Friday
When you don't bother reading instructions
The shelving in the bathroom looks great (the colour is called ‘Gentle Oak’), but be careful not to shake it or put something heavy on top of it. It’s rickety like a bamboo scaffolding on a 20-storey building in Hong Kong. The flat pack came with a cryptic set of assembly instructions, which he didn’t really follow. How hard was it to put together a shelf? It’s not, but patience and mindfulness are not things he’d like to expend energy on when building a shelf, which is an object he considers minor, inconsequential and for this particular one, something just for optics. Six new Country Road towels, three for each level. A pale green glass vase on top that could hold long, slender calla lilies. An imitation white coral shell.
He hates remote controls, especially for TVs, which he believes have evolved into something more complicated than the Presidential Emergency Satchel. His default behaviour when using one? Punching every single button until the screen makes sense, or show him what he wants to see.
He was mid-way through shaving his head when the shaver just died, and he thought, it can’t be- he just charged it two days ago. But S was suspicious. This same shaver was a replacement for one that just lasted 5 months. Both were the same model. Both started sputtering, then completely died even after having been charged. They returned the 1st one to the store as it was still within the warranty period, and got the same model; surely the defect was just a one-off, a fluke. But here we are again, and he was looking at his head, one half clean-shaven, the other half with that tell-tale sheen of gray regrowth which he hates.
Have you cleaned it?
There’s this little hatch on it, but it’s empty.
Yeah, but where do you think all the hair goes?
He NEVER really knew nor cared. So it was a bit of a shock, and a fascination when they opened the shaver head and saw five months’ worth of hair compressed in the rotors and the cap. It was so full, the mechanism was actually, literally choking.
How Was Your Friday? It was the usual
He gets anxious when he forgets to bring his AirPods. He can’t pretend to be deep into Olivia Dean or Travis Scott or the old Weeknd or whatever he had on his music-streaming account, and now he has to pretend that without the music, he was deep in thought about something else. Surely, if you had no phone to look at or ear-thingies to listen to, what could you be doing looking at shit or thinking about shit? You were virtually exposed. Some loser could try to get your attention, to engage with you and then what? There were more and more people lately at the bus stop, phone-less, ear-thingyless, mouth slightly open, and eyes darting every which way like some animal that had been up all night. Were they hungry? Were they tired and needed to rest? He didn't really care. All he needed was to pretend to be deep into something while he watched them furtively.
He could do anything he wanted. The tools of knowledge and creation stretched from creating a totally new face for someone, teaching an AI assistant to comb through gigabytes of archival data in less than 2 minutes, to rendering a brochure in 3D just because he could. Was it necessary? Not really, and in the end, he did an actual mock-up for the 3-fold cover just to see what it was like in real life.
He wants to smell like he lived in a world on fire because it is.
One of these days out of sheer childhood nostalgia, he’s going to sit down to a bowl of his childhood Fruit Loops and watch YouTube clips of Superfriends. He will remember the days when innocence meant trusting anything that felt and tasted good; sugary cereal, the tang of orange juice, rice slathered with pork fat and seasoned with fish sauce.
Did you know? A McDonald's Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese (US) contains approximately 740–770 calories, 48–51g protein, 42–45g fat, and 40–43g carbs. This high-protein, high-fat burger also provides roughly 20g of saturated fat, 165mg cholesterol, and 1,360mg sodium.
Birthday Week food dump
Happy Easter Sunday
I remember being obsessed with penny loafers, but the bigger mystery was the source of that obsession. Where had I seen them? What thought process did I go through at 12, 13 (?) to make me want them? But the mystery deepens when I actually get the shoes (don’t know how I convinced my mother of that) and to wear them specifically for one event- the Stations of the Cross for Lent. They were so new that they cut the back of my heel. To this day I still can’t decide whether I suffered for fashion, or was punished by God for my vanity.
I miss the quietude of the Holy Week of my childhood. No distraction of either entertainment or food. Pray and contemplate my mother, the lone Catholic enforcer in our household, urged us. I prayed- to get taller, for better (less oily) skin, for friends. I contemplated my existence, and of life out there in space, of faeries who attended Easter Sunday mass and whose only tell-tale clue of what they are is the absence of a medial cleft (I furtively scanned people’s faces as they bowed their heads and closed their eyes to pray).
What do you eat for Sunday when everyone is dieting? Don’t forget the buns (we got a pistachio and chocolate variant); an easy to cook lamb (butterflied leg of lamb that cooks in 35 minutes); and sticky date pudding (minus the ice-cream). I miss the lechon from Bangsal which we got on the way back from church.
