Friday, July 03, 2026
6:19 PM |
The Universe Has a Sense of Humor
The truth of the matter is, I was most curious to visit Puerto Princesa, because this is the hometown of my first boyfriend, my, ehem, college sweetheart. Thirty years have since passed those days, and sixteen since I last saw him. So I finally went to Puerto Princesa proper today, and when I got off the van, guess who the first person I saw was.
Him.
It was ... an awkward reunion. But I think this officially closes a chapter in my life, hehehe. The universe has a sense of humor.
Labels: life, love, travel
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Wednesday, December 31, 2025
11:59 PM |
New Year's Eve at Mother's
I made sure I spent some time with mother tonight for New Year’s Eve. She hasn’t been well since her hospitalization more than a week ago, but she’s fine. At least that’s what the doctors say. She’s 93, and tonight she kept asking me the same questions: “What happened to me?” Your blood pressure shot up, it was very high. “Why?” Because you ate a lot of lechon at ___’s party. “Did I collapse?” A bit. “Where?” At home, two days later. “Thank God, it wasn’t at ____’s. What happened next?” You were hospitalized. “I was? Oh dear. Where?” At PolyMedic. “That’s in Sibulan. Why are you here?” Because it's New Year’s Eve. “It’s New Year’s Eve? Wala lagi handa?” We do have handa, there’s some lechon over there. “That’s a small lechon. That’s not real lechon.” Then she proceeds to identify everyone around her. Dennis. Daisy. All her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Also Cypress, Daisy’s sister. She asks about her dearly departed daughter-in-law, Efeb, who died two years ago. When we tell her she is gone, she says, “Sayang.” She asks for a head massage, and complains her food is bland. She enumerates all her sons, asking where they all are, which reads: are they here with me? We tell her Alvin is dead, Rocky can’t walk up the stairs, Edwin is in Switzerland, and Rey is in America. We do this many times. But she knows a lot of other details. Like the name of my nephew Dale’s new girlfriend, and that a cousin is from Kidapawan. But her short term memory is loose. “What happened to me?” she asks again after a few minutes, and I find myself tireless in repeating the same exact things, laughing at some of her silly responses. “Are you staying with me tonight? Please don’t leave me,” she says as we prepare her for early bed time. I won’t, I’ll be here, I lied. Tell her I’m just here, I tell her caretaker Gigi, as I later prepare to come back to the apartment where I live.
Happy New Year, everyone!
Labels: family, life, love, new year
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Saturday, December 20, 2025
10:40 PM |
Two Cat Daddied and Their Cat
That’s Orville Wright on my chest, but she actually loves lying on Renz. When we’re home alone, Orville and I, she’s just a normal cat, being a loaf somewhere in my apartment. But when Renz comes over, her ears perk up, and she will do everything to climb on top of him, rubbing her head on him, playing with his clothes, etc. “I think you’re catnip to Orville,” I tell Renz. I’m not puzzled at all why our cat is crazy about him: Renz is lovable every which way.Labels: cats, life, love, pets
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Sunday, August 17, 2025
9:00 AM |
The 50 Gratitudes*
* Which feels like a portmanteau of “gratitude” and “beatitudes”—i.e., thankfulness for supreme blessedness. Today, I turn 50. I think it’s important to celebrate it with fifty things I am grateful for:
1. That I’m alive at 50. Everybody wise tells you it’s a privilege to get older. Not many people are given this gift. This is especially true for me because I never thought I’d reach this age, to be frank about it. The thought of dying has been a constant shadow entire life. When I turned 33, the so-called “Christ Year,” I remember crying almost every day—even when I was riding a pedicab—because I really felt deep in my bones that death was knocking on my door from all manners of demise, either by affliction or accident. It was a difficult mindset to shake off. But I think what I was scared about was the idea that I had not reached my full potential yet, and had not made my mark on the world, no matter how small. This scared me and not “death” itself. That dance with mortality somehow ultimately faded when I entered my 40s, but what a grim dance that had been—a tango of cartwheeling emotions all wrapped in the name of personal legacy.
