Astron's Notebook

Hello, Friends!

"It ain't over 'til it's over" seems to be the theme of my new natal year. My birthday was on the 24th of July. It's now the 9th of August. Two nights ago, what was supposed to be just a casual dinner at a friend's place turned festive.

It was at Ricks's spacious apartment on Robinson Road. He gathered a few of our common friends together with a promise of serving Filipino dishes. I arrived late. Everyone was already settled. Monica, Patrick, Billy. Hugs, kisses and laughs all around. Having just arrived from overseas, Rick hands me a belated birthday present-- a beautiful bottle containing vanilla oil from Italy.

Rick's helper cooked adobo, but using lamb instead of pork or chicken. The pinakbet was similarly westernized. The succulent veggies were artfully laid on a dish, drained of the salty brown stew. Everything was delicious.

After dinner, Patrick emerged from the pantry with a chocolate cake. Everyone sang "Happy Birthday," afterwhich *I* was egged on to sing a song. None of my friends who were present that night has heard me sing before-- few of my friends have actually taken the trouble to come see my show. Bah. So I obliged their request, picking the super-easy Nat King Cole standard, "Unforgettable."

We still had plenty to catch up about, but we broke the party at midnight. Rick had to get up at 5AM for a training session at the gym.

***

Chris and I dropped by Volume last night to say hello to our good friend, Joseph. We knew Joseph would be busy with New Arrival Wednesdays, Volume's midweek Happy Hour for the out-of-towners and the boys who want to play with them. So Chris and I planned to just stay for one drink and then head for home.

Joseph surprised us, however, by quietly setting red candles and a bottle of Veuve Clicquot on a corner table while Chris used the rest room.

I knew Joseph had been planning a candle-and-champagne tete-a-tete for myself and Chris as his birthday present to me... "You should have told me you guys were coming..." Joseph lightly scolded. Chris was away for three weeks on business and had missed my birthday. Joseph was obviously excited to see him again. "We just came to say hi to you and Evan," I reasoned, overwhelmed yet again by Joseph's kindness and attention. The club was hopping that night, after all!

During particularly boozy nights while Chris was away, Joseph would kid that, "Chris just called up to ask me to look after you."

So there we were, Chris and myself, in the remaining minutes of Wednesday night, drinking champagne by candlelight, surrounded by out-of-towners gyrating to the seriously irresistible 80s dance tracks played by Evan.


***

Right before our little trip to Volume, Chris and I made a late-night visit to our good friend, top celebrity photographer Norm Yip. I needed a professional headshot for my audition at The Sands in Macau tomorrow. Unfortunately, all studious I visited would not do a rush headshot job. I would have had no other choice except to crawl into one of the sundry passport photo shops to ask them to produce an 8 x 10 print for me-- a thought I did not particularly relish, since a gig at The Sands is potentially worth a lot of money.

Enter Norm to the rescue, at 10PM (!!). He invites me and Chris to come over any time after dinner. Norm is steam ironing the gray backdrop himself when we get to his studio. Chilled bossa is smoothly spilling from a high-tech sound system as Norm putters about, setting up his equipment. We chit chat.

Half an hour later, we have a handful of good shots from the dozens that Norm has taken. Although there were a lot of fun, silly shots that showed personality, Norm and Chris voted on a capture that projected a sunny, youthful image.


Rabbi James Gannaban, 9 August 2007, (c) Norm Yip Photography

Norm enthused that I was easy to photograph-- much easier than the executives whose portraits he has to take for their company's annual reports. (Duh.)

Norm charged me a pittance-- only a fifth of his usual fee for a sitting, not to mention that mine was a rush job in the middle of the night. Of course Norm endlessly reminded me that he had to set aside a million other things to accommodate me. (What a sweetheart.) Hehe. And then Chris picked up the tab-- his birthday present to me, he said, since he had forgotten to pick up a present in Cambodia.

***

I'm surrounded by such loving beings. How did I get so lucky?

To channel Julie Andrews as Maria in The Sound of Music, "Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good."

