Does anybody remember Lorenzo Laxa?

Yes, the model-turned-bit-player in the movies, who cried foul and declared that showbiz is filthy and that he is going back to modeling which is “more decent”. He got into mainstream ramp shows and commercials, but he disappeared eventually. Pictures above, taken at a New Manila townhouse, are rather tame compared to the others taken within the place. Posts coming up soon.

Carlos Concepcion Admits

Now that model- boyband singer Carlos Concepcion has admitted in a magazine interview that the controversial [by Manila society standards] pictures contain actual naked images of himself, the issue will be laid to rest. The pictures were taken by noted Manila photog Frank Hoefsmit as part of an exhibit last year. The original photos were dark you could not see the bits and pieces [laughter]. A little light enhancement did it all for our feasting.

Boy Lollipop: McMeil Dennison

Okay, he made our hearts go giddy-yap. This Filipino-Irish Cebuano was the most daring Viva Hotmen member. Remember their first video where he was bathing under the waterfalls in his white jockeys? Bakat! Or that massage-shower scene with another Viva Hotmen hottie Ethan Zulueta? Or their first video launch at the Island Cove when he tore his t-back thongs and threw it at the audience [Who caught that?]? Darn. But did you know that he graduated with a Marine Technology course? He used to work for a chemical tanker abroad, before coming home to join numerous bikini contests. RS Francisco discovered him and recommended him to the group and the rest is history. Viva Hotmen is also, uh, history now.

Losing Haringey

[Model is Eric, a male pageant contestant. More to come.]

I just have to share this with you guys. To all the depressed people out there. Song in overplay on my player: Losing Haringey by the melancholic band The Clientele. Haringey is a North London Borough, which I had the chance to visit in 2001. Think Silent Hill [the movie] and you would get the feel of Haringey, at least that’s what I feel now remembering the time I visited the place. Alexandra Palace [], which is a historic convention place in London, is located within Haringey
The song is so sad, you could almost feel the dripping lines, solid with sorrow and swelling with suffering. It is actually a spoken word song and the narrator has this nasally depressed voice. Anybody suffering from the blahs and the blues can relate.
Losing Haringey
by The Clientele
“In those days there was a kind of feeling of pushing out of the front door, into the pale exhaust fume park by broad water pond where the grubby road eventually leads to end field. Turkish supermarkets after chicken restaurants after spare pawnshop, everything in my life felt like it was coming to a mysterious close. I could hardly walk to the end of the street without feeling there was no way to go except back. The dates I had that summer count to nothing, my job was a dead end and the rain check was killing me a little more each month. It seemed unlikely that anything could hold much longer. The only question left to ask was what would happen after everything familiar collapsed, but for now the sun was stretched between me and that moment. It was ferociously hot and the equality became so bad that by the evening the noise of nearby trains stuttered in and fix and storks, distorted through the shifting end. As I lay in my room I can hear my neighbors discussing the world kemp and opening beers in their gardens on the other side someone was singing an Arabic prayer through the thin wall I had no money for the pub so I decided to go for a walk. I found myself wandering aimlessly to the west past the terrace of chicken and bomb shops and long dreads near the tube station. I crossed the street and headed into virgin territory, I had never been this way before grabble Dutch houses alternative with square 60s offices and the white pavements angulated with cracks and litter. I walked in wall because there was nothing else for me to do and by the breeze the light began to fade. The mouth of an avenue led me to the verge of a long greasy A road that rose up in the far distance with symmetrical terraces falling steeply down and up again from a distant railway station. There were 4 benches to my right indispurced with those strange bushes that grow in the area. These blossoms are so pale yellow they seem translucent almost spectral and suddenly tired, I sat down. I held my head in my hands, feeling like shit but a sudden breeze escaped from the terraces and for a moment I lost my thoughts and its unexpected glooms. I looked up and I realized I was sitting in a photograph. I remember clearly this photograph was taken by my mother in 1982 outside our front garden in Hampshire, it was slightly underexposed I was still sitting in the bench but the colors and the plains of the road and the horizon had become the photo but I looked hard and I could see the lines of the window ledge in the original photograph were now composed by a tree branch and the silhouetted edge of a grass barge, the sheens the flash on the window was replicated by gunfire smoke drifting infinitely testify slowly from behind the fence my sisters face had been dimly visible behind the window and yes there were pale stars far off to the west that traced out the lines of a toddlers eyes and mouth. When I look back at this there?s nothing to grasp, no starting point, I was inside an underexposed photo from 1982 but I was also sitting on a bench in Haringey, strangest of all was the feeling of 1982, dizzy illogical as if none of the intervening disasters and wrong turns had happened yet. I felt guilty and inconsolably sad. I felt the instinctive tug back, to school; the memory of shopping malls, cooking, driving in my mothers car, all gone, gone forever. I just sat there for awhile, I was so tired that I didn?t bother trying to work out what was going on. I was happy just to sit in the photo while it was lasted which wasn?t long anyway. The light faded, the wind caught the smoke, the stars dimmed under the glare of the streetlamps. I got up and walked away from the spot of little benches and an oncoming of Garish kids. Our bus was rumbling to my rescue down that hill with a great big fire Alexandra palace on its front and I realized I did want to drink after all.”

WITWI Marlon Morco

Where in the world is Marlon Morco? UPH [ ] and I were wondering whatever happened to this cute chinito guy. Remember him as one of the only two Filipino-looking guys [the other being runner-up DJ Myke Salomon] in the Mossimo Bikini Summit contest in 2004? He stood it out among his batch, which included Filipino half-breeds Martin Jickain, Alec van Dierendonck and foreigners Dane Hutchinson and eventual winner Marco Grazzini. For some reason or the other, I know I have some studio pictures of this guy but I can’t seem to find them. In the meantime, UPH why don’t you hit us with one of those fleshly-filthy first-hand stories about your experience with this guy?

WITWI Harvey Gomez

He was one of the cutest boys on the now defunct teen breeding ground That’s Entertainment. He tried to go daring on print but his career did not go beyond the song-and-dance-and-wave-to-the-fans routine. Apparently, he quit the biz and went on the usual way of his show’s male alum, that is, get married, get fat, get a blue-collar job. Last spotted as a customer relations officer [usher?] at a comedy sing-along bar in Quezon City.