2. My resolute stubbornness to do my own thing—sometimes to my own “detriment” [but not really]—is something I am actually grateful about. [Sometimes I call this “instinct.”] For example, I was enrolled in first grade at North City Elementary School in Piapi, and my homeroom teacher was a wonderful woman named Mrs. Limpiado. Within weeks of the schoolyear just beginning, she had to leave for somewhere [I think the U.S. for a much-needed reunion with family], and she was soon replaced by another teacher, who was probably not bad—but I did not stand for that replacement. At seven years old, I absolutely refused to continue going to school, unless Mrs. Limpiado came back. One time, I even peed on the classroom floor just because. My mother was flustered at my uncanny stubbornness. “You will have to repeat Grade 1 next year if you don’t go back to school!” she implored. But … I … did … not … care. So I stopped school that year—and by the next year, we had moved to another house in another barangay, and my mother enrolled me at nearby West City Elementary School. Guess who was the new principal at my new school: Mrs. Limpiado.
Note 1: This stubbornness would have other versions in the coming years. I can endure whatever hell that comes my way when my mind is made up about something.
Note 2: This is why I am older than my classmates in grade school and high school. I never minded the teasing I got for it. In my mind, being adamant with my refusal at 7 was correct.
3. My adult ADHD diagnosis in 2022—which made me learn to forgive myself, and made me make sense of things in my life I never understood before.
4. Friends who understand why I am what I am. [See #2.]
5. Also former friends who don’t. It’s … fine. I’ve long ago accepted that I can’t expect everyone to like me. I don’t like everyone either.
6. Second chances. And third chances. Even fourth.
7. To live in Dumaguete. To be here, and to call it home, is such a blessing. The fact that this city thrives on culture and the arts, and is so near both sea and mountains, is something most of us living here take for granted. Not me. I love that I can be at the foothills of Valencia town in the morning [perhaps also at the Sunday tabo at the población, when I can wake up for it], then proceed to Dauin for some beach fun in the afternoon, and then attend a piano concert at the Luce in the evening. This is the magic of being in Dumaguete.
8. Henny Penny, that mighty red chicken in our grade school textbooks, who taught me to read.
9. My grade school teacher Ma’am Bennie Vic V. Concepcion, who first recognized that I could write—even though I had no idea.
10. High school classmates, who become forever friends.
11. Kokak and Tedo from college days.
12. Friends—Krevo, Hendri, Razcel, Willy, etc.—who take me to strange and beautiful places that I would never venture into on my own. White rabbits all of them, and I am their Alice.
13. My writing mentor, Timothy Montes, who made me join the Silliman National Writers Workshop in 2000—although I didn’t know anything about it. [He also made me join The Weekly Sillimanian.] Teachers who push you should always be celebrated.
14. The fact that I’ve traveled the world extensively, for free. And usually because of my writing.
15. Japan, which bled me of my homesickness.
16. New York in the autumn.
17. Sagada in 2008.
18. Meals that make you adequately full and happy. And chicken curry, fern salad, fried bangus, and escabeche—the food my mother used to cook to make me happy.
19. That rare really good cup of coffee that lifts you from the doldrums.
20. “Film school” courtesy of Goodluck Store near the tianggue.
21. Reading really good books, and being in a daze after finishing them, and being so envious of the writing. Call Me By Your Name, Giovanni’s Room, The Pillars of the Earth, Interpreter of Maladies…
22. Dean Francis Alfar telling me I could do speculative fiction.
23. The films and books of Nora Ephron. When she died in 2012, I had no idea I would be so heartbroken. Her life is the one I want to emulate the most, to be honest, including her writing mantra: “Everything is copy.” [Two essays that she wrote—”What I Won’t Miss” and “What I Will Miss”—are the inspiration for this very essay you are now reading.]
24. The Hive who made me feel welcome when I badly needed friends after a breakup.
25. The sight of Renz coming towards me.
26. The sound of Renz laughing over some movie or television show. Usually RuPaul’s Drag Race.
27. Under the Tuscan Sun, especially the movie.
28. Avatar: The Last Airbender, the original animated series, which Renz made me watch, and which honestly is one of the best written television shows in history.
29. Clair de Lune by Debussy. Especially when I hear it out of the blue in the early morning.
30. Being able to watch Lady Gaga live in concert. [Because I was not able to catch Madonna when she toured Asia.]
31. All the boys that broke my heart. [Read my collection, Don’t Tell Anyone.]
32. People who don’t mind that I can’t remember names, even though I do remember my experiences with them.
33. The days when you can roll in bed all morning, with no meetings to anticipate, and with absolutely nothing to do. [It’s also nicer when there’s soft rain outside.]
