Livin' on a Prayer

// Basilica Minore of NUESTRA SEÑORA DE LA PAZ Y BUENVIAJE //

Hello, Friends

I was born, baptised and brought up Catholic. This perhaps explains why I love everybody and have a reciprocal need - compulsion - to be similarly loved by everyone.

In the past few years, though, the good life became my religion. The whole sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll shebang. I loved it. Too much fun. Thank goodness I never once felt restrained by any sense of Catholic guilt. So I just kept going.

In the past few weeks, though, I've been feeling an extraordinary sense of ennui. Perhaps it's age. My body is collapsing as my face becomes more... fleshy. Perhaps it's having had to spend the holidays away from Chris. I'm missing him in the most disgusting ways as I discover a stronger bond with my two younger brothers, Igi and Vincent. Perhaps, as my mum likes to remind me, it's just the almighty God's way of clicking the "Poke!" button to tell me: "Hey! You've forgotten all about me! But I'm still here :)"

So I found myself rocking back on forth on the cold floor one morning, wracked with tears. It was a scene ripped straight off of a Vilma Santos movie.

"I wanna diiiiieeee," I sobbed loudly so the neighbours can hear.

"Get up, get up," my mum got down n' dirty to force me up on my feet. "Pick yourself up and do what you need to do. You can decide about death later."

And so here I am, trapped in a house in the 'burbs three hours east of Manila. I should feel like a proper Stepford Wife, except I'm more like one of the Desperate Housewives. Honestly. I can't fucking do anything because traffic kills. Hyperactive, my ass.

I'm livin' on a prayer.  

So help me, Jesus.

And Mother Mary.

With Affection,

James