Astron's Notebook

Hello, Friends!

I was just supposed to have a quiet asalto. But barely a week before my birthday, Volume's Joseph suggested I invite my friends over for good ole' drinkin' and dancin'.

"I'll serve some spring rolls and sushi," he offerred. "I can't promise anything coz I'll be doing the Svedka event the next night, but I might be here to spin for you..." teased Evan, a.k.a. DJ Stonedog.

It was my good friend, Rye (of the popular blog, Can't You Read?, and of the wacky podcast, The Dan & Rye Show), who came up with the idea of a Red Party.

"Red *is* auspicious," I agreed.

"But don't wear red, so *you* stand out," Rye punctuated with a fluorish.

And so it was. Before the night ended, the wheels were turning for a big Red Party on the 24th of July hosted by one of Hong Kong's banner nightspots for boys.

***


Look who came to greet me a Happy Birthday-- Buddy & Lucy, Volume's mascots!


Clockwise from Top-Left: (1) With my confidante, hospitality guru and philanthropist Andrew Jones; (2) With Guerlain's Todd Hartwell-- word after the party was Todd charmed the guests off their socks! (3) With sexy design maven Addy Ngo (left) and ace engineer Anthony Chan (right). Anthony has guided me through the crazy, fickle world of the HK scene from the very beginning, and so I affectionately call him "Uncle"; (4) With sales exec Peter Helis, who broke many hearts that night...

Volume was decked in glorious red. The guests wore red. The drink of the night--Tainted Love, a champagne-based cocktail created by Santosh, Volume's master barman--was red. Even the condoms in the condom trays were sorted so only the red ones were left-- kinda like serving just red M&M's. And don't forget my "cake," an upright bratwurst wrapped in a red condom with two round buns on each side representing--what else?--a giant erection.

***

To honor my great friends who came to help me celebrate, I present The Red Party Awards!


Best in Red: Irrepressible Firecracker from Down Under Jewell Chua shows us what's indeed down under; Italian wild child Melody Davi reveals her inner feelings


Runners-up: Uncle Roger (in a Hawaiian shirt) & Momma Tony (in koi fish-pattern sleeveless shirt) gifted me with blown-up photos of myself and a DVD of Floatilla 2007. I was, well, blown away. They returned early to Hong Kong from their holiday in tropical Haikou just for my birthday. They are my favorite couple. Thanks, guys!


Too Cool For Red: (From L-R) Nick, Pierre, Jay and Avalo. I was too happy to see their handsome faces, it didn't matter that they weren't wearing the night's motif.

Volume installed a new pole on the dancefloor only a few hours before the party and many of us gave it a whirl. It was a cakewalk for the ladies.


Best Pole Dancers: Myrene gives us her impression of a Fireman's Descent, while Kerryn lets us know, in unequivocal terms, how she feels. Kerryn took a lot of amazing photos of the party. Thank you!

***

The party was rated GP, for the most part... But when DJ Stonedog started spinning at midnight, well...


Rye was obviously grateful...


...and the shirts came off.

DJ Stonedog later observated that Volume has never been busier (or crazier, no doubt) on a Tuesday night.

***

A couple of priceless anecdotes that night:

1. There was an elderly gentleman whom nobody knew, and who seemed happy enough to nurse his drink by himself. I came by to introduce myself and to say hello. He was friendly. He greeted me a Happy Birthday. He left soon after, but returned in just a short while-- wearing RED!

2. The entire club sang a big Happy Birthday while Melody beatboxed.

***

The party had a great mix of locals and expats, Asians and Caucasians, the young and the young-at-heart, singles and couples. I am a great fan of Love. Seeing Jade & Anton, Erin & Alex, Michael & Jewell, Addy & Matt, Uncle Roger & Momma Tony, Greg & Ivan, and of course Joseph & Evan reaffirmed my belief in the largeness of the human heart. And the presence of my fabulous single friends (my bestfriend Trish Canilao and friend, sexy Singaporean-about-town Sitaren Sita, celeb photographer Norm Yip, events queen Michael Valenciano, hottie web designer Kenny Wan, music exec Eugene Low, hotshot product manager Billy Mak [still twinky!], Wayne, Nathan, Glyn, Kelly, Nelson, Andrew, Iroy, Marah, Sara, Adrienne, Miro, Wendell et cetera!) made sure that I did not die of Couple Envy on my birthday! Heeh!


A big THANK YOU to my good friend, Tony Licon, webmaster of OutInHK and gay Hong Kong society's Queen Bee, for helping me get the word out on the party. He would later haul me off my rubbery feet to his beautiful flat in the Midlevels, making me take some aspirin and apple juice to beat a monster hangover away.



My heartfelt thanks my good friends, Volume's power couple, Joseph and Evan. Words are not enough, guys. Thanks also to Santosh who made sure no glass went empty.

