A Travellerspoint blog

Ding Dong


This is funny. How long has it been? Five years? It is weird revisiting your past, like your UGLY past. I was once proud of this. Now, I look back and I thought it was a mistake. I wasted all my energy and brain cells to escape from the loneliness and the animosity that the real world has. People pick on you because of your bad hairstyle, because your face has too much oil, because your clothes are cheap, because your grammar is poor and your schwa is missing and your American a is overused. People can be mean and they don't help. They just laugh at your back and feel sorry for your shortcomings and they love it. You see, I don't say it was everyone. Some people were good but now they are gone, so much of my old workplace.

I was a kid then. My parents were 300 miles away. No matter what I did they wouldn't have known. I could have died and they couldn't have done anything to prevent it. I abused my freedom. My youth consumed me with the thought that I was invincible. I get this The Time Traveller's Wife feeling, this feels like I am talking to my younger self, giving him based-on-experience sermon, only it is not true. The past can't be rewritten. Well, I guess it is obvious that there are some parts in my past that I want to change.

Well, this feels a little overwhelming. I was a bad kid and I hope that with the little amount of future that I have left that I could make my parents, my sister and my nephew proud and happy. This feels good and I will talk to you more often from now on. A crappy pilot needs a better sequel. So here it is, I am trying.

Posted by parteeboi 22:30 Archived in Philippines Comments (0)

A Stroll Down Memory Lane


Okay. I am writing today because I am having the greatest urge to write, less anything to write about, in my long hiatus. It’s been a while that I can't access blogspot in the office but thank gawd I can access travellerspoint. Travellerspoint used to be history, but boredom and an almost unethical amount of down time will get you wear old granny's frock or dive in your own dumpster—just metaphors.

Now it's nice walking down memory lane. You think of old friends. You realize that you missed them. You feel proud of what they have become and you wish them more luck and success. You wish them big, albeit, big might be offensive. You like the friends that they make and you also fantasize the boys that they meet.

I thought of my old workplace--my old chair, my old station, my dusty computer, post-its, deadlines... You remember the familiar noise in the background that seemed muted by desensitization. You relive it with closed eyes. You smile.

Nostalgic. Indeed.

Old stuff and old places can be bathetic. I found great emotional treasures lurking in every punctuation. Now I write, because I want to; because I want to feel that “high” again. I want to see my words uploaded for my appreciation. It's narcissistic and I'm sorry. I used to believe that I am a writer, but now I am just a spectator, watching lives in bytes.

Posted by parteeboi 21:21 Archived in Philippines Tagged lane memory Comments (0)

Boyfriend Irony

Ironic, I’m succumbing to his irony.


0040 hundred hours, I am feeling lethargic about everything -- work, boyfriend, blogging. I can sense a red blotch on my left cheek, as it rested so well on my left palm since forever. I can't seem to lay my fingers on the computer keyboard to write a piece of sunshine. My vision is always gloomy, grey, dull and damp.

I want prairies and grasslands. I want butterflies and dandelions. I want to see how the wind caresses the bromes like fur. And the sunshine, thick and abounding the earth. I missed how I pleasurably entertain myself with my own imagination, writing stories on people's faces, drafting a blog post all over the hot pink stage of a beauty pageant, documenting trivial matters on a cell phone camera and run a quick caption in thin air.

I once wished to have a chef boyfriend so I could get a taste of fancy food or fine dining cuisine. I can't afford its fancy price. When I see my man cooks in the kitchen, it is one hell of a Sean Cody, rape me Jamie Oliver.

I once wished to have an intelligent boyfriend. I wish he doesn't talk Tagalog, that he'd rather speak English than Filipino. Then, if a friend asks, "Do speak anything than English?" He would say, "Sorry, because we talk English at home." And, I will find so much pleasure looking at my friend's pathetic face on Boiling Point on MTV.

I once wished to have a spontaneous boyfriend. Someone who will elope me to Baguio City at 11 o'clock on a Friday evening. Well someone already did, so let us say Bangkok, or Macau and we will play the "question game." Whoever answers a question first, instead of asking a question after a question loses a piece of clothing. And, we will do it in a pool, of course when we are supposed to don less.

