Paglalagom.

Maayos ang 2011 ko. Mahirap para sa akin ang aminin ito; marahil dahil nahirati na rin sa mga hindi magagandang bagay, at parang pagta-traydor sa mga hindi mapapalad na kaibigan at kakilala ang pag-angkin na maganda ang taon mo. Siguro dahil finite nga ang kasiyahan (tulad ng natural resources), at sa pagkuha ng higit sa nararapat ay waring ninanakawan mo ang iba.

Pero maayos nga ang 2011 ko.

Sa susunod na ang mga partikularidad. Sa simpleng paglalagom, maayos ang naging takbo ng taon. Bago magsimula ang 2011, naalala kong na-interview ko para sa isang raket si Joy Lim, ang wagas na supplier ng charms and crystals sa mga artista. Maswerte raw ang mga Tiger sa 2011. Binigyan din nya ko ng bracelet para sa kalusugan (na ibinigay ko sa Lola ko), at pinaalalahanang laging magsuot ng pulang sapatos at magdala ng gunting. Ewan ko lang.

At sa kaayusan ng 2011, dalawang taon nang magkasunod na maayos, dahil OK rin ang 2010 (at kung paniniwalaan ang ilang Chinese horroscope, magiging maayos din ang 2012 dahil magkaibigan ang Tiger at Dragon). Bahagyang hinihipo ako ng sabik tuwing iisipin ang paparating na taon, dahil mukhang sumasaya ang mga bagay matapos ang pangit na 2008 at 2009. Baka nga nagiging positibo na ako sa buhay. Naku.

*May dalawang taong nagreklamong masyado na raw seryoso ang blog na ito. At nakaka-miss ang LJ. Ako rin, namimiss ko ang kahangalan ng LJ ko.

Sakuna.

Nasa Cagayan de Oro ako noong Oktubre; sa Dumaguete, noong Mayo. Madali akong mahirati sa mga lugar. Ibig sabihin: madaling mapamahal. Marahil, dahil masarap isipin na may mga bersyon ng buhay Pilipino na umiinog sa ibang lokalidad, sa ibang paraan. Bahagyang katulad ng sa 'yo, pero kakaiba pa rin, kung tutuusin (o bahagyang kakaiba, pero katulad pa rin, sa dulo). Hindi ito romantiko at arbitraryong pag-i-invoke ng "bansa" sa panahon ng delubyo; sa halip, patunay ito, para sa akin, na nag-iisa, kahit magkakahiwalay, ang naratibong hinahawan ng bawat Pilipino.

At nakita natin na ito ay naratibo ng pag-igpaw sa mga sakuna, sa mga pesteng umaalipusta sa "normal" na mga tunghuhin, sa mga karahasang isinasalimpad ng kapalaraan sa araw-araw. At sa mga pangyayaring tulad nito, na kumitil sa higit isanlibong katao, dumungis sa mga lungsod na dati'y walang bahid, madaling mahirati sa emosyonal na tawag ng bayanihan, ng pagtutulungan para sa mga nasalantang kababayan.

Ngunit, lagi't lagi, ipinapaalala sa atin na ang bansa bilang bagay na nahahawakan, nakikita, natutulungan, ay hindi lamang umuusbong sa panahong tulad nito. Pinapatingkad marahil ng sakuna ang mga pakiramdam, pero ang pagiging bansa ay higit sa kawang gawa, labas sa usapin ng minanipulang damdamin. Wala mang kagyat na tulong sa mga nasalanta ang pagpapanagot, marahil marapat usisain: bakit nangyari ito, at bakit dapat umabot sa ganito?

Sa mas konkreto, wagas ang galit ko kay Noynoy sa 'di pagsasalita agad hingil sa isyu. Hindi ko alam kung bakit, pero nang papataas ang bilang ng mga biktima, una kong hinanap sa Google News kung may inilabas na bang pahayag ang Palasyo? May sinabi na ba ang pangulo? Nagpunta na ba siya sa hilagang Mindanao? Sa sobrang galit ko sa kanya, ilang Tweet rin ang naipadala ko kay Abi Valte para magtanong. Anong aral ang napulot ng lideratong ito sa nangyari sa Ondoy? Paanong pinagbawalan si Noynoy na lumipad patungong CDO gayong laksa-laksang media at aid workers na ang andoon sa bukang liwayway ng Sabado? Mukha ba kaming tanga?