And of course to my friends who came-- it was truly a Happy Birthday because of your presence. Turning a year older is not always a reason to celebrate. In fact, it sometimes fills me with melancholy and doubt. "Do I matter?" With wonderful friends like you, the answer is a comforting, heartwarming "Yes."

Among all of you-- thank you for years of companionship. Life could be miserable. But it can also be an amazing joyride when shared with special people.


With Affection,
Astron

Hello, Friends!

Sometimes, because of the manic pace with which we conduct our lives, we tend to take for granted those around us-- our colleagues. Often, personalities become entangled in the politics of the workplace. Many of us get obsessed with getting the most out of the smallest possible effort-- quicker promotions, bigger paychecks, preferential days off and holidays, etc. Even the simple status of being employed can be a cause for competition among people who would otherwise be friends. It pits us against each other, specially in the fickle world of entertainment.

When you are on an overseas contract (like myself), however, the first friends you make are your colleagues. And with the fleeting nature of entertainment contracts, staying friends with them is practically a matter of survival. Since we, ourselves, are transient, we ache to ground ourselves in something familiar amidst the unfamiliar. That's why we are always trying to find something we like to do in common-- watch movies, get a tan, go shopping, work out...

Or drink.


Margarita Madness: Melody Davi, Sarah Alexander, Jade McFadden, Anthony Pura and myself. Photo taken by Trish Canilao


***


The photo above was taken at Hemingway's by the Bay at the Water Margin in Discovery Bay.

We ordered three rounds straight away to take advantage of Happy Hour prices.

The menu boasted of fresh-from-the-grill meat and seafood prepared Caribbean-style, as well as the largest collection (!!!) of rums in Asia.

We didn't get to start on our meal all at the same time because some orders took longer to be brought to our table. Same with the drinks. The wait staff, although friendly, was obviously stretched thin. We had trouble getting any service. There was only one barman servicing the entire restaurant, all tables of which were occupied.

(Since Hemingway's was packed, I could only deduce that there is great demand for alfresco dining in polluted Hong Kong. And Discovery Bay, being a community that prohibits most motor vehicles from plying its narrow, inclined streets, is the perfect setting for the waterfront gastronomic complex that is Water Margin. )

To be fair, I couldn't complain about the quality of the drinks or the freshness of the food. But if I get cranky waiting for my food and drink to arrive, it affects my total dining experience. Fortunately, my 8oz beef burger was REALLY tender and flavourful; it made me forget all about the delay in food delivery. Trish's salmon was a picture of pink perfection. Anthony was licking his fingers clean of the mouthwatering sauce that coated his grilled tiger prawns.

Plus, of course, watching the fireworks across the bay and the glittering reflections of skyscrapers on the water has a calming effect that made our demand for instant gratification melt away.

It's okay to wait.

***


We talked about lives and loves-- our histories.

We talked about sex-- the ladies had plenty to say about hair down there.

We talked about workplace irritants-- overweight dancing partners, a hippie attitude towards personal hygiene, lazy colleagues.

We ended up talking, getting angry, laughing until midnight. We left with reluctance, knowing we were having such a great time, but also realizing that we needed to be in the last buses or trains to home.

***

Friendships created in these circumstances can be tenuous. Because after six months, one year, three years, we will all part ways. Such is the nature of entertainment contracts. We are gypsies who go where the music beats loudest for us. And when we say goodbye, we do so with promises of "I'll keep in touch through e-mail," "I'll visit you soon," or "I'll host you when you come to my city." We need to believe that we are creating meaningful ties-- that fraternity can be fostered within such limited time and space-- because only then do isolated pockets of experience seem to come together to create a grounded existence.

Why allow life to be a pain when it can be enjoyable?

Here's to good friendship! Cheers!



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.

The only reason why there's a Part 2 is because these:


"Creepy guys from the States," as Melody called them...

...wanted these:


M'ladies: Melody Davi, Sarah Alexander, Trish Canilao

...and because a certain Garbage Compactor (me, who else) was hungry...


Yes, I finished 1.5 bottles of Heinz with my post-concert dinner, but who's counting? To my right is Carla Guevara, who was maybe amused...

***

It happened in Aviators, a pub close to the airport.

So, anyway, we were there, eating, drinking, posing for each other's cameras (God, how many cameras do we need, really???), and just being rowdy when one of the creepy guys approaches me and strikes a conversation. (Why me? Did I look like the ringleader of this boisterous bunch?) Since he didn't look like he was inclined to leave, I felt obliged to introduce him to the group.

"Hey, everybody! This is is (Creepy Guy's name)," I yelled above the din.

He obviously has had a few drinks at that point, because he kept asking the same questions over and over again ("Are you guys flight crew from San Francisco?," "What are you doing tomorrow?"). Everyone was getting tired of his obvious efforts to hook up. My girlfriends were looking at me to send him away.

Trish's date got up to approach Creepy Guy. Fearing a straight guy confrontation in a pub, I got up, ran to grab the closest thing I could-- the day's South China Morning Post, and rushed back to the table.

