why judging a singingcompetition shouldn’t be left to the public
This boy
May 16th, 2009 § 2
I’ve had daddy fantasies for as long as I can remember. As a boy, though I wasn’t aware yet that any of my feelings had a sexual undertone, I’ve always admired how handsome my father was. I mean, my family is quick to point out that except for my nose (round) and my hair (straight, unlike me), my father and I share the rest of our physical characteristics. I never saw that, though. To me his aquiline nose and curled hair (what’s left of it, anyway) are marks of beauty that confused me a lot during puberty.
Up to now, I get attracted–without fail, to men with sharp, longish noses and curled hair.
I was also what one would call a sexually precocious child. I was circumcised in the summer that I turned ten years old and I had sex with a 16 year-old son of a family friend about 3 weeks after my wounds have healed. In the years that followed I would manage to have sex with men who were much older than I. These ranged from the schoolbus driver, the security guard in my high school, even to laborers in a construction site across our house. Their ages ranged from 25 to 35. And of course, that son of a family friend.
This persisted until I was in my 20s, about the time when I began having relationships with guys (who were around my age). I had sex with many older (sometimes married) guys. I began wondering how it would feel like to be in a relationship with them. I didn’t pursue them deliberately; things kind of just happened that way. However, no matter how many mature men I slept with, I never got into a relationship with any of them. My lovers (5 of them) shared the physical traits of having a sharp nose and curled hair, but their age never veered far from my own.
I thought about it and decided that probably I wasn’t the type who would be an older guy’s boyfriend. Simply because I was never boy-ish in thoughts, words, and deeds. In fact, I loathe the cutesy-patootsy stuff done by boys and young men. I have no patience for that. Whether it’s sex or relationship, I had always wanted my partners to be–pardon the pun, straight-to-the-point.
And now that I am approaching the second half of my thirties, I am slightly disconcerted by the type of guys that I seem to attract. A couple of months ago I met a guy through a gay networking site for coffee (and a possible hook-up). His profile stated that he was 28 years old. His photo, a bit blurred, showed a lanky guy with curled hair. But in person, lanky was lithe and his 28 looked like he was 18. He admitted that he is in fact, 22 years old. Naturally I lost any appetite for anything and the cup of coffee witnessed a protracted afternoon talk-fest.
However, talking to this boy made me realize how mature he is. He seemed to know what he was talking about all the time (he’s in his last term in the College of Architecture) and I never saw any of that cutesy-patootsy stuff I mentioned a while back. When we were about to part he asked if he can see me again.
Moi, ever so impatient and easily annoyed by the younger set, said yes.
So now we have been going out intermittently for the last 2 months. We would go to the different art galleries of Phnom Penh because we share a passion for art. Did I mention that he is a trained dancer? On occasion he dances for a modern dance troupe in Phnom Penh. I haven’t seen him perform but I can see his natural grace so I can only imagine how he is on stage. I haven’t introduced him to any of my friends because I am a bit ‘ashamed’ for dating a much younger guy. I’m not ashamed of him, only of the fact that I’m dating him. He is beginning to feel like some sort of a guilty pleasure.
And I am just stumped at where this is going to. Fortunately, I have not heard him say the ‘L’ word to me. I wouldn’t know how to respond to it. I have to admit that I’m growing fond of him. I like the fact that he seems to be very independent and self-reliant. I am somewhat baffled at why he seems to like me.
Have I finally become the object of my younger-day fantasies? And, could it be that, the reason why I was never offered a relationship by any of my daddy fuck-buddies was because, deep-inside, they probably sensed and knew that I was also a daddy all along?
I don’t know what else to say.
never somebody’s boyLosing the self
May 8th, 2009 § 3
Fugue
I see
The foamy waves
Kissing the sand
The shore
That is you.
They whittle
Each grain, time
And patience etched
Into the fine face
That is love.
Sea-birds
Finding the flow
Glide to some
Tender space
Within your limbs:
Nest of my feelings.
If clouds refuse
To heed the outline
Of your smile,
I will be sun-rays
Dropping gently
On your skin.
Manila, 1998
Copyright Michael P. De Guzman
Stay (Faraway, so close)
May 7th, 2009 § 1
If you had been checking out my other blog, you will notice that the last 5 posts all featured photos from my last visit to the Angkor complex in Siem Reap. I went to Siem Reap on Labor Day weekend and spent 2 days straight roaming around the complex. This has been the longest I had spent on visiting temples.
