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This is the blog of Ian Rosales Casocot. Filipino writer. Sometime academic. Former backpacker. Twink bait. Hamster lover.

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Saturday, January 07, 2006

entry arrow9:12 PM | A Night.

Just had dinner with Bing Sitoy at Persian Palate. I remember the rush going into the six o'clock rendezvous: I was running late, and the silly attendants at Rose were still not finished with my facial and my foot spa. And I am very serious about my facials and my foot spas. What should have been a late afternoon of splendid pampering (something I needed, given the stress of editing the accreditation self-survey reports for the past few days at work) was seriously marred by murderous thoughts. Nah, not really. I was just tired of it all, and was deeply disappointed. I wanted to tell the slow attendants to hurry everything up. Bubu was pissed for the most part, and I felt even more tired, and we ended up in Scooby's with him devouring a burger and a hotdog bun. With generous helpings of mayonnaise and catsup. I saw him off in a tricycle for home in Bantayan, and I decided to walk all the way to the Boulevard, where Persian Palate was, to clear my head. It didn't take more than five minutes. But Bing was already there. So was Moses. I don't remember much what we ate: some nan, I guess. I think I had chicken kebab and mango lassi. All I remember is the talking. About Denmark, and crazy writers, and Dumaguete serial killers, and sex and falling in love, and taking a stand against deadening convention, and Boy Abunda, and terrible Filipino films, and gaining weight, and losing weight, and marriage, and sex scandals, and Butch Dalisay and Exie Abola and Dean Alfar and Krip Yuson, and agents, and Story Philippines, and old boyfriends, and the all-too real lives we mask in our fiction. Three hours of that. I guess we ate a lot of nan, too, but I am not sure. Now, I'm headed to the funeral wake for a bigshot Chinoy guy I know. I'm supposed to meet Gideon and Gerard here in Scooby's before we head off to the Carmelites where the body lies in state. Still waiting... I don't know how long this will take, but I think I need my sleep. Saw John Madden's Proof and Rob Marshall's Memoirs of a Geisha back-to-back last night, and I had a long lecture this morning. I'm tired. Okay, there's the funeral, and then perhaps I can call it a night.


[0] This is Where You Bite the Sandwich