I opened the expansive pages right in front of Creepy Guy and blurted, "Hey Trish, look! Photos of the Handover Anniversary," reaching across the table to thrust the section towards Trish. "Carla, this is the kind of horse I've always wanted as a kid," I barreled on nervously, opening the Racing section and showing my seatmate a photo of a gorgeous Arabian.

As we started fussing over the paper's broad sheets on the cluttered tables, Creepy Guy said a hasty goodbye and David retreated to his seat.

I'm sure David would have handled the situation like a pro, being a restaurant owner, himself. But I wasn't so sure about Creepy Guy Who's Had a Few Drinks. And since I was the one who introduced Creepy Guy to our little party, anyway, I felt compelled to be the one to send him on his way.

Phew.

***

OF COURSE it's a wig.

***




Taking a photo of my reflection on the MTR's last trip to Central


Are empty trains to be a recurring image in my life?



With Affection,
Astron

Hello, Friends!


How does a superfan prepare to see the Hong Kong leg of Christina Aguilera's Back to Basics world tour?

Why, go blonde, of course...


Blonde Attack: Myself and Erin Gray

...and wear killer shoes.


My new pair of wingtips, made of leather, denim and a rubber sole. Cheeky, no?


***


A whole bunch of Disneyfolk trooped to the AsiaWorld Expo Arena (capacity: 13, 500) to see the former Mouseketeer. We occupied almost two blocks.


With my beautiful kumare, Pheona Baranda


Brilliant.

Just when we we getting antsy and tired of mugging for each other's cameras, the lights went out and the heavy curtains lifted to reveal three gigantic screens and a wide stairway. On either side of the stairs were musicians. There was a huge brass section. The crowd went nuts, screaming "ChristinAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

The center screen lifted to reveal a petite creature dressed in white. And then pandemonium broke as soon as she opened her mouth to the robust riff of the funk workout, Ain't No Other Man.



Xtina

And since we were all performers, we fancied ourselves as either Xtina's back-up singers-- we rubbed our throats raw singing the harmonies, or her back-up dancers-- doing variations on the Cirque-like choreography.

And since we were young and reckless, too, we hungrily swigged from a bottle of "iced tea" that someone had smuggled. (It was vodka with a few drops of Red Bull, for some color.)

***

I was fully expecting her to lipsynch, and I would have forgiven her. I've done anywhere from two to seven shows in a day, working in a park; I can't imagine how much energy it must take to do even just that one concert as part of a TOUR. The cameras followed her faithfully, the streams from which were projected onto three screens. Her ad libs were different from her recordings. And when she would pull back the mic on her money notes, you can hear the levels adjust accordingly. She was singing for real-- good lawd, the girl can sing.

She is beyond impressive.

She's miraculous.


***


From the hair extensions, to the Cavalli trousseau (white, white, white!), to Baby Jane, to the hunky dancers, Xtina cemented her status as a Gay Icon with this tour.

And did I mention that big, old voice?

***

It's amazing that a young woman, all of 26, can cause this much frenzy. Restaurateurs, investment bankers, corporate execs-- you'd think they'd keep their composure but...

...as soon as images of a Maharajah came onto the screens, we all grabbed each other in anticipation, excitation, exhilaration.

"No..." I whispered...

Is she seriously going to...?

It was Lady Marmalade.


The bleachers shook.


***

In the Age of Celebrity, so many people have become famous only because of personality; they're never good for, or at, anything.

Xtina is the real deal. Xtina's got talent. Xtina is among the most generous performers I've ever seen. She sang and danced her butt off. Her spiels were never superfluous or awkward, either. They were succinct but heartfelt. That's why she received deafening ovation, even during verbal interludes. Every decibel of applause was well deserved.

As a performer, it's encouraging and heartwarming to see someone like Xtina. She's a living testimony that talent, hard work and good presentation might pay off.


Now, all I need is luck and some pixie dust...





To Be Continued...

AT 6PM, I woke up with a rumbling stomach. I stepped out of my hotel to look for food, but what I found, instead, were ghostly streets and eery highways...


The pedestrian overpass and the City Hall Metro were mysteriously empty-- early on a Saturday night. Is this real, or am living in a hallucination?

Taipei, so far, hasn't ceased to assault my senses-- the traffic, stinky tofu, Big Daddy, and now, a few freaky minutes of emptiness.

And, oh... everything in Taipei talks back to you, I found out-- the lifts, the escalators, the trains, the ATM machines.

***

After my exciting but unsuccessful hunt for food (I don't speak Mandarin, so I was too embarrassed to enter a local restaurant on my own), Kurt and Avalo came by the hotel to rescue me. We did hot pot. Yummy. Food in Taipei is awesome.


Kurt, Avalo and two helpless cucumbers at the smoothie bar

Yes, and healthy shakes for dessert.

While greedily ingesting our health drinks, Avalo got a message from Lewis inviting us to come to his and Wessel's place. It was just a short walk from the fruit stand.