Thank you, God, for giving me great friends.


With Affection,
Astron

Part 1
Part 2

Hello, Friends!


Heart Failure, ye shall be called Speedo
Henry, Alex, Kai

Death by Gorgeousness. Boys with beautiful bodies luxuriously sunbathing like lizards on a rock. Except these golden bodies weren't really on a rock, but on the terrace of a 90-foot Sunseeker yacht. It was enough to give me fat-boy complex all over again if I weren't, in fact, too busy appreciating the buffet before me to recall childhood psychoses!

The 29th of July was the third and final leg of my marathon birthday week (birthweek?). Forty boys on a boat bound for South Bay on a glorious Sunday. You could sense the easy vibe, the comfort and enjoyment that's guaranteed in the company of good friends.

The boys were frisky, to be sure.


Legs weren't the only things that caught a-tangle


A basket of apples can only hope to look better
Billy, myself, Eric

"James, give me back my socks," my good friend, Michael, admonished loudly. My crotch was the running gag of the day. Quite a few shots like this were taken, it turned out. The boys noisily speculated if what was inside was real or padded. I would say, "It's the bathers that makes the package look big. Nothing special, so don't get excited,"-- which they would then take as an invitation to feel me up and check if, indeed, it was all me.

Boys will be boys.

***

A number of amusing anecdotes from the trip:

1. I was peeing in the toilet when I overheard two bankers arguing the comparative merits of working on debt and equities. Welcome to Hong Kong.

2. David, a Frenchman, was wearing a pair of blue bathers boldly printed with a yellow SPANK on the posterior. "Do you have one that says LICK?" I inquired.

3. Victor setting up a "sticky area" on the terrace for, well, the "sticky rice" guys (Asian guys who like only Asian guys, to the uninitiated). Victor playfully needled Ivan about having a gweilo for boyfriend. "You haven't tried a sister before. You might like it!" Victor suggested, which elicited a chorus of cheers from other Asian boys. "I like white guys!" Ivan replied with conviction.

***

At around 4PM, Michael gathered everyone to the terrace. Myself and Tommy, the other birthday boy, were surrounded by beautiful men lustily singing "Happy Birthday" as Michael revealed a round slab of chocolate cake.

A bottle of champagne was popped. Tommy and myself were bathed with Veuve Clicquot. My good friend, Tony, playfully lapped up the dribble on my tummy, but soon decided it wasn't worth it-- he tasted sweat and sunscreen there, too.


Let them eat cake!
Me serving little slices of chocolate cake from a table napkin.

The figure-conscious boys momentarily eschewed their dietary restrictions to sample the irresistible confection. It was baked by Remy, Michael and Jewell's helper, who has taken a shine to me. Thank you for not scrimping on the cocoa, Remy!

***



Visions of Love
Clockwise from top: Billy & Euguene, Ivan & Greg, Jewell & Michael

Like a sunflower turns its head to catch the brightest of rays, so do human beings bloom brightest when frolicking underneath sunshine. We let loose the most carefree laughter. We perform the silliest antics. We sigh the deepest, most contented of sighs.

And when the sky is blue and cloudless like this, our thoughts similiarly clarify to focus on but the most visceral elements of the moment. The briny scent of seawater carried by a benevolent breeze. The gentle rocking of the boat. The familiar warmth of a loved one, skin against skin. Waxing romantic might be rendered a cliche if not for the sincerity of the gesture and its silent acceptance-- a wordless squeeze, a meaningful look, a fleeting kiss that's no less electric than the first time.

"You are like a bee," a friend observed. Maybe so. It takes just the warm summer to gather this big a group of friends out on a trip like this. I wanted to make sure I touched base with as many friends as I could, specially ones I have not seen for a long time.

Or, since I'm feeling a compulsion to peel the superficial, I will admit that socializing is my coping mechanism for being single.

"I'm really an introvert, you know," I confided quietly. My friend was about to utter words of disbelief when, gobsmacked by the honesty of my own admission, I winked as though to show I was kidding.

