LOVE YOUR SELFIE

"70 IS THE NEW 50!"

FOX NEWS' GERALDO RIVERA // TWITTER

*GIGGLZ*
'
THE HYPERACTIVE GAY BOY™ // FACEBOOK

Erica, wife of FOX News' Geraldo Rivera, reacts after seeing her husband's shirtless selfie on Twitter: "This is exactly the kind of thing that happens when I fall asleep first. Thank god we have towels in the bathroom. But I'm proud my husband looks so hot!"

Jackée Harry tweets, "Dear, Geraldo: STOP! Best, Jackée."

Andy Cohen retweets the message later to the news veteran.

Chrissy Teigen comments, "I opened up Geraldo's photo and my neighbor now thinks I have some old man fetish. Thanks!"

Lena Dunham adds her two cents, saying "The oppositional teen in me wants to be like 'Leave Geraldo alone!' But I can't deal with his penis bones."

Rivera finally removes the pic later, but tweets about it: "Note to self: no tweeting after 1am."

Rivera is scary (that face), but his body's great - for any age. Plus points for madd swag, even though we doubt that 70 is, indeed, the new 50. What's the point counting after 50? Might as well start counting backwards! I think 30 is the new 17 - based on my experience, at least. But seeing that nobody cares about being 30 anymore, either, it might as well be the new 70. Are you following this??

I first took a selfie on the floor to share on Facebook how fucking beat up I was after my first training session with Bridge.

But while I was reviewing the pics, I realized that Meryl Streep spoke the truth: "Things look different, lying down!"

Yeah...

I kinda looked... nicer on the floor... Skinnier, more defined. Gravity seems to zap cellulite, ectopic fat deposits and adipose tissue. It was miraculous.

I fucking loved it.

I started taking pics of myself on floor daily, doing random things: Skyping, eating grapes, generally just rubbing dust and dirt onto myself like they were the finest of spa creams.

My friend, Nikka, whom I haven't seen in a long time, posted a comment: "So Bambi, Kristine, Christopher John and I had dinner the other night. We were wondering if you have any furniture, since you're always on the floor. Hahaha."

My sister, Teri, messaged that my Dad was getting disturbed with the suggestion of nudity. My suspicion is, daddy might have made a comment offhand, but it's really my sister who's getting kinda disturbed. Hello! As if we didn't share a room for years!

Formal portraits are so last millennium! From Nick Jonas to Hillary and Chelsea Clinton to Hyperactive, it's all about selfies now.

Why?

A selfie is the ultimate personal brand collateral on social media.

A selfie is an image of ourselves, shared, to show the socially networked world how we'd like to be seen and how we'd like to be interacted with.

What do you wanna say about your selfie?

COMING OUT TO DADDY

HYPERACTIVE & DADDY OSCAR

"Nand'yan na 'yan, ano pa'ng magagawa natin? Lahat naman ng pamilya, may bakla. At least, sa atin, alam na natin kung sino."

"It's reality, what else can we do? Besides, there's someone gay in every family. At least we now know in our family who it is."

That's what my dad said after I had confirmed the "gossip" that I'm gay. I told them it was no gossip. My mom proceeded to weep and gently sway forwards and backwards, mumbling "Diyos ko, Diyos ko..." My God, my God...

In just three sentences, my dad managed to:

- Acknowledge that my being gay is real - finally. They must have suspected all along, like most parents do. But whilst my mom, to whom I have always been closer, seemed to have been hoping for a miracle from God in heaven for me to change, my dad knew it was Game Over. Everything finally made sense. Going to the beauty parlor for my haircuts even after his explicit instructions to go to the barber. My lack of interest in basketball, even after he had purchased a PBA-grade ball for me. Non-stop Evita on long road trips. Glee Club.

- Respect me as an adult. In fairness, I was already 18 at that time. By accepting my answer at face value, daddy showed me that he had  prepared himself to hear the truth. My mom, on the other hand, might have been hoping for an answer that would mean an easier life for her "original baby" - that's what she calls me. Through simpler words, my dad told my mom: He's a grown person. It's not a phase. It's not something we can do anything about. He's the gay one. He's the one that needs to do something - IF something needed doing.

- Trivialize being gay. Really, where's the interest if it's something that every family has? Daddy must have been thinking about my cousin, Grant, who had been making a living as a stylist from a very young age, and without whom his sister, Gayle, wouldn't have won a truckload of beauty titles. Of course there also were priests in Cagayan who were very clearly flamers. They'd have already burned in hell if God didn't love them as part of His family, too.