34. My collaborations with Hersley-Ven Casero, which have been very productive.
35. Newly-dagit friends in Dumaguete who inspire me, and make me experience my city in a new way again. Like having literary lunches!
36. Dear friends who once told me, “Let’s help you make your dream come true,” and then they did Dumaguete LitFest with me! You should always cherish friends who tell you they want to help you make your dreams come true. That’s very rare.
37. Dessa, Lana, and Karl, who asked me to come back to teaching—even though I didn’t want to.
38. Tita Melisa who gave me a home and a bubble, especially during the pandemic.
39. The pandemic, which—although horrific in places—also taught me I could live very simply, and still be satisfied. It taught me not to strive for positions, or for property. All these things don’t really matter.
40. Dad jokes, and laughter that splits your sides.
41. The fact that I still believe in God, despite Christians.
42. My father.
43. My sisters-in-law and my nieces and nephews.
44. My brother Rocky.
45. My brother Alvin.
46. My brother Edwin.
47. My brother Dennis.
48. My brother Rey.
49. My mother.
50. The fact that—see #1—I have finally absolved myself with all needs of “legacy.” It’s an impossible ask, and one that is totally beyond my control. But I love that I have done my best to pursue the very specific things I love, and I am grateful that some of these have touched the lives of people.
* * *
But legacy is something I cannot help but grapple with, especially now. Truth to tell, I have been the recipient of three recognitions that promise me there is some personal legacy at play. Years ago, I was Hamiling Bayawanon. In 2021, I was given the KSSLAP Award by the Cultural Center of the Philippines in recognition of my writing life and my cultural work, and I’m included in the literature volume of the newest edition of the CCP Encyclopedia of Philippine Art. This year, I am recipient of the Outstanding Dumagueteño Awards, also for the same recognition. When I received the notice regarding that last one, I remember posting on Facebook: “I think I’m still too young for this.” But a friend later told me that age has no bearing on these things, that they are recognitions for our contributions to the community—and that they should be received with gratefulness and humility. And I finally agreed.
I’m glad that I’m still relatively young and able bodied while I’m getting these awards and opportunities. I do not want to be too old and too physically infirm when accepting these accolades, as I see it sometimes happen. And also because—and this is my bombshell if you’ve read this far—I really have no idea how much time I have left.
Call this as shades of #1, but truth to tell, I am aware that my body might soon betray me.
I mentioned my brothers and my mother last in this litany of gratitude, not just because they’re family, but also because there is a physical ailment that we share that we have only discovered in the past decade. My mother hails from Bayawan, but her ancestors—like many in that southern Negrense city—are from Panay. There is a rare type of genetic movement disorder that comes from Panay called Lubag Syndrome, an X-linked dystonia-parkinsonism that primarily affects men, particularly those from this island, which they inherit from their mother. The condition is characterized by a combination of dystonia—which is involuntary muscle contractions causing twisting and repetitive movements—and parkinsonism, which can induce tremors, rigidity, and slow movements.
Four of my brothers have it now in varying degrees, and I have a fifty percent chance of also getting it. I will not deny I am a bit afraid of this possibility—but at the same time, I do not want to worry about things that may be beyond my control.
What I have now is just my present, and how I will live it. I want to travel. I want to finish my books. I want to use what time might remain of my able body to finish the work I have set out to do. Part of this project is also letting go of things that does not matter at all in my life, like toxic people, and surround myself with people I love and respect. Another part of this project is expressing my gratitude, hence this birthday list. How many years do I have left? Five? Ten? I have no idea. But I am grateful that I have so far lived a relatively good and simple life, filled with many goodhearted people—and at 50, I feel a fierce urge to really live.
Labels: birthday, family, life, love
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Monday, June 30, 2025
8:44 PM |
All About Tenderness
I mean to share this earlier in June for Pride Month, but life ... got in the way. Better late than never! But I was moved by Mark Fermill's [ IG: @markfermill ] recommendation for Talk Bookish to Me PH [ IG: @talkbookishtomeph ] of my book DON'T TELL ANYONE: LITERATE SMUT [from Anvil Publishing: IG: @anvilpublishing ]. There's some sex in it, yes, but the book is really a distillation of what I know about heartbreak, about loving, and about longing, done in the most tender way I can write about all these. That he highlighted two of my favorite stories from my own end of the book is also a kind of affirmation for me. I cried when I wrote “Compartments.” I was exorcising all my heartbreaks when I wrote “The Boys From Rizal Street.”