He laughed.

All the Pozzos and Luckys* of the world may come and go to distract me with their circus act. And I might be momentarily entertained. Distracted, if you will. Truth is, I am done waiting for Godot. I just want the Vladimir to my Estragon. Only then can this busy bee stop and assume a true act of repose in life's tragicomedy-- sitting under a tree.

***

At sunset, Michael gathered everyone to the terrace for a group pictorial. The skipper did the honours so that everyone can be in the photograph.


The Asian Boys
Can you spot me? Rightmost, wearing baggy white shorts

"Where does Eric belong??" someone hollered, just as Michael called to gather the gweilos for the next shot. Eric is a dusky Latino. "He gets his own photo!!" a voice piped in reply, to our collective laughter.


The Gweilos
Plus Eric, standing second from left


29 July 2007, Class Photo @ South Bay
Count 'em, forty beautiful men

***

The amber glow of full moonshine dappled the ripples as we sailed back to Central. I felt like she was shining specially for Hong Kong that night. Resting in between the glittering silhouettes of Two IFC and The Center, she looked so big, so near-- like a ripe, golden fruit suspended in the mauve night sky.

The trip back was quiet.

***

The past year has been a tumultuous rollercoaster ride. Amazing highs as tall as Hong Kong's skyscrapers, coupled with rock-bottom lows. Thank goodness I can still anchor myself to the constancy of family, to nature's unfailingly ascendant beauty, and to the love of good friends.

Thanks to Ben and Trish for seeing me through my sudden health debacle. Thanks to Noel and Roy for being the big brothers I never had. Thanks to Joseph and Evan for hosting the biggest birthday splash of my life. Thanks to Tony, who took care of raggedy me. Thanks to Michael, Jewell and Eugene for organizing the junk trip. Thanks to Remy, who baked the cake. And thanks to all of you who wished me well.

Birthdays are celebrated because of friends like you.



With Affection,
Astron



Post-It

No, I can't swim.



*Characters from the seminal Absurdist masterpiece, Waiting For Godot, by Samuel Beckett.
-Thanks to Michael and Jewell for the beautiful photos

Hello, Friends!


I had a sickee episode at work the day before my birthday. Having been born eight weeks premature, I don't have the strongest of constitutions. This time, it was tummy trouble. I took some Pepto-Bismol, but every pink bit of it came spewing as I repeatedly heaved over the sink. I would drink to rehydrate, but my system would reject even water within two minutes. I was shaking; I didn't know which posture to get into to ease the pain.

My manager called 999 (HK's emergency) and within 20 minutes, help came. It was all so theatrical-- sprightly paramedics, stretcher, worried friends, an ambulance. The works.

Ben, a colleague, came with me.

***

We got to the Princess Margaret Hospital in Mei Foo at around noon. I had to wait three hours at the Accidents & Emergency ward till a doctor saw me, since my case was classified as just semi-urgent. I couldn't complain. Although I had vomited a grand total of seven times before a doctor finally got to me, there were others who were in more serious need of attention-- a man whose foot got shot and a boy who was practically holding his intestines in a plastic bag. I shrank in my wheelchair and retreated into the warm embrace of the thick, blue, hospital-issue blanket that Ben had procured.

***

"Gastroenteritis," the doctor pronounced. He gave me two intramuscular injections. I was instructed to wait for another hour for the meds to take effect, afterwhich my condition would be reexamined.

By this time, Ben had gone back to work and another colleague (and one of my closest friends), Trish, had come by.

During that hour-long wait period, I asked to be wheeled out to the pedestrian walkway where it was warmer and more cheerful. I napped under the late afternoon sunshine. Trish kept watch.

***

I was released at 5PM.

Before nightfall, I was in Trish's modish flat in Caribbean Coast. It was an all-white, two-bedroom affair with showroom-evocative lighting and furniture. I prompty collapsed on her heavenly bed, where I drifted in and out of sleep until 10PM.