- Revert to humor. Dad meant: Now that we know who our gay member is, we can all relax. It's not me. It's not Igi. It's not Vincent.

Of course we all know that there may be more than one gay in a family, particularly when both parents are gay, to start with. But as progressive as my dad was at that time, I don't think he would have been prepared to have two or more gays amongst his six kids. He was fine with just the one, he had reached his quota, please, let that be the end of it.

Daddy, I think it is. I'm the only one, and look - I turned out OK.

"Basta tapusin mo ang pag-aaral mo," he said. Just make sure you finish your studies.

"I will," I promised. And I did.

What does being gay even have to do with whether or not I got my degree, anyway?? But I kept my mouth shut and just gave him and mommy a tearful, relieved hug.

It was so good to end that episode on daddy's good side; I was so scared he'd raise a big stink, disown me, throw me out, etc. He took a chance by confronting me with the issue. I took a chance by telling him the truth. We only had to give each other the benefit of the doubt. After all, I'm his son. He's my father.

Happy Father's Day, Daddy.

I love you.

KOREA QUEER FESTIVAL 2013

PHOTO FROM ASSOCIATED PRESS

Yesterday I was riveted to a photo of two, mature Asian men kissing whilst thumbing through the main broadsheet of the South China Morning Post. It was of South Korean filmmaker Kim Jho Gwang-soo and his partner of nine years, announcing plans to marry. It's a bid to pry the closet open in this super conservative country where homosexuality is still taboo and hate crimes against gays are commonplace. (I was stunned to hear some of the awful stories my brother-in-law, Ronnie, shared from his days in the military.)

I was captivated by the pic because older Asian gay couples have grown so used to discrimination, any display of public affection would be considered dangerous - even irresponsible. The only other Korean celebrity to have come out was actor Hong Seok-Cheon, way back in 2000 - 13 long years ago! He now says he regrets his decision because work promptly dried up. But, hello - he has since turned his fate around by founding a restaurant empire! I got to try two of his places out - fab, as you would expect from an A-List gay entrepreneur-slash-taste maker.

So anyway, the LGBT movement in Korea seems to be at a turning point. The Korea Queer Festival, which takes place over a 16-day (!!) period,  is ongoing and includes performances, parties and a parade. One of the parties takes place at Condom Cafe (!!!). For that alone, I want to go back to Seoul NOW.

It'd be nice to have a Mr Gay Korea competition be part of the KQF, too. But I don't really have the bandwidth for that. Duh - as if it's not hard enough to mount a Mr Gay HK competition yearly! I must content myself with visiting my nephew, Robin, for now, in the hopes that Korean LGBTs emulate Kim Jho Gwang-soo en masse soon. Only after Korean LGBTs realize that coming out can be a cool thing could a Mr Gay competition finally fly.

Brava to Kim Jho Gwang-soo and his gentleman-love. Hopefully this grand gesture leads to an easing up of homophobic views not just in Korea, but throughout the rest of the world. I think it was John Lennon who once questioned why we conduct violent warfare openly but we make love in secret - how the hell does that make sense?? Or something to that effect.

More PDA, please!

HOME.

THE LITTLE HOUSE IN WOODBERRY
AS IT LOOKED THEN...

HYPERACTIVE IN WOODBERRY

...AND AS IT LOOKS NOW.

I'm the firstborn child in a brood of six. Six!!! From Tuguegarao, I moved to Manila when I was 16 to study theatre in Ateneo. My other siblings soon followed. From a little dorm room, I moved to a bigger one to share with my sister, Diva. When Teri and Loren joined us, we had to move yet again to a larger place. I realized then that as long as we didn't own our own place, my parents are sentenced to monthly payments on rental properties for many more years to come. 

In 2005, I was recruited to be a part of Hong Kong Disneyland's Grand Opening Team. Performing in a Disney theme park - surely that's a dream job! I was ecstatic. And like any good Pinoy son, I dutifully saved my Disney dollars until I felt I had enough to make a down payment on a family home. I then passed the money to my mum, who promptly started house hunting.

In 2007, we broke ground on Woodberry subdivision in Antipolo. We were the first to do so. I knew little about the area; I knew even less about the development plan. It was enough for me that mum fell in love with Antipolo and with the idea of Woodberry. She saw promise where, in fact, there was nothing more than acres of grass. Our house stood alone for quite a while. I wondered whether we'd get any neighbours at all apart from the stray cats that always seemed to know when we'd be getting rid of dinner leftovers.

