FAREWELL TO A BOY NAMED CLAREN

ROCK STAR

PORN STAR

SEX SYMBOL

APOLOGETIC BAD BOY-WANNABE

HE SAYS:
Please understand that I'm doing this because I need to get laid on Valentine's Day. LMAO.

ART DIRECTOR

JUNKYARDKID

CARTOON HERO

26, EX-BOYFRIEND MATERIAL,
HE SAYS.

I called him CHiP.

I guess it could have simply been "Chip," but he was an artist. There just had to be some idiosyncrasy to how I spelled my term of endearment for him.

CHiP was short for "chipmunk." His pocket-sized build, joyful presence and irresistible will to make me laugh reminded me a lot of Alvin and the Chipmunks.

And he called me GoOf - one letter short of "Goofy," in reference to my large, clumsy feet that would inadvertently step on his much smaller ones whenever we held hands while walking (all the time).

"Pneumonia," Kris, his best friend, messaged me on Facebook. " He's been in the hospital since last Wednesday. His sister told me he was getting better and then, all of a sudden, he couldn't breath. And then he was gone."

I was shell-shocked.

I last saw Claren in 2003, just before I started work on a TV talent competition and a soap opera. We broke up.

"He was much too gentle and beautiful and perfect a soul for me," I told Kris. "I loved him a lot. He was everything I ever wanted. I saw us getting old together - laughing. And I think that that scared me. We were both so young. I couldn't be sure until I was sure. Isn't that silly?"

"Claren Torres, 26, ex-boyfriend material," was his succinct description of himself on his blog. Even in death, he makes me laugh.

"Claren's such a cheat," Kris complained, with fondness. "He never turned 30."

"He'll be 19 forever," I said.

"In my memory," Kris reminisced, "we're both still 17."

Kris and Claren were like twins. Same age, same build, same boyish charm. One's darker, more brooding. The other one's an imp.

Kris relocated to the States several years ago, immediately following their graduation, methinks.

"I last saw him in 2007," he shared, "and only for, like, a few hours. I was in Manila only for two days. I asked his ate if I could have a pair of his pants. And I'll wear them when I go somewhere new. I guess at least kahit ganun lang, we can see places together..."

Boyfriends, especially at the age when Claren and I dated, are dispensable. mIRC was all the rage back then, and relationships came and went as quickly as you'd like for an EB to occur. But I can't even fathom the depth of Kris' loss. They were best friends. I understand the need to hang on to something - anything - as long as it wouldn't die and therefore remain an evergreen reminder of the one who once owned it.

What's perhaps funniest about my and Claren's brief relationship was the circumstance that brought us together. I dated his best friend, Kris.

Last night, I spent almost four hours making up for lost time. That's what happens with exes. You wanna be friends after you break up. And while you do make the effort initially (through some combination of guilt and determination), it's hard to keep it up. What I realized was, I missed out.

Claren's light shone even brighter - like the pop of his Canon's flash. Claren bathed his life in whimsical, colour-saturated imagery that married the character of Old Manila with his own need to express himself in ever-maturing ways through digital manipulation. By far, Claren's Flickr Photostream is the online profile that best represented him.

He called himself "Junkyardkid" - a collector of discarded objects and memories, because he finds pure, child-like joy in re-imagining these in ways we'd never see them otherwise.

He posted a photo of himself in the hospital, on his Facebook wall. His eyes looked rounder than the camera lenses' aperture must have been. He captioned it: Greetings from the hospital.

Up to his very last moments, he found a way to repurpose a junkyard of an experience - knocking on heaven's door - as something that clawed right back in a funny, ever-present way towards the living world.

Rest in peace, CHiP.

CAN WE JUST STOP & TALK AWHILE?

The last week wasn't just a whirlwind of Hyperactive events; it was an HI (10) Tornado, where Hyperactive Intensity is calculated as follows:

HI = DW / NEo x nSH

(NEo +/+ NEp) A ^ S

That's days of the week (7) divided by number of events organized (2), multiplied by net sleeping hours (5).