It was the eve of my birthday. I had an entire night planned around it. Two of my best buds, Roy and Noel, were going to host an intimate gathering for me. I was bringing over some board games. I wanted my good friends and I to just be kids. We were gonna have pizza and beer. Everyone was gonna greet me a Happy Birthday at the strike of midnight... That was the plan.

Instead, I was on Trish's bed, sick.

***

At 10PM, the doorbell buzzed.

It was Roy and Noel, bearing food and friends.

They had brought the party to me.

***

I like to think that it's the love of true friends rather than meds that made me recover speedily.

It was Noel, who always knows the first thing to do when I'm sick.

It was Ben, who would wordlessly replace my barf bag and gently secure the blanket around me while I shivered in A&E.

It was Trish, who brought me home and babied me, making sure I took my meds on sked, working the phone with friends while I slept, gracefully executing a Plan B birthday gathering.

It was Roy, who made his signature puttanesca with much love.

It was Franz, Milai, Melody, Myrene and Marah who lustily sang Happy Birthday as the cake was brought out close to midnight.



Paper plates, soda cans, table wine. And all the love in the world. How did I get so lucky?


Whenever someone asked what I wanted for my birthday, I replied: Nothing. I can honestly say I have everything I could possibly need.



With Affection,
Astron

Hello, Friends!


This afternoon, while on my stand-by period at work, I watched the last few episodes of America's Next Top Model Cycle 7 in the Green Room.

And then I took a nap. And then I had high tea, which I enjoyed with my close friend, Trish, while waiting for our stand-by time to be over.

I love my job!

***

On another stand-by period, I went to the Disneyland Hotel poolside with my little sister, Anthony, and m'belle, Melody.

We were only supposed to get some sun (i. e. quiet, mind-your-own-business, set-the-timer-for-quarter-hour-flips sunbathing), but the two younger ones (I'm ancient, see) ended up ordering some cool, fruity drinks while flipping through gossip rags. I had water and peanuts.

But being the camwhores we were, we couldn't resist just lying down by the poolside yakking. All three cameras came out of our bags and pretty soon, we had enlisted the help of a cheerful Cast Member to help us take photos.


Anthony, Melody, James

The sun was still very bright at 4PM; all our cams had trouble capturing a serviceable image. Or, being performers, we were just too vain-- we couldn't be content with pics that were just ok. LOL.

The sky was blue till about 7PM. We got to enjoy plenty of sun after it had expended most of its punishing midday heat.

Say no to skin cancer!

***

Disneyland Hotel is built to resemble an antebellum mansion in the American South. It's gorgeous. And being by the poolside emphasizes the fact that your are, indeed, in a resort. It doesn't even feel like Hong Kong any more.

Pretty soon, my two irrepressible companions had dragged me to go up on the water slide. It was embarrassing. There we were, three grown-ups, lined up with tots in front of us and behind us, waiting to slide.

Anthony went first. He went into the water en pointe. He was showing off his enviable arch.

Melody had the wisdom to slide down on her back, thus protecting her girly bits.

I slid down on my bum. The dips and bumps of the slide threw me around every which way, burning my posterior. (I was reminded of the regrettable fact that I do not have much of one.)

We went down the slide over and over and over again...

***

My little sister, Anthony, is a ballet-trained, former cheerleader from Mapua before he was plucked to join the happiest workforce on earth. Melody, on the other hand, already has the US National Tour of 4nd Street under her belt. Both these kids just turned of legal drinking age. I am jurassic, by entertainment terms.

It's feels great to be working with beautiful, talented, energetic youngsters in such a relaxed environment. Honestly, I can't think of any place better for me to be working in at the moment.

Of course I miss the administrative rigours and creative demands of my old job with the New Voice Company. But being here now is allowing me to enjoy so many things that I missed out on while hitting with the grown-ups back in Manila and Singapore.

I reckon I spend more time at work than I do on my bed; I don't need much sleep, any way. I count myself lucky that I enjoy my job so much. I never just walk on my way to work. There's a hop, skip and a jump. And, on occasion, jazz hands!