But really, my life is in Hong Kong. I don't remember much more about Woodberry. Out of all of us, I spent the least amount of time there. Often, I struggled with mortgage. I questioned why I've committed a huge chunk of my monthly budget to something I couldn't immediately benefit from. Meanwhile, there were holidays I wished I could have taken, clothes and gadgets I had hoped to purchase, ridiculously chic restaurants I desperately wanted to try. It's too easy to focus on what you can't have when you're fabulously trying to make ends meet. I've had to count on mortgage rescue packages from Diva and my parents on some months when it was just too impossible for me to figure things out. I dread to think of what might have been if I didn't have that financial support system.

Today, Woodberry is fully populated.

But our family home is now empty.

Diva is back in the Philippines after years of gorgeous travel on some of the world's biggest cruise ships. Teri is in Korea with her family, keeping us posted daily on Robin's well being. And my youngest sister is still 'Teacher Loren' to Singlish-speaking Singaporean tots. 

Igi is housed in the Rogationist seminary in Cavite, where he will soon take the next step towards priesthood. Vincent, our youngest, is still in Tuguegarao, studying to become a veterinarian. My parents might have promised to buy him a car if chose to pursue his degree at the local university... But I don't think Vincent's really counting on owning a car until he is able to afford it himself.

I'm still in Hong Kong - alone, but not single - and very much at home.

Yesterday, I received news that the house in Woodberry has been sold.

"You're a millionaire!" my parents enthused. 

I could weep, celebrate, collapse, do a little jig.

I may not have spent a lot of time in Woodberry. But it served its purpose for me, as I hope it had for my siblings.

It watched me grow.

MY SEOUL BENDER

// IT WAS THE ONLY WAY TO ENSURE 

I WAS AWAKE FOR MY 4.30AM PICK-UP 

FOR MY FLIGHT. //

THANKS TO RONNIE FOR DRIVING ME ALL THE WAY TO THE AIRPORT.

THANKS TO TERI FOR THE NEVERENDING PHONE CALLS  TO SEE WHETHER OR NOT I WAS STILL ALIVE.

THANKS TO ROBIN FOR THE GOOD VIBES, IN GENERAL!

'MY NOODLE' & 'MY THAI' BY HONG SEOK-CHEON

HONG SEOK-CHEON.
I, TOO, WOULD LIKE TO HAVE MY FACE RENDERED JUST SO AT THE ENTRANCE OF MY RESTAURANT.

OOPS.
HAVEN'T GOT ONE.

RONNIE, TERI & ROBIN

UNCLE JAMES AND SLEEPY ROBIN

SO WANTED TO STEAL THOSE
BUT THEY WOULDN'T FIT IN MY HANDBAG.

LIFE IMITATES ART.

THIS PIECE IS SO RANDOM,
BUT WHO THE FUCK CARES?
AS LONG AS SHE LOOKS FABULOUS.

THOSE PRAWNS WERE FABULOUS.

AND SO WAS THIS OVERCOOKED RICE DISH  -
CAN YOU EVEN BELIEVE IT?

SOME SORT OF 'MILITARY BISCUIT.'
MM-HM, I BET IT IS!

MY THAI

HYPERACTIVE JAMES AND THE BEAUTIFUL JEDA

There's only one out n' proud gay Korean celeb. His name is Hong Seok-Cheon. He owns restaurants all over the city that, together, make a daily turnover of KRW10,000,000. Really not bad.  

His restaurants are pretty. Lots of personal touches in the decor. Ronnie, Teri and Robin took me to My Noodle  for lunch; my dear friend, Jeda, would later take me to My Thai for dinner.

There's plenty of natural light in both venues. Casual dining, great atmosphere, friendly service, seamless table turnover. Teri was tickled pink when our server brought a complimentary drink "for the baby." Robin hadn't even yet started drinking milk from the bottle, but the gesture was heartwarming anyway.

Food was tasty but a bit on the pricey side, so I was horrified when Ronnie wouldn't let me contribute towards our lunch bill. I knew I had the most to eat; I always do.

"You can pick up the tab," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "when we visit Hong Kong."    

Jeda wouldn't let me pay for dinner, either; I must have had six bottles of Beer Chang with our chicken wings and spicy beef salad! She raced against me to the cash register and handed her credit card over whilst I fumbled with the unfamiliar Korean won in my wallet.
      
I didn't get to do much sightseeing in Seoul. I was in and out in two days, on shitty flight schedules besides.      

But I got to see and talk and touch and play and laugh and eat with loved ones.

Mission accomplished.

