Tradition

In the tradition of Extra Super Special Batchoy With Egg, I proudly present to you a Christmas Cantata. The Batchoy Boi has selected threee Christmas songs for your listening pleasure dear Batchoyan Denizens. Here we go.

Let's start off with a classic Christmas Carol




And now we have something from our very own Islands of the Pinas!






To cap off the cantata, Here is the King himself singing what the Batchoy Boi feels like this Christmas time!






Merry Christmas Batchoyan Denizens. Consider this my humble Christmas present to all of you. May you all be blessed and truly feel the true Christmas Spirit. I love you all!


Video Credits:
youtube

Realizations and an FGD (The After Death Chronicles Part 3)

With JM's death, I realized a lot of things. Some of them that I already know and am aware of, have been strengthened and renewed. Some of them I have been considering for quite some time and now gracefully accept and adopt while some of them completely unacceptable before, I reconsider and soften up to. Maybe, when people close to us dies, we get to reassess our own lives and we renew the commitments to ourselves to live our lives more, bigger, better, wiser and bolder.In the end, it is not what we have reached but how we reached for them that people would remember most.

I consider myself as someone who hold grudges for a very long time. Forgiving is easy but forgetting is another thing. I realized that in the end, these things really don't matter. What matters is the moments of joy you shared with people.Those who genuinely felt your love and was blessed and touched by your life would remember you with how you changed their lives or made an impact on them. I still have some of my grudges, but most of them that I can not even remember, I have let go. Travel light. Less baggage less worries.

I also realized that no matter how crazy, mad, or unrequited it may seem, people remember you for the love you have shown. I realized that in the end, those who concealed, kept and became scared to show that they care are the saddest people in the world. The love and care that could have been shown will never see the light of day when we are gone. So go! Fall in love in the craziest, maddest and deepest way possible. Follow your heart. It may not always lead you to the right path or not even bring you happiness but it will always lead you back to yourself.

My belief that there is such a thing called too late has also been bolstered - the concept of too late in opposition to the concept of too fast. While we should exercise care and caution, we must not take too long. There is never a more appropriate or perfect time than today. Right here, right now! Later may be too late.

I also confirmed that 'too busy' is such a lame excuse. Too busy to say hi, too busy to call, too busy to reply, too busy to sit down and have coffee, too busy to just let the moment pass us by, too busy... Maybe next time. Such is the paradox of life. While we are too busy for other things, the more important moments just passes us by and we can never have that moment ever again because we were too busy with something else, which, in retrospect, wasn't that important after all.

The most important realization I had was the fact that the fire in me is almost dying and it was a good thing I stopped and noticed it sputter. See, I used to believe that for a shot at happiness everything is worth it. However, past hurts, pains and brushes with the madness that is life has made me more careful, more cautious, thus, making me miss out and not taking those shots. I should have taken the shot with JM. Now he's gone and I will never have that ever again. It doesn't matter that he would have died anyway. Some may argue that it saved me from ton loads of heart aches and pain. Then again, pain is a constant fact. We seem to live life with the purpose of avoiding pain. Sometimes, pain is good for us. Pain makes our poetry beautiful says my mother John Iremil. I realized that I am not what I used to be. I get scared easily. I have more walls - more shields ergo, more issues, more hung-up. There and then I decided to bring out the brave and bold me, proudly declaring that indeed, for a shot at happiness everything is worth it. If I miss, then I will console myself with the fact that at least I took the shot. It could have been 'it.'

Finally, I have renewed my commitment to do whatever it takes, because I realized that people could die lonely, and people could die alone. I don't want that. I will take my chances, and I will not be afraid. Carpe Diem... Seize the day! What's a little hurt and a little pain for that chance at forever?

Now, coincidentally, during one Friday night Bible Study and Support Group of my church MCCQC, we talked about death. The round table discussion question was :"How would you like people to remember you by best when you die." It got me thinking. Honestly, the question sounds simple ala Miss Universe but come to think of it... How indeed?