Of course, about a couple of years ago I would periodically visit Siem Reap (I would tag along with my then-lover) and stay there for as long as 6 days. Although then-lover and I would drive around the complex in his motorcycle every afternoon (after his work-day is over), it was not like the tour that one gets when one pays for the tickets. These afternoon drives were not bad, actually. We would often go to these obscure places where we would see remnants of a temple jutting out of the middle of a rice paddy. Sometimes we would end in a seemingly remote part of the woods where we would make out until it was dark.
But let me point out now that my last trip to Siem Reap had anything to do with my ex. In fact, I would like to apologize for mentioning him at all in the last paragraph. If I do so again later in this post, I hope this apology is still in effect.
Almost a month ago, I had my fifth anniversary of living here in Cambodia. I arrived here on April 19, 2004, right after the Khmer New Year. About two weeks later, on Labor Day weekend, Navuth (not my then-lover) brought me to Siem Reap for the first time. We, along with his wife and 2 cute children, boarded his battered 1993 Camry and drove to Siem Reap via Pursat, Battambang, and Banteay Meanchey. This was not the usual route. Navuth wanted to show me more sights along the way, as it turned out. We packed a lot of food, and we stopped at every opportune time to eat and enjoy the sights. We reached Siem Reap after a 10-hour drive. We spent almost a day roaming around the temples.
So to ‘celebrate’ my anniversary, I decided to take a trip to Siem Reap and commemorate my first trip there. I deemed it was also a good time for me to ’spend time’ with my new DSLR camera. To ensure this, I left my point-and shoot at home. I got there on Thursday afternoon, but I ended up staying in the hotel most of thr afternoon because of the rains. In the afternoon I met a friend and his family briefly at the mall beside the hotel. In the evening I had dinner with Fuchsiaboy at V an A, a vegetarian restaurant, where I had pasta with coconut milk sauce. The Spool Artist and his wife joined us for drinks later at Linga Bar.
Moi at Banteay Srey, C2004Early the next morning, with the tuktuk I rented for the day, I headed to Banteay Srey. About a couple of hours later we were on the way to Ta Prohm but I asked him to stop by Prasat Kravan. He complained that we should have stopped by it on the way to Banteay Srey but I paid him no mind. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see it; this small temple was our (then-lover and I) favorite temple. When I first laid eyes on it in 2004, I told then-lover that it was my favorite temple. He smiled and said that he liked it best, too. But I was glad to have stopped by. Some restoration/ cleaning has been done on the bas-reliefs inside its 3 towers, and it looked better than when I first saw it. I was a bit sad to see caterers and deejays setting up in its grounds. Being a ‘minor’ temple, the authorities allow functions to be held here.
Still moi at Prasat Kravan, C2004Ta Prohm was still as magnificent as I remembered it. The difference now is that the main gate is closed to the tourists, and that there are wooden walkways around the interiors of the temple, dimishing the ‘jungle’ atmosphere of the place. Of course, Bayon with its giant faces is still awesome. I had a good time looking for other angles to photograph these stone faces.
Moi werqing Ta Prohm, C2005After a lunch of fried noodles and fresh coconut juice, I headed to Angkor Wat. Even if I have seen it about 10 times, Angkor Wat is still breath-taking. However, my experience was a bit diminished by: (1) the oppressive heat; (2) the swarm of tourists–although it was good for boy-watching; and (3) my favorite section of Angkor Wat, the eastern wall with the bas-relief of ‘The Churning of the Sea of Milk’, was closed because it was being restored/ maintained. I spent more than a couple of hours there before going back to the hotel.
Notice the emptiness?Moi at Angkor Wat, C2004
For dinner Fuchsiaboy and I went to Takezono, the Japanese restaurant at Sokha Hotel. I had some salmon sushi and prawn tempura ramen. It was perfect, and the price was surprisingly cheap as well. I hadn’t planned what I would do the next day so after a single drink at Linga Bar, I went back to the hotel.
When I woke up the next morning, I decided that I would go to Koh Ker and Beng Melea–two sites which I have never visited before. Beng Melea is located 60+km east of Siem Reap town while Koh Ker is around 120km away from the town. I called a taxi company and asked to rent a car to take me there, instructing them to pick me up at 7.30AM. After about 2 hours, I was in Koh Ker, armed with just a guidebook. Koh Ker was an Angkorian capital for a brief period of time only but it was a complete city, built around a massive baray (reservoir). There were more than 25 monuments and driving around, I managed to see at least 15. I will post the photos in my other blog.