The most volatile variable here, of course is NEo, which isn't always indicative of NEp (number of events participated in). In most cases, NEo and NEp are inversely proportional. After all, DW (days of the week) is a constant. The more events you organize, the less time you have to allocate to events you participate in. In my case, however, NEo and NEp are directly proportional - especially since nSH follows the Law of Diminishing Returns. It's only by keeping NEo and NEp parallel on the HI graph am I able to keep producing the amounts of A (adrenaline) required to secure a high S (success) rate.

THE QUEEN'S SILVER

BEFORE HK1K
AN EMPTY OPEN-AIR LOT

DURING HK1K
WITH MODEL HELENA CHAN
AND COLUMNIST YALUN TU IN THE BACK

AFTER HK1K
AFTER-PARTY AT MAGNUM

I organized HK1K, HK Mag's 1,000th issue pop-up "Hong Kong Hipsters" block party, on an empty lot in Fashion Walk. The event required the support of over 20 brand partners, over 100 support staff (technicians, stage managers, gophers, security, chefs, waiters and bartenders, door bitches, interns, photographers... and so on), managed through 5 Google Docs (guest list, contact sheet, rundown, budget, script and show flow), and mobilized via 5 buses, to pull off.

It wasn't perfect, but it was awesome. I think I did awesome... I'm my own biggest critic. So many things could have gone wrong. But so many things were OK, I'm tearful with gratitude to everyone who had in hand in making it a success. Also, my mom's 9-day novena before the event obviously worked! Thank you Mommy, and thank you God.

KEEP IT MOVIN'!

MANILA

KARE-KARE

HYPERACTIVE AND A BEVY OF BEAUTIFUL AUNTIES

#HYPRFAMOUSFLOORS
THE PENTHOUSE IN THE GREEN LOUNGE
ORTIGAS, MANILA

WITH MY BEAUTEOUS BABY SISTER, LOREN

As if that wasn't enough, I had an 8am flight to Manila immediately following HK1K, for Destination, I Do! - the highly conceptual wedding of my cousin, Mark, to his lady love, Abbey.

Upon my arrival in Manila, my youngest sister, Loren, speed-ironed my barong Tagalog and dress pants whilst I greedily gulped honey lemon water, multivitamins and a whole pot of kare-kare. I knew I had to make an effort to be fit for public consumption. I was hoarse, exhausted and sleepy, which is unfair because my family deserves to have the best of Hyperactive.

The wedding invites were mock passports, the guest cards were baggage tags, the tables' centerpieces were each inspired by a dreamy destination, the cake was a stack of luggages rendered in fondant, and of course, the entire thing was MC'd by Hyperactive. At one point, I had to grab my cousin, Boyang, to share hosting duties. I was simply too hoarse to be coherent. It would suck for Mark and Abbey look back to their wedding reception and remember only that I sounded like a broken accordion.

Luckily the happy couple seemed to guess that I might be at less than my usual 150%, and so they had a Starbucks concession especially licensed to operate at their wedding reception. They're coffee lovers, you see. Naturally, they want their guests to have free access to a caffeine fix. Of course.   

I got back to the hotel at 1.30am, by which time I figured it'd be futile to sleep and risk missing my 7am flight back to Hong Kong. In Manila, if something could go wrong, it will. So my sister, Loren and I, simply called for massages.

I was back in Hong Kong less than 24 hours after I left - too exhausted to even be aghast at the explosion of event detritus all over my flat.

BACK IN HK,
LAUNDRY AND A MESSY FLAT YELLED FOR ATTENTION.

DID ALL THAT JUST FUCKING HAPPEN?!

Clearly, there had just been a Hyperactive Intensity 10 Tornado.

I dutifully scrubbed and laundered and sprayed and cleaned.

Last Thursday was dinner with the British Consul General. Next Thursday is the Guest List event at Volume HEAT. And then Mr Gay HK's send-off for Mr Gay World, and my birthday. Somewhere in there, I have to squeeze a reading for The Maids. And I mustn't forgo my regular workouts, of course, because Chris is arriving next week.