Cheers! Wishing everyone a fun, productive week ahead!


With Affection,
Astron

 

Man 1: It's great to have you back. I had a terrible weekend. Since we started hanging out, my standards have gone up. I don't like hanging out with other guys any more... (smiles)

Man 2: Why me? You know I'm a difficult target... (kneads Man 1's hands)

Man 1: Do you feel like I'm trying to pin you down?


BEAT


Man 2: Sometimes... yes. Sometimes, no.

Man 1: I'm not. Everything is clear to me.

 

BEAT 

 

Man 2: Do you want another drink?

Man 1: Do you?

Man 2: What do you wanna do? We could stay or we could go.

Man 1: I don't know...

 

BEAT

 

Man 2: Let's get something to eat.

Hello, Friends!


You know summer is just around the corner when even your normally sedentary manager looks longingly out of the window, murmuring a compulsion to go to the beach.

Thankfully, homosexuals don't need any excuse to slip into sexy bathers showcasing hours of labour in the gym. And that's precisely the reason for celebration-- the big labour weekend. Spring Fling, it was called. And part of it was the Floatilla-- Gay Pride on water!

***



Floatilla 2006 photo from http://www.fridae.com

I had just moved to Hong Kong at that time last year. Floatilla 2006 was sort-of a social coming-out party for me. It was a huge deal. There were 13 boats in all, if I remember correctly. I faced the seemingly insurmountable challenge of remembering names and faces and histories... Don't we like to say that Hong Kong is a small town where everybody knows everybody else?

I was always introduced as "James, the boyfriend of..."

And that seemed like enough history to identify me by. My identity was defined by my attachment to a well liked denizen of the local party scene.

That was then.

This year, it's gonna be just me.

But who is this me?

What have I made of myself in the past year?


***


Booking a spot in a boat can be quite competitive.

I was lucky to have had three invites. I politely declined one (a boat of twinks, natch; I'd lose in a beauty pageant). I gave another to a friend who, until the last minute, had not been able to book a slot-- my good deed for the day. And I happily accepted my friend Tony's invite to come on the Gay Invasion boat. I had to be with people I liked if I were to spend an entire day in a boat!

(Gay Invasion is an idea that seeds gay presence in straight venues on Thursdays. Quite literally, we invade.)


***


I spent the night at Tony's. The eve of the Floatilla was spent with friends watching Priscilla, Queen of the Desert while gorging on sushi and M&M's.

The next morning, I volunteered to pick up packed lunches for two boats (Gay Invasion 1 and 2) from Deli Lamma in Lan Kwai Fong while everybody else helped Tony haul drinks, floaters, toys and accessories to the marina.

I arrived at the restaurant to see my friend, Michael, waiting to claim his boat's (Fruits in Suits) order. Moments later, Les Peches' ringleader, Betty, walks in for provisions for "50 hungry dykes."

The tricks that Deli Lamma's chef had to pull were nothing short of heroic-- from picking fresh ingredients to feed 200 finicky homosexuals in 4 boats, to improvising when he ran out of certain ingredients in the middle of the night, and to staying up the entire night, all through to the morning, to deliver on the orders.

The ghostly silence of Lan Kwai Fong at 7AM belied the frenetic activity at Deli Lamma.


***

By 9AM, assembly time, we were all in Causeway Bay.

The forecast was for sunny skies, but silly weather turned drama queen on us all. There were scattered rainshowers and a slight chill in the air.

However, for this nautical sojourn, homosexuals will not be stopped from whipping out dark, dramatic, designer lunettes-- as though there were actually any harmful glare to protect their Lasik-ed eyes from. Tank tops, towels, sunglasses-- the marina was dripping in D&G.

To inject a festive mood in defiance to an overcast sky, Tony tore open one of the sacks that we had brought with us-- accessories. Hats! Feathers!! Ribbons!!! Beads!!!!!

Instantly fabulous, we were ready to go!