On the way back we stopped at Beng Melea–believed to be a prototype of some sort of Angkor Wat. Probably because they were of the same size, and it was built almost a century earlier than Angkor Wat. Along with Koh Ker, Beng Melea was another awesome site. The only fly in the ointment is the gaggle of kids running around the temple like monkeys, offering to guide you or asking for money. By the time I got in the car, it was raining again. I went back to the hotel tired but fulfilled.
For dinner, Fuchsiaboy and The Spool Artist invited me to their house/ laboratory. There I met 5 of their friends and we had some Filipino food with a pesco-vegetarian twist. The table-setting was marvelous; our names were even printed on the placemats. Too bad mine had some ‘printing errors’. I demand a re-print (wink-wink)! I went back to the hotel at around 1AM.
Table setting a la Fuchsiaboy and The Spool ArtistSee the Zen Bitch on the placemat?
I was to return to Phnom Penh at noon the next day so I stayed in bed a little longer, having a relaxed breakfast, packing my stuff. I bought my favorite Khmer sausage at my favorite shop before heading to the bus station. By 7PM I was back at home.
So there. It was a great trip. I’m glad I made the trip. I was happy to reminisce with the old, familiar temples, and excited about seeing the new sites (I can’t stop talking about it with my friends). It was also great that I got to see old friends, and spent time with new ones. I even have a small crush on this French guy I met at the dinner but I don’t think he’s gay so let’s just leave it (and him) at that (hahaha!).
Lupang hinirang
May 5th, 2009 § 7
Lupang Hinirang – Gary Granada
As the Pacquiao-Hatton fight unfolded before the world, I was traveling by bus from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh. The bus was inexplicably late (almost an hour, imagine!) and it is only now that I realized–could it be because of that fight? In the Philippines, Sunday traffic is greatly diminished whenever Manny has a fight.
In any case, I tried to follow the progress of the fight through the 3G service of my phone. So before I reached Phnom Penh I already knew that Pacquiao knocked Hatton out in the second round. Another thing I like about Manny–he never wastes his fan’s time. So watching his fights is never counterproductive because you can always go back to whatever you’re doing. Everytime he has a fight, I imagine him telling me, with a wink and a smile: “Manood ka, ha. Sandali lang ‘to (Please watch. This will be over quickly.)”.
I was able to watch the replay of the fight the next day, at a Chinese channel, nonetheless. And I learned about the latest blooper on the Philippine national anthem on Monday night, when I watched TV Patrol at TFC.
Which made me wonder: is bastardizing our national anthem becoming a freaky trend among our professional singers? The last time (that I know) this happened was when Christian Bautista forgot the lyrics of the anthem in another boxing fight (Penalosa and some other guy, if I remember correctly). That was stupid. I’m not a fan of his and doing that only made me glad that I weren’t. The news report showed that in another Pacquiao fight, a singer tried to pull a Mariah on the last note of the anthem, and failed miserably. Eww!
And now, Martin Nievera, one of the Philippines’ veteran (some would even consider him a has-been) singers has ‘butchered’ the national anthem with that arrangement that sounded more like Las Vegas than Las Islas Filipinas. He even has the temerity to say that his arrangement was ‘not that fancy’, that he won’t say sorry for something he’s not sorry about, but would, ‘if needed’.
To this, I say, WTF?
Like most people (probably), he is not aware that there is a law that stipulates the things musicians and singers can do with the national anthem. However, I think ignorance of the law is not an adequate excuse. I mean, it’s just common sense. You don’t tamper with things like our national flag just because you think it can look better by adding, say, an extra star or sun-ray. I mean, it is possible to interpret the national anthem in a way that balances the creativity of the artist and the integrity of the song (listen to the widget attached above). Besides, I think our national anthem is one (if not the–but of course I’m biased here) of the better sounding anthems of any country. Its marching beat is very exhilarating. So why fix something that isn’t broken?
Mr. Nievera, I’m sorry, but your version sounded like a desperate audition to have whatever Las Vegas contract you have extended or renewed. You will never out-sing Tom Jones. Tom Jones will out-sing you even if he’s just singing in the shower.
The TV Patrol report included the notion of amending the law to accommodate ‘interpretations’ of the national anthem. Please. This is not about the law. This is about respect to our national symbols and national identity. And putting showmanship over this speaks much of how little respect this arrogant and bloated poseur has for his native country.