the weird, the queer, and the gay

Conceived by years of frustration, birthed and inspired by my friend's blog...hope this blog could be an avenue for 'intelligent' discussions about everyday topics and occasional oddities of the human psyche which I know everyone is curious about...everyone is welcome to join...whether you're normal, weird, queer or gay...

Thursday, August 31, 2006

Under the Gaydar...


Me and a friend of mine, share the ride home most of the time. One day while we were driving thru the bustling metropolis we call Makati, we stopped on an intersection because of the stoplight. My friend and I have devised a game to entertain ourselves thru the traffic. Whenever we would stop on an intersection, she would point out persons who she thinks would appeal to my taste. People that I like, usually gets the 'Hello' response and those that are far from my 'standards' gets the 'Hell No!' response. Then she pointed to a guy crossing the street, my reaction was far from the usual which kinda baffled her. I told her that the guy was definitely gay. And I asked her can't she tell if a person is gay or not even if that person does not do any gay actions or reactions?

It made me wonder...why is it that people like us tend to unmask other people like us? Is there a certain hormone that we emit that only people like us could identify? I believe that we of the specie homo homo, have this mutant (much like the X-Men pun definitely intended!) ability that links us to other people like us. I have witnessed this identification phenomenon over and over again that led me to conclude that it is not mere coincidence. We really do have the 'gift'. I asked my friend to ask her friend, who actually knows people who are lesbos, if they too have the gift. and the answer was an astonishing 'yes'. So it is not isolated on the 'guy?' half of the specie homo homo! Beware Gotham the X-Men/Women are here!

The discovery kinda makes me proud to be of the homo homo specie! How about you 'ordinary people not like us'! Can you tell? Too bad! Boo hoo hoo!

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

The Three States of Matter...
When we were just on our years in primary school we learned about the three states of matter. Then as technology, as well as science, advanced we were introduced to the fourth. Then as I was talking to my friends (from the dark side), I stopped to think that gay people can be likened to the three states of matter. So kids listen closely, we might have a surprise quiz after this...lolz.
Let's start with the most unstable state...the 'gas'. They are the gay persons that we commonly see working in beauty parlors. Most commonly referred as screaming fags, they are those that dresses like women, has loud voices (like people they are talking with are always ten feet away from them), they don various colored hairs (from pink to green) and they are what I deem as the most desperate to be what they are not. I am not posing judgment on these people, but hey, people like us have enough problems to deal with, so let's not give them (people not like us) reason to discriminate or even (worst case scenarios) hate us. I highly respect the 'gas' flamboyant nature and sense of style, and their loud sense of humor certainly could perk up a rather mundane conversation. A more scientific term for the 'gas' people are transvestite (look it up in the dictionary!).

The next state is the 'liquid' state. The liquid state is a mix-breed of the first and the last states. They are loud as loud can be, but retains the attire (and some manners) of our indigenous gender. We can closely examine this state of matter almost anywhere. From the notorious backwater movie houses of Quiapo to the high-end lofts of Makati. People like us coined this state as pamintang durog. I, and most of my friends on the dark side, typically belong in this category. We tend to stick together and sometimes shun the company of the 'gas' state. The 'liquid' state has a firm grip of his/her (?) sexual orientation and is not as desperate to be what one cannot.
As you all know, 'solid' is the last state. They are the ones that we normally term as closet queens. They are in hiding and are afraid to show other people what they really are. We commonly see this kind of people at gyms flexing their muscles, exercising, trying to salvage what little sense of their nature there is (but frankly they are there to ogle over other 'real' guys' abs and plexuses). I have met a number of them and for various reasons these people chose to hide who they really are. Coined as pamintang buo they have the hardest, not to mention loneliest times for they cannot fully enjoy themselves for fear that they would be exposed.
Hope this little comparison give you (people not like us) an inside look of the world that we (people like us) move in. So in case you by discover a fourth or even a fifth state please post a comment so that we could scientifically verify your discovery.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

This entry is an email sent to me by my friend. I was laughing out loud as I read it and I just can't resist to share this one with all of you.

Matter of Taste by Matthew Sutherland.

I have now been in this country for over six years, and consider myself in most respects well assimilated. However, there is one key step on the road to full assimilation, which I have yet to take, and that's to eat BALUT. The day any of you sees me eating balut, please call immigration and ask them to issue me a Filipino passport.

Because at that point there will be no turning back. BALUT, for those still blissfully ignorant non-Pinoys out there, is a fertilized duck egg.

It is commonly sold with salt in a piece of newspaper, much like English fish and chips, by street vendors usually after dark, presumably so you can't see how gross it is. It's meant to be an aphrodisiac, although I can't imagine anything more likely to dispel sexual desire than crunching on a partially formed baby duck swimming in noxious fluid. The embryo in the egg comes in varying stages of development, but basically it is not considered macho to eat one without fully discernable feathers, beak, and claws. Some say these crunchy bits are the best. Others prefer just to rink the so-called 'soup', the vile, pungent liquid that surrounds the aforementioned feathery fetus...excuse me; I have to go and throw up now. I'll be back in a minute.