I once wished to have a boyfriend who has a stable job, hopefully someone who earns more than I do. Someone who can buy me a decent dinner, especially if he is not a chef. Someone who cancels my weeknight where-are-you-right-now, because he's busy as a beaver at work. Someone whom I will fight on text, because he has no time for me. And then he will drop by in the morning, devour my morning breath and then we will eat… pause… breakfast together. I don't want him to stay though; I want him to beg for me everyday to live with him in his studio-type condominium. And, it will be like that for a long time.

And who never wished to have a good-looking boyfriend? Screaming biceps and jerking like alive triceps, teeth so aligned nearly annoying and sweetness so extra-sweet almost phony. I'm head over heels already. Can you blame me? But, he doesn't cook; even to fry an egg, very lazy. He speaks Tagalog, and speaks Cebuano than English. He is spontaneous, spontaneously plans and spontaneously cancels a plan and whatnot; spontaneously, unpredictably annoying. Does he have a job? No. Although he drives a car, rents an expensive studio-type condominium, but worries about tomorrow's food from time to time. My boyfriend is my big irony. He is living a life so ironic to a life that I desire.

Now I stare morose at the blinking cursor, my thoughts languished into oblivion.

published on http://parteeboi.blogspot.com on Thursday, March 19, 2009

Posted by parteeboi 00:38 Tagged gay_travel Comments (4)




2 months ago, I said that I should remain single for at least 6 months. I said to myself that I should enjoy single life and prepare myself before getting into a new relationship.

2 months, I busied myself meeting up with guys. I spent it consuming alcohol, stoned and hopped up. I created special relationships without sexual intercourse. Platonic. Friendly. And redefined friendship with new unexpected people. It was beautiful. It was careless. It was surreal at times.

After 2 months, I found myself breaking 2 of my rules. One, "Though shall not jump into untested waters." and two, "Though shall not commit in a new relationship within 6 months."

I now officially announce, el final de mis solos días, 1 de Marzo de 2009 (the end of my single days, March 1, 2009). courtesy of babelfish.yahoo.com

1 of 2. "Though shall not commit in a new relationship within 6 months."

Saturday evening, broke, internet shop, mIRC and G4M. I was cruising on World Wide Web Avenue, an ordinary passerby, flashing my stats (24, 5'6, fair, chinito, 120 lbs, toned medium built, versa-bottom) and beaming at every prospect. Hi, send message. Ei, send message. Until I stumbled into him, fair, very healthy black hair, muscular, around my height, top and kinky. "Too good-looking for me." I remarked. Hi here is my password, send message.

It truly amazes me how the universe could conspire and drop a star on you, stardust in my case. I never thought that my charm could enchant his kind of beauty. My hair grew incessantly when he said that he had a crush on me the time he laid his eyes on me, one muzzy evening at Club Government and I was high as kite.

It took us 2 hours full of tomfooleries and sexy innuendos and 2 hours of talking in my room before the 2 hours of kama sutra cardio (my kind of workout).

2 days after, we met again. 1 week later, we decided to weave our lives with a promising love story. Thus, 1 de Marzo de 2009.

2 of 2. "Though shall not jump into untested waters."

2 months, 1 week, 2 days, 2 hours, it all happened so fast. I jumped without my wetsuit neither my goggles. I was bare. I created a splash in the water I have no idea how deep or how cold, how hot or how shallow. I plunged my heart in the unknown water without a single floater.

2 months ago, a lover left because my heart was always partial. It was never completely available not until after 2 months and 25 days that I learned that he had it 2 months and 2 weeks since we dated. I was a fool. Tears flowed over buckets and buckets of beer.

"I will never play again. I missed loving without a tinge of cynicism. I will love him like a 16 year old as soon as he arrives." I carved a promise for myself in the tombstone of my old self.

2 months, I committed to someone. 2 days after, 2 revelations flattered and spun my world numerous 360's. One, he confessed the sad reality about his life in general and number two confession, WE ARE TWO, I AM NUMBER TWO.

Long pause...

2 days ago before we became official, he asked me this question, "Would you settle for the second best?"

I verified, "What do you mean?" His eyes looking at the sparkling fountain water in the twilight, trying to muster all the right words. "Would you settle being a number two?" he restated. Without any hint of suspicions I spoke my mind, "Of course not. Why would I even settle for someone taken? The ocean is full of fishes. I deserve better than that." And our squinting eyes met. "What if you love the person and you are happy?" he pried. Our stares became gluey as caramel. I looked at the fountain scintillating with the lights beneath the water and pouted my lips showing my uncertainty, "Uhm... I think I would. I don't know, maybe I'll cross the bridge when I get there, probably." My tone and my left eyebrow rose, unsure.

2 months, 2 rules broken, 2 days, 2 hours, 2 revelations, 2 weeks later, I am NUMBER 2.

published on http://www.parteeboi.blogspot.com on Friday, March 6, 2009

Posted by parteeboi 01:39 Tagged gay_travel Comments (3)

I Died

(Apologies for such a lame attemp to write.)


I died today.

I lay motionless as catatonic in a fluffy chair that I rest. My arms oblivious on the arm chair. My hands dangle and my fingers stiff as if tugging with gravity. My head on my right shoulder, vacuous like a pumpkin, dead as a ten-pin ball. My hair covers my eyes, all left is a gaping mouth, lips lined with dryness and wafts poison. All that is animate and breathes life is a fly buzzing out from my esophagus. I am wearing my best shirt. Checkered of brown, white and beige, 6 brownish-pearly buttons, white glowing undershirt. And just a piece of blue jeans not very unique. My feet like of a marionette untied, toes all point to the right.

"Who killed me? Why did I die?" I examine myself sullenly from mid-air, my past. The cold corpse, my past.

I look at the horizon where the chair and my body are seated, earth carpet of wild flowers and breeze palpable with dapples of florets of dandelions. The stretch is wider than my vision, whites, greens, and pastels. I descended down to my own corpse, attempts of contact fail. Yes, I am a wraith, not even an odor neither dew.

Posted by parteeboi 06:52 Tagged gay_travel Comments (0)

Bare Epiphany



There is a certain high from not wearing underwear. It is very masculine and boyish.

I had a long trip from Cavite back to Makati. The sun was up and scorching and dust was irritating my eyes. I was feeling a little dizzy, hung over and dehydrated. But I didn’t care, I was feeling so carefree and nonchalantly sexy. I was enjoying the high in every moment on my way home.

I was a gangster as I changed bus in the bustling Baclaran.

I was whistling a tune as I find my way through the labyrinth of Buendia MRT Station crossing EDSA to get my jeepney ride to Makati Avenue.

I in fact never cared if there was a pendulum beneath my black Roxy board shorts, when I noticed a female passerby glancing at my crotch area. And so, I noticed those two pretty red laces hanging in front of my fly and bouncing off on my both legs.

I got off at Petron in the corner of Buendia and Makati Avenue. Even without my ipod I was walking to the beat of an imaginary house tune.

I decided to grab a smoothie at Treats to quench my parching mouth. As I entered the store I noticed the very warm yet very erotic smile of this gay attendant. I thought it was flattering. “Sir, wala pong The Big Chill today.” With that remark, I headed to the huge cooler and grabbed a Zest-O apple juice and a pack of Marlboro Lights by the counter.

A pack of apple juice in my left hand and a stick between my right fingers, a black back pack accessory, a vintage grey top, the wind in my hair and my uber low-waisted black Roxy board shorts… I was in a different dimension. “I am a bad-ass, pretty boy, straight-guy-girl-magnet, smirking at you baby. Pizzazz!”

published on http://www.parteeboi.blogspot.com on Monday, February 9, 2009

Posted by parteeboi 07:09 Tagged gay_travel Comments (0)

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