You can order the book from Lazada at this link.Labels: books, love, Pride, queer
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Wednesday, May 14, 2025
Happy anniversary, my love!
Labels: life, love
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Friday, January 17, 2025
Living in the present is sometimes as simple as doing OBT at night with the s.o., while listening to our playlists on Spotify. There's no greater, simpler pleasure, and what one gets is understated, frills-free happiness. Just you, the road, good music, and someone you love beside you.
Labels: dumaguete, life, love, music
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Saturday, November 30, 2024
I was no longer feeling human by day’s end yesterday. Was just so exhausted from work, and probably should have heeded the call to take a cat nap in the early afternoon. But there was work to do, and less energy to do them. The s.o. swooped in around 6 PM, took me to a good Chinese dinner at Dayo, and — best of all — assented to my sudden hankering for a foot massage. Dear God, I needed that foot massage. It gave me all the energy I needed to finish the to-do’s for the day.
Labels: life, love
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Sunday, November 10, 2024
9:00 AM |
A Walk to Taclobo
Calle San Jose Extension in Taclobo in the early evening of Friday surprisingly buzzes with the lightest traffic, and somehow I find it easy to walk, with my usual pace, the street’s length [until Bag-ong Dalan, that is, which is really an old road that has been officially named Ciriaco Espina Street—and yet for some reason is still being called by locals everywhere with that unofficial, and terribly untrue, moniker]. I like my pace, like someone in a hurry to get somewhere. But it’s a loose kind of hurry, and I’ve always walked fast especially when alone. Perhaps I like the feel of the breeze that I conjure with my speed. And I like the feel of the little sweat I accumulate in the effort—and then I quickly realize that it has been a while since I’ve really walked. Because I’m breathless, and walking is effort for someone out-of-shape a year out of the pandemic.
I’m here in Taclobo to visit the significant other who’s very sick.
I opted to walk all the way to Taclobo from The Bricks Hotel along the Rizal Boulevard, where I had been all afternoon doing an assortment of work [and one informal workshop]. I did not plan to walk, but traffic in the major thoroughfares of Dumaguere was, as usual, horrendous. And while I bid my time by the sidewalk hoping to be able to flag down a tricycle, I instantly knew while I did a good bit of waiting that I would not be able to get a ride.
But I had to get to Taclobo to visit the significant other who’s very sick. I know environmental factors are at play in his surging fever and a terrible bout of coughing—other people in his household are sick as well—but I knew this illness is stressed-induced as well. He’s been battling stress and anxiety at work for a few weeks now. It’s all very sad, to be honest.
“You’re walking all the way from the Boulevard to Taclobo?” the significant other texts me.
“I think I need the exercise,” I reply.
But, really, it is the traffic that has prompted the need to walk. Traffic has been terrible in Dumaguete lately. Once, after work, I mused briefly about going to CityMall to catch a movie. But a thought suddenly came to me: “Nah, the traffic along the National Highway will be terrible.” And I realized then that that was the first time ever in my life as a Dumagueteño that this notion of “traffic” has prevented me from going elsewhere in the city. We used to make this jokey claim: “Everywhere in Dumaguete is just ten minutes away.” Is that still true today? Not too long ago, I once had an engagement at 58 EJ Blanco Drive, where the Arts and Design Collective of Dumaguete is headquartered, and I had started off from my apartment in Tubod, which is really just five minute ride away. With the significant other driving me in his car, we soon found ourselves caught in Hibbard Avenue traffic—and it actually took us 45 minutes to finally arrive at our destination. By then, the event was practically over. [I’m sorry, Geraldine Solon, for missing the bulk of your book launch! I blame traffic.]