When we got there-- Salut!-- more alcohol. Oh, of the Veuve Clicquot kind. Wessel is very discriminating, after all.

Apart from the troika of myself, Avalo and Kurt and the pair of Lewis and Wessel, there were two other sets of beautiful male couples there. Lewis and Wessel were a popular pair.

"I can make or break you in this town," Wessel said, asserting his status as Gay Taipei's Queen Bee.

What a sweetheart.

***

At midnight, Wessel donned a knit cap, a Harley-Davidson tee, and the meanest studded leather armbands you've ever seen.

It was a sign. We were leaving.

***

The first stop of the night was Fresh, a mindboggling complex. It was a narrow four-storey building, with an expensive entrance fee. But the door bitch waved us all off by virtue of being in Wessel's company.

The first floor is a restaurant, the second floor is a bar, the third is a dancefloor and the fourth is an open terrace. A veritable temple to the homosexual lifestyle! Now, if they'd only build two more floors for a gym and a maze...

The most interesting thing about Fresh, apart from the multicultural clientele (an older crowd, to be sure, because the place was pricey), was the bartender's obsession with coasters. I think they were trained to always put drinks on coasters. If you so much as plunked your rum & coke on the marble instead of on the coaster, they would give you a disapproving look and proceed to put a coaster under your drink. It was fun. We made it into a game: we counted ten seconds, at most, till a bartender put a coaster underneath an itinerant glass of cocktail or beer.

***

I got bored, after a while. The place was very touristy, had a pick-up-y feel to it, and many patrons were kinda leery. The only engaging character I met was a thirtysomething Russian journalist who had fallen in love with Asia; he has since learned to speak Mandarin fluently and is now a popular broadcaster in Taipei.

Russian Broadcaster asked me to go to Jump with him, but I told him I've already been there last night and wanted somplace else to experience.

***


Funky, the coolest gay club I've been to.

Funky is awesome. It is a dark, cramped, crowded club in a basement. A cheap entrance fee comes with two cans of beer, which makes it affordable for the younger set-- and what a younger set it indeed was. I felt like a grandpa. Surely, the beautiful boys there could not have been out of secondary school? Jailbait!

The local boys were hot. They all go through two years of compulsary military service, so they all had toned, athletic physiques. I found them to be taller and darker than Hong Kong boys, in general.

Friendlier, too. Hong Kong gay boys tend to enjoy just the company of their small circle of friends, even when out clubbing. Taipei boys will smile and say hello and begin a conversation.

"So what do you think of one night stands?" a gorgeous boy asked me, snapping me out of my delirium; surely, this is what heaven looks like!

Gorgeous Boy was 19, a Classical Japanese Literature student (!) at a university in Kaohsiung. He spoke five languages fluently-- Mandarin, Korean (he was half-Korean), Japanese, English and German.

"I don't really think anything about it..." I replied stupidly. "I mean, if it happens, then ok. But if it doesn't, then, that's fine, too," I tried to explain, not wanting to seem too eager, but not wanting him to think I was not interested, either. "I don't travel looking to get laid," I elaborated, feeling that my brain must surely be turning to mush as he stared at me in amusement. I was tripping all over my tongue. "I mean, I don't want to be too keen on hooking up and then get disappointed when it doesn't happen," I concluded lamely. "I travel to sightsee."

Gorgeous Boy walked away to be with his friends.

Kurt looked at me and shook his head.

"He was interested," Kurt said.

"I didn't want to assume anything..." I shot back weakly.

***

What makes Funky really cool, apart from the unbelievably beautiful boys, is the music. The DJ unabashedly plays local pop hits side by side with house and techno. And just when you thought you've heard it all, a ballroom number comes along, which gets everybody up on their feet to cha-cha-cha! It is, all at once, hilarious, surreal, and incredibly liberating. It's all about music that makes you move.

***

Gorgeous Boy danced with me.

***

The next morning was the only time I got to enjoy daylight in Taipei.

Gorgeous Boy walked me to the Grand Hyatt, where I boarded the shuttle that would take me to the airport.

We did not exchange numbers.


I do not remember his name...





With Affection,
Astron

We got together at close to 1AM. Kurt treated Avalo and myself to spicy chicken poppers, fried fresh by the roadside. Yum-o!

We munched on the tasty little morsels as the cab sped to Taipei's biggest gay club, Jump.

Jump was unreal. HUGE. Glossy. Complete with an army of bouncers. And lockers for the gay boys, too! So unlike the cramped joints in Hong Kong!

It was the beginning of what was to be the wildest night of my life.


***


At around 4am, everybody had their shirts off. An older Caucasian man sidled up to me and asked, "Where are you staying?"

"In a small hotel on Songshan Road," I replied.

"Not tonight," he rebutted, then winked. He started grinding with me; I laughed, then discreetly threw Avalo a "WTF" look. Big Daddy (French, I later found out) was was a giant of a man, about 6'4", and sweaty and hairy. He had large eyes.

"Big Daddy wants you," Avalo prodded.