Holy Saturday
March was mad
'Adult' books
In The Art of Simple, Eleanor Ozick retreats to the ‘bush’ country of Te Atatu and shows us that it’s okay to ‘isolate’ ourselves, that we can have our Walden moment. Well, in New Zealand we certainly can, and why not?
How can we stay connected to others without losing ourselves? Don’t ask me a question whose answer I already know. I could add my own tips: 1) don’t be afraid to let someone go if they turn out to be total cunts; 2) be generous; 3) know and respect the limit of your generosity.
What’s a reverse mortgage? What’s an offset account? Should you invest in unethical stocks, and to hell with ethics because the world is fucked anyway? Suddenly, moving out of middle-age and into the twilight (!) years is so much more than having great blood-work, great skin and getting away with wearing clothes meant for people two decades younger than you.
After being in this country for nearly 18 years, I’ve realised that I don’t really know much about it beyond my own Walden Pond. And that’s actually terrible.
Would you buy American butter?
FUCK NO. Story here. We use Westgold Grass-Fed Butter. Buy local people!
If it feels like Monday, then it must be Monday
It’s actually Tuesday.
A brilliantly sunny, cold day, the chill coming in so suddenly- no warning, no transitional ease- that it makes you think of the worst. What if the weather turned the way our normally genial cat would suddenly turn from picture-perfect cuddliness to possessed, rabid psycho with razor-sharp claws?? (We’ve never clipped them, the better to defend herself, we’ve rationalised).
Well, I thought, glancing at the clothing racks filled with last season’s coats and jackets in the spare bedroom turned walk-in closet, at least we’re prepared. Last year was so strange that we didn’t do a spring clean at all. The coats and jackets have stayed put instead of being stored in the bins we have for winter clothing.
So which one is suitable for olive, wide-legged cargo pants and silver New Balance 1906s? The checked bomber in Italian wool? That waxed cotton jacket, perhaps in navy blue? Another bomber, but a shiny black aviator-style in flight nylon?
I could still smell last year’s scents on them- Replica’s By the Fireplace (my favourite, until I got three bottles at the same time as gifts and got sick of it); D.S & Durga’s Debaser, which I liked better than Diptyque’s Philosykos; Prada Pour Homme which smells like rain at 4am.
None of them seemed suitable and I wore a thermal hoodie instead.
Things I'd like to buy but...
Between a renovation, a trip and clothes (!) in 2025, it would be a while before I deign not blink (my non-existent) eyelashes and buy anything (to a point, mind you) that I fancy. But it’s a relief to feel that I have no problem with this, nor would be fooled again into thinking that money in credit cards is free (they sit somewhere in my drawers, fully paid, the cards digitally locked).
But all these virtuous actions doesn’t mean that I’ve stopped looking.
The Weekend
Finally got to try out Mexican tamales and liked it. The Lingayen tamales’ origins are clearly from it, but with very distinct variations. The masa dough has the consistency of turkey stuffing, while the Lingayen one uses rice flour (I think) which makes for a smoother texture. There isn’t enough filling in the Mexican one obviously, because of its shape. And what was the white sauce that came with it??? My siblings were all agog over it because we’ve been obsessed with making (Lingayen) tamales ourselves for the longest time. Apparently, our family has the secret recipe.
There’s a Mexican retailer down the road that does a monthly open house where you get to try a whole bunch of Mexican food, including alcoholic drinks, up to the early evening. There’s music and even a bouncy castle where your kids can wear themselves out while you fortified yourself with margaritas (well someone did and it wasn’t even noon). The sweet stuff was a disappointment though. The polvoron wasn’t the polvoron we know back in the Philippines but was an okay shortbread-like cookie; the conchas were just buns with gaudily coloured icing and the perquittos were cute (shaped like a pig), but bland.
I’m planning to attempt making tamales the Mexican way, but incorporating some Lingayen tamales touches like using achuete to colour the dough, and having a bit more stuffing.
Fridays
Well, what do you know..
Name something that you thought was true, or that you thought you’ve been doing correctly, that turns out to be actually false. I could name a few:
Serum after moisturiser (should be the other way around)
That the moon landing never actually happened (Jokesssss. And who cares? Dicking around in space is pointless).
Eating bacon regularly is okay.
That I look better with hair
That the film Anora deserved all its Oscars (Nope. Demi was robbed. Haven’t moved on).
Facetiousness aside, I was made aware by my (new) doctor that I had my cardio regimen all wrong. For one thing, I don’t really have a regimen. Before Uber, because I refused to drive, I walked everywhere. Before 10,000 fucking steps, I was doing more. It’s so easy to put together a profile of yourself in your head and believe that you’re doing just fine, that you have all the bases covered, until you get empirical evidence that proves otherwise.
