Day 30: elektra’s this is it !!!

Get ELEKTRIFIED !!!  Are you ready to be entertaaaaaaaaaaineeeeeeeed ?!?

This was the shout that was first heard at 9:45 PM in Elektra’s birthday / concert called This Is It, Ate !!! It was familiar.  It was very Beyonce and our head was strained from peering closely to the canopy as a figure gyrated at a close range from our freezing selves cramped with our cameras steady and then clicking suddenly.  She was behind a screen-like drape, spiralling to Naughty Girl.  And when she crooned, “I’m feeling sexxxxxxxy  . . . “, we hooted and growled hysterically shouting her name until she shunned out of the silver stage and did her act.  As Elektra.  Stunned and dexterous, we shrieked to our throats’ delight calling her name over and over again.

This event happened last Friday and it was something that I did not expect and expected at the same time.  In Day 20:  Confessions of an Ex-Drag Queen, Elektra promised me that he will really do it.  I parlayed on my 1 dirham coin and went on with his birthday interview anyway, laughing my way out of his car, after he dropped me off.  This will never happen.

And then the invitations came days later.  He was really doing it!  Elvin and Elektra’s 35th Birthday-Concert:  Elvin’s last attempt to glorify his drag queen days – a promise and a tribute to Elektra – the woman who construed the metamorphosis of queendom in his  world and the beauty queen who defined the best years of Elvin’s life.

We arrived fashionably late.   Elvin’s work friends were already there, macerated in Absolut vodka and Jose Cuervo.  My entourage consisted of my co-everything, Catherine and salt to the earth, Issabel, who both shone to perfection that night.  As we all were.  An usherette led us to the buffet and I asked for Elvin.  The microscopic bewigged monarch, whose voice was so high-pitched one would never thought he was actually a man, told me, “He can’t be here.  He is on make-up,”  He said it so matter-of-factly that I had to shut it and gobbled on my lechon kawali instead, drowning the grub in home-made Bullfrog.  I had to emphasize on home-made because it was virtually absinthe and it tasted fabulous!  A cornucopia of the guests’ rustles that ranged from scrupulous ache to grateful avidity.  It was debauched and ultimately concupiscent.  Sex was in the air.

The show started on time.  Very drag-queen-disciplined in a sense.  After Elektra started her show, I found myself being pushed around by the crowd! I glared like an owl and started pushing everyone around me as well, my camera flashes going to the ceiling, the bathroom and who knows? maybe as far as Greenland being rocked back and forth by the insolent audience.  It was riot.

After the very dishy number, Elektra collected herself and sang Fallen. An acoustic song that must have serenaded Elvin’s past love, Malik, with a tiny brush of vitality over a death of love that came and went years and years ago.  In the middle of her alluding number, a guy guffawed out of nowhere.  Elektra, distracted, shouted at the guy “Hoy! Shut up.  I am singing here!”, daggering her peacock eyelashes towards him.  After which, she went back to her phonic world as if nothing happened. It was waggishly entertaining.

Hiram came next.  A Tagalog song popularized by Zsa Zsa Padilla which speaks about a mistress’ bemoanings towards her married lover.  Elektra’s voice perplexed me because after 35 years, this is the first time I heard her sing that way, full of yearning and chastened dialogues buried deep.  Somewhere deep in her ravines that no one can dive into.  It was encompassing.  It made everyone remember about vain love in all its magnitude.

A dance number came next as The Queen enjoyed her 3 minute forty winks.  And then her royal majesty, the usherette of the night in all his high-pitchedness, gave us a number as well.

And then she came back singing and paying tribute to her idol, Regine Velasquez.  There were crocodile tears hiding in my grimace as she sang Shine.  It was such an affirmation of herself that night:  a beauty recaptured by song, dance and music and a persona so alive that it told the tale of an ex-drag queen’s resistance to reality and her psychedelic plunge to her very own fool’s paradise.

After the musical dragfest, we all went back to our infernal methanol/absinthe and waited for Elektra to disband into good ole Elvin.  He came out of Elektra’s room minutes later to be among us the living who were already being dragged to our deaths, thanks to that deadly in-house drink.

An hour have passed after the musical and I went around Elvin’s apartment and mingled with his robust friends as my very own entourage dissolved into their own newfound circle.  Catherine’s group drank by the gallons and a tiny magic bottle from Germany fretted its way into their hands.  Poppers.

I was offered to sniff the witchlike dope but I declined.  I was feeling so amorous that night I had to say NO TO DRUGS to venture on for some good old irresponsible sex.  No, I was not feeling amorous.  I was horny.  So, as I scanned through the cold room, with the thumps of old school house music, I saw an ex-flame and went to him.  Funny. This city is so big and yet so small that you stumble upon people who either had sex with you or an enemy for that matter by simply attending an event such as This Is It, Ate!!!.  If you live here, you need to be prepared for the unexpected.  Indeed it is a small world.  After all.

I said hello to Ex-Flame, who was already bound to the emergency room had he sniffed one of those poppers.  He hugged and tongued me much to my unperturbed gratification.  I sat on his lap making sure I appeared as drunk as I could knowing that alcohol at its best is your feckless whorific self obeying to its diabolical orders.  I was under Lucifer’s hands that night as I got strangled, tongued and forced to drink some more of that evil blue drink.  I recollected myself every 2 minutes of anatomical fencing just to make sure that I was still cognizant.  My sense of irony have fled one hour before the heavy flirtations and there was nothing more on my mind but This Is It ! and I surrendered to its command fearlessly.  Happily.

Around 2 AM, I sat with Elvin as everyone began departing to the cold outside to head back to their respective methodical lives.  I thanked Elvin and congratulated him for having a fabulously raunchy party.  I even joked that the weather must have gotten everyone inclined to temptation.  He cruelly replied, “Gaga, ikaw lang!” reiterating that I was the only one who densely cruised my way out of my sheer punch-drunk self.

All I could do was nod.

I enjoyed Elektra’s This Is It, Ate !!!

More than anything else, it was Elvin’s birthday party.  And having known Elvin for more than 10 years now, it makes me proud that he did not just pay tribute to his heydays back in the 90s and early 2000’s but somehow recreated a different Elektra that night.  A matured, elevated and sultry queen whose glimmer entwined his guests and turned them into cosmic, liquored and pulsating particles of his own world.  Not only was I entertained but like everyone else in that celebration of decadence, I was, undoubtedly, Elektrified.

“So, is Elektra finally saying goodbye this time?”  I asked him on our way to the elevator.

“No, you are actually talking to her right now,”  Elvin remarked, his voice trailing off to a distant somewhere.  It made me laugh.  Little did I know, deep inside of me, a part of me was sobbing frantically knowing that my friend is happy.  And that he has done something that made everyone realize that life, in all its sullen interludes, is a beautiful queen that is yet to be crowned.  That for every beautiful queen in us awaits a very beautiful life.


About this entry