"Well, I don't want Big Daddy," I huffed. "Let's go! Where next??"

"Ask Big Daddy. He's in charge," Chris replied, then left to dance with Kurt.

Well... If Big Daddy was the ringleader in Taipei, as he indeed appeared to be... I heaved a big sigh and tried to put on what I thought to be a sexy face. I slung an arm on Big Daddy's shoulder and asked, "So, what's next?"

Big Daddy wanted to take me home, but I wouldn't go home with just him; I was with Kurt and Avalo.

So Big Daddy invited everyone who was left at the club to come to his place.


Monsters outside Jump


***

Big Daddy was some sort of a design executive. He had homes in Paris, Shanghai, Bangkok, Rio...

His home in Taipei was impressive. The kind that confuses as well as excites. Spaces flowed into each other seamlessly.


Boys lounging in the living room, defined by the plushest red area rug, contemporary artwork and gallery lighting.


The living room and bedroom are separated only by a sliding glass wall and the most diaphanous white curtain.


Left: The guest T&B is defined by five transluscent nautical windows. It confounded everybody; we didn't know how to get in. It turns out, you just push. Simple. Right: Big Daddy's workstation is defined by a quirky wall clock, a plush pig and zero clutter.

***

"We're the only two tops here, I think," Avalo mumbled, a note of panic in his voice. He discreetly pressed a Viagra into my palm. "I am not fucking Big Daddy. He's yours," he declared.

I moaned silently, but the resolute look on Avalo's face left no room for argument.

We both downed our little blue babies.

***

Big Daddy brought me to his closet, which was twice as large as my flat in Hong Kong.

"Take your clothes off," he ordered.

So I did.

"You're not wearing underwear," he said, stating the obvious.

Thinking he was being attacked by mock modesty, I looked at him strangely and asked, "Is that gonna be a problem?"

"Of course!" he barked.

He threw me a pair of teeny tiny blue mesh shorts. His boyfriend's, he explained. The bf, a model, was obviously away.

Big Daddy, for his part, stripped and put on a pair of avocado green skivvies that said at the bum, "Can't touch this." I had to laugh.


Big Daddy and the notorious "Cant Touch This" briefs

He then led me back out to where the boys where lounging.

On Big Daddy's arm, I urged, grandly, "Come on boys! PANTS DOWN!"

***

Everyone had trendy underwear on. Candy-coloured, sporty, printed, fun, with cartoon characters, posh (of the Versace and CK variety, of course). Turns out, every gay boy in Taipei wears stylish underpants in case they get invited to an underwear party. Such as this one.

At this point, I was tenting my blue mesh shorts.

Kurt came up to me. "The boys are Laughing. They think you thought this was gonna be an orgy," he giggled.

Well... Avalo is gonna deny it, but we Hong Kongers did, indeed, think it was gonna be a sex party. That's why he gave me the little blue pill! And that's why I was tenting the entire night!

How embarrassing!

***

Big Daddy invited everyone to the bedroom.

"Clean boys on the bed, dirty boys on the floor!" de decried.

Avalo and myself showered together first, since someone needed to break the ice and we were the two most shameless boys, anyway. The bath was separated from the master's suite by, what else, just another sliding glass wall.

Since there was an abundance of cute Taiwanese boys, my gorgeous German brother ended up showering two more times. Ha ha!

***

About two hours later, we were joined by a gorgeous couple-- muscular Singaporean gent Lewis and his burly South African sweetheart, Wessel.


Smokers powwowwing in the laundry bay, finished in red Spanish bricks and adorned with art (!)


James, Sam, Ivan

It was a fun party-- drinking, cuddling, dancing, massages, and just talking shit.

Good times.

***

It was midday when Avalo, Kurt and myself left.


James, Lewis and Avalo at the party's end. Yay, we don't look too fucked, do we?? I've gotten the hang of allnighters, I think!

Big Daddy gave me his card, assuring me that the next time I came to Taipei, he would serve as "Your tour guide, Big Daddy; Your friend, Big Daddy; or your boyfriend, Big Daddy."




To be continued...

Hello, Friends!

The Cover

More than a month ago, I received en e-mail from Norm announcing the launch of his second, much-awaited coffeetable book, 2AM The Asian Male.

Norm and I bumped into each other at Volume a few nights later and we got chatting about his plans for the launch. He said he already had a venue for the launch itself, but was looking for an afterparty place.

So I hooked him up with Joseph whom, I was surprised to find out, have never met Norm before. HK is such a small town. Thanks to me (LOL), two luminaries of the local gay scene got connected.

And so, it was sealed. The afterparty was to happen in Volume.

VIP 007, Mission accomplished.


***

The book was launched with a lot of fanfare. Fridae and Dim Sum ran excited reminders. HK Magazine called it "The Event of the Week."

Almost fan-girl in shrieky tone, the blurb ran, "The photographer will be present to sign autographs. Sexy models in attendance."