July is stupid!

I am sleepless, restless and running purely on adrenaline.

And I'm still going.

Where I'm now pulling energy from, I can't even tell any more.

Can we just stop and talk a while?

FUNNILY ENOUGH, THIS SONG WAS USED FOR A COFEE TVC DECADES AGO...

 

// GET HYPERACTIVE! //

THE CARDIGANS // YOU'RE THE STORM

If I were to compile my coming-of-age soundtrack, it'd have Simply Red's Fairground, George Michael and Mary J Blige's As, Janet Jackson's Together Again, the Spice Girls' Say You'll Be There, and The Cardigans' Lovefool.

The Cardigans,  a Swedish band formed in 1992, skyrocketed to fame when director Baz Luhrmann picked Lovefool for the soundtrack of William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet. I  instantly took to the song's chorus - Love me, love me! Say that you love me! - because it captured my own need for constant affirmation. I lived for moments when the music video would come out on MTV or when the DJ at my local radio station would finally respond to my endless requests to play it again.

I haven't heard anything from The Cardigans since then.

I woke up today with a craving for music I grew up with, which led me to Long Gone Before Daylight (2003), The Cardigans' comeback album after a five-year hiatus. You're the Storm is the first track. I can only describe it as mellow Europop / rock / country. It has a haunting quality to it - a soaring melody coupled with an undercurrent of malevolent strumming.

SORSOGON

 // CHRIS. //

NICOLE SCHERZINGER // RIGHT THERE

Me like the way that you hold my body 

Me like the way that you touch my body 

Me like the way that you kiss my yeah yeah yeah yeah me like it 

Me like the way that he put it on me 

Me like the way that he push up on me 

Me like the way that he goin' down down down down down 

I aint never gonna let no girl take him from me 

Never gonna let no girl steal him from me 

Never gonna let a girl get that close now 

I tell'em hey babe your'e too close now 

Come here baby and be my baby 

And be my baby oh oh oh 

Come here baby put your hands on my body 

Hands on my body oh oh oh 

Right there keep it right there 

I love when you put it right there 

yeah yeah yeah oh oh oh yeah yeah yeah oh oh oh 

Yeah...

  

// CHRIS & 

THE HYPERACTIVE GAY BOY™ //

THE CORRS // SO YOUNG

To my beloved friends, Rye and Chris, who have seen the good, the bad and the Hyperactive - but never seem to get tired too tired for another lap 'round the old race course?


We are chasin' the moon
Just running wild and free
We are following through
Every dream and every need

And it really doesn't matter that we don't eat
And it really doesn't matter if we never sleep
No it really doesn't matter, really doesn't matter at all

Coz we are so young now, we are so young, so young now
And when tommorow comes, we can do it all again


Every gay boy should be so lucky as to have the both of you to chase the magic of moon shine with.

HYPERACTIVE, RYE & BABY CHRIS
2009

RYE, BABY CHRIS & HYPERACTIVE
2013

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.

DOES IT MATTER THAT CHARICE HAS COME OUT OF THE CLOSET?

CHARICE

Many in the LGBT community question the big hullabaloo surrounding Charice's coming out. Of course we still love and support her - nothing has changed; we could tell years ago that she was different anyway - that she's very likely one of us; we applaud her courage to come out into the open, etc. Really - darling, it's not a big deal! Shouldn't we therefore lead the charge towards the day when this type of announcement isn't newsworthy or necessary any more, by collectively having a more muted reaction?

But it is a big deal exactly because it is Charice. Here's why:

05 She defines celebrity today.

Certainly there have been other Filipino artists who have blazed a trail to international stardom. Lea Salonga is Broadway and Disney royalty. She is who she is thanks in part (a big part) to an elite group of taste makers. Producers, directors, critics - the Culturati.

In contrast, Charice is a product of self-promotion. She's a YouTube sensation. And she's relevant because she built and nurtured a massive following on her own long before influential taste makers came along to validate her talent. She's a true-blue internet celebrity.