‘You should be able to reach your target heart rate and hold it there for 30 minutes or better, sounds so factual (it is) and easy (it’s not) that it staggers me how it’s escaped my attention; how I’ve never come across it, or perhaps overlooked it, something so fundamental.
Who fucking cares if you’ve put on your moisturiser first before your serum?
No wonder all my workout clothes never smell.
Today, it took 12 min to get to 140 (had the treadmill on a level 12 incline), and I only held it for 5 agonising minutes. I’m not Superman. I’m just a middle-aged man trying to get things right. I’m going to get to 30 minutes when I get to it, and it won’t be tomorrow or next week.
I was so drenched in sweat that I took an Uber because I was too embrassed to take the bus.
It sounds so stupidly simple that it must be stupid
The other week, after a strenuous massage therapy (did not eat anything prior), I was ravenous. I was in Newmarket, passing through the mall, and passed by ever-cinnamon-reeking Cinnabon (nope); a sushi place with California maki so elaborate they looked like exotic deep-sea creatures (nope) and Luna Bakery with their array of monstrous croissants on steroids (nope).
Sugar, carbs, sugar, carbs, sugar.
On the train home, my stomach felt so hollow that it made me smile. That’s what I want- a stomach so flat that in my mind’s eye, the flatness accentuates my broad shoulders and chest, my muscled thighs, my small but firm calves. But this is all fantasy, of course. I have a decent enough body, but not in a way that I usually delusionally picture it. But this is the carrot that I’ve dangled in front of me.
I could plausibly achieve this, I’ve said to myself. You could look like this only if you STOPPED EATING SUGAR AND CARBS.
It sounds so stupidly simple that it must be stupid.
When I got off the train at Manurewa, I went to the supermarket for some stuff. Now, this place is safe; what it has on offer has never really appealed to me. Sad styrofoam packets of cheap meal combos like fried chicken pieces with either rice or chips; burgers with deflated buns; fistfuls of Chinese noodles glistening with an evil coating of sugar and soy; crumbed everything.
NOPE.
I got one of those single-serve, squeezie things. Plain Greek-style yogurt. Fifteen grams of protein. Zero sugar.
As I was sucking on it on the bus home, I felt strangely virtuous as if I passed some sort of test.
I will get it, I will get that body, I told myself over and over.
Happy Valentine's Day y'all!
When I was in high school, I was obsessed with Valentine’s Day. I don’t remember how I ever got the money, but I was able to buy roses and kitschy shit from, remember Blue Magic?, and even chocolates. There were two girls I really liked who got these gifts and all through high school, there was this song and dance of secret glances, cryptic messages on slum books and meaningful hand squeezes while practising the prom cotillon dance. When I met up with my high school friends Bam and Janice in December, it was hours of traipsing down memory lane, recontextualising experiences (Yes, that was bullying! Yes that was toxic!) and connecting the dots of who hooked up with whom. "So what happened with you and your girlfriend, M and the other one (also) M?” I looked at them, perplexed. “They weren’t really my girlfriends because I didn’t get to sleep with them”. I don’t remember now how Bam and Janice reacted to that, but it’s the truth.
Sex is important in a relationship. If it’s gone, you better hope you have enough money to compensate, though I doubt even millions or billions ever do.
I love chicken hearts. Hearts, in general, and it doesn’t matter if it’s chicken or beef, have this interesting texture that is neither soft nor firm, but somewhere in the middle. And however you season it, it just sits there as an outside layer of flavour, which doesn’t overwhelm the texture of the heart. I’m glad the local supermarkets sell them, though I only buy them as a treat (I’ve heard that they have a lot of cholesterol). I simply cook them like I do adobe and finish them off with butter. I don’t eat them with rice, or as a meal and instead snack on them the whole day with a glass of cold (no sugar) coke.
We did go out for Valentines at Pearl Garden. The roast pork that I was looking forward to was a big miss though; I had a sneaking suspicion they did it on an air-fryer.
Friday
The forecast was for deluge (not in Auckland anyway) so I thought, I might as well work from home as it won’t be too hot. It was humid though which I discovered when I had to go to Papakura for some stuff; just a shirt then and leave the hoodie behind.
The plan was to take the bus to Papakura and then Uber back - it was more affordable to do only one trip at $26. I picked up stationery stuff at Whitcoulls and got some gift-wrapping stuff from what is probably the worst $2 shop I’ve been in. The place was massive, but it hardly had anything and the stuff that was in there was worse than shit. How the hell could these people afford the lease??
But I didn’t want to go to another one so I just got what I needed. Near the exit was this big mirror and I saw that I was frowning. I remembered this random lady on TikTok being bullied by her stupid retard child, who (aptly) described the lines on her mum’s forehead as looking exactly like the wifi icon.