I was thinking I would like to be remembered by as a good friend, a good person, someone who made me smile/laugh/happy etc etc etc. Then again, wouldn't we all want to be that? I was thinking, I want people to remember me as someone who wrote poems, stories and blogs that made an impact on them. Too lofty perhaps? How about someone who loved with everything he had. Sounds good. Thing is, like it or not, the people who matter to us most would not remember us by the greatness we have achieved. These things are reserved for grandstanders during eulogies. What people remember us by really are those little moments etched in their hearts forever. The small things... So, I ask you batchoy denizens... How would you like to be remembered by best?

Call it vanity, call it egotism or call it a 'I don't feel so great please give me a little pat on the back or a nice warm hug to make me feel better' thing. Let me ask you. How would you best remember me by?

Talk to me!




Photo Credits:
http://www.rindewebsitedesigns.com/buchser/inmemory.html

First Gift

I am not in the country, and I may not even have a Christmas in the country where I am now.

Therefore I doubt it that I would get any Christmas presents this year. Well not until I get back to the Philippines at least.

However, I got my very first Christmas Gift. The best, perhaps, tonight.

I rode a taxi (taksi) from my hotel in Jakarta to the nearest Starbucks Branch. I brought along my dilapidated laptop.

(The letter A key is non existent, and it is battered here and there) to update my emails and everything online. I know Starbucks here offer absolutely free Wi-Fi access.

Since my laptop is battered, the battery life is less than an hour. I plugged in an outlet but to my dismay, the converter plug I brought along wouldn't fit. Those that they have here are the round plugs. I have a converter but thing is, the plugs are recessed and circular. My converter was square and would not fit into the outlet.

There were two guys beside me who were starting to fix up their stuff. Obviously, they're done with web browsing and ready to call it a day. They saw me, and one of the guys had me borrow his converter. I declined because I saw that they were leaving. I thought I'd just get into an electronics shop (wherever that is, and good luck to the shop attendant's English speaking skills!) the next day to buy me one of those. Facebook could wait.

He said it was okay and he handed me the converter.

After fifteen minutes, I promptly returned the converter. I did not want to abuse the kindness and keep them waiting. They looked tired. Well, cutely tired. Yes, batchoy denizen, the converter plug guy IS chubby!

He said it was okay. They were starting to fix up and ready to leave. I promptly unplugged my laptop charger to return the plug but he smiled at me and said: "It's okay, you can have that. Merry Christmas!"

Imagine my happiness! Not that the converter plug was pricey or anything, but I was touched by the gesture, and from a stranger in a non-Christian country at that! It warmed my heart and I thanked him profusely! I will treasure this first Christmas Gift from an Indonesian Santa Claus. It just goes to show that kindness, love and good cheer knows no religion, nationality or borders.

Terimah Kasi to you Sir. I didn't evem get your name, and Merry Christmas Indeed!

Not So Ghosts of Exes Past (The After Death Chronicles Part 2)

JM's death brought more than just one ghost to the forefront.




To say that his passing away caused some kind of avalanche in my otherwise placid and boring life is an understatement. Some ghosts of the past came to haunt me as well. With the news and its confirmation, what comes next naturally is telling people that I know of, who might also know him that he is gone so that they too may be able to pay their final respects.

At first I was hesitant. The only two other person I know of and have contacts with in a way are all... well... exes. Before even braving to break the silence, I counseled with my trusted friends if I should do it. They echoed my sentiments that it has to be done, no matter what the frictions in the past I have with the living. After all, it was the Christian thing to do. Let the dead bury the dead so to speak. So I braved the rift.

Let's start with Ex #1. Well, technically, we weren't really exes so to speak. It was, at most, a passionate affair, but see, what makes it awkward is the fact that he was THE BIG CRASH. Doc Oinkie! Remember? The Manic Monday that never came to be? Oh yes! I still have his number. I tried to call. It rang forever. He was not picking up. So I texted.

Batchoy: Hi, Doc. I didn't want to bother you. I did not want to tell you through text, but you are not picking up. I just want you to know that JM passed away. His body lies in state at such and such Memorial Chapels. You might want to pay your final respects.

