The Angel

The world is in chaos down below.  Too many buildings rising, too many cars passing by, too many people walking.  The humidity almost makes me want to add a bimpo  as a fashion accessory.  I had conditioned myself before to expect that it would be crowded, but it's more crowded than I imagined it would be.  A couple of days ago, I met up with a high school friend and she asked me, "For good na ba ang uwi mo?"  And I said, "For better or worse."  Till death do you part?  Well, that's the goal.

When I read about a TV actor who came out recently, I was gladdened--especially when I learned that he has a long-term partner and adopted children. I thought, that's promising. I've read of others, stories of another era, of guys being in long-term relationships, but eventually, in the later years of their lives, opting to open the relationship to others. I've always felt discouraged and disheartened by that. The way people seem to take so lightly their commitments and relationships. I know that some subscribe to that. As an acquaintance had told me not long ago, cheating and third or even fourth parties are the most common causes of breakups in gay relationships--so why not just have an open relationship? And I thought: what if you have an open relationship and you fell hard on your side dish and he wants to be exclusive? Well, that has never happened, he said. In the long run, you'll get bored with each other. Oh. You don't have to be gay to have that r...

I was reading something last night when a short story popped into my head. The memory--and the story--came out of nowhere, like remembering something I didn't know I've forgotten. The story itself was like a long soliloquy. One man, at the beginning of fall, ruminating about the crowd that has fled the summer haven in New York to go back to their respective, somewhat dreary lives. He observes a couple who lives on the beach, the same way he has observed them for years. A little bit far and distant, but longing, sometimes plotting, to be part of their lives. One rainy night, he decided he needed some spice, something he didn't have so he'd be forced to ask them, strike a conversation and, perhaps, get invited inside--it was raining hard, after all. He had imagined what the inside of their house looked like, how the conversation would go; perhaps some drinks and an introduction, but nevertheless a gateway, into the life of the couple that, for so long, he had admired. ...

A few minutes before boarding, they told us that our flight will be delayed for a couple of hours because they found a gas leak on the plane and we had to change planes. I didn't know whether it was a good or bad omen. I looked at the bright side thinking that at least they discovered the leak while we were still on land, instead of thinking that I will be stuck in the airport for more than ten hours. Twenty hours later, I was at NAIA terminal 1, lining up at the immigration for my passport to be stamped. I had to remove my jacket because I started sweating profusely. I didn't know if it was because of the heat or the excitement, but my hands were cold. My heart felt like it was about to explode, the way it beat rapidly and furiously. I couldn't believe that I was in Manila again. I couldn't believe that I had come home. It took me awhile to get my two checked-in baggage. I had the time to sort of settle down and let the feeling sink in that I was really back, that ...

We were the fifth in line and I only noticed it after the weariness had worn off and the second one took off.  It was close to midnight and we had been taxiing for a few good minutes before the turns and maneuvers on the tarmac made sense to me.  I thought we were simply going in circles, further delaying a flight that's already five hours delayed.  Until I noticed the lighted paths and the arrows, pointing us where to turn and where to go. Go straight, turn left, go straight again, turn right, then pause.  Gather strength, maintain momentum, race through the tarmac, and with such force, take off.  The first few seconds of being airborne feels wobbly when we try to find our balance. I looked out the window and the lights from houses and buildings were twinkling and, as if, floating; an illusion from the mist and the recent rain.  It was a spectacular view and I sat there staring at it for awhile. That's how it is.  We cut ourselves from the jet w...