As is obvious from the last prior post I published, it’s been a long time since I’ve updated my blog. I’ve been busy at work, but the current quarantine situation has basically told me: no more excuses.

I’ve been meaning to post reviews about the massive number of Thai BL series I’ve been following as well as travel blogs about BL-related places I’ve been to from SOTUS, My Dear Loser: Edge of 17, TayNew Meal Date, and others in the last couple of years. Another overdue post would be about the Our Skyy: Fan Meeting in Taipei which I went to in July 2019. Watch out for those!

In the meantime, while I gear up to get into all of that, I wrote another article for Esquire PH, this time to talk about Thai BL: what its literary roots are, what its cultural context is, and how it has evolved.

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I can never get enough of Rak of Aegis. Recently, Season 7 opened, and of course I had to see it again (third time, the most recent being last year).

What I love about Rak is that – like many original Filipino musicals like Zsazsa Zaturnnah, Ako Si Josephine, and Kung Paano Ako Naging Leading Lady – every run adds new spins. Updated jokes that reference current events and pop culture memes are inserted, making each run feel fresh again while retaining everything that made the show successful.

Rak of Aegis Season 7 is such an experience. On top of small reinventions, new cast members are placed into the mix, giving returning audiences the opportunity to see different interpretations of classics.

And so it goes that we once again experience the travails of Bgy. Venizia, which gets flooded for months after a the construction of a gated community nearby prevented proper drainage. Against this backdrop and the backdrop of a social media age where virality is the way to fame, the community’s diverse array of residents struggle to cope with poverty, love, friendship, and ambition. (continue reading…)

Nowadays, approximately 95% of the time, I avoid the comments section (and consequently, the engagement info) of politically-charged articles because I value my health. The amount of toxic idiocy on Facebook public “areas,” in particular, is astounding. More so when it comes to political articles I write, I try not to look at the comments lest I engage and then get the urge to bludgeon the nearest available moron.

A recent article I wrote for Esquire apparently got about 16.5K shares as of this writing (one of my folks at work sent me a message about it). Not bad. It did kind of pull me in a bit to check what sort of engagement it was getting. Surprisingly, most were positive and agreed with my piece, although as expected there were a few morons here and there.

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Mamu; And A Mother, Too may seem, on the surface, just another film about the lives of transwomen, one that could either be too inappropriately comedic or else much too maudlin and schmaltzy.

And yet, it carefully avoids these while still retaining humor and heart.

The titular Mamu is a veteran transwoman sex worker living with her long-time partner, Vincent. Due to her estranged sister’s death, Mamu ends up taking her teenaged niece – Bona, who is also trans – into their home. Amidst poverty and growing walls between her and Vincent, Mamu struggles to adjust to having an adopted daughter who is as strong-willed as she is but who is perhaps not yet as street smart. It is the comparison and contrast between Mamu and Bona that drives much of the film, and the question of the repeating cycles of life and the possibility (or impossibility) of breaking those cycles becomes increasingly critical.

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The year was 1998.

It was a time darker than I really acknowledged in the succeeding years. I have always considered it past me, that I’ve put it behind me, that I’ve learned my life lessons, that it was something I could easily shrug off, maybe even laugh off.

Apparently, it wasn’t entirely true, and all these years I’ve suppressed how much of an impact that incident really had in my life.

Recently, at the suggestion of my mentor Jessica, we visited Healing House. We did some alternative therapy, and during my session, I recalled that dark time – the only time I have ever really felt suicidal.

It seems so trivial now. I was an immature, barely-21 young man. Then again, what seems trivial now meant the whole world to someone so hopeful in life during that time.

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The last time that I ever had truly suicidal thoughts that I seriously considered actioning upon was in my early twenties. I was still in college. I was in an emotionally bad place, and when you’re that young, everything is the weight of the world. Even if, in hindsight, I now think about how shallow the reasons had been for my depression, I cannot discount the fact that it was a reality in me at that time.

What makes one think about taking one’s life is never truly shallow. We must always keep this in mind when we deal with people who may be suffering.

I can confidently say that I have not been at risk of such thoughts since the late 90s. I have never seriously contemplated taking my life since I started working and being independent, even in the most trying of times – situations perhaps worse than what I had in college.

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As you finally depart for parts unknown, know that you have made a powerful impact on how the world can better understand the values of culture and acceptance.

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Today is #IDAHOT: International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia.

Today we remember our brothers and sisters who became victims of violence and hate. Today we are reminded that, despite some progress in our struggle, the fight for our rights continues.

Respect and acceptance: because LGBT+ rights are human rights.

And perhaps, when people realize that, then we can truly say that it is an inclusive and diverse society.

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So it’s been two months to the day since I last blogged. After a year and a half of religiously writing here every single day without fail, I decided to take a break. Part of it was due to my mentor Jessica’s advice: no need to post everyday, a couple of times a week is okay. So I took a bit of a rest.

Today, I come out of my self-imposed exile because I just had to share my thoughts – posted on Facebook as well – about this “letter” that I saw on my newsfeed.

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This is my wish for everyone this coming new year: beautiful kisses from the one you love (or at least infatuated with). Consensual kisses, of course, because we do not want to be complicit in any of your crazy shenanigans beyond.

Barring kisses from your personal love, then I wish you kisses from Zac Efron. But you need to fall in line.

Happy New Year!