I have casually asked around for the reasons of this sudden surge in Dumaguete traffic. The usual answer I get is the “broken, and old, traffic infrastructure”—which is really just how people describe the narrow city streets and the forbidding lack of parking. But I counter that with this observation: that old infrastructure has always been there, and we’ve had bad traffic before—but why only now does bad traffic in Dumaguete really underscore an unequalled badness? What is different today? The tricycles? The number of tricycles in the city has remained constant over the years. The cars? Perhaps the cars. Maybe many people bought cars during the pandemic—prices were slashed so low then—but quarantine somehow mitigated their presence on city streets. Only now, in our “post”-pandemic world, with quarantines now a fading memory, have all these cars suddenly converged on Dumaguete’s roads, choking them for hours on end. I’ve asked around: “How many car dealerships are there in Dumaguete?” Nobody could give me the exact answer, but someone said ten. Is that true? Why do we have so many car sellers in our city? And can these car sellers give me some statistics about how many cars they sold during the pandemic?
I’m told: “I don’t think they’ll give you their sales numbers.”
“But I can try,” I’d reply.
“Nah.”
“Do you think LTO can help?”
We broke into laughter with the ridiculous idea of LTO helping.
But I have to get to Taclobo to visit the significant other who’s very sick. He’s worried about being sick, and being away from work. He’s under pressure enough to fret. He has a raging fever, and godawful coughing—and I seethe that he is being reduced to this ball of pity and sadness and illness. Really seethe.
I seethe sometimes, too, when I go home to Tubod after my classes at Silliman, and find the way to be the ultimate pedestrian maze. I usually take a short tricycle ride to get to and from work, but these days, the constantly terrible traffic along Hibbard Avenue has made me walk more often. It’s a short distance anyway. And I’ve come to like stopping by Kohi to grab a cup of cappuccino or latte. That stretch of Hibbard Avenue until the crossing of Gothong Avenue [popularly called the Lo-oc Bypass Road] and Venancio Aldecoa Jr. Drive [popularly called Laguna] is traffic hell, an unrelenting carmaggedon. And it’s not just the cars on the road, it’s also the cars usurping the sidewalks for parking. There are no sidewalks anymore along the Silliman University stretch of Hibbard Avenue. So pedestrians like me actually walk on the actual street itself, because that’s the only available space to move forward. Sometimes I pray I do not get sideswept by a reckless vehicle from walking down the actual street. Then again, hahaha, all the vehicles on the road are moving like molasses.
I like walking anyway, especially as much-needed exercise to my very sedentary lifestyle. To be honest, I’d probably walk a lot more if Dumaguete wasn’t hot and humid.
But now, it is the early evening of Friday, and it is cool, and I have a sick beloved to visit in Taclobo.
Along the way, I am able to visit some of my favorite shops, like Dudley’s, and I buy some foodstuff—the Japanese muffin is to die for, and the Hokkaido bread is a staple—which I’m usually not able to when I’m riding a car. That only underlines what urban studies have been saying: foot traffic, not motor traffic, is what brings people to shops. Let’s encourage more people to walk for the economy’s sake!
But I wish Dumaguete was more walkable.
I wish there were more trees to shade sidewalks so that we can walk even under the hot Dumaguete sun.
I wish there were more suitable parking in Dumaguete.
I wish Dumaguete drivers were not lunatics. [A lot of them are.]
I wish we didn’t know that when traffic enforces are on hand, traffic actually gets worse.
I wish some workable system of public transport can be devised, so that people with cars do not have to use their cars anymore. [I can’t blame people from buying cars, especially if they live in the outskirts of the city—or live in the neighboring towns. But do they really have to buy humongous cars? If I were a powerful entity with convincing powers, I’d force everyone to buy small cars, like a Picanto, which is perfect for Dumaguete’s roads. My significant other drives a Picanto. He’s smart that way.]
I arrive at the significant other’s home in Taclobo and the feel of his skin is like touching lava. He moans a “hello.” I commiserate, I baby, I watch over him. I also tell him he should go to the ER to get a medical certificate. For the folks at work. He nods. His mom makes me eat dinner they’ve Grab-ed over from Don Roberto’s. I eat and we talk about the latest episode of Survivor. We all hate Andy. Alas he’s half-Filipino, but he’s so stupid.
Later, his mom drives me home.
Labels: dumaguete, life, love, traffic
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Thursday, October 31, 2024
10:06 PM |
I Hate Gay Halloween...
... what do you mean you’re Patrick and Art in the churros scene from Challengers?