In a matter of minutes, my phone rang. It was doc. I can hear his soothing voice and my heart, as usual, leaped up to my throat. He has such an effect on me that yes, I must admit, I even had a hard on. Bad Batchoy! The eventual 'interview' ensued. Are you sure, what is the cause of death blah blah blah. And then...

Doc: And how are you?
Luis: (Shit!) I'm fine. No. I'm great! ( And still not able to get past that Monday that never came, you stinkin' lyin' b@st@rd you!) Never better.
Doc: Are you going to the chapel?
Luis: Ahmm, I have been there earlier, that's why I was able to confirm.
Doc: I might go. I want to go. Maybe tonight.
Luis: Please do, Doc.
Doc: Where will you be? Will you be free tonight?
Luis: Ahmmm ( Of course, I will be free if you ask me to be! Stupid!) Let me see.
Doc: I was hoping you'd go when I do. I wanted to see you too!
Luis: (Arggghh!) Sure, let's see what we can arrange. What time will you be going.

And so... I agreed to meet up with him. In the chapels.
Message received

Doc: You know I'm attached, right?
Luis: Yes. What has that got to do with JM?
Doc: Nothing. Just saying.
Luis: Don't sweat it, doc oinkee. I'll see you there.

I made sure he got there ahead of me. I don't wanna be kept waiting. Not this time.

I entered the chapel and saw him instantly. On the front rows near the casket. He was beside an oldish guy. He was chatting with JM's mom. I eyed him cautiously. God, he still looks as good as I remember him to be. And the guy beside him? Well, vanity and pride, my dear.

No contest.

He saw me. He motioned me to come sit beside him. I did a quick feel of my pulse. Surprisingly, no palpitations there. So I sat. Not much of catching up it was. He was very cautious around the boyfriend. Well, what did I expect? The exchange was clipped and careful. He asked me what my liaisons with JM was. If we dated, slept together, and all that jazz. I said yes. He sighed and I caught him whisper. 'Lucky guy!' I countered. 'Dead guy now!' He smiled. 'Still sharp and funny.' I did not want to look into his eyes. I did not want to interpret what I saw as a longing.

I kept checking my pulse. What is wrong with me? I can't seem to feel anything. What? No skip? No jitter? No big brass band? Well....

I left the room to have a ciggie. He followed suit. The boyfriend followed suit. Discomfort followed suit.

The night had to end. They had to get home because they have jobs the next day. I had to get home too. I walked him to the parking lot. Final goodbyes have to be said. I started extending my hand to shake his hands. He took my hand and pulled me to a tight hug. I heard him whisper. I missed you. Take care of yourself.

I thought, yeah, I have to take care of myself. No one does it for me.

I saw them get in to the car and drive away. I replayed the hug. Rechecked my pulse.

No response. NR.

Just like the result of the Elisa Test they did on JM, given his sexual preference and activities, they had to admit and be honest with their selves that such a possibility exists.

NR.

No reaction. Negative.

The way I tested these last few times. I do my Elisa's at least twice a year.

I slowly walked out of the funeral home.

NR

Another ghost exorcised. Another loss. Another grief.

The big crash crashed down!
No more kahuna.
The wave broke and the shore placid in the moonlight.

NR

Goodbye Doc Oinkie.

Photo Credits: http://boingboing.net/2009/10/06/exorcisms-vs-schizop.html

Happy Poet

Break muna sa nakaka depress na Death Chronicles.

Masaya ang batchoy boi at magandang balita ang natanggap.

One of his poems got featured in a respected literary site and he is just bubbling over with pride and joy.

Thank you so much Asia Writes for the honor. I am humbled guys.

Here is the link to the website.


Kung tamad ka ma click, here's the poem.

Divination

By Luis Batchoy

"The key to unlocking this puzzle

is within you"

- Doriel, mentor of Mistral Isle

Magic the Gathering card 'Divination' flavor text

You told me that the runes were vague

And even the lines in the palm of my hands

Were not enough to ascertain

My destiny, so we moved on

To more arcane tools and methods.

You chuckled when I asked

About crystal balls and visceral castings.

While you lighted your sacred

Candles,

The Feng Shui of your room

Demands we heed the flow of Chi

On your inviting bed.