It happened at Billy Boy Cafe, a stunning affair of glass and concrete just behind super-stylish Rice Bar. Models, friends and Norm's fans came.

As soon as I walked in, I scanned the crowd to give Norm a congratulatory peck. And then I grabbed a Sample Copy to check which of my photo/s made it.

I was tickled to count three, with one photo appearing twice-- on the inside leaf cover and again somewhere in the middle of the book. So four pages were actually of me. Hehe.

The photo that will make me famous. LOL. Well, this one appeared twice in Norm's book, at least.

This photo made it, as well. My little sister, the photographer, said that this was her favourite.

I'm happy that the first photo found a place of prominence in Norm's book. But I was also relieved to see that my photos were NOT my favourite-- meaning, that my narcissism is still in check. There was one photo that was Rembrandt-esque in aesthetic-- the study of light, the rendering of the human body, the colours. Breathtaking.

***

Art is all well and good, but a launch is essentially a party.



What's there to not be happy about?


Myself and Norm


A Rainbow Troupe: Myself (Philippines), Norm (Canada), Andreas (Lithuania), Nigel (Hong Kong) and Ian (at the back; in mid-sentence, no doubt; Australia)

So party we did! The gorgeous angels behind Billy Boy made sure our glasses never went empty. Unobtrusive and practically psychic, the boys magically appeared with refills and dainty slices of cheese pizza-- always at the right moment.

I signed a grand total of one autograph. LOL. Greg, a lovely gentleman, asked me to sign it for him and his partner, Ivan.

With a silver pen frozen in my hand, my mind went blank. I was flustered-- how does one go about these things? What do I say??

"To Greg & Ivan-- Enjoy the images! Much Love, James"

Eew. Me = Ditz.

Greg would later introduce Ivan to me in Volume. Such a sweet couple.

***

A bowl of laksa (me = pig) at Malaymama and a costume change later (I splattered laksa all over myself, what else), I was shaking my bum in Volume, at the afterparty.

Instead of the usual 80's music videos, Volume's walls were alive this time with DVD images from the making of the book.

An intrigued patron didn't realize that he walked into an event, and so I talked to him about the book. His name is Bart and he's Dutch. He designs hotels and restaurants. Incidentally, he's done work at the New World Renaissance in Makati and is working with Rajo Laurel on a project in Thailand.

Bart bought two copies of the book.


***

And so goes the highlight of my being a "model." Heeeh. I always say that I am blessed to have sat for such awesome artists-- My good friend, Darwin, who is an architect; my little sister, Diva; and of course, Norm, who has photographed the likes of Destiny's Child, Ricky Martin and Rain-- who make me look good. Otherwise, I am just a giant dork who still doesn't know how to smile in photos.

I just sent my parents a copy of the book. I know my dad, a photography enthusiast, himself, will appreciate the images. But I hope my mum doesn't get a heart attack. She is super conservative, bless her.

1AM The Asian Male is now available in North America and Europe.

2AM The Asian Male will be available in HMV and Page One starting next week. My mug appears in the second book. *wink!* Check it out when it becomes available in your neck of the woods!



With Affection,
Astron

Hello, friends!


Bet you didn't know that M Bar was the default watering hole back when I was coupled.

But when we broke up, I needed to hang out some place where I'd be less likely to see my ex-- a place where I could make friends of my own instead of just being known as "the boyfriend of..."

Of course I also needed to escape the inquiring glances, the stupid questions from shameless individuals, the memories.

***
Volume became my refuge.

It had opened just before Christmas of 2006. Just before I became single.

Like me, Volume was in a state of putting-back-the-pieces. It had a disastrous opening night-- it experienced a power outage due to some faulty fuses... Amid the melee, the throng proceeded to M Bar just a few steps down. The power was a quick fix. All done in 10 minutes. It proved more difficult to get the crowds back...

A friend who works in PR suggested that Volume should have used the power outage to hand out free shooters to keep everyone in a celebratory mood while repairs were hurriedly made. But nobody was so wise at that moment. And in Hong Kong, where the shelf life of bars and restaurants average two years, it's difficult to ask for a second chance.


***

So even if virtually empty, I'd be in Volume almost three times a week because I enjoyed the relative quiet. I made an instant connection with Santosh, the chief bartender. An easygoing Nepalese fellow with perfect hair and the sunniest smile, he was always good company during slow nights. The conversation was always relaxed, uncontrived, drama-free.

When my phone registered the message, "Wr r u?" My reply would always be, "Volume. Come!!!" 

I dragged my friends to Volume whenever I could and made them stay with me. The wisdom in bars and clubs is "people bring people." If passers-by saw that there were people in a bar, they are more likely to come in and have a drink-- because the place seems popular.

I slowly built a network of friends whom I would attempt to gather in Volume as often as I could. And we had great fun because for a while, the place felt ours and ours alone. We could be silly, we could be messy, we could be loud. We were the first regulars. I may be flattering myself, but I like to believe this fun, boisterous core group helped promote Volume from the ground up to the hopping bar-to-club hybrid it now is. 