At nang, sa Martes, ilang hatinggabi matapos ang trahedyang kumitil sa isanlibong "boss" niya, ay nagsalita na si Noynoy, waring naging SONA't pagbubuhat ng bangko ang talumpati. Naglabas ng ganito kalaking pera. Natulungan ang ganito karaming pamilya. May ganitong kapabilidad na ang PAGASA. May isang maliit na pangungusap na sa unang banda'y umaako ng responsibilidad, pero sa huli'y naging "tayo" bigla ang maysala: "Hindi ko po yata matatanggap na nagawa na namin ang lahat; alam kong may kaya pa tayong, at dapat tayong gawin."

Ang inaasahan ko lamang mula, at hinihingi sa, umano'y ama ng bayan, ay ilang pangungusap ng pangungumusta. Hungkag na retorika, marahil, sa isang banda, pero sa panahong walang sagot ang maraming tanong, nais mo lang ng isang siguradong boses. Na magiging maayos ang lahat. Na maiigpawan ito. Na may amang nag-aasikaso sa mga anak na hilong talilong sa mga alalahanin, hindi nakikisaya nang parang walang nangyari. Nang parang walang mga putikang bangkay na isinasalansan sa minadaling mga libingan. Nang parang walang bansang nangungulila na naman.

Inuman.

Mula rito

Sa Kyusinero

Ni Paul Timothy Escueta*

I can drink a case of you, and still be on my feet.

- Joni Mitchell, A Case of You

Pag-inom ng alak ang paborito nating libangan. Sa Kyusinero sa Matalino St., kabisado na ng mga kuya ang hilatsa ng pagmumukha natin at paboritong pwesto. Kasabay ng pagsayad ng puwit sa upuan kung ilapag nila sa mesa ang bucket ng Pale Pilsen. Tapos ash tray. Tapos tissue. Tapos Pulutan Platter A, na may sari-saring pika-pika, gaya ng French fries, calamares, nachos, chicken lollipop, at pipinong lumalangoy sa suka.

“Kamusta love life?” tanong mo.

“Um, kamusta ka ba?”

“OK naman.”

“Edi OK ang love life ko.”

Pero syempre sa kalagitnaan pa ng inuman uusbong ang ganitong mga usapan. Kailangan munang paspasan ang ilang bagay sa simula: ang pag-aaral, ang Kulê, ang Peyups, ang girlfriend mo.

Ang dami na ring babae sa buhay mo ang mas natagalan ko, banggit mo minsan, habang nakangisi. Wala ka naman talagang ibig sabihin dito; may mga sandali lang talagang dinadapuan ka ng lambing, at ako ang nasa iyong tabi. Punong-puno ka kasi ng pag-ibig; kaya minsan, kahit hindi mo sinasadya, may mga napapadpad sa aking direksyon.

These things that are pleasin’ you can hurt you somehow.

- Eagles, Desperado

Naaalala mo ba noong nasobrahan tayo ng inom minsan – tig-siyam na bote ‘ata – at sa pag-ba-bike mo pauwi ay bigla kang nasuka? Grabe pa rin ang balance mo at tuloy-tuloy ka lang sa pagpepedal, kahit minumura ka na ng mga tambay sa tabi ng daan na natalsikan ng suka mong may pira-pirasong patatas at pipino.

Ako, hindi marunong mag-bike, at sa una’t huling beses na sinubukan mo ‘kong turuan, ang una mong paalala ay, “Kailangan mong mag-let go, Paul.” Literal ang ibig mong sabihin, pero hawak mo kasi ang likod ko at hinihipo ng amihan ang ating mga pisngi, kaya iba ang sumagi sa aking isip. Lalo na nung kinagabihan sa Kyusinero’t sinabi mong, “Siguro, kung babae ka, mag-se-sex tayo mamaya.”

