MY NEW PROJECT: EXISTENCIA

I currently started a new project called EXISTENCIA. It is a memoir of mine which instead of me who will do the talking, it will be my body parts speaking and who will be telling the story. It is a very ambitious project since I will tackle more than 200 body parts and fluids and other components of the body as well as psychology, pathology, physiology, medicine and spirituality. They will be scientifically accurate but erotically poetic too at the same time. It is the story of my sex life and also my life in general.

First in the series is ANATOMIA. Actually it is the second book but this is the one I am excited to write first. It starts with the journey of a sperm cell who entered me and a neutrophil, a phagocystic white blood cell guides him to the stories of my body through the bloodstream and other fluids. I hope it is interesting enough. Here is an excerpt so far which I started just a few hours ago:


I show Mirvan the world and let him see.
I am proud to say that I may be the most favorite part of Mirvan. With me he sees. He simply sees and you can whatever nouns, adjectives, adverbs, conjunctions, prepositions, interjections, verbs or whatever word you may like after the word ‘see’. Because I enable him to the see the grandeur the excellence of the universe. Without me, he will never know that God exists in the beauty of the universe, as if the word Beauty is made incarnate in every being and thing in this vastness of limitless universe. I let him see color, see the shades of gray and black and white, see the subtle unfolding of life and death and inanimate things in the cycling whirlwind dance of life. But most of all, I let him see his men. His many many many beautiful, handsome, gorgeous men. I let him pick and choose the one he will take as a lover each time he longs for sex and love and some lust or just plain horniness. One glance, one short glance of a second, I will tell him if this man is worth trying, worth making love with, worth dying for. One silent gaze on a picture I will tell him if this is the one who will be on the queer nest of his bed today. One hovering stare all over a passerby’s body and I will tell him if he should swallow his pride and take courage to tell the man that he wants to know him, to meet him or to just get fucked hard. Hard and pounding as he wanted it. I am the true master of the art of art appreciation. With me, he internalizes each man as if they are a sculpture or a painting by Klimt or Schiele, erotic and flagrant as if all the paints of the world has lent their hues and pigments on their skin, their eyes, the darkness of their hairs, the mysteries of their crotches. I am the veritable seer and the prophet, who know what to decide and to select the best of the best, the prime of the prime, and the ripest, most delectable meal for Mirvan to plunge his teeth on. He always follows my instructions. He always says thank you for showing him that the world is a place of attractive embellishments that the womb of creation has relentlessly unfolded. I am glad that he is glad. He takes care of me, protects me from the brightness of the sun and makes sure that I am always clear and vivid, so that I can always be the informer and the seeker of greater and more delicious delights. I am the great masterpiece of God donated to each living creature. I pity the lesser beings who do not possess me and my various incarnations. What to do when you cannot see the light or the moon or the sunset? What to do when you are color-blind or just simply blind? What is the meaning of life then if Beauty is not visible, if not sung in poetry and in prose or in art forms? What is it? I am the two globes which revolves around the sun the universe that is Mirvan and others are dependent of me, and respects me, loves me. They cannot forsake me for I am their Lucifer, Light-bringer. They cannot say anything bad to me lest I stare at them in condescension. I am never evil. Only at times when Mirvan is in ire and I become two slits of fury unknown, or sometimes it is as if I will be pushed out of my sacred nestling hollow because he will open me too much in shock or most of the time in pleasure. But sometimes I am also wet and viscous because of the sadness that pours out from me, the sting that makes him close me and just lie down and let it out. I become a red planet but as always, one look at a beautiful man and he opens up and becomes happy. He is happy when he sees them. I am happy when I see them. He is happy when he sees himself that he was also as beautiful or even more beautiful than some of the men he sees. He loves staring at his body parts and worships them too, a true vain person who loves himself as much he loves me. He loves to communicate with me and tell me secret things that the telepathy of me and my reflections, my two twin orbs can only comprehend. I say these words to others too without the help of the mouth or the gestures of the body. Just by being me I become a messenger of whatever Mirvan wants to say. But I am happiest when I see this certain person whom loved me too. That lover of Mirvan would look at me back so lovingly and so tenderly that I forget what I am, that I am not Mirvan himself. He would be reflected in my wholeness, a mirror of need and desire, a portrait of ecstasy and longing. Not many has taken time to look at me and contemplate me. Not many even know the complicated color scheme that I painted myself with. Not many. But this man, ah this man is different. He knows me most. He knows my color. And I am glad. I am glad that he loves Mirvan and even if it is not me, just let him stare at me back with the same relatives I have on him. Same to same. Love to love. Need to need. Desire to desire. Sight to sight.