Of course the real credit goes to Joseph and Evan, Volume's driven duo, for their unwavering commitment to the community, and even further-- to actually create a stronger feeling of community. 

Joseph and Evan have become friends of mine. I drag my colleagues in droves to Volume because I know they will appreciate Evan's cheeky, playful, smart ministrations on the turntables. Joseph, on the other hand, is a dear, dear friend who has become close to my heart. He knows that he is the only one who has met every single guy that I've dated since the break-up. I've taken them all to Volume, of course, hahaha!




Last night, Joseph approached me, excitedly catching me up to date with Volume's VIP card. He said he wanted to ask special friends first what number they wanted on their card before he rolls out the numerically ordered versions.

He offerred, "1 and 2 have both been taken, so you can choose another number." His and Evan's, I'm sure.

"7," I piped excitedly, explaining that it was my lucky number. 

So he wrote the number down next to my name on his little notepad.

And then I had an idea.

"How many digits can the VIP card have?" I inquired.

"Up to three," he replied.

"007..." I said tentatively. 

Joseph noted it, but it took a few moments for my audacity to register on him, afterwhich we had a good laugh.

Why am I such a cornball??


*** 


 
Me airing out my left nipple. I helped play door bitch that night (I was not bitchy at all). Here with Volume's Managing Director, Publicity Manager, Floor Manager and Everything-Else-In-Between, Joseph Chan (center) and my good friend, Anthony.
Volume is going to be appearing a lot in my notebook. 

Come!





With Affection,
Astron

Hello, Friends! 



My good friend and "big brother," gorgeous German gent *avalo (on Fridae), has just been promoted to Senior Urban Architect of his firm. Only 33 years old, he is now in charge of most of his firm's projects in mainland China and India.  

Hong Kong is indeed a town of winners. People work hard. Fortunately, they party even harder. Many times, "To forget," I've been told, "that you are in Hong Kong."

This is a great city to live in, to be sure. Hundreds of miles of picturesque nature trails, a wetlands park, one of the largest bird sanctuaries in Asia, beautiful beaches, two world-class theme parks... Everything can be had in this city, since Hong Kong also happens to be one of the world's financial capitals, alongside New York and London.

People are equipped with tools to ensure success; failure is simply not an option. Everybody works. The two boys who installed my cable and internet couldn't have been barely out of Form 5. The checkout lady at Park N Shop looks like she must be at least 70. And in the backroom of my neighbourhood Bank of China, senior citizens carefully guard currency fluctuations, the stratospheric ascent of the price of gold, the Hang Seng Index.

There's so much exertion to existence. People are constantly in motion, like frenzied molecules about to reach boiling point.

Sometimes, one needs to get off, to be elsewhere, to forget.

To forget.



If you know where to look, Happy Hour begins at 2PM. Deals range from 2-4-1, free vodka-based drinks, half-price on standard cocktails, etc. By the time midnight comes around, you are brave enough to dance, so you go to your favourite club. Or two. West Coast hip hop, perhaps. 80's revival. Or, horrors, 90s pop remixes. (Are we really that old already?) You are (still) young, moneyed, beautiful, full of vitality, bursting with a stream of charming conversation. You are living the Hong Kong illusion. 

Can you party hard enough?   


Time itself becomes immaterial as the hours go by. The clubs get darker, the air smokier. People become progressively more sweaty in their designer duds, which then proceed to come off.  

Are you hungry? Maybe. Tired? Maybe. Sleepy? Not. Thirsty? Yes! 

Everything is a tangle of hands as a bottle of water gets passed. A little sip here, a sudden grab on a hot piece of ass there, and then comes the time to take a trip to the restroom.


The toilets are crowded and nasty, of course. So what else do you do but mug and make fun of your ghetto state?

It's a steady spin as you indulge in the heady Bacchanalia and Hedonism of a dodgy after-hours club. It would be in some high rise, with not even any signage that reveals it to be the hole it is. 

By this time, your consciousness has been sucessfully transported to Egypt, maybe. Or Vietnam.


Or better yet, to the Land of the Dead.

Who cares? Anywhere but here.

When, at 10AM, you finally manage to extricate yourself from the heaving mass of humanity paying homage to hardhitting House, it's broad daylight.

You grab a Java and pick up your Blackberry. Time to send one- or two-word replies, once again, to demanding clients, nocturnal bosses or your neurotic stalker-- because it secretly makes you feel important to be haunted.

Only a couple of hours to get ready for brunch with your successful friends. Bombay Dreams, perhaps, for the bubbly. Maybe Cafe Deco at The Peak, for the view. Or perhaps Dragon-I for all the pretty, perfumed people. 

Welcome back. You've not forgotten, after all.


With Affection,
Astron  

Hello, Friends! 

Thanks for picking up my notebook! Here's an anecdote of...