Well, mine weren’t as bad, but I probably need to set aside some savings for botox. Or not.
Then lunch which was Starbucks for my usual and I was hoping for som tacos from Broke Boy Tacos at the Papakura Bodega, but they had a sign that said they didn’t have any because there was no gas. Hmmmmmmmm.
So got a bao bun and some fresh spring rolls instead.
Feel like a nap now (I only work to 2pm on Fridays).
Food (lately)
I bought a 2kg box of cherries (Central Otago cherries) and ate them all by myself (nearly- gave a small packet to a co-worker) because why not?. I missed them at Christmas, and even then, they’re too expensive and usually not of export-quality, like these. The big market is usually China, and when inexplicably, they’re not all sold out, then it’s half price for poor bastards like me who like them big and firm.
Can you eat tortang talong without rice?? You certainly can. I realised too late that I had two big eggplants that would soon end up in the compost bin so I had to cook them, and torta was the only recipe I knew that had protein in it (I used pork mince). But the meal fell on a non-rice day, so in lieu of that, I had spinach (sauteed) and duck eggs on the side.
For someone who has had fresh, shaved truffles, I never learn. The chips themselves were great, but they’re far, far, far from the real thing. So don’t get scammed- get the real deal or no deal.
Fat on fat; baked eggs on avocado.
I had a bottle of chimichurri sauce, but no steak. Guess what? It works on beef strips.
If you love salted duck-egg anything, here’s a tip, especially if you like to use it for chicken wings. You don’t need a whole carton to get a satisfactory flavour. You can use three or four yolks and augment them with miso and butter.
Library Series (Botany)
Did you know what actually convinced to live in New Zealand permanently? It was the libraries.
I would spend every weekend at the library, making a whole day of it. A typical library Saturday would go like this: Gym, coffee, first book, meal break, 2nd book, walking break, 3rd book, espresso, last book of the day, walk home.
It gave me everything that I wanted and needed, beyond what a job or a relationship could ever give. I felt safe. I felt confident that I could find within it, the tools and knowledge I needed to solve any problem, hurdle any challenge. I felt validated, that being alone did not mean that you didn’t have anyone.
I felt entertained and mentally and intellectually satiated in a way that no amount of television (then) or social media (now) could ever fill.
And the last couple of months, I also discovered that in lieu of going out to eat, you could go to a library instead (well, we could always have good coffee after minus the pastry or the big brunch). But to make it more interesting, we’ve been going to different libraries; I would need to do an actual check, but this is our 12th library that we’ve visited in Auckland?
The Auckland Council Libraries is one of the best public library systems in the world; clean, efficient, housed in fit for purpose buildings, and actively involved within the communities they’re situated in.
When you have a society that cherishes and values food for the mind and soul without hidden agendas or censorship, then you know that society is doing things right.
Food lately
I love Ortiz sardines, but at NZ$15 a can, it’s a love savoured only on occasion. A lot of recipes involve completely hiding it in a fried cannolini, or mashed and buried with cream cheese and capers as a dip. I like to taste the fish itself, flavoured with nothing more than a dash of lemon or a dab of mustard. To make it more substantial for dinner, it’s the protein filling with boiled eggs, romaine lettuce within low-carb, high-protein wraps.
Just because you can, doesn't mean you should; the ‘orange juice Americano’ which mixes fresh orange juice (we used bottled) and two shots of espresso. It was okay.
Pasta and steak is one of those meals you rarely ever find, in a sea of trendy, less substantial, aesthetic menus. Do you have it together? Or is it pasta first and then steak? But we were having it at home. It was Sam’s birthday dinner in lieu of going out (the day was a Wednesday) and there was no rush. Pasta was cooked first and when it was cooling a bit (because it was simply going to have a butter and cheese sauce and if the pasta was too hot, the freshly grated parmigiano was going to seize-up and harden), the wagyu scotch fillets were pan-fried and then finished off in the oven. I was grieving over the fact that the preference for them was well-done (it wasn’t my birthday so..).
It still amazes me to get vegetables just from the local supermarket and realise how actually so fresh they are that all you need to do is blanch them in boiling water for 8-10 minutes. The green beans had the crispness and sweetness of a perfect summer day. There was even no point dipping them into a sauce or condiment.
I only have rice twice a week for dinner and I make it count. I make sure I don’t get a shitty protein to accompany it, but nothing too extra either that you’re forced to go beyond the 1 (generous) cup limit. I love pompano and I always end up baking it in the oven. The seasoning is fresh ginger and garlic scallion sauce with a side of stir-fried greens.
