It has been for the longest time that the political t-shirt of Thailand seesawed from Red (pro-Thaksin) to Yellow (anti-Thaksin) which is perhaps a proxy battle of colors between the mostly rural masses (the Reds) versus the dominant urban elite (the Yellows) and ultimately, the escalating political tension gave the Thai military a reason to step in and they did, locking out of the government both the Reds and the Yellows.
[Can it be also that the current political spectrum in the Philippines is becoming polarized into the Reds [mostly pro-Duterte rural working class] and the Yellows [dominated by urban-based economic and intellectual elite] which will escalate into a conflict that will rationalize military intervention?]
But Thailand has an ace, a revered king who can transcend colors, whose death plunge the country into deep mourning and further political uncertainty, which flooded Bangkok in a sea of black when I flew in for back-to-back face-to-face meetings.
As such, we kept in black too in solidarity with the Thai people, toned down the usually happy dinners, cut back on the alcohol intake which was two bottles of Singha beer at most, and went home earlier than usual.
I wore a black shirt when I flew back to Manila, in continuing solidarity with our Thai brothers and sisters, and as an act of protest to the unfolding outcome of a change process that is fast evolving into a huge disappointment, and to illustrate my own personal fear of the potential outcome of an escalating political tension between our own Reds and Yellows.
I still wore black the next day when I took "Bunso" to breakfast in our favorite street carinderia.
In Nueva Ecija, the annual remembrance for the dead is turning out into a week-long vacation so I changed into white biking jerseys to celebrate Bulan and Balong's return to our familiar biking haunts, although I vowed to wear black briefs until after November 1.
It was from the unpredictable and dangerous streets of Manila that I found solace and come to terms with my unfortunate fate of being cut off from a shortlisting process [pukes], but hugely disappointed that Maginhawa as the touted street food of QC is nothing but cars and closed restaurants at 7 AM [sighs].
But that was about to change as I made my way to Bangkok in the midst of an unexpected spending spree [GBP 114,000 in two weeks] and the aftermath of Super Typhoon Lawin [should have been with the RAT] to a cabal of ASEAN campaigners that ended in an Indian restaurant along Silom Road.
And the streets of Bangkok, more than the disorienting reverse way of driving, is a stretch of food museum, from surprising ice cream toppings [sticky rice and red beans] to meat cooked many ways [grilled, fried, sauteed], pre-packed lunch pouches [interesting], deep-fried baby octopus [yucky], cold flower tea drinks [refreshing], and bamboo tubes as drinking vessels [not new] at the Chatuchak Weekend Market.
I thought that and lunch was the end of it but it turned not as the embers of a shopping binge caught fire which cancelled a meeting [sorry Qaiser and Mustafa], which is the story why I came to have three stainless IKEA reading lamps and on the risk of overloading for the flight back to Manila.
But that was not the end of it still as it was decided after a pitcher of honey-sweetened lemonade that we will continue our conversation on the "change process" [pukes again] in Soi [street] 4 of Silom Road where sangrias and mojitos rained on a 9-set tapas meal where we also got floored by a late order of paella.
That made it Indian and Spanish dinners in a row plus buffet breakfasts and lunches, along and outside the streets of Bangkok, which certainly will later require more time in burning excesses in the streets of Manila.
Kailan ko lang napansin ang espadang nakabitin sa kisame na parang aninong nakasunod saan man ako magpunta, sa kubeta man o sa MRT, nanunutya, nananakot na para bang mga malignong nagtatago sa kadiliman ng mga agam-agam, hindi nakikita pero nandoon, na siya kong isinuplong sa simbahan ni Santo Domingo at sinubok na iligaw sa kagitingan ng aking mga kapatid sa Santo Tomas.
Ang espadang pinanday sa pangako ng parehas na laban ay isa na ngayong sandata ng mga berdugong tumaga sa maayos na sanang ikalawang kabanata, bumayo sa pinakapundasyon ng mga isinagawang paghahanda para sa mahabahabang digmaan, lumikha ng panghihinayang sa mga pinakawalang pagkakataon upang makaisa ang mga pinagkakautangan ng loob, at ngayo'y isang punyal na anumang oras ay nakatakdang kumawala sa natitira pang hibla ng hunos dili na siyang tanging pumipigil sa pagbulusok nito sa aking bumbunan, para bagang mga lantang bulaklak na ipinapaninda sa Dangwa at mga litsong unti-unting napapanis sa La Loma.
