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Once again, porn star aspirations (rather manic)

From Malena Morgan’s Instagram

Malena Morgan: living, gorgeous proof that: you don’t have to let circumstance dictate your life; you don’t have to let people’s judgments affect you; and you don’t have to feel lonely when you are alone.

* * * * 

A few days ago, I visited the restaurant Van Gogh Is Bipolar for the second time. The last time had been five years ago, when it was still a quiet, tiny place. C. lived in the area, and we walked there. It’s not so tiny anymore, and definitely not quiet – full of laughter and music, lights, little mementos accumulated over a lifetime. 

I was with a friend. We couldn’t afford the Valentine’s specials, so we just talked to the owner, sitting in the garden in our socks. 

Most people know his place as a quirky little restaurant for romantic dates. But it’s so much more than that. It’s a person’s heart, opened and shared to the general public.

His hair was long, his white linen shirt unbuttoned, skin brown from the sun, looking for all the world like a Mediterranean vintner. I told him I wanted to open a similar space in Makati, mainly to provide a loving antithesis to the terror-dungeon that is the Makati Med NP Ward. 

“As you can see,” he said wryly, “I’m not very good at business.”

There was a faint chatter outside. He glanced towards the open gate and called to someone nearby. “The children are here.” 

He looked back at us. “There are people in this area – poor people – we give them food.” 

No NGO. No tax exemptions. No officers. Just a man and his house and an open heart.

* * * * 

This is what’s supposed to happen in my life – I’m going to slog through another year of misery. Then I’m going to inherit the family business. Then I’m going to spend the rest of my life stressing over profits and customer complaints and unmotivated employees.

I wish I could be a porn star instead, and make beautiful porn with my hot wife and earn loads of money. We’d have houses all over the world, and wherever we live, would become a better place for having us there. “The children are here,” I’d say. And we, or one of our many servants, would meet them at the open gate. 

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