You must slowly map the moles

In my body with a far more

Efficient hands, than eyes

That won't do well in darkness.

It was not kissing.

It was labiomancy.

As the heat surges

It was obvious we

needed to go Kirilian.

Now we alternate to Reiki

With your gifted palms.

Clamancy in our choral moans and groans

Or were we speaking in tongues?

Tongues, yes, of course

Tongues and dowsing rods.

Bumpology for the bumps on my bodies

Or plainly bumping, humping pumping?

At this point I forget whether we're moving into

Kabbalah, or are we approximating the Kama Sutra?

It doesn't matter as long as

I'm moving into you.

Thus we invented

Sodomancy.

Now we debate if I explode within you

Or if we need the fluids for drimimancy.

Later as we sip coffee and smoke.

We realized that we could have had

Tea instead, for teacup scrying.

Then again, we can always

Go back to your room

And survey the sheets.

There must be omens there.

Or if we feel Karmically bound

To repeat history

Again and again.

We both took out

Our Tarot

Decks.

Photo Credits:

http://gatherer.wizards.com/

Replacement (The After Death Chronicles Part1)

So he's dead. But it looks like his death caused an avalanche of events and chain reactions so to speak. I'm grappling with them and dealing with them the best I know how. This is the first among some of what happened as a result of his death.


I visited the wake three days in a row. I met the family. The family met me. They were warm, nice and very accommodating. We talked. About him, about me, about him and me. He lead a secret life away from home. He never brought anyone over to the house. Not even workmates, or friends. They know his sexual preference but no more than that. They wished someone would come out and introduce himself to them. I was the only one. The mom was especially warm, more so when she discovered that I was Ilonggo too. He never mentioned that to me. Now I know why he kept on making lambing for me to speak Hiligaynon. I don't know why he never told me his family were Ilonggo's. Both his mom and dad. One was from Bacolod one was from Iloilo.

The last night of the wake, I met a very outspoken and very beautiful aunt of his.

Aunt: Hi, so you are Luis?
Me: Yes, tita.
Aunt: I have heard so much about you. Thanks for coming hijo.
Me: You are welcome tita.
Aunt: Too bad, we met just now and under such sad circumstances. Well at least, now we're acquainted.
Me: Thank you tita and condolence po.
Aunt: Condolence too hijo. You have lost someone too. Welcome to the family. Don't worry. You do not need to be ashamed. We love those whom our nephew loved. We don't care which gender he chose to love. It doesn't matter. As long as he loved.
Me: Thank you tita.
Aunt: We hope to see more of you ok?
Me: Yes po, tita.
Aunt: Tomorrow at the funeral, of course?
Me: Yes tita.

At the funeral, I came a bit early. Two of the closest cousins were there and they were very warm. The black mourning pins came. It was distributed among the family members. I was surprised when his mom called me and gave me a pin. I didn't want to be presumptuous so I kept it in my pockets.

The tita saw me. She asked me to help her pin hers on her dress. Then she noticed I was not wearing one. She asked why I wasn't given one yet. The mom came over and asked where was the pin she gave me. I took it out of my pocket and she got it from me and pinned it on the left side of my shirt.

Everyone was kind to me. They kept patting me, asking if I was okay. I waited until the chapel staff brought out the casket. Everyone started getting into cars and transportation. I went with a sister and his closest cousin. At the funeral, I tried my best not to cry. I did not want to make a scene or draw attention to myself. I wasn't able to help it. I hope I did not bawl out too loudly. Then came the final viewing. The family went first. I did not want to view him one last time. I want to remember him the way I do. He looks so emaciated in his casket I did not want that to be my last image of him. Somebody took my hand and led me to the casket. It was another sister. Then white roses were handed out. I was given one. We were supposed to throw it down the hole when the casket has been lowered. I felt my heart break. I didn't know that it would feel this sad and this heavy.

