Starving For Genius - Episode 14

Erotic Substance

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Chapter 8

Slumdog Princess

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A half day for creating and prep, two days of shooting, one day of editing. Three and a half days per project makes two videos per week. Twenty-eight days equals four weeks. Add the last two to three days per month with no break for five years and this brought the number of music videos I had created to five hundred.

Not that quantity ever trumped quality. All were flawless, all seamless in marrying music and motion picture. But after so many nameless faces. Threesomes. Orgies. The body count constantly rising, never steadying. It was getting to the point to where I was fearing I would unknowingly fuck someone I had already been with. And with my fragile mental state getting shakier and shakier, if such were to occur and threaten my flow of brilliance, I honestly don’t think I would have survived it.

This brought me to the conclusion that in order to save myself I had to step back and reassess. There was no reason to believe I couldn’t take a breather. Perhaps just a week or two to come up with some elaborate master plan that would carry me as far as I could get before pulling the plug on my existence.

Besides, five-hundred was a nice round number to take this break. If it would have been a few more, or even a couple, my demons would have demanded I kept going until I hit one thousand.

It had all started in Manila, so what better place to search for the answers?

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I’ve always loved walking. To clear my mind. To get the blood flowing. To experience my surroundings with all my senses.

Back home the autumn air would be cool and crisp, keeping me comfortable in a light jacket and pair of jeans. But on the streets of Manila I found myself in a constant sweat, the t-shirt and shorts I was wearing not doing much to stop the flow of perspiration.

A few blocks into it, I had become so desperate that I removed the ol’ ball cap and sunglasses at the risk of being spotted by those who kept up on pop culture. With the world being smaller than it’s ever been, the ludicrous human condition known as celebrity now easily reaches all corners of the globe. And that late afternoon proved such with at least a half dozen passersby taking notice with their wide eyes and bright smiles as their brains tried to register my familiar face.

I took in a few more streets, with the cracked and broken sidewalks continuing to scuff up my shoes as I’d glance up, just for curiosity’s sake, while passing alleys and the like. Just a little quirk I’ve always had, wanting to know what lies within the nooks and crannies of city life.

The homeless filled most of Manila’s, especially alleyways that were tucked away between abandoned buildings. I gave to a few when approached but kept my pace brisk. After all, even the world’s richest man would go broke in less than a day if he tried to help all who are in need.

But then a pair of eyes caught my attention and wouldn’t let go. They belonged to a woman who appeared to be in her early thirties, with slum-dark skin that had probably never been properly cleaned.

Realizing I was a foreigner, she latched onto my forearm and wouldn’t let go, pulling the loose collar of her grimy blouse down with her other hand to show me her flat bony chest as she repeated, “Sex. Sex. Sex.”

Shaking my head no, I gave her the last of my coins and moved to leave, but those piercing grey eyes once again stopped me in my tracks.

They were pleading, as she was now alternating between putting her hand to her mouth and rocking her arms as if cradling a baby.

“Where? Where’s your baby?” Motioning as I said this since she obviously couldn’t speak English.

With her filthy hand back around my arm she began to pull me into the alley, and since our communication was limited to the physical, I allowed her to do so

Past makeshift dwellings and littered trash, the woman led me to the dead end of the alley. An area no bigger than a prison cell and fenced off by a couple of large flattened pieces of cardboard.

Beyond the crude barrier were random items from the outside world, while a small tent with more patches than original canvas filled the remaining space. Prime real estate when compared to the rest of the alley.

I had put my hat and sunglasses back on in an attempt to conceal my foreign appearance, but along the way still managed to attract a few squatters that the woman was now trying to shoo away while closing her cardboard gate.

Word was spreading quickly, and as she pulled back the blanket sewn into the tent that served as its entrance she gestured me to go inside.

It wasn’t as hot as I would have imagined, thanks to a current of early evening breeze beginning to stream into the alleyway and through the hole above our heads from a drawn back piece of fabric.

The floor of the tent was hard but cool, with a few spots cushioned with pillows and blankets.

And that’s when my eyes found hers. The woman’s teenage daughter staring back at me as an infant lay sleeping in her arms.

She had her mother’s eyes, only more intense. Grey ash, as if the soul behind them was on fire. Upon first glance she might have appeared as just another slum girl, but for someone like myself, who had been admiring art from the hands of genius nearly all my life, what I saw before me was a true pearl in the lagoon.

Her mother took notice of this, took the baby from her daughter’s arms, and with her free hand went to lift the teenager’s t-shirt.

“Sex. Sex. Sex.”

An obvious first for her, the girl was nervous but had the same desperate look of need and therefore followed her mother’s urgings and began to remove her shirt.

But I shot my hand out and stopped her before her breasts could be revealed. “No. No, that’s not necessary.”

“Wala ako pera sa pagkain,” the woman said.

“I… I don’t understand,” I replied.

“She say no money for food.” The girl’s eyes were still intently focused on mine, and now that she was directing her soft voice towards me as well, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat mesmerized.

“You speak English.”

“Kaunti. Uh… little.”

I reached into my pocket, took out a five-hundred-peso bill, and handed it to the woman. It was an equivalent of about twelve U.S. dollars, which in these conditions was enough to feed this family of three for nearly a week

Overjoyed, the woman laid her sleeping baby down on a pillow, hugged the hand I had given her the money with, and went about preparing a cup of powdered orange juice for me.

I couldn’t help but have a little inner laugh as I thought to myself that the only thing missing from this being my drink of choice was the peach schnapps.

But of course, for sanitary reasons, I only acted as though I were drinking from the cup of my gracious host, my eyes never really leaving the girl who seemed to be captivating me more and more with every passing moment.

As ridiculous as it may sound, I felt like an awkward teenager with my next question.

“What’s your name?”