Okt 21, 2004

I ran into a boy whose job is to go shopping for John and Yoko, tp buy them clothes and things. I asked him if they'd ever made him bring anything back and he said just once. I asked him if they ever wore any of the clothes they bought since they don't go out, and he said, 'They're going to make a comeback. They've been wearing them to the studio.' Oh, and the best thing he said was that when he started to work for them he had to sign a paper that said, 'I will not write a book about John Lennon and/or Yoko Ono.' Isn't that great? He said he loves his job. I should find somebody to help me shop - where all the good new things are.

Andy Warhol
October 21, 1980
Diary entry


Good new things

Yesterday, I met three of my most promising students to process our hopes for a group. Back when I began the school year, I chalked in these October days for doubt. Any earlier and the house of cards would've fallen. Any later, I'd have no time to build another. Still, their presence reassured me. I set dissembling doubts aside for a while.

After that, I met two of the best people I know. We went where pizza was creamy and conversation thick. Two of us rang a bell before leaving because we liked that. One didn't because he was still to busy talking and packing in a left-over slice.

We proceeded to an old place and found it closed for renovation. It looked through the glass doors and found it dark, sad, and dusty inside. We went to a place where we appreciated the cushioned seats and the soft music. Beer all around and I had paracetamol for pulutan. We loved the thicker conversation, the yet impenetrable differences, and the sick humor of time. We hated the golden alcohol.

We parted ways, still cursing in unison, promising revolution from loose throats and empty pockets. I walked home from Ortigas to Guadalupe, half-wishing someone would try to mug me. I had a cheap camera with me, a worthless wallet, and my old thousand-peso cellphone. My pack carried ballpens, highlighters, notes, tissues, and Orientalism.

I figured they can have everything, even the bag, but I'd kill for the messages and the film.

After a twenty minute walk, I woke my father with the doorbell, changed, and slept on the spare couch.