Then I was handed white balloons. They told me I should have the honor and privilege of letting them go to drift in the afternoon skies. Symbolic of us letting him go and committing him to the heavens up above. I quickly wiped the tears that were trickling down my face. I never dared to take off the dark glasses hiding my eyes. Good bye kumag chan! The family insisted that I ride back to their house with them. I told them before that this was one of the things we fought about. He was adamant in not bringing me home or introducing me to any one of them. I was not able to find a way to decline. When I was at their house, I realized I miss him all the more now that I have seen where he lived. His mom made me promise to keep in touch and visit anytime I wanted. I promised.

Nine days later, I got a text from his mom. She was inviting me for dinner with the family to commemorate the 9th day of this death, and for a despedida party for the sister who was going back to the states. I tried to decline saying I lived a bit far from where the dinner was to be held but she countered by saying they're picking me up. So I went. My heart melted when I arrived and kissed his dad. He had the sweetest smile for me. In his limited range of motion, he tried patting my back. He is a stroke survivor.

Dinner was good. It was nice to see everyone recovering nicely and it was good to see them meet again under lighter circumstances. I smile deep inside when I realized that I'm the odd one out. I know that remembrances are important, but sighed too because I know I'm living on a borrowed time. Sooner or later, we would have to part ways and move on with our own lives. We will run out of remembrances and reasons to meet and get together in memory of him. I was wrong, or so it seems.

After dinner, the younger guys wanted to go videoke. Naturally, I got grabbed along. He was musically gifted and it was inevitable for them to comment that although they never saw us together, we must have made a good pair. We both sing well. I tried brushing it off. Just remembrances. When the gang was slightly liquored up, the close cousin asked me if I knew how to play the piano. I said I do not know how to play any musical instrument. She laughed and said she'd enroll me for lessons. To complete everything. I laughed it off. Not until someone interjected and said, "Oo nga kuya, para kumpleto." Then the cousin said. "It's like this. We lost him, but we gained you. You actually look a bit like him, especially when you laugh and your eyes disappear. Same body type, same sexual preference, same gait, same body structure, same musical gifts, same poetic gifts, same sweetness, same manner of speaking, same manner of dressing, same movements, only more masculine, same wit, same humor. Almost a lot like him." I smiled. Of course, they got my number, my facebook account. I shivered. "Yeah, so much alike. Feels like kuya arranged a replacement for us when he is gone. Basta, from now on, kuya ka na rin namin. Replacement ka na."

We Were Sky and Fire

We Were Sky and Fire
For John Mark Anthony Lutao
I will miss you forever 'kumag-chan'

Skies are majestic, no matter what time of day.
On dawns, they are resplendent with the first touches of light
They are blue and eternal on fine mornings
And turn fiery red on sunsets
On evenings, they become bedecked by stars
And even its inky blankness invite awe.

Fires can transform no matter how small.
A tiny spark changes you
Slow burning fire gives constant warmth
A steady blaze enervates
And a huge conflagration razes the mightiest of cities.
It's warmth is that which is never forgotten.

Once, you and I were sky.
A vast endless expanse we looked up to.
Stars, yes, we gazed upon.
Sunsets, dawn breaks and all that's in between
But the skies can never be owned.
No matter how we try, we can never hug the expanse.

Once, you and I were fires
From tiny sparks to great smoldering blazes
But what sparks and consumes us
Must turn to ashes, just like our bodies.
Now, please be the vast expanse above me
And the fire will burn forever in my heart.

We loved, and that's what matters most.


Dear JM,

I will try not to be emotional. I will try my very best. Let me say what you have wanted me to say. What you have waited to hear me say. I love you. Yes, I do. Let me tell you why it took me so long to get around to it. You see, ours was not an easy thing. I think, even before friendster came up with that label, we were labeled as such... It's complicated. I meet you in Mirc. It's a chat program online. You were a refreshing chat. None of the usual questions about asl, stat, pic blah blah. You were funny, you were witty, you were a great chat. Except for one thing. When you did trade pictures with me, I recognized you instantly, and I think my rage boiled to ten thousand degrees. You! You @#%Y^U%*&^(*!!! Of course I know who you are! So! That's why you seem to know what tickles my fancy. Because I assume you know me very well. Then again, I thought that if I played my cards right I will get the better of this still, and maybe, just maybe, get that rare revenge moment. Oh yes! Revenge! After all, you happen to be that third party of that ex who really broke my heart into smithereens! How am I so sure? Well, that's how I discovered his infidelity. I saw your pictures saved in his 'hidden files' in his PC, together with your chat logs. Tsk tsk tsk! Now, now! So I kept chatting with you, I kept flirting and I kept playing coy to see at which point I could have my revenge. But you trumped me by admitting you knew me, and saying that for the past few years, you were actually hoping you'd meet me online, or something like that, on an off chance, because you said you wanted to apologize for what happened. Now that was something! I played along. I still wanted my revenge. So we texted. I used to laugh at your silly lines, limp poetic verses which were very cliches. So pathetic I thought. You were consistent, and persistent.

Then I agreed to meet you for coffee the next chance I had to be in Manila. I was still hooked on my moment of revenge. When I was with you, I started feeling myself softening. You were so tender and gentle. You were sweet, and funny, and caring, and kind, and nice, and cute and... well... hot! Exactly my type! My chubby chinito. You were intelligent. You tickled my brains. You made me laugh. You spoke my language. I can't help it. I was beginning to like you. GADAMMIT! Then you hugged me. OH Fuck! I liked the warmth. So when you asked me if I wanted to spend the night together, I could find no objections. Of course I convinced myself that this is part of my revenge. You were great! No, you were amazing! Yes, this is part of my revenge. So we became friends. Okay fine, friends with benefits. Meet ups over coffee, good talk, good times. Now, I was dumbstruck when you said you wanted to take it to the next level. Ahmmmm...

You said you'd court me properly. Complete with roses, chocolates and poetry. I thought, here it is! My moment of revenge! My turn to crush your heart the way that ex crushed mine. Well, you had it coming didn't you? You were party to this crime of heart breaking weren't you? They weren't exactly what I planned to do, but it was playing out nicely. I will say yes to you, then make you fall ever so deep, and then drop you like a hot potato. Just like that! Simple, and evil! Revenge is a dish best served cold, right?

But I couldn't do it. You were so sincere and wonderful and warm and very nice! I long for the walks we had in Malate. The sit downs on the sidewalk in front of Remedios Church. Endless starbucks coffee. That surprise treat for my birthday at Don Henrico's. God! How did you find out I love DH? How do you know exactly when I want a hot or a cold drink in Starbucks? How do you read my mind and moods for such? You were wonderful.

I had to struggle with my own issues. I could not get past the fact that once upon a time, you were an accomplice to the crime of heart breaking! I even told you derisively that from now on, I will be calling you 'kumag-chan.' Knowing from your chat logs with that ex of mine, that he calls you 'kuma-chan', which means bear in Japanese. You did not miss that, and though you laughed at the suggestion, I saw the sadness in your eyes. And so, you became 'kumag-chan.'
But that did not stop the prosaic-poetry-cliche texts, the roses, chocolates and poetry, so to speak.

But I could not get past. You told me you understand. You still wanted us to be friends. The roses, chocolates and poetry did not stop. Then we began drifting. Mostly because we became busy with work. Then I heard you were dating some one, two or three. I respected that. But...
I missed you. I did!

Then, last night... I was checking my long unattended Friendster account. I saw your update. There was a comment there saying you're gone and that your remains lie in state at so and so Memorial Chapel. I could not believe what I was reading! It can't be true! I know you were sickly but, no, this must be a cruel joke!

This morning, I stared at your emaciated body peacefully asleep in that coffin. I had to go to that Memorial Chapel to find out if it's true. I couldn’t stop myself from crying 'kumag-chan!'
Andaya daya mo naman! Nangiiwan ka! Then your sister asked me.

"Kaibigan mo ba si kuya?"


Her eyes begged the real question.
There and 'kumag-chan' the truth dawned upon me. So I answered truthfully.


"Ahmmm, ano po (whispers to sister) ex ko po sya."

She smiled at me. Squeezed my hand.

Brain Viral Encephalitis

Andaya daya mo naman kumag chan.

I love you, kumag-chan. We, loved, that's what matters most. Farewell...