MY LIFE AS ART

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BY PETER SOLIS NERY
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Life with a punching bag

THERE is one clip you may, or may not see, on the Facebook page of my new film, Ikapito nga Adlaw (7th Day) – a film by Peter Solis Nery. It’s actually a decoy clip, a mock scene that used our makeshift slate, a.k.a. clapper, for the very first time. It features me, and my personal assistant, who, at that time, I just named the production manager of our movie.
I don’t want the clip to circulate because, well, it’s not really part of the movie, and I don’t want to mislead people who may not really be following our Facebook page for trailers, bloopers, gags, behind-the-scenes, and other revelations. But also because, well, here was my P.A., and the film’s P.M., slapping me, the great actor-director-writer-producer Peter Solis Nery. The crew wanted to get back at me for abusing them during the shoot, so now my editor even put the slapping part on a loop. It makes the scene hilariously funny.
But, you may actually get to see it posted on our film’s Facebook page because, well, my P.A. is also the page administrator, among many other things. ‘Among other things’ means that my P.A. is also my road manager, and I just don’t mean driver, although he also manages the road that way; finance and budget officer; personal trainer; makeup artist and fashion consultant; alarm clock and date planner.
Now, how did someone like a P.A. become so powerful? Easy. I wanted a punching bag. And Catholic with a guilty conscience that I am, since I punch it, I spoil it, too. So, here we have a case of a punching bag that punches me back, too, which is kinda fun, if you were to witness our gags and antics.
On the recommendation of a friend, I left the business of the land title transfer for my newly acquired farm property to Irv, a.k.a. Doc, in May earlier this year. Actually, I left that business to a woman fixer in October last year, but we were nowhere near completion when I came home in April to campaign for Duterte, Robredo, and my slate of politicians for the May elections. That woman fixer actually got me into trouble so Doc had to do everything all over again. Without running away with my millions, and in fact, saving me a few thousands because he threatens all “kickback agencies” with media exposure, Doc actually earned my trust and admiration.
Because of our constant online chat in June and July, I decided that Doc would serve as my personal assistant when I vacationed to the Philippines again in August. The land title transfer processing took a little longer than we both expected. I wanted to have it released before I arrived in Iloilo on Aug. 28, so on his Aug. 26 birthday, Doc prioritized a trip to the Registry of Deeds (ROD), and finally got the new Transfer Certificate of Title.
When we chatted that night, he made a joke that I still make him pay even up to this day. He said, “Good news: The title was finally released. Bad news: It was issued to the name of Irv Salvacion.” And trust me, when I tell the story, animated and melodramatic storyteller that I am, people tend to believe me even if the facts were screwed. I tell people I gave Doc the Special Power of Attorney to process the documents and negotiate on my behalf, which is true; and I also tell them that I had to drag Doc back to the ROD to change back the name on the title to Peter Solis Nery as the owner, which is not true, but is very funny anyway. Especially that Doc had to defend himself before my audience who adore me whether we are in UP, or in Manila, or in Negros, or anywhere else in the Philippines. Since Doc travels with me almost all of the time, either as bodyguard or driver, or ahem, P.A. and administrative assistant, I get to make him suffer the joke every time, over and over again.
So, this is why I like my bodyguard, food taster, personal assistant, business administrator, driver, road manager, alarm clock, and whatever other name or position he fancies calling himself: He gets me. Doc understands my humor, and is patient with my quirks and qualms. I told him, he cannot poison me yet (killing me softly), or kill me with a knife (impetus crime) because he is not named in my will. But I tell him, if he remains a good dog, I’ll simply write a codicil before I croak.
But let me make this clear, Doc will security check my boy toys, if it happens, but he’s not likely to procure for me. I mean, hello, I can do that myself! But he’s the type who’ll buy my condom and lubricant gel supplies, and would drive me to any destination to get my fun. In return, the only place I’m gonna drive him is crazy. I mean, I can really drive him crazy.
And this is the most amazing thing about Doc and I. He calls me ‘Amah’, but we are not employer-employee. I mean, to be an employee, he has to have a salary from me. He doesn’t. With the things that he does for me, I don’t think I can afford him. Instead, we are friends, bantering and standing as equals, and our loving joke is always, “A friend like you is a dream come true.” Hearty laugh here.
How do you keep the loyalty of someone you don’t pay? I don’t know. I often ask Doc why he stays with me. He isn’t always so clear about his answer. But this line he often repeats: “Do you think I’ll stay with you if I am not happy?”
Happiness is an abstraction, but if I can create that atmosphere where people are happy when they are with me every day, I think that I would have served my purpose in this world. And I’m not saying that as someone about to croak.
This is my hope for Doc: that he remains happy in my company for as long as he wants. And for as long as he is happy with what my little money can afford us, I want him to play more active roles in my Peter Solis Nery Foundation, in my farm, in my businesses, and in representing me when I’m outside of the country. I mean, I don’t particularly like dogs, but if I had one to protect my interests, I’d call him Doc. Or Irv. Because he is a (gay) man’s best friend./PN
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