Cock and Friends: Marco (Brazil), James (Philippines), Andy (UK), Rye (Philippines)


***


How does one prepare for the year's biggest boat party?

Get a haircut, of course: my brief to my stylist was, "It has to look good when wet."

And shop for bathers.

It took me forever to find the pair that made me go, "Oooh, this is the one." I found it at Spy the night before Floatilla; it was stock that had just arrived.

My bathers were quite conservative, considering the event. Just tight black shorts with white trim. Ok, so it had gold lettering and splashes of pink, too. LOL.


Check out the only photo of myself with my new bathers! Wheee!

I just grabbed the photo above from somebody else's online album. The caption read "Neighbouring boat." LOL. Kevin (from New York) and I were having a serious discussion about relationships.

I had a camera, of course, but throughout the Floatilla, I had neglected to take it out of my bag. I was busy helping Tony look for missing bottles of vodka, helping Kevin inflate enormous floaters (we didn't have a pump so we had to do it the old-fashioned way-- by blowing), and uselessly encouraging gay men who gymmed and dieted diligently for this event to actually eat the food that I had so lovingly picked up just hours before.


***







Photos from http://www.geocities.com/floatillahk

The party was at a remote cove that's about an hour's trip from Hong Kong. The combination of verdant mountains, rocky outcrops and powdery beach provided a stunning backdrop.

The final tally was 28 boats, although I know for a fact that a couple of non-Floatilla yachts wandered by and joined in for a few hours of fun.

Some of the boats ferried smaller motorized vessels to serve as water taxis. My boat alone had guys who flew in from as far as South Africa and Mexico just for the Floatilla. Of course there were also the usual suspects-- Singaporeans, Australians, Americans, Canadians, Brits. There were a handful of Malaysians, Thais, Filipinos, Indians, Europeans. The Chinese and Taiwanese came in full force. It was an exciting opportunity to make new friends. And the water taxis ensured that plenty of love, peace and goodwill went around.

A DJ pumped the briny air with (what else) homohouse from the Mother Ship, which, to our horror, got an unexpected visit from the cops!

Hong Kong parties are notorious throughout Asia for getting raided, but I don't think anybody was quite prepared for police presence at the Floatilla. As the government-issue boat powered closer to the Mother Ship, pandemonium broke out--jeering, clapping, booing, disbelieving laughter.

The cops left after a few minutes. Perhaps they were convinced by the lovely folks at the Mother Ship that no illegal substances were being consumed. Just beer and cookies.


***


Not even shitty weather could ruin the celebratory mood. If you asked, everybody would assert that theirs was the best boat to have been in, which was great! It meant people brought their own fun with them.


***


A few anecdotes stand out in my memory.

1. Albert, an irrepressible Chinese twink, squealing, "Oh, the Sugar Daddy boat!" and then jumping into the icy cold waters to swim towards the Fruits in Suits' craft. Hilarious.

2. An elderly man who claimed to be a doctor from London feeling up my torso and then giving me an admonition to take care of my kidneys. I was grateful for the on-the-spot diagnosis. Later, I would see him do the exact same thing to two other guys. I can't believe I fell for his M.O.!

3. Guys from my boat jumping for beer at the next boat-- Les Peches. Saved! Thanks, ladies!


***


The Many Adventures of Andy and the Sea Turtle

The trip back to Hong Kong Island was quiet. Many slept.

Tony and I cleaned up and packed leftovers. We tried to properly deflate the floaters until I pointed out that we didn't really have the space to store all these toys. I handed him a pen, which I suggested he use to puncture holes through the floaters. It was great fun. Hopefully the debris got carted someplace where it could be recycled.


***


Post-Floatilla, I *did* find another photo of me in my bathers. It's in the June 2007 issue of Dim Sum Magazine, page 45. It's an unattractive visage, to be sure. I was sweaty and had on a smile so wide, it disfigured my face.

I looked so happy.

In contrast, almost all my photos from last year's Floatilla had me pouting in an oh-I'm-so-sexy way that now makes my skin crawl. And I was wearing exactly the kind of dark, dramatic sunglasses that I made fun of this year.