SEOUL INSIDE X OUTSIDE

BUNK BEDS IN A GUEST HOUSE

A TOWER SEEMINGLY MOULDED FROM FLUID, UNDULATING STEEL AND GLASS

A WOODEN CABINET

BLOOMS,
AT ONCE DELICATE AND STURDY

SCHOOL BUS BOOK SHELF

POSTER ON THE METRO
FOR A KOREAN PRODUCTION
OF AN ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER MUSICAL

HYPERACTIVE x ROBIN IN A SUPERMARKET

MUM TERI x ROBIN
IN ITAEWON

Seoul is a funny place. Not funny in a ha-ha-that's-hilarious kind of way, but in an I-can't-quite-make-sense-of-it-so-I'll-just-giggle-like-a-bimbo-coz-at-least-everything-looks-pretty-anyway kind of way.

Outside, you'd be impressed - intimidated, even. Seoul has the hubris of a completely globalized, first world, capital city.

"It feels even more high-tech than Japan," I murmured, looking at the ginormous, cinema-quality LG billboards exploding to life in brilliant colour and rich images.

"Japan's global brand is Sony," my sister explained, pointing out a few more billboards. "Korea's is Samsung. And Hyundai. And LG. And..."

I got her point. In some ways, it seems as though Japan hadn't made it past the Industrial Revolution. Korea, meanwhile, is so very current.

Inside is a completely different story. Indoor spaces are cavernous. They're quiet, dark, undisturbed. I guess you might describe them as peaceful. Like catacombs. Silence is menacing, at least to me. Dangerous. There's widespread manifestation of seething discontent, but too impotent to simmer to the surface. It's the Koreans' ascribed submission to tradition. Unconditional. It then made the modernity, image and ambition of their capital city look woefully cosmetic, because inside, people's spirits were dying en masse. And I couldn't justifiably pinpoint why or what for. 

"The people who may express an alternative, progressive lifestyle in the way they present themselves are usually the ones who are most indoctrinated in tradition," my sister explained.

I enjoyed Seoul thoroughly. In fact, I can't wait to return. Two days just weren't enough.

I only hope I that what I've written here - indeed, my un-silent-ness - doesn't get me banned.

HUNK OF THE DAY: ROBIN ROH

 

It was like I'd never seen a baby before. I was vibrating with so much excitement, the hairs on my arm were humming. I couldn't wait to pick him up. But I was also scared I'd break him into pieces if I grabbed him too quickly or held on to him too tightly.

I spent a couple of days in Seoul to meet my nephew, Robin. I knew I had to hurry up. They grow so fast, babies. Robin's mum - my sister, Teri - never fails to send photos and videos. She also maintains a Timehut blog (!) for Robin. We watch him grow every day.

And yet, nothing could have prepared me enough for the experience.

I was overwhelmed with love and pride and happiness and wonder and fear and overprotectiveness, all at the same time. And I wasn't even thinking about the North Korean missile crisis!

I held him throughout lunch, at the supermarket, and at home, whilst Teri helped her mother-in-law prepare dinner. We played on his baby gym, we sang songs, we walked around the room whenever he'd get restless. I did everything except breastfeed him or change his diapers. Teri and her husband have such stringent hygiene standards, they suggested I take a shower before I touched anything. I wasn't certain if it was a Korean thing. Maybe I just stank. But I was scared I'd inadvertently break one of their rules if I tried to change Robin's nappies.

I met Robin just as I was reeling from Chris' departure for Canberra.

I met him just in time.



          

WINTER BABY

 

My nephew, Robin, was born in Seoul on the 3rd of December 2012, in sub-zero conditions. We're tickled of course, since, except for my mom who's Chinese and Robin's dad, who's Korean, we're all proud, tropical creatures. We've only ever known Cagayan Valley, where the sun's glorious heat is forever trapped between the Cordillera and Sierra Madre mountain ranges. It's like living in a greenhouse all year round. Robin, in contrast, is a winter baby - our family's first and only.

I can't even explain the joy I felt when Robin was born. His mother - my sister, Teri -  documented Robin's birth every step of the way. She must have had her smartphone on her side whilst she was in labor. The entire family was on mobile group chat, volleying excited text messages, photos, videos, prayers...

Chris' pic used to be my iPhone wallpaper. Now, it's Robin. I kiss Robin's pic every day.

I'm unlikely to have kids of my own. I'm much too scared that I'll have to raise someone exactly like me. It's not that I turned out horrible. I know I didn't. I just... don't know how my parents managed to put up with all my shit whilst I was growing up. Hell, they still put up with my shit from time to time - up to this day!

"Isn't it wonderful," I texted my mom, "that the child you raised now has a child of her own? Doesn't this validate all the values we treasure as a family?"

Robin may not be my child. But he's every inch my baby.

My winter baby.