Rituals by Patrick Rosas

Mang, I've missed talking to myself here. I took a break from working last night by ~redesigning~* this space, and now that it feels like a shiny new thing, I'm excited to babble on more than ever.

Not that I have a lot to say... or, actually, I do have a lot to say but right now I can see all the words in my head just swirling into a blurry soup.

Life lately has consisted of continuous all-nighters; countless mugs of iced coffee; endless hours of staring at the ceiling (or blank wall) deciding which big task to attack first and what big meal to eat afterward; and hurried good-nights and good-mornings, which is a sad thing because life shouldn't get in the way of work – it should be the other way around.

Nicdao shooting Ugne in Bea Valdes for the book
We have a book exhibit tomorrow, and it's a big deal. Not only because of the people involved in it – from the bigwigs behind the project to the guests attending it and buying the book – but also because of the amount of pressure we put on ourselves to make this happen. It's been a year since this began (I have a photo with Popoy to prove it lol), and it does not make sense to waste all that hard work by not ensuring the event is the significant moment it should be.

The book celebrates Patrick Rosas' 20th year as a legendary makeup artist, and it is a collaboration of talented photographers, artists, writers, stylists, craftsmen, designers, geniuses, and marketing mavens. O, 'di ba?

Most importantly, this whole thing was put together so that the H Ward of San Lazaro Hospital will benefit. A portion of the proceeds from the book sales (as well as the sale of Carlo Calma's sculpture) will be donated to this facility. We're also launching the book on December 1, World AIDS Day.

My talikodgenic photobomb during the shoot + dinner at W/17, November last year [image from Inquirer]
Initially, I was the one coordinating with the photographers, studios and the rest of the team for shoot schedules, but my partner in crime Kevin really grabbed hold of this project. From the shoot, to the book printing up until the execution for the day. He's so dedicated to it that he knows every detail by heart, and I'm not even exaggerating. A toast is in order for you, friend! 'Yung pinayat mo dahil sa project na ito, napunta naman sa hita at braso ko. 

Kevin and Popoy, a week after Anne Curtis's slapping spree last year
Tomorrow will have culminated more than a year's hard work and serendipitous events that led everyone to start this project. We're already missing the photoshoots (and the binge-eating of pizza, fried chicken, barbecue, pancit and – believe it or not – salad! Thanks, Juju!), and Sir Patrick's early morning phone calls. Despite all the stress, though, it greatly helped that our boss and the book's producer/project manager, Ms. Carmina, was and is always grounded, always on top of things. There were of course moments we felt like headless chickens running around, but the stress seldom ever felt like it was draining the soul out of us. It's a good kind of stress, I'd like to think.

I'm grateful to have met talented people I wouldn't have otherwise. The legendary Neal Oshima, Patrick Rosas himself, and even the staff and assistants of everyone involved in the production. It makes me feel small but in a way that makes me appreciate there's so many and so much more to meet and learn and make and do.

Neal Oshima and Ria Bolivar on our (very first) trial shoot, where my communicating skills were tested
There is still so much to do (currently they're setting up at White Space for the event), but Kevin, Ms. Carmina and I are only so harassed by this one huge problem now: What are we going to wear?


Wondering where you are
If you're all right

Asleep on the bus
Under bright lights

Will you come home?
(I wish I could welcome you home)

Wish it were my shoulder
You're leaning on

My fingers
Wound into your hair

Wish I were with you
Keeping watch

Keeping you safe
From sketchy shadows
In dim alleyways

Laying you down

Closing your eyes

And then
Waking you up

In the middle of the night

When the sun
First breaks

The horizon


Sweet dreams, my love

I'm glad

You are




How incredibly frustrating to have so many feelings, so many thoughts all at once, without a way of putting them out into the world so eloquently.

There's always some music, some drawing, some poem, something out there that can better articulate my guts, but I'd feel like I'd be cheating myself if I relied on them to do so.

(I wish I could stop staring at this blinking cursor.)

(Maybe I'll make a list to get the ~juices running...?)

  1. Today I learned that Biscoff cookie butter tastes much better (and pairs much better with bread) than Speculoos. I recognize that I am two years late acknowledging this food trend.
  2. Few things make me sigh a happy sigh than when my beloved pulls me close and spoons me upon waking up. (Craving that right now, to be honest; the weather's getting cooler.)
  3. So blessed to be 4'11" (4'11... and a half?) because I get to fit comfortably into someone's neck and even armpits during tight hugs.
  4. I'm not doing a lot outside of work these days, but I feel motivated to draw/sew again. That's a start, I guess.
  5. If someone kisses you deeply after you've devoured tacos smothered with onions, keep them.
  6. This is so #JustGirlyThings, but Human Nature's tomato-something toner leaves my face so refreshed. I don't even use toners or fancy stuff on my face, and I don't even care if it works. I just like how it feels heh
  7. I am so pudgy, and I am happy. I eat well.

A love letter

Hello, love.

It's 19 minutes to your afternoon break, and I'm in the office as I write this. With only an 11-peso jeepney ride keeping us apart, your nearness gives me comfort and longing at the same time.

I count the hours to the last day of this weekend when I’ll be able to hold your hand again, the scent of your perfume mixed with cigarettes leaving memories on my palm.

I look forward to the long and sweaty and tiring walks we’ll have on Sunday, visiting places in Manila as if I’ve never done it a hundred times before because I no longer have to do it alone – I will have you beside me.

And I look forward to even more days with you.

Those days we’ll spend travelling up north and halfway across the country, outside its borders and into new territory; indulging your interests and indulging mine, from which we learn what makes each other tick, what pushes us to make our choices, and what drives us to become who we are.

They’ll make my love for you grow even more.

I crave the days I’ll spend with you under the sheets, feeling the warmth of your skin against mine, my face buried in your chest, our limbs intertwined… You feel like home.

I would be foolish to not fear that perhaps, like most things, one day you will go. It’s the kind of fear that keeps my eyes wide open at night staring at the ceiling in a futile attempt to ignore it, but it’s the kind of fear I’ve chosen to accept. It’s the kind of fear that I overcome only by loving you well.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you so.


An attempt to make posterity my thing again

I haven't been writing in a long while. Except for my inane captions on Instagram and several bursts of emotion on Twitter, there haven't been enough words coming out of me lately. I've been vomiting them online since high school and for much longer offline when the coolest thing you could do with a computer was WordArt. Now writing hardly ever comes so easy because, frankly, I'm lazy. It's more convenient to take photos.

Besides, one is equivalent to a thousand words anyway.........

But my ramblings, no matter how much they don't make sense to many, are my way of sorting my thoughts through. Just like at the end of the day when I clean up my bag (okay, sometimes I don't), I would blog about mundane things I did for posterity, to filter emotions, to vent, to "see" my thought process in words because I'm a visual person. After that my head's rid of stuff I don't need or stuff my brain can't contain anymore kasi 16GB lang yata capacity 'teh so it must be put somewhere I could remember for later.

Plus I've been stressed/forgetful/dim lately, and I blame all this to my lack of practice in writing. Writing makes me think in a more organized, calmer way and that shows in how I behave, and do things.

So! Please accept this post as my attempt to write properly again. And to make posterity my thing again (to entertain the grandkids with, if I ever have any). K thx.

I'm sharing a photo of me and Kevin earlier at the studio looking silly because I haven't smiled that way in almost a month; this type of good shit needs to be immortalized on the Internet.

Good night.