Who The Hell is Jon Verzosa?

Dear Readers,

Today is Jon Verzosa’s 30-faux birthday.  He sends his love despite the fact that he is spending it with Coldplay, 6 pieces of Russell Stover French mint chocolates, half a pack of Marlboro reds, in front of his laptop perfunctorily jamming on its tormented keypad, all ALONE and desiring to validate a merrier Joyeux Anniversaire had he not been broke, busy and blistered by many many things . . .

This is how I know Jon Verzosa for years by the way; blistered, busy and broke.  3Bs.  Oh wrong, 5Bs.  I missed beautiful and boisterous. His life is so full of loveliness and noise that even in silence; his consciousness can replicate the sound of words and turn them into perfect, solid pictures in his head.  He blamed his acne outbreaks to be an indispensable building block of these noises created by his creepy cranium.  Until he learned to exhaust his mind in its restiveness.  He told me one time that he has stopped dreaming completely since last year and it all began when he went back to reading or simply by random thinking like it is some form of meditation.

He believes that wakefulness should not only be spent watching the world as it goes – it should also be spent creating images in your head while you read, listen, smell and taste.  Mental overtiredness. This way, immobility in sleep – a dreamless sleep as you may – beauty and contentment in nothingness – can actually be achievable.  Total crap.  I think the guy may have achieved complete lunacy.  No wonder why he has such bad skin and monthly visitations of dandruff.

Well, who the hell is Jon Verzosa anyway?  Better yet, who the hell does he think he is?


We all came to know him four years ago in the course of his gelatinous and stinky blog called Confessionings by Jon Verzosa; a gathering of perverse tales that took us to the bowels of his day-to-day wrath against the hiccups of work, sex and love.  Guess what?  His often-irritating narcissism unexpectedly fooled netizens to a cult following on his famously underground My Life in 50 Days.  Here, he egoistically penned his alleged sexual abuse when he was 8, tried to find his inner centre (in vain) and hoodwinked us all to the enticing kibbutz of his life in Dubai and on to one of the biggest love stories of his life that became a plate of rotting stew on the unfinished The Philippine Diaries, a supposed account of his homecoming and a (very) insipid follow-up on the notable 50 Days.  Unfinished because he became, well, like I declared above, busy, broke and blistered.  There’re a lot of unresolved issues, this Jon Verzosa.  No wonder his shameless acceptance as columnist in this web magazine was something the universe actually planned.  Why?  So he would finally STOP writing about himself and start writing some brains about other people instead.

Stars and Butterflies, Jon Verzosa’s column in Pinoy Pop Biz, became an avenue for the bizarre essayist to momentarily forget about self-absorption and began writing about life stories of artists, actors, entrepreneurs, doctors, directors, showbiz personalities, advocates, you name it. Anyone he felt whose life can contribute something and can share something special to his equally theatrical readers.  Something other than his own life-threatening autobiography in edgy entries that does not only involve analysing penis size but also encourages his readers the use of Prozac, to watch Sex and the City the Movie and to decode the similarly crooked Tori Amos and her Cornflake Girls.  In my own opinion, I have all the reasons to thank his (more customary) column at Pinoy Pop Biz because it got us all spared from his contagious downbeat stimulus. And probably from our premature finish.


Who the hell does Jon Verzosa think he is?

His family and friends, oh how they adore him! They are so blind!  Nobody realizes how he coughs up on your face, literally and relatively, as a boss and how scheming he could get as a subordinate.  You know why? Because he always gets what he wants.  Even if it would mean crawling on a bed of broken glass, looking shitty in front of people, wearing skirt in public, falling in love, getting involved, winking to your humour, laughing with your tears – at the end of the road, you – yes YOU! – will only end up at the tip of his pen, a Charles Manson of his wishes, a wound that time can never heal.  Just between you and me but once upon a time he told me, “What’s immortality anyhow if your own pedigree won’t live on the pages forever?”

He also once wrote that schools were his favourite thing.  Or music.  Or Milan Kundera.  Or making ugly things look beautiful.  I am not sure anymore. This verbose animal is actually a Capricorn – a supposed stable sign in the zodiac house – but no no no, he yaps from one topic to the next and asserts it like it is the best ride of his life.  He is baffling and UGH! he can be really so calm, no, so COLD at the same time.  At the University of the Philippines, he would’ve been remembered as ‘that biker’, the slimy long-haired beleaguer who wrote poetry about rape and someone who read so much Brontë.  His theatre peers from Colegio de San Juan de Letran may have remembered him as the invaluable comrade who cussed in between syllables and attended rehearsals and Speech drunk.  At St. Augustine’s School, where he practically memorized the Bible and learned how to conjugate his early verbs, he could’ve been remembered as the brutal student leader who came in natty uniform and continued his piano lessons way until high school.  See what I mean?  Change is normal, but Jon Verzosa is an interchangeable unit to multiplicity.  Be careful with your dealings with him, you may never know what you’re going to get.  Or who.


This is why, at 3:12 in the morning, Jon Verzosa spends his birthday alone in a mildewed cavity of a room wondering why he had to spend his birthday all alone –

and writing instead of getting drunk.

But who gives a dog’s fart?  The people surrounding him will be mad about him ad infinitum because he has more tolerance for pain and a bottomless understanding with everything around him than anyone I know.  Rumour has it that he used to do a lot of drugs, is secretly a big fan of Jennylyn Mercado and has had lovers who used him for money, although he professed that they used him only for his body.  However, he is truly sexy, has a million friends and had many lovers to write about.  A lot of stories in his belt in fact.  He is not just a psychopath, mind you, he is a sought-after psychopath.  I know that he’d be smiling when he reads this, that ridiculous rogue of a man.  I still wish Iwas Jon Verzosa deep down inside but since I am not, buti nga sa kanya!

Sincerely Yours,

A Disclaimer Named Jon Verzosa

Jon Verzosa of Stars and Butterflies

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