The Key + Slot Underwear Show

The first time I took to the ramp was in 2002, for my friend Araflor's graduation show. She was majoring in Production Design. The show was part of her thesis. And what better way for a broke senior to cut graduation costs than to cast friends to model one's costume designs?

It was fun-- I think. It was much too brief and unusual an experience for me to remember in great detail. I *do* remember the rush it gave me, though. The show director said to "think of sex" as one strutted down the runway.

I remember exhilaration.

Whoops. 

Reality check. My average looks would not allow me to make a living as a proper model. I should just focus on working towards my own university degree so that I could earn my place in the world.

Ah, meritocracy.

Fast forward to 2006, Hong Kong. Another friend, Michael Valenciano, an events-organizer-about-town,  asks me to model UNDERWEAR. I am flattered, flustered, confused and humoured all at once.

You have to understand-- I once weighed 200 pounds. I only started losing weight at 17, when I came to terms with my homosexuality. But until now, when I look at myself in the mirror, I still see that overweight kid staring back at me. So having been asked to do the underwear show was kind of a big deal...

Michael said I would be modelling for a good cause--for AIDS concern. Shorthand, I wouldn't be paid. I didn't mind not getting paid, but the HKD200 (approx USD25) door fee Micheal planned to charge intimidated me. Was seeing me in my skivvies worth paying HKD200 for??

Micheal practically begged, since another friend of ours, Anthony (cheerleader5 on Fridae, check him out), said he'd give his "yes" only if I, too, agreed to do the show.

Talking with one of my favourite fag hags cleared my mind. "When are you ever gonna get asked to do another underwear show?" Jennifer asked rhetorically, with nary an ounce of tact. "You only live once," she pressed.

You only live once...

That sealed it for me! Live life without regrets! I called up Michael and told him I'd do it. It's for a good cause, I assured myself, as though it would erase all apprehension.

Among the models, I was last to arrive. I had the last pick out of the "outfits." I was shocked to find out that the sixth and final look was fetishwear--nothing more than little slivers of bright plastic with bits of bling, really... They looked foul, in my never so humble opinion. I told Michael that "playful" and "sexy" were ok but "cheap" and "slutty" were not. I still wanted to look halfway decent.

So bossy me prevailed and the last look was scrapped, to my relief.

I asked a good friend, Myrene Hernandez, to style the show. She did a fab job, considering the short notice. Another good friend, Jojo (check him out--> http://flickr.com/photos/jojo_mamangun/ and book him for your portraiture and events needs) did a fantastic job with taking photos. It was a great challenge, what with the tricky club lighting, the limited elbow room and the peculiar circumstances, really. 

Here are some photos from the event: 

Backstage with the boys. My friend, Anthony, is in red briefs.

  
Look 1 was Surfer Boy. Just aviators, some big beads and flip-flops.


Look 2 was Rudolph. Green sequined reindeer antlers, funky scarf, teeny red briefs and large tan booties.

Look 3 was Anime. Flippy platinum blonde wig and Japanese flag bathers.

 
Look 4 was Schoolboy. White baseball cap, tight white shorts, black leather satchel and white high-top sneakers. 


Look 5 was Biker. Black cap, long chain necklace with large keys, leather gloves.

The show was at Club Bliss on Peel Street. It was originally slated for midnight, but it got pushed back to almost 1:30AM because patrons were still coming in.

The place was packed; the energy, electric.

To calm my nerves, I chewed on a huge wad of gum the entire show. I danced, mugged, winked, jumped... I did EVERYTHING except walk like a model. LOL. It was FUN!!

And the briefs were all nice. Thin, breathable and with a lot of stretch. All the designs sat nicely on the hip. Too bad we didn't get to keep them. I was thinking, What were they gonna do--repackage and sell them?? LOL.

"Rudolph" was my favourite look. That photo appeared in THREE different pages in the January 2007 issue of G Magazine. LOL. My fifteen minutes.

Sadly, both G Magazine and Club Bliss have closed shop. Just goes to show that not only people in HK are of a transient nature. Gay establishments and publications seem to be particularly vulnerable...

But as my friend, Chris (avalo on Fridae, gorgeous German gent), once said, "One hole closes, another one opens up." Ah. The story of our lives.

I would like to ruminate on the social responsiblity of gay men to support establishments that cater specifically to us to ensure that establishments remain in business, but it's too much brain activity for me at the moment. These establishments, however, have a reciprocal responsibilty to give back to the community, to not be self-conscious about catering to our market (hey, if you're after my pink dollar...), and to be clear with their vision.

Fridae.com is a great example of how to stay in business by actually being useful to the community. Props to the men and women behind this great site.

As for my modelling aspirations, well... As with G Mag and Bliss, I think my "starlet" moment has gone. I was born 40, anyway, as I like to say. I am past my sell-by date.

Later!

With Affection,
Astron

Post-it: 
Check out Key + Slot on the Fridae Shop.
Also-- suit up, boys! Wearing a condom is worth the peace of mind. Hats off to the people of AIDS Concern HK for their relentless campaign.