hello again my friends, i am lazily tapping my keyboard with one hand and holding a french toast oozing with butter in my other hand; i am overworked underpaid hungry fag so pardon my lack of imagination nowadays. really...
the truth is i'm a whiner. i was born to whine. i sleep so i can wake up and whine. i live to whine. i take the task of updating three websites so i can whine. i write to whine. and you don't want to see me whining while i tap on this keyboard with a fench toast in my other hand, i will surely ask why oh why i am eating a toast instead of a croissant since i'm into french thingy?and i remember when my drag friend Lucila lost in Miss Gay beauty contest and came home to eat bulalo, well, you don't want to see a drag queen who lost in a beauty contest eating bulalo either - especially when it involves cow bones. no no no no no. you'll never be able to sleep for the rest of your life.
so what can an unimaginative entity like me do on a day like today? well, i am pulling from my drawers my old bag of stories. i am sharing with you THE MODEL, which is hango sa Diary of a Masquerade, unpublished, thank you...
oh pleeeease...don't think i am as wonderful as the characters i write today... as i always tell my friends, "I used to be!"
and they ask me back, "what happened since then, locaret?"
THE MODEL
(ignore mistakes dahleens)
"So you are the protege of Frank," Arnie Te said.
He was sitting on a wicker chair beside the bright swimming pool, bluish
light was emanating from the pool's floor. I smelled his
drink, it smelled syrup-ish, I smelled this kind of drink before in the
circle of my uppity friends...what is it again? Robitussin and shabu isn't
it?
I couldn't think straight, fear is enveloping
me...this world is new to me, this ballgame is new. I know
I am entering a dubious world, and I know dirt and garbage is about
ready to be poured on me. I am standing in my underwear.
The words of another model are fresh in my mind:
"Do whatever Arnie Te tells you to do, if he
gets hooked to you, you'd make it my man."
I drank too many beers before coming down here, yeah being drunk makes me brave and desensitized, hah, I like that word, desensitized. I must grab my opportunity now, this is the night that could make or break me. I must MUST make it. My future depends on this ugly man sitting half naked on his wicker chair. I must be ready for anything he asks....yeah, Anything.
I, Roberto Policarpio, top model of Manila is
now here, dammit, here in this unknown place before an ugly man, standing
like a fucking beauty contestant, being scrutinized left and right...willing
to do anything; despite my build of strong muscles and towering height,
here I am pleading, begging so I can be kept where I am now. This pedestal,
this lifestyle, this money, this wealth, this name...
I see my reflection through his eyes.
"I want you to stop where you are standing now, Roberto Policarpio. My, my, my...you're much better looking in person than what I thought. Stop there. I want to stare at you with that light encircling 'round you, ah what a lovely body and face."
I am praying I won't be humiliated by having sex with him. I am hoping he would take me for what I am - a model. I want to be a print model. Maybe, if he'd hear my life story, my poverty, my childhood, my plight, he would take pity on me. I'd be grateful for the rest of my life if he'd be understanding. All I want is to finish my Medical degree...
But I stood there, demonstrating my best pose...offering my body like a cheap fish.
"Your body," Arnie Te whispers to my ears, "your chest is heaving too much, don't be nervous. It appears too thick for a young man. You must be a serious weight-lifter."
By this moment, I am giving in to the call of desperation. I am giving in to the call of times. It is not the time for prayer and hoping, it is not a time to be proud. Maybe later, when life is more respectable I will tell him my real situation...but right now, "You can have me Arnie Te," I winked at him.
His breath was syrup-ish and warm, "What do you want in return?"
"Security," I said.
"Security in what... particularly?" He was very close to me now, pouring cold lotion on his hands, rubbing it all over me, I was controlling my fear and disgust. I started fantasizing...
I was in Paris, London, Milan, Tokyo, New York... I felt I was being suffocated. I released a false moaning.
"I want money and career," I moaned, still keeping my pretensions of toughness and manliness. I felt like choking.
Arnie Te's lips were tight. His skin was cold and wrinkled. But everything I planned was working.
"Yes, yes, " he repeated as his eager hands stroked me, delicately, downwards. I closed my eyes and bit my lips...I was in South Beach Florida, International Male was taking pictures of me...