This is our annual Halloween tradition, Renz Torres and I, dressing up as iconic queer characters of every year. This is me as Patrick Zweig [Josh O’Connor] and Renz as Art Donaldson [Mike Faist] in the infamous churros scene from Luca Guadagnino's Challengers (2024). Many churros were eaten in this attempt.
Labels: halloween, life, love
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Monday, October 07, 2024
9:52 PM |
Flowers for an Anxiety Attack
I had a small anxiety attack today, so the s.o. surprised me by buying three dozens of my favorite flowers. Arranging them gave me something to focus on, which was quite calming. Also: this is love.
I wish everyone an anxiety-free National Mental Health Week!
Labels: life, love, mental health
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Wednesday, September 11, 2024
You are such a positive force in my life, I honestly can’t say how I would have survived the pandemic without you by my side. You are all of the good in the world in human form, and you bring so much light to so many people’s lives. You deserve all the happiness this world can give you, and I wish you the bestest 30th birthday today.
[Photo courtesy of Shi Mei Estimada]
Labels: birthday, life, love
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Saturday, September 07, 2024
9:00 PM |
I Like My Saturday
I like this Saturday. I had things to do but I also mostly followed my feet, letting things flow organically without letting a schedule determine things. Turns out, it was a perfect way to meet and spend time with good friends — and we didn’t even have to make appointments with each other! What a way to see Ernest and Gayle and Poc and Shimei and Vince and Toulla and Hersley…
And then, of course, the s.o. is finally home from Vietnam! Here's us with hugs all around with his mom and aunties.
Labels: dumaguete, friends, life, love
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Friday, July 12, 2024
One of the best things the pandemic taught me is to recognize bullshit and to verbalize it as succinctly as I can. I certainly did with mine. “I don't need therapy!” I told my s.o., even as I was unraveling in 2021, and my hair was falling from all the stress, and a panic attack was a daily occurrence. He simply made the appointment with the psychiatrist for me, drove me to the clinic, and accompanied me to the drugstore to get the meds I needed. So, yeah, no more bullshit.
Labels: life, love, mental health
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Thursday, June 20, 2024
Renz and I absolutely had no plans to have a cat. I mean we both love cats [we constantly send each other cat videos], but we didn’t plan to keep one because we were both so busy. But this one barged into our lives very decisively, we had no choice really but to take care of her. Meet Orville.
Labels: life, love, pets
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Sunday, June 02, 2024
9:00 PM |
Anniversary Weekend
We’re belatedly celebrating our 11th anniversary together, first with a staycation at UNWND Boutique Hotel Dumaguete [
so comfortable!], and now a dinner, because May was just fraught with so much busy-ness. Having dinner now at our usual anniversary resto, Adamo.
Labels: life, love
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Tuesday, February 13, 2024
9:37 PM |
Arbour, Ardor
Work today was exhausting for both of us, but we still made sure we made time out for our annual Valentine dinner, and always on the 13th. The food at Arbour was exquisite, but spending time with each other was the feast. Happy Valentines Day, Renz Torres!
Labels: food, life, love
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Monday, December 18, 2023
1:12 AM |
FellowTravelers
“I’ve spent most of my life waiting for God to love me. And then I realized the only thing that matters is I love God. It’s the same with you. I have loved you my whole life. I’ve never loved anyone but you. You were my great, consuming love. And most people don't get one of those. I did. I have no regrets.”
Labels: life, love, queer, television
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Tuesday, October 31, 2023
1:31 PM |
Presenting Our Halloween Couple Costumes for 2023!
We come as Alex and Prince Henry from the film
Red, White, and Royal Blue, and here we are trying to mimic
the iconic poster. [Thanks to Sintral by The Bricks Hotel for giving us the space to do this.]
On becoming Alex...
On becoming Prince Henry...
Renz and I never planned this, but we've always done couple costumes for Halloween. Here's a pictorial and brief history of them, but I couldn't find our photos of the others:
Labels: halloween, life, love
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Sunday, August 13, 2023
Setting some specific life goals with Renz for the start of birthday week. He and I know we need each other’s support for the things we want to do, or dream. And we’ve been together for ten years! It was time. Really happy to know we’re on the same page. For the first time in years, I feel like I can start breathing for real.Labels: life, love
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