Really, Charice shares more in common with Justin Bieber than she does with Lea Salonga. Lea and Charice are both Filipinos, but...

04 Charice is the new Pinoy. Relentlessly hardworking - sure. Insanely talented - absolutely. But also fearless, worldly, entitled and unapologetic.

She's got swagger. Brand Pinoy is so hot these days, it's cool. apl.de.ap. Nicole Scherzinger. Jessica Sanchez. Darren Criss. And speaking of Darren Criss...

03 Glee. Apart from Charice, who else has had guest appearances in this Emmy and Golden Globe-winning musical-dramedy television series?

- Olivia Newton-John
- Whoopi Goldberg
- Gwyneth Paltrow
- and Perez Hilton, also a true-blue internet celebrity.

Charice is in good company (hello, understatement!). Glee is arguably the most popular show about and amongst LGBT youth. There's no bigger platform for an LGBT role model than Glee. The only thing bigger than Glee is...

02 Oprah. Make that Oprah Winfrey and her ginormous sphere of influence. Once Oprah got into Charice's inner circle (we've already established that the taste makers are the late comers, in this case), the Celine Dion and David Foster connections were activated. Madison Square Garden, Las Vegas, Oscars after-parties, and an album that debuted at number 8 on the albums chart soon followed. To this day, Charice is the only Asian singer to have landed in the Top 10 of the Billboard 200.

She's still a long way away from Melissa Etheridge and k.d. lang - and for sure Sir Elton John belongs to an even higher echelon. But damn if Charice isn't breathing the same air as these gay music giants.

Before we start having unrealistic expectations about the music she'll be making from here onwards, though, let's be reminded that Charice is too much a product of new media. It's therefore unlikely that her music will take on an angst-y (artsy?) complexity, simply because she has arrived at the doorstep of the  LGBT universe. It's very likely, however, that we'll start hearing a deeper layer of pain because...

01 She's estranged from her mother.

This, I feel, should be the crux of Charice's coming out story. My fellow Charice fans know too well that her mum, Racquel, was practically her shadow. It even seemed to me like the absence of a love interest in Charice's life was because there wasn't any physical or emotional space available for anybody else to maneuver - that's how tight they were (watch the video below).

So what happened?

The Philippine Star reports that Charice is presently staying in the house of a family friend:

“I left our home because that’s what I had to do for now. Now, I can enter a house where I can do anything [without anyone passing judgment]."   

Charice then thanked what she called her "second family” for accepting her. In the next breath, she expressed hope that she and her mom and her grandmother will be able to sort things out and let bygones by bygones.

Woe be unto us, human beings, when judgment and rejection come from the first place we'd hope to receive love and affirmation instead.

Whilst we celebrate pockets of victory in our campaign for marriage equality, Charice, poster child for today's LGBT youth, is fighting a war we've had to endure for decades:

The war against discrimination in our own homes.      

THIS is why her story matters.

            

SWEET SPAGHETTI

WITH KARLO, NICKNAMED KANGKANG -
PERFECTLY LOGICAL,
IF YOU'RE GAY & PINOY.
     

JAMES & JIMMY

MIKEE'S SWEET SPAGHETTI

"Sis, join us at my place for my birthday dinner on Friday," read a WhsatsApp from my dear friend, Mikee. "Kangkang is coming!"

Kangkang is Karlo Feril, whom Mikee and I went to high school with. Mikee and Kangkang belonged to a clique of gay boys who knew themselves well enough to be nothing else but fantabulous in a school run by strict Paulinian nuns.

I envied Kangkang and Co. They were loud and colourful and free.

Hard to imagine that there ever was a time I was frightened to be gay. But I've only really transformed into The Hyperactive Gay Boy™ in the last five years out of necessity. I had to create a public profile for myself to help validate Mr. Gay Hong Kong and my other projects in the LGBT community. I thus became a multimedia whore. And I love being one!