Puta naman. Walang ganyanan. Lasing na lasing ka na nga marahil. Sinabi mo rin kasing maganda ang gupit ko, at bagay sa ‘kin ang maikling buhok. Kulang na lang, sabihin mong ang cute ko, at “Pa-kiss nga.” Sa kasamaang palad, nawalan na ng malisya para sa akin ang mga ganitong tagpo’t palitan. Hindi ba sabay nga nating pinanuod ang video ni Hayden Kho at panay ang batikos mo sa performance niya?

“Guess she gave you things I didn’t give to you.”

- Adele, Someone Like You

Like what? A vagina?

Biro lang. Alam mo namang hindi ako rah-rah sa gay cause, pero noong gabing iyon, naisip ko sa kauna-unahang pagkakataon kung papaanong humahadlang sa mga gusto natin ang ilang bagay na dala lang ng simpleng pagkakataon, gaya ng gender. Sabi nga ni Chokoleit, “Para ‘yun lang?”

Pero sinabi mo dati na naniniwala ka sa reincarnation at past lives, at baka nga mag-syota tayo sa dating buhay natin, o sa susunod. Ewan. Marahil naaalala ko lang ang isang lumang pagnanais na maging higit pa sa kaibigan mo. Pero para saan pa ba ang alak kung hindi sa panandaliang paglimot sa mumunting kirot? Hanggang sa susunod na inuman.

*Walang kwentang pagkubli.

Piolo.

Closet Quivers*
Glenn L. Diaz

All we need to know in this unfolding narrative are these: there was a crying girl, an ex-boyfriend, an emotional breakup. The girl, they say, is pretty, although a bit mannish, excused by the fact that she is cut from showbiz royalty. The ex-boyfriend is the “ultimate heartthrob,” although whispers had long persisted that it’s not exactly vaginas he has been causing to throb.

Throw in a bespectacled host’s series of “deretsong tanong” on a lazy Sunday afternoon and we had the makings of a veritable Pinoy saga; one for the books, apparently, evidenced by the fact that it was inescapable, rivaling news of a former president who’s on the brink of incarceration and at one point becoming a trending topic on Twitter worldwide.

The implications of this saga are multifaceted, but the trajectory of the jokes that it birthed appears to be one-tracked. There is a reference to another actress, who married an actor who turned out not only gay but, some say, even prettier than her. There is a joking speculation as to the heartthrob’s real motives, and some say he just wanted to get close to his ex-girlfriend’s goodlooking, if not morally ambiguous, father.

But outside good-natured Pinoy humor, the debacle revives age-old questions regarding the real state of the LGBT sector in the country. For while surely, “winning” the heartthrob to the gay cause might prove to be a step forward, the reaction that his potential outing spawned reveals that it isn’t as clear-cut as that.

‘The reign of telling secret’

That the whole saga is unfolding before the public eye at a time when social media had enabled the unbridled sharing of opinion has, in so many ways, blown things out of proportion.

“To the fine antennae of public attention,” writes foremost queer theorist Eve Sedgwick, “the freshness of every drama of (especially involuntary) gay uncovering seems if anything heightened in surprise and delectability, rather than staled, by the increasingly intense atmosphere of public articulations of and about the love that is famous for daring not speak its name.”

And so while there may be undeniable strides in the way homosexuality is displayed and perceived, it doesn’t diminish the seductive nature of people being yanked out of the closet. In the case of our heartthrob, the idea of his outing seems utterly irresistible, at least judging from the rabid, almost vitriolic calls from all sides of cyberspace.

The mob-like desire has ready justifications, too: that, for one, he reduced his ex-girlfriend to tears on national television; and, two, that he is a public figure and therefore fair game for butchery and accusations.

‘On their own’

But we simply don’t have the right to out other people, says J. Neil Garcia, UP professor and renowned expert on queer theory.