Food dominates the life of the Filipino. People here just love to eat. They eat at least eight times a day. These eight official meals are called, in order: breakfast, snacks, lunch, merienda, pica-pica, pulutan, dinner, and no-one-saw-me-take-that-cookie-from-the-fridge-so-it-doesn't-count.. The short gaps in between these mealtimes are spent eating Sky Flakes from the open packet that sits on every desktop. You're never far from food in thePhilippines . If you doubt this, next time you're driving home from work, try this game. See how long you can drive without seeing food and I don't mean a distant restaurant, or a picture of food. I mean a man on the sidewalk frying fishballs, or a man walking through the traffic selling nuts or candy. I bet it's less than one minute.

Here are some other things I've noticed about food in the Philippines.Firstly, a meal is not a meal without rice - even breakfast. In the UK, I could go a whole year without eating rice. Second, it's impossible to drink without eating. A bottle of San Miguel just isn't the same without gambas or beef tapa. Third, no one ventures more than two paces from their house without baon and a container of something cold to drink. You might as well ask a Filipino to leave home without his pants on. And lastly, where I come from, you eat with aknife and fork. Here, you eat with a spoon and fork. You try eating rice swimming in fish soup with a knife. One really nice thing about Filipino food culture is that people always ask you to SHARE their food. In my office, if you catch anyone attacking their baon, they will always go, "Sir! KAIN TAYO!" ("Let'seat!"). This confused me, until I realized that they didn't actually expect me to sit down and start munching on their boneless bangus. In fact, the polite response is something like, "No thanks, I just ate." But the principle is sound - if you have food on your plate, you are expected to share it, however hungry you are, with those who may be even hungrier. I think that's great. In fact, this is frequently even taken one step further. Many Filipinos use "Have you eaten yet?" ("KUMAIN KA NA?") as a general greeting, irrespective of time of day or location.
Some foreigners think Filipino food is fairly dull compared to other Asian cuisines. Actually lots of it is very good: Spicy dishes like Bicol Express(strange, a dish named after a train); anything cooked with coconut milk;anything ADOBO. And it's hard to beat the sheer wanton, cholesterolic frenzy of a good old-fashioned LECHON de leche feast.Dig a pit, light a fire, add 50 pounds of animal fat on a stick, and cook until crisp. Mmm, mmm... you can actually feel your arteries constricting with each successive mouthful.

I also share one key Pinoy trait ---a sweet tooth. I am thus the only foreigner I know who does not complain about sweet bread, sweet burgers,sweet spaghetti, sweet banana ketchup, and so on. I am a man who likes to put jam on his pizza. Try it!
It's the weird food you want to avoid. In addition to duck fetus in the half-shell, items to avoid in the Philippines include pig's blood soup(DINUGUAN); bull's testicle soup, the strangely-named "SOUP NUMBER FIVE" (I dread to think what numbers one through four are); and the ubiquitous, stinky shrimp paste, BAGOONG and it's equally stinky sister, PATIS. Filipinos are so addicted to these latter items that they will even risk arrest or deportation trying to smuggle them into countries like Australia and the USA , which wisely ban the importation of items you can smell from more than 100 paces.

Then there's the small matter of the blue ice cream. I have never been able to get my brain around eating blue food; the ubiquitous UBE leaves me cold.
And lastly on the subject of weird food, beware: that KALDERETANG KAMBING(goat) could well be KALDERETANG ASO (dog)...The Filipino, of course, has a well-developed sense of food. Here's a typical Pinoy food joke: "I'm on a seafood diet. "What's a seafood diet?" "When I see food, I eat it!"
Filipinos also eat strange bits of animals --- the feet, the head, the guts, etc., usually barbecued on a stick. These have been given witty names, like "ADIDAS" (chicken's feet); "KURBATA" (either just chicken's neck, or "neck and thigh" as in "neck-tie"); "WALKMAN" (pigs ears); "PAL"(chicken wings); "HELMET" (chicken head); "IUD" (chicken intestines), and BETAMAX" (video-cassette-like blocks of animal blood). Yum, yum. Bon appetit.

"A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches" -- (Proverbs 22:1)
WHEN I arrived in the Philippines from the UK six years ago, one of the first cultural differences to strike me was names. The subject has provided a continuing source of amazement and amusement ever since.