Mikee and I became good friends soon after he moved to Hong Kong to manage restaurants for one of the biggest hospitality groups in the city. And I never really exchanged more than a few words with Kangkang until last night. It's fun to try and piece bits of each other's lives that, though parallel, haven't had a chance to intersect.

We drank tequila. We impersonated beauty queens. We recited lines from iconic Tagalog drama movies. We ate cake out of plastic cups. We sat in rapt attention as one of the boys extolled the virtues of poppers. And we practically inhaled Mikee's sweet spaghetti.

"What kind of sweetener did you use for the sauce," I asked Mikee. Each mouthful made every birthday party when I was a kid an ever more vivid memory.

"Banana ketchup," he replied.

But of course.

It's so fun to be gay and Pinoy.

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.

The Diva Video Of The Day™ Tamia / Officially Missing You (LIVE)

This version of the smooth R&B classic is slower and quieter, conveying greater sensitive and more heartfelt passages. The harmonies are also a lot closer together and more evocative of pained emotion.

This is my tune today; can't stop replaying it.

 

 // ANTIPOLO //

The Diva Video Of The Day™ Beyonce / I Was Here (LIVE)

Beyonce is quite possibly my favourite amongst my generation of divas, with Christina Aguilera a very close second. But whilst Christina's best years vocally are behind her, Beyonce's seem to still be ahead.

Her voice is rich and soulful and sexy and powerful and flawless. Sure, she's undeniably a pop star, but she's also clearly risen above just being a pop star.

This song could have been too smart or touchy-feely for comfort, but the honesty and simplicity of her delivery gives it (oddly enough) gravitas.

I love the rise and fall of the song. The low, chest-y verses show off a rarely heard part of Miss B's immense vocal range.

Any other diva might have been dwarfed by that extra-wide, extra-busy video wall. Not so Beyonce.

Happy Friday, bitchiz!

// ANTIPOLO //

The Diva Video Of The Day™ Helen Reddy / I Can't Say Goodbye To You

Chris has just decided to accept a job in Canberra.

So pardon me whilst I wax dramatic.

So what else is new.

 

// CUBAO // 

The Diva Video Of The Day™ Dionne Warwick / I'll Never Love This Way Again

I'll Never Love This Way Again is probably one of the most popular power ballads in singing competitions. It has been done by erstwhile American Idol contestants Jasmine Trias, Vonzell Solomon, Katharine McPhee... even by vocal coach Debra Byrd on Canadian Idol.

The easy rhythm, broad melody, soaring chorus, dramatic key change, and irresistible hook - it's a singalong crowd pleaser. It's fuck-up proof. You'll never fall off the beat, sing a bad note or forget entire stanzas because the entire song has, like, four lines of lyrics.

It was released in 1979 and won a 1980 Grammy Award for Best Female Pop Vocal Performance for Dionne Warwick. It was produced by Barry Manilow. Aha.

From one drama queen to another, keep holdin' on before the good is gone!

ANTIPOLO

 

THE CASE FOR GAYS AMONGST THE BOY SCOUTS

 

My dear friend Chinno (or just Chi, coz that sounds way more fabulous) has reached the highest rank possible for a Boy Scout. In fact Chi was once named one of the Ten Outstanding Boy Scouts of the Philippines. BJ, our other shufatid (a more fabulous way of saying kapatid, or sister) and I delighted in teasing Chi endlessly about his "butch" Boy Scout past. But in truth, we were secretly proud of Chi.

Inside or outside of scouting, Chi has never been anything but himself - loud, frighteningly intelligent, charismatic, flamboyant. It was because of Chi that my love for beauty pageants became an obsession - an addiction that I have parlayed into eventually founding Mr. Gay Hong Kong.