Last year, I had a wealth of photos on Fridae and G Magazine-- so embarrassingly arriviste, in hindsight, mucking whenever a camera appeared. This year, I was content to help take photos of other people. I got to be witness to many a flirtation, many a meaningful friendship, many a life-affirming partnership.

I never stopped oiling myself up with essence of coconuts and molasses last year. I spent so much time lying down, on my back and on my belly, getting a tan. This year, I was preoccupied helping to make sure that the out-of-towners were having a good time.

Last year, I was introduced as "James, the boyfriend of..." This year, I easily facilitated many introductions, myself. I was empowered; I am great at being single, too! I got to nurture individual friendships, I got involved in the exciting business of matchmaking, I got to play gracious host to itinerant gay men.

I did see beautiful couples who made me feel a familiar ache. But the exhilaration I felt that day was deliciously unfamiliar. And I embraced it. I was free from the kind of starry-eyed, just-you-and-me physicality that's a better fit for the home than a big party like the Floatilla.

A year after Floatilla 2006, I feel like a better-formed person. I miss being coupled, to be sure. But I know now that real wedded bliss comes only to those who are truly ready for it. I have yet a lot of growing up to do.

I have learnt to not be too hard on myself. I have learnt to enjoy, to be silly, to care less about looking good than feeling good.

I have learnt to smile.



To smile as wide as I can!


I am finally happy.



With Affection,
Astron

My good friend, Rony, alerted me to the presence of my photos in a site called PinoyPride.

Lo and behold, I see three photos of myself in the LGBT Gallery, in the R-Rated section, under the Amateurs/Unknowns tab. "No full nudity, please," admonished the gallery's moderator.

I did not even know of this web community until then. Funny that someone should upload my photo, calling me a Marky Cielo lookalike. Who is Marky Cielo??? Google yielded this photo of a Starstruck Survivor:



And these were my photos at PinoyPride:



I could only access the thumbnails coz apparently, only VIPs are allowed to see the full-sized images. And VIPs are members who have made at least 300 posts.

Previously, I was alerted by a Shanghai-based friend that two of my photos appeared on Singapore-based gay community, Trevvy. The said photos were under the Hotbods tab:



At least my photos at Trevvy were flatteringly labeled "model" and not "Amateur/Unknown." LOL.

In both cases, I had not previously heard of the site where my photos appeared. And when I tracked down the community members who uploaded my photos, I ended up not knowing them, either.

Scary, and also a bit exciting. My name was never printed under any of the five photos above, as it never did whenever my photos appeared in Hong Kong's gay rags, G Magazine and Dim Sum. Just a face that, as Rony put it, "gets around."

At work today, there were two Muscle Marys watching the show from the second row. They were a couple, to be sure-- they were holding hands. So sweet. I could not miss that they were looking at me, maybe because they recognized my face from Fridae, or heck, from anywhere. Or maybe they read my blog. Or maybe I am just being delusional and the queens could just smell a princess from a mile away, that's why they were obviously talking about me throughout the show.

Whatever the case may be, I am endlessly tickled-- for now. That is, at least until someone alerts me that someone is using my photos in their profile, masquerading to be me.

For now, I bide my time. As I told a friend who solicitously offerred to review my album when it comes out, "agents aren't exactly knocking my door down to sign me up just yet." LOL.

May you find little pockets of surprise (as I did with the photos above!) to delight you through the weekend, dear friends!


With Affection,
Astron

Hello, Friends!


I received a phone call from an old friend today. Someone from whom I haven't heard in half a year. The phone call unnerved me just as much for the surprise element as the content of the conversation... It forced me to take stock of my choices in the past few months. 

Self-doubt doesn't quite run dry, does it?

When I was in my last year of university, I had a particularly difficult break-up. A bitter old queen told me, "Honey, it's not gonna be your last break-up, either. You had better get used to it."

How sad... 

I never enter a relationship thinking that it will end. I never set myself up for failure-- of course I want the relationship to work!