The first unusual thing, from an English perspective, is that everyone here has a nickname. In the staid and boring United Kingdom , we have nicknames in kindergarten, but when we move into adulthood we tend, I am glad to say, to lose them. The second thing that struck me is that Philippine names for both girls and boys tend to be what we in the UK would regard as overbearingly cutesy for anyone over about five. Fifty-five-year-old colleagues put it. Where I come from, a boy with a nickname like Boy Blue orHoney Boy would be beaten to death at school by pre-adolescent bullies, and never make it to adulthood.
So, probably, would girls with names like Babes, Lovely, Precious, Peachy or Apples. Yuk, ech ech. Here, however, no one bats an eyelid. Then I noticed how many people have what I have come to call "door-bell names". These are nicknames that soundlike -well, doorbells. There are millions of them. Bing, Bong, Ding, and Dong are some of the more common. They can be, and frequently are, used in even more door-bell-like combinations such as Bing-Bong,Ding-Dong,Ting-Ting, and so on. Even one of our senator has a doorbell named Ping. None of these doorbell names exist where I come from, and hence sound unusually amusing to my untutored foreign ear. Someone once told me that one of the Bings, when asked why he was called Bing, replied, "because my brother is called Bong". Faultless logic. Dong, of course, is a particularly funny one for me, as where I come from "dong" is a slang word for well; perhaps ""talong" is the best Tagalog equivalent.

Repeating names was another novelty to me, having never before encountered people with names like Len-Len, Let-Let, Mai-Mai, or Ning-Ning. The secretary I inherited on my arrival had an unusual one: Leck-Leck. Such names are then frequently further refined by using the "squared" symbol, as in Len2 or Mai2. This had me very confused for a while.

Then there is the trend for parents to stick to a theme when naming their children. This can be as simple as making them all begin with the same letter, as in Jun, Jimmy, Janice, and Joy. More imaginative parents shoot for more sophisticated forms of assonance or rhyme, as in Biboy, Boboy, Buboy, Baboy (notice the names get worse the more kids there are-best to be born early or you could end up being a Baboy). Even better, parents can create whole families of, say, desserts (Apple Pie, Cherry Pie, HoneyPie) or flowers (Rose, Daffodil, Tulip).
The main advantage of such combinations is that they look great painted across your trunk if you're a cab driver. That's another thing I'd never seen before coming to Manila -- taxis with the driver's kids' names on the trunk.

Another whole eye-opening field for the foreign visitor is the phenomenon of the "composite" name. This includes names like Jejomar (for Jesus,Joseph and Mary) and the remarkable Luzviminda (for Luzon , Visayas and Mindanao, believe it or not). That's a bit like me being called something like "Engscowani" (for England , Scotland , Wales and Northern Ireland ). Between you and me, I'm glad I'm not.

And how could I forget to mention the fabulous concept of the randomly inserted letter 'h'. Quite what this device is supposed to achieve, I have not yet figured out, but I think it is designed to give a touch of class to an otherwise only averagely weird name. It results in creations like Jhun, Lhenn, Ghemma, and Jhimmy. Or how about Jhun-Jhun (Jhun2)?

How boring to come from a country like the UK full of people with names like John Smith. How wonderful to come from a country where imagination and exoticism rule the world of names.
Even the towns here have weird names; my favorite is the unbelievably named town of Sexmoan (ironically close to Olongapo and Angeles). Where else in the world could that really be true? Where else in the world could the head of the Church really be called Cardinal Sin? Where else but thePhilippines!
Note: Philippines has a senator named Joker, and it is his legal name.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Meet Mr/Ms/Mrs Stew P. Dity...

My mom is one that experiments on food a lot. One weekend, I was having breakfast wherein my mom served us another of her 'experiments'. She made a batch of home made pizzas wherein the crust is our everyday pandesal cut in halves and toppings consists of tomato paste, cheese, hotdogs, ham, onions and bell peppers. Looks good enough so I took a bite. With a resounding 'Mmmmm...', my mom asked, 'Is it good?'

I quickly ignored her question for reasons that I may blurt out a most sarcastic comment. Did she really have to ask that question? Isn't the 'Mmmmmm...' enough to show my liking to the stuff? Everyday we encounter questions that I termed, 'Must ask questions'. Here is on of them, hope you get to share yours.

I was once shopping for a new pair of pants. When I found the right size and color I was searching for, I immediately went to the counter with the sign 'Express Lane - Cash only'. So being in a hurry I fell in line and waited for my turn. When it was finally my turn to pay, the salesclerk on the counter asked, 'Are you buying that sir?' I almost slapped myself to stop me from slapping her. Then I turned and smiled and said the obvious answer. Then she asked another 'Must Ask' question. She said, 'Would it be cash or charge?' This time I really (almost) hit myself. Is it not that her lane is an 'Express Lane - Cash only' kind? Exasperation, exasperation, exasperation. Breathe, breathe, breathe. But in retrospect, I kinda thank these people, because without them there would be no one to compare how stupid one is...

How 'bout you? Have you ever met Mr/Ms/Mrs Stew P. Dity?