The three of us - Chi, BJ and myself - spent many a nights laughing through Chi's re-enactment of things that happened in national jamborees. Curious adolescent boys were prone to bekbkek, we found out- and it didn't really matter whether a gay comrade was present. In fact, we suspected it was all the more fun. Chi also recalled a scout master who was particularly protective over those who were different. Scout master advised, "Whenever you feel like you're being judged for being different, give yourself a big hug and say - 'I am special, I am special.' "

That's why when I heard about the struggle that's tearing at the heart of the Boy Scouts of America, I had to laugh. On one side, you've got the BSA which is staunchly anti-gay - I mean, really? On the other side, you've got expert LGBT campaigners - many of them former Boy Scouts themselves - targeting the Scouts' corporate sponsorship. TIME Magazine reports that UPS Inc., the Intel Foundation and the Merck Company Foundation have together pulled a total of USD850,000 in response to the protest. This would never happen in the Philippines, mainly because such amount of funding is better spent feeding poor people or improving rural infrastructure - not supporting an archaic organization flagrantly promoting inequality.

This issue is so hot, even President Obama has jumped into the fray, urging the Boy Scouts to end the ban on gays.

Chi got to where he was with the Boy Scouts of the Philippines because of merit - a brash certainty that he is entitled, because he is capable. He is a leader. To the Boy Scouts of the Philippines, it had nothing to do about being straight or gay - although I suspect that Chi easily bulldozed any opposition with a charm offensive. Pinoys are just a loving lot. That sounds touchy-feely, but it's true. We're aware that every family has an LGBT member, and that's fine. And that includes the Boy Scouts of the Philippines.

The Boy Scouts of America would do well to learn the same.



Lovingly dedicated to Chi and the Flower Platoon







   

The Diva Video Of The Day™ Terry Gian / Crazy In Love (Parody)

//

Yeah, history in the making

Part two, it's so crazy right now

I look and stare so deep in your eyes

I touch on you more and more every time

When you leave I'm begging you not to go

Call your name two or three times in a row

Such a funny thing for me to try to explain

How I'm feeling and my pride is the one to blame

'Cause I know I don't understand

Just how your love you're doing no one else can

Got me looking so crazy right now, your love's

Got me looking so crazy right now

(In love)

Got me looking so crazy right now, your touch

Got me looking so crazy right now

(Your touch)

Got me hoping you'll page me right now, your kiss

Got me hoping you'll save me right now

Looking so crazy in love's got me looking

Got me looking so crazy in love

Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no

Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no...

//

 

// FABIOLA //

 

MISS SUNSHINE

Graceful Swan: Miriam Quiambao
1st Runner-up, Miss Universe 1999

(Photo from Missosology)

Cinderella: Venus Raj
4th Runner-up, Miss Universe 2010

(Photo from Missosology)

The Intellectual: Shamcey Supsup
3rd Runner-up, Miss Universe 2011

(Photo from International Business Times)

The Thoroughbred: Janine Tugonon
1st Runner-up, Miss Universe 2012

(Photo by Matt Brown / Miss Universe Organization)

We grew up watching beauty pageants. Our parents, who owned a gallery, always happily sponsored pageant portraits for Miss Tuguegarao, Miss Cagayan, Miss CAVRAA, Miss SLCT... As the "official photographer" of these contests, we'd be in charge of selecting Miss Photogenic - a task we took seriously. We'd escort mum onstage when time came for her to unwrap the giant portrait that would reveal who amongst the candidates looked best in front of the camera.

Our uncle Henry was part of Kodak's team of photographers when Miss Universe was held in the Philippines in 1994. He came back to the province after the pageant, bearing spools of film with images that are now considered vintage. Funny. We remember it like it was yesterday, when a teenager from India beat the odds to emerge victorious over the pre-pageant favourite from Colombia and the towering professional volleyball player from Venezuela. The elaborate motorcades, the grand stage, the bright lights, the high-cut swimwear, the gorgeous evening gowns that sparkled as brightly as humanity's hubris in the 90's... We loved all of it.

Not content with sitting on the sidelines, we took our love of pageants well into our adulthood. We founded Mr Gay Hong Kong in 2009. And the rest, as they say, is history.

To understand Filipinos, one must understand our love of - no; our addiction to -  beauty pageants.

Life is still a desperate grind for millions of Filipinos.

The girl onstage - she with the beautiful smile, glossy hair, sparkly dress - is an aspiration. But for the entire time she's onstage, she's also our fantasy of who we are right now. She is a validation that we are worthy to be in the public eye - to wear the the crown, the sash, the sceptre, the shoes.

This was something that Imelda Marcos, a former beauty queen, understood all too well. She helped champion the Philippines' bid to host Miss Universe 1974 - the first time the pageant was held in Asia. 65 pageant contestants sang "Pamulinawen," - an Ilocano folk song believed to be a favourite of Imelda's husband, Philippine dictator Ferdinand Marcos.

And whilst Ferdinand and his cronies pillaged the national treasury, Filipinos suffered. Imelda therefore had to be the symbol of beauty; she really had no choice. The people expected it of her. It was all a great, big show composed of equal parts aspiration and distraction. Of course we all know how the rest of the story unfolds. Ferdinand Marcos is kicked out of power, is exiled, and proceeds to die. Imelda and her children return to the Philippines - back once again into the cradle of power. Imelda Marcos - former beauty queen - is now a global cultural icon.

Our fabulous domestic helpers and construction workers power the economies of many countries worldwide - this, we're extremely proud of. But we tend to believe that our best exports remain our singers, dancers and beauty queens. They are onstage. They are our cultural ambassadors. Across increasingly porous international borders, our beauty queens - who get to be on TV, can you believe it?! - project an image of the Filipino people the way we would like to be seen.

Polished.

Beautiful.

Able to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the best of them.

And always - always - with that unshakable Filipino smile.

Filipinos may deal with corrupt political institutions, landslides, maritime catastrophe, monsoons, destructive urban flooding that puts Noah and his proverbial Ark to shame. But as long as the crown and the title are within reach, we've got hope.

// Thank you, Janine. //

The Diva Video Of The Day™ Shirley Bassey / Where Do I Begin (LIVE)

//

He fills my heart with very special things 
With angels' songs, with wild imaginings 
He fills my soul with so much love 
That anywhere I go, I'm never lonely 
With him along, who could be lonely 
I reach for his hand, it's always there 

//

 

// I MISS CHRIS. //

The Diva Video Of The Day™ Susan Wong / California Dreamin'

//

Stopped in to a church I passed along the way.

Well I got down on my knees

(got down on my knees)

And I pretend to pray.

(I pretend to pray).

You know the preacher likes the cold.

(preacher likes the cold).

He knows I'm gonna stay.

//

 

// ANTIPOLO //

 

The Diva Video Of The Day™ Yvonne Elliman / Could We Start Again Please

//

I've been living to see you.
Dying to see you, but it shouldn't be like this.
This was unexpected,
What do I do now?
Could we start again please?
Could we start again?I've been very hopeful, so far.
Now for the first time,
I think we're going wrong.
Hurry up and tell me,
This is just a dream.
Oh could we start again please?
Could we start again?

//

THE HYPERACTIVE GAY BOY™

// ANTIPOLO //

GETTING MARRIED

SANTUARIO DE SAN ANTONIO, FORBES PARK.

FLOWER, DUH.

VINTAGE JAGUAR BRIDAL CAR. WITH VINTAGE CARTOON CHARACTERS, NATCH.

BRIDE IN A DREAMY VEEJAY FLORESCA WEDDING GOWN.

ALMS FOR THE POOR? HOW VERY FORBES.

HYPERACTIVE, SHERYL GARCIA-POBRE, JULIUS POBRE. LOTS OF LAUGHTER.

TAJ POBRE. GUAPITO.
EVERY WEDDING RECEPTION -MUST- HAVE A SEPARATE SECTION JUST FOR KIDS.

THE BLUE LEAF PAVILION IS BATHED IN - WHAT ELSE? - BLUE.

// WHEN SOMEBODY LOVES YOU
IT'S NO GOOD UNLESS HE LOVES YOU
ALL THE WAY. //