Subalit ang Espada ni Damocles ay gawa lamang ng mga mortal na panakot sa mga kapwa nila, at hindi iilang beses na natukso akong agawin ito sa kamay ng mga nanghusga at gamiting panggansilyo sa lubid na ipambibitin sa kanila ng patiwarik, katulad ng mga nagawa na sa mga katulad na pagkakataon, o kaya ay panali sa mga kakaladkarin paikot sa Quezon Memorial Circle at Bagong Silanganan hanggang magkalasuglasug ang kanilang laman.
Pero may mga nakakaramdam at nakakaunawa, may mga matinong pananaw sa iglap ng kabaliwan, may mga matiyagang makinig, may mga malamig na serbesa at malutong na crispy pata na binudburan ng bawang para sa mas mahabang pasensiya, at ng sili na siyang nagpapaalala na hindi pa ito ang tuldok ng pananalita.
Samantala, ang espada ay pansamantala munang hiniram na pangtadtad sa malutong na litson mula sa Nueva Ecija, malinamnam bagamat mamantika, may isang tumpok na tinumis na kasama, at libreng panghimagas na "Akap" mula sa Imago ni Aia, na siyang pinang-ulam sa pananghalian at hapunang inilatag sa tabi ng kubeta.
Hindi iisa ang araw at hindi pa tapos ang kuwento ng espada...
It just don't add up as it used to be.
The biking is becoming more frequent and the forays into gated enclaves more daring, like the days in the saddle when I need to ponder the best way to seize the day, possible scenarios unfolding in my mind, calculating the risks, weighing the options, discerning the implications...
But the gentle slopes of Heroes Hill and PHILAM Village is not enough for that, although sufficient to admit that it is more for the pay rather than the job, with Bulan in college, the things that we do and spend for, saving for the future when we can no longer work, and many other reasons that took me walking all the way to the Fisher's Mall for the first time.
Is it worth it?
I mean the time spent away from home, the creative juices that deserted the long nights in my forlorn rented room, the rigidity of rules that is killing the anarchist in me, the intrusions into my creative space, the corporate silos, and the rat race and routine it is turning out to be.
"The leader of the band is tired..." so crooned and danced the real band as the whiskey bottles intimated that "this will be the day that I'll die...".
It is not a perfect world, UP is not the perfect campaign, and where I am is not a perfect place.
This is the price to pay for chaining myself to the great iron ball of security, so forget all about flying high and free like the Scottish twin eagles who like noodles and learn to exist without the liberating assurance of being able to think and act on your instinct, because it must be done, like enduring the prescriptions of innate ToCs and catatonic sign-off procedures, and yes, going for my first ever pigar-pigar dish.
But perhaps it is just the ageing activist in me.
Or I just miss my biking Sundays with Balong...
At umapaw nga ang mga naipong tulo ng mga dapat gawin sa isang araw katulad sa pagsiksik ng mga sasakyan sa EDSA sa pagitan ng alas-7 at alas-nuwebe ng umaga kaya walang ibang nagawa ang Uber kundi umasa sa turo ni "Ways" upang makarating sa ADB sa tamang oras, mapakinggan ang mga mahistrado, at dahil alas-2 na ng hapon ay walang kunsumisyon na bumagtas ng EDSA patungong UP-Diliman para sa iba pang pagpupulong.
Kinabukasan ay ganun ulit ang kuwento, lumigwak ang utak na natunaw ng mga diskurso sa interpretasyon ng batas ng tao sa batas ng kalikasan hanggang sa makatatlong baso ako ng calamansi juice with honey concentrate, nananghalian sa masaganang hapag ng mga husgado at nakipag-selfie sa mga magigiting na abogado, at nagpasiyang bumalik na lamang sa opisina para maiparada ang ebidensiya na nagsusuot nga ako ng barong tagalog bukod sa pang-araw-araw na maong at t-shirt kung kinakailangan.
Sa mga pagkakataong ganito na puno na ang salop ay lumalabas kami ni Bunso para maglibot at magpalamig sa Trinoma at SM-North.
At kