Wednesday, March 29, 2006

quel age?


aside from asking where i come from, guys i meet here in brussels never fail to ask for my age. for some of you, it could be just that, a simple question that someone asks out of interest or sheer curiousity. but for this boy it seems otherwise. most of the time i fumble when i answer the question. forgetting how old i am, i do a mental calculation as quick as a geek can.

"uhm, 26. uhmm wait, i'm 27 now. i guess."

i stop myself there, and shudder a bit as wait for the inevitable follow-up question.

"and me?" with their eyes fluttering as if saying don't-you-over-estimate-kiddo. you should see them doing this, it's cute and annoying at the same time. and this is what i am talking about. peevish.

although it's a pattern already, still my mind goes on a whirlwind. my dilemma: what if i say a higher number, would he lose interest? and even if i say a safe one, would i not be miscontrued as a player?

what is it about gay guys and age? vanity?



listening to: my flatmate doing his rounds of early morning door banging!

*pic taken during the brussels city spring festival last year. it appeared in the website of the metro. i'm somewhere there :)

this is marc's version of the truth, sometime at 4:29 PM 1 comments if you can't live with it, he can.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

xavier

flipped me over.
flipped me out.

lipped me over.
lipped me out.

it's over.
i'm out.



listening to my grumbling stomach

this is marc's version of the truth, sometime at 2:27 PM 0 comments if you can't live with it, he can.

Monday, March 27, 2006

last thursday

first time inside la monnaie. first time to watch an opera. it was claudio monteverdi's L’Incoronazione di Poppea.

mimoy and i were lucky to have sitted in a box by ourselves which had a nice view of the stage as well as the orchestra. great music, good acting. but opera will definitely need a lot of getting used to for me.

maybe another try? maybe.


listening to: nirvana's lithium

this is marc's version of the truth, sometime at 4:53 PM 1 comments if you can't live with it, he can.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

kitchen magic makes beautiful ceramics



my friend lea here in brussels is an up-and-coming ceramist who creates wonderful pieces. just look at the picture, don't you think she is inspired by nature?

on the contrary, ate malou and i think she is inspired 'by' and 'in' her kitchen. get the drift? hehehe. the numerous students who visit her home can attest that the kitchen has magic infused on its walls! right, alexie, belen and lea k?

mimoy and i took photos of her work and compiled them in a short video (click the image above). we will show it this friday in an informal exposition.

btw, we are preparing sushi for the expo as well. it will surely be a winner!

felicitations, ate ley!

video duration is 0:3:44
if you prefer to view the video later, click below then 'save as' in your computer:
for broadband (3.5 MB, high resolution)
for dial-up (1.0 MB, low resolution)


currently enjoying: 5 hours of mahabharata.

this is marc's version of the truth, sometime at 2:21 PM 3 comments if you can't live with it, he can.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

burying the hatchet (or not) and living with it


walking at the park unmidful of the cold winter night, i caught myself shedding dry tears after watching "the hours" at the film museum. the tears came as a surprise because it was not the first time i watched it. only this time i guess i was more moved by the intensity of the film's message given my present circumstances. i felt sadness.

no, i am not thinking about committing suicide. silly.

rather, as i said, i am more inclined towards the sublime message of the film. to me it was about the choices we are left with. like to choose life sometimes means death. and to choose death is to give life to others. so what do you take?

this thought about 'making choices' came to me as i read an email from a friend a few minutes ago. she was asking for advise whether to give up her marriage or not. having not been married nor in any relevant relationships to draw experience from, it was difficult for me to give her something substantial. i thought it over for a few moments and eventually came up with something for her: to stay means to endure the pain of living with someone you can't live with; leaving means starting life anew.

or is it?

who knows? i always believed that we will never know the consequences of our decisions. the impacts only unfold to us after making that big step, if we ever do it at all. either way, whether we make decisions or not, we still live with the consequences, similar to the dilemma in 'the hours'.

the most i can offer my friend are my ears and shoulders and to support her future decision. i encouraged her to think it over many times, to talk to other friends and to people who may give sound advice.

my friend plans to bury the hatchet soon. my only wish is that she buries it not on her husband. that would be macabre.


**********************
big day tomorrow for this kid. another presentation for that future job i was talking about. wish me luck or not, it's your choice.


*i snapped a pic of this cute random guy i saw in the train station a few months's ago. not that it means anything with today's entry. just my choice to post it. ang kulit ko no?



listening to dido's white flag

this is marc's version of the truth, sometime at 10:01 PM 6 comments if you can't live with it, he can.

Friday, March 17, 2006

out to party, party to out

a few weeks ago, we we're invited to a party by a friend of the friend of the birthday boy's neighbor. yup, that's five degrees measure of relationship from me and the people in the party. it also goes to show how friendster can work it's wonders for a thirsty student on a look out for a free booze.

now you know that winter can be this boring.

in the party, nonchalant to the many unknown yet smiling faces before me, i held my plate and enjoyed myself to the odd mixture of grilled ribs, pansit, carbonade and cold rice. but hey wait, where was the booze? the promise of over-flowing alcohol?

wishful thinking: it was a children's party, bozo. i learned this after the host opened the door to a cacophony of one thousand kids screaming for the sole ps2 joystick (the other one was with the dad). the only liquid at hand that had alcohol was the disinfectant to wipe the germs off the birthday kid's behind. ewww. thus, i consoled myself to drink flat water, and as per the hospitable host's request, i went to look for the genever in the cupboard. oh god, i prayed 'let the bottle be there'.

voila! i found the bottle of genever in the kitchen, hidden behind the expired bottles of exotic condiments that were probably part of the houseowners' loot when they travelled abroad. i opened the famous alcohol from limburg and poured portions in small plastic cups (didn't i tell you it was a children's party?). as i passed the cups to the other guests (which were mostly moms and dads), i gave a smile of thanks to the host. the host is a beauty, this i have not told you, the kind of beauty that exudes street-smart-alecky confidence. she nodded back and gave me a look that said 'you better finish that bottle or else...' i think shuddered there.

meanwhile, the guests on the dining room were cracking up to my friend's jokes. the jokes were as tasteless as the flan cake left untouched on the table, but still the guests were lapping them up. i pitied the cake because it had too little sugar, the caramel was not dark enough, and unlike her jokes, the eggs were over beaten. while i was mulling the fate of the flan after the party, i did not know that my life was now party fodder: my friend was dishing out her jokes in the same breath that she was telling them that i am as gay as a daffodil, gay as brokeback mountain, gay as wearing an earring on your left earlobe, gay as a tutu, and gay as gay can get. i was publicly outed to people i don't even know from adam! and in a children's party even!

my initial reaction? i flamed! i swished my fingertips in mid-air! i enjoyed the new-found attention! and i even gave them a show they will never forget as i sang 'don't cry for me argentina' complete with evita's graceful right hand wave which madonna mastered. at a drop of a hat, i even danced to kylie playing on the telly.

fabulous you think? NOT.

to tell you the truth like i haven't been all along, i was graceful under pressure, thank you very much. i remained composed and deftly shifted the topic away from me by letting them in on a gossip. we gay guys have mastered this art of distraction after living in the closet for too long. with perfect timing, i said "oh, did you hear about blah blah who now is with blah blah?!" works for me all the time because people will never miss out on a gossip, let alone miss a ride on a bandwagon. i do this all the time and watch the spotlight move away from me as people add their own two cents worth of (mis)information.

that night however, my trick did not work for one guest. she had the spotlight aimed at me. she can't help but let her homophobia show as i counted how many times she said 'don't touch my kid' (5 times) or 'don't play with him' (3 times) or 'don't get too close or he might turn out like you' (1 time). i was so proud of myself because i counted in french! hey woman, didn't i tell you i can count in francais until 100?!

so this is what i get in exchange for freebies? darn.

anyway, i let her be as zen as i can and decided to avoid her as much as the crampy house would allow. on my way home, i consoled myself with a made-up story that maybe she have had heard a story of an uncle who wronged her brother's best friend's cousin. but i also secretly wished her son would turn out as gay as a daffodil, gay as brokeback mountain, gay as wearing one earring on your left earlobe, and gay as a tutu. i wished he becomes gay as gay can get so that he can give his momma a make-over.

it's not a bad wish at all, believe me. i know how better it is to be gay than to be unhappy. right, baklush?



listening to the sade's your love is king.

this is marc's version of the truth, sometime at 3:27 PM 2 comments if you can't live with it, he can.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

wishy-washy, mumbo-jumbo, hoola-baloolas

things have been going slow lately. i have been busy working on my thesis for the past weeks, dodging away from a future responsibility, and finishing off a paper that will be reviewed in a journal. boring huh? that's how one spends life in grad school, well at least for me.

i have been hiding in my humble attic, crunching numbers in my brain cells, figuring out how it is to determine the travel time between two points given the speed of a vehicle. funny i forgot. really i did. and that was supposed to be elementary physics.

then there is this potential work that has been offered to me three months ago. initially i was excited to do it, but the excitement waned when i learned what's in store for me. a week ago my decision was still wishy-washy about doing it or not. what changed my mind, however, was when i had the feeling that 'hey, i have done this kind of work before; i want to do something new'. research work is never supposed to be boring, that's what a self-confessed geek like me would say, but then again how many times can you re-invent the wheel?

i am still wishy washy, up to now.

for the meantime i will be working on my thesis, and at least once a week live vicariously through the movies at the film museum. as of last month, i have had the pleasure of watching kubrick's lolita, lynch's straight story, hitchcock's downhill, and the silent movie version of the original moulin rouge. a few nights ago, it was kurosawa's rashomon on dvd while eating sushi and sashimi. how japanese can one get than that?

and what's this mumbo-jumbo-hoola-baloola pic i got above? it's the thesis i am working on. more about it in future posts. oh, as if you're interested.


listening to: miss saigon ditties and a bunch of other melodramatic blahs...

this is marc's version of the truth, sometime at 1:33 PM 0 comments if you can't live with it, he can.