However, people change. Growing into a relationship doesn't necessarily mean growing together. There could be shared investments, say art or real estate. There could be exotic holidays planned many months in advance-- Mykonos, Shanghai, Barcelona. And then there are the friends and places-- the watering hole, dinners, poker nights. But two lives becoming more intertwined does not necessarily equal greater intimacy. It could also create too much familiarity, animosity, alienation. It could create emotional and physical suffocation, the kind that's almost impossible to talk about especially because it has become so familiar, so routine.  And even when these baggages begin to exist, two people have grown so much INTO a relationship that sometimes it's just easier to stay together.

So many relationships in Hong Kong go this way. Don't get me wrong-- I'm far from judging other people's choices.  I just know that I've made a choice for myself-- that I will not fall into what I see as a trap. The lure to stay into a crappy (or even boring) relationship is strong, given the population's transient nature. It's a town of winners; people work hard; it's difficult to find a quality guy. Many of us yearn to root ourselves in something constant. And a relationship might give the illusion of permanence. A relationship becomes a security blanket.

Break-ups never get any easier, no matter how many you've gone through. But I'd choose breaking up any old day over staying within a decaying relationship just because it's what's familiar. It takes a particular sort of courage to recognize that something is broken beyond repair.

And while breaking up is difficult--and heartbreaking, no matter how little the love you have left for your partner is--the real challenge is in picking up the pieces. In bravely facing all the inquisitive faces so typical of small towns. In facing other couples' scorn, or worse, pity, that you didn't turn a blind eye and choose to LIVE the ideals of Pleasantville, as Hong Kong sometimes appears to be. 

And even more so, the challenge lies in reclaiming friends, places, memories. In piecing your life together. In untangling the knots of human experience. In becoming your own person again, sans baggage, sans cynicism. Sans the poison of suspicion and disbelief.

So here I am, blissfully single. Or maybe deplorably single-- depends who you're asking. LOL. Maybe I need to be more realistic? Maybe there are experiences I have yet to discover that will change my entire view of relationships. As another old queen once told me, "I wish you were ten years older so that you wouldn't be carrying around all that bullshit."

Ah, well...

Call me naive, but this is how I choose to go on: With my eyes and mind wide open, able to embrace the fullness of human existence with nothing but joy and love in my heart.

Bring on tomorrow!!


With Affection,
Astron

 
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Hong Kong Hallucination. Photo taken by myself from the Avenue of the Stars

Hello, friends :-)

I first heard about blogging as a collegiate youth in Manila... I suppose I was (still am) a netwhore. I opened accounts on Friendster, Livejournal, Myspace, Blogger, Multiply, WhoKnowsWhatElse.com... I snapped up a Gmail invite when 1G storage space was first offerred. And then I came across Spymac and signed up for another 1G email account. Anything novel, I wanted. We didn't quite enjoy these in Cagayan Valley... I was excited to get myself online! 

Useless, useless, useless. I was not net-savvy enough to take advantage of all the amazing free space, find-your-high-schoolmate online communites, share-your-photos-with-friends sites, etc. 

Livejournal was different, though. I remember spending sleepless nights putting down almost stream-of-consciousness frustrations, aspirations, heartbreaks, ambition... and finding a sympathetic audience. Geeks, rich kids, barrio bumpkins like myself... all sorts of interesting people whose lives I devoured voyeuristically, as well, through their journals.

I was hooked.

But  when I moved to Hong Kong in 2005, work and my new life took most of my time. There was a new social support group to create and nurture, new environs to get accustomed to, a new pace of life all together.

Of late, I found that I missed writing. Multiply or Myspace or Blogger never quite gave me the instant gratification I got from LJ. I like it here. 

Through this new blog, I hope to share with you (and to keep a record for posterity's sake as well) some photos and anecdotes of my and my friends' (mis)adventures.

I'd like to call this my notebook. Astron's Notebook.

Read on, leave comments and please do include me in your Friends List.

With Affection,
Astron