Saturday Stories
July 15, 2017
"She came to me. She said, 'Anna,' just like that. I
said 'Why?' 'How are you?' I said, 'Fine.' But what I was thinking, what I
really wanted to say was, 'Mother, your breasts are sagging now. Your face is
already wrinkled. I bet your lover is not fucking you anymore.' She tried to
give me money. I refused. I showed her my bag. 'Look,' I told her,' I have a
lot.' Then I tried to give her some, but she also refused. 'We both have a lot
of money,' she said. Then she cried. Me, I never did. I don't want to cry. I
don't want her to see me cry."
I couldn't pinpoint any predominant
emotion among the mix in me when I watched Mel Chionglo's Lagarista again
recently. Lagarista is about a young man named Gregory (Piolo Pascual) who
lives in the same house where I used to, a mansion built during the Spanish era
in the 18th century in Quiapo at the heart of Manila. Gregory's work is taking
film reels to different movie theaters. This was in the nineties when films are
still projected.
Gregory's girlfriend Anna (Janna Victoria)
reminds of me of my own girlfriend during that time who also worked in a bar.
His grandfather Paking (Koko Trinidad) reminds me so much of my late foster
father. The scene where grandpa Paking dies as he walks towards the screen is
so heartbreaking to me in a very personal way.
Gregory's closest friends are Jimmy
(Pen Medina), a projectionist who wants to believe that her wife loves him; and
Osang (Cherry Pie Picache), a waitress who wants to believe that her lover will
still return.
I can relate to that. Most of my
friends are older than me because I've always felt drawn to them. Most of them
are gone now, and I feel it's a great privilege to have become a part of their
lives.
I remember Bulaklak, the Chinese
diner where Osang works. I remember Times, the iconic movie theater where
Gregory would deliver the reels, locking his bike on the accordion gate.
If you're standing at the entrance,
you will see Quiapo Church across the road, with all those vendors selling
herbs at the sidewalk. On your left is a small street with a police station and
the Bahay Nakpil Museum. On your right, you will see the footbridge that leads
to Raon, the street famous for electronic equipments and musical instruments
where Anna buys karaoke CDs of Japanese songs for her customers.
I've written a story set in the
same place during that time. It was a sort of stream of consciousness meta-noir
about a teenage boy who was struggling with existential angst because he had
seen too much of the dark side of humanity.
I used a typewriter and sent the
manuscript to the Philippine Free Press via postal mail. Then a few days later,
bam! The iconic magazine announced its closure. I won't be able to recreate it
even if I wanted to, and I don't want to. There are many things I've said there
that I don't want to say again.
I'm not even sure how I feel as I
write this. I'll always cherish that chapter in my life, with all its parallels
with the movie, but I have moved on a long time ago. It was my coming of age
and the end of an era. I remember the story, but I don't remember the feeling
anymore.
Photo courtesy of YouTube.com
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