“We need more masculine representations of gayness … to balance out the sissy stereotypes that local showbiz is constantly dishing out, but even then, or precisely here, the ethical question regarding outing remains utterly germane.”

“The wish, of course, is for more and more masculine gay men to come out on their own – in mass media, if possible, since its stereotype-countering effect will simply be more potent, by virtue of the nature of mass media themselves. But we simply cannot out these guys. They need to come out on their own.”

Tangentially, the particularity that the case brings to the discourse hinges on his construction as a “bankable actor” and the changes, if any, that his outing will result to. There are speculations, to cite, that while the ex-girlfriend’s tears were true, there was still an attempt at damage control, which explains why the interview was taped to begin with, contrary to how most sensational tell-all’s are conducted.

It is interesting, therefore, to note how mass media, while largely profit-driven and prone to typecasting, can in truth serve as a vital platform in which to break the stereotypes it had contributed to perpetrating to begin with.

Sadly, judging from the jokes in the aftermath of the interview, including all the name-calling and the homophobic slurs, our heartthrob is not breaking any stereotype. The stereotypes are instead being hurled pointblank against him.

‘A defiant move’

Outside the glitz of showbiz, however, what steers the very premise of outing is heterosexism. Outing announces unequal power relations. To weaponize a potentially liberating act is premised on the belief that someone will fear being outed because it is a demotion, a downgrade. To threaten a public figure with being outed is to equalize homosexuality with the risk of utter downfall.

But voluntarily coming out of the closet, instead of being forced out of it, is a defiant move. It demonstrates a steadfast bravery that knowingly exposes one’s self to stigma. After all, outing demands resocialization; a paradigm shift from the “default” heterosexual identity with which everyone is raised. And so implicit in the act of coming out is the rejection of the ideology that posits the primacy of heterosexuality as the only acceptable orientation.

That may be true, and it probably is, but to end there is to ignore the larger issue with which the supposedly private love story is laced.

Because in our heartthrob’s case, coming out of the closet seems to offer very little incentive. Given the slightest chance at hating, there are those who pounce, instantly and with little deliberation. So for as long as people have a good reason for staying in the closet, we understand that our heartthrob will need to maintain his handsome silence.

*Apologies to J. Neil Garcia

Sources:

Hunter, Sky. Coming out and Disclosures, Routledge, 2007.

Sedgwick, Eve. Epistemology of the Closet, University of California Press, 1990.

Novel-writing.

Let it be said for its absurdity: I am trying to write a novel. A month ago, this would have sounded preposterous, but see what an academic requirement (and therefore an unsaid threat of a middling grade) can do? B had given us an option to do a novel in lieu of the 40-page short story he normally required. It is suddenly doable. For some reason, it suddenly seems something I can actually do before I turn 27 (because Rizal published Noli at 26, and I have serious competitiveness issues).

It was a good thing then that I got to read nice novels in the past month or so, including Egan's A Visit from the Goon Squad, Franzen's The Corrections, and Atwood's Alias Grace (and a fantastic nonfiction book on the Rwandan genocide from L). Fat novels. I am clearly still learning how to do this. The largeness. The worlding. The measured pace. The requisite depth of introspection. The Proustian detailing. The nouns. I just passed the 6,000-word mark, which puts me at 7.5 percent of my set 80,000-word target (it actually sounds something when you put it in percentage).

Since my workshop slot is somewhere in the middle of January, I have around 5 weeks to churn up around 5,000 more. But since I want to take advantage of the rare chance to have B critique a novel manuscript, I obviously want to do more. I have set up a modest 1,000-word-a-day requirement for myself, something that is turning out to be not so modest after all. It is hard. I write quickly when it's for work and critical papers, but when it's this -- and I, like B, am relying for the most part on gutfeel and a hazy plot in my head - I am absolutely slow. And with my obsessive need to reread and rewrite, I am taking ages. These, of course, all considering that I have very little social life and absolutely no professional life, other than guest-editing for the Collegian, to speak of.

Do I harbor delusions that it might be a nice piece of literature? Well, I don't know. But otherwise, what would be the point?