A Preamble To The Radically Hopeful

Hello. My name is Von. I’m sitting on this rickety chair, my perfectly chiseled face indicative of gloomy ill humor, devoid of emotion, ruggedly good-looking for someone my age and to any fairly sensitive woman in the vicinity of insanity, considerably, still a catch.

Things you need to know about me. First, the boring stuff. My favourite number is five and I don’t have Tinder. If a time comes that I decide to have one, please swipe right. If I could turn back time I’d probably call myself Broquito or an equally macho name like Bogart. I’m cultured in that I still think Emperador brandy has the same feel as a Carlos 1 or Blue Label. Versatile too as you can mix it with just about anything pwera lang sabaw ng Tinola. I do my shopping at Ukay-Ukays and have never pretended to be someone I’m not. Except of course during Halloween when it’s time for cosplay and I dress up as the miserable, unsuccessful white-collar real estate manager with an old, worn-out fedora hat and red cape.   Now between that and the real me, the only difference would probably just be the hat.

I am always either hungry or horny. These are basically my 2 states of emotions. That means if I am not looking at you like a sex-starved maniac ala Dick Israel, it’s probably because I’m eating a sandwich. I love singing but singing hates me. I don’t really care because I can duplicate that high falsetto part where Janno Gibbs belts it out with Jennelyn Mercado in the duet-Moments of Love towards the end of the song. Remember that rap part in the Francis Magalona song- Cold Summer Nights? Kabisado ko sya since grade 6. Beat that. My one dream in life is to one day become the background on Leila De Lima’s phone. Move over Ronnie Dayan!

What else? Everything I am good at seems useless. I can juggle three balls, make a mean chicken pork adobo, and cut my nails in the dark.  I don’t mean to sound unpatriotic but I like playing Miley Cyrus’ Party in the USA while brushing my teeth as it really gets my plaques jumping making it easier for them to eliminate with only semi-vigorous brushing. I hate it when people think they know you just because you were a jerk back then but now you’re not anymore. People change. Accept it. And nobody’s perfect anyway so get over it.

I have this self-deprecating humor that I’m proud of. It keeps my ego at a level where the only thing lower than it is my self-esteem. In short, I’ve learned to be humble like the big JC.

To my detractors: Taking me down has not only made me hard like ice but soft as wind and the sadness that endured is the same sadness that made everything less irrelevant. There. I’d like to keep things prosey when I’m mad. I find that it softens the blow and makes me look less angry.
If I die soon I want it to happen this way:
Doctor: Mukhang ok ka na at pwede ka na umuwi few hours from now.

Me: “Parang may something pa din eh.”

*Quickly tilts my head to the side and instantly dies.*

I want dying to be quick, insignificant, and painless.

Story of my life.

Someday, I’d like to yacht my way across Manila Bay, secretly jump over and inside Henry Sy’s super cruise ship, steal his top secret how to be richer than all Pinoys combined information, and park my boat at the floating restaurant by the bay while sipping a complimentary Mai tai (shaken not stirred), laughing ominously at my impending greatness. I’m still looking at money and success through lenses filled with fear and trepidation but slowly transitioning myself to join the ranks of the rich and famous.

For now, I’m happy being poor and obscure. It’s less stressful and I don’t have to worry about losing everything. I have so much to be thankful for. I am not included in General Bato’s Tokhang list, have no serious enemies who would want me dead, and try my best to be a normal and functioning member of my society.

Until then, this would have to do. Another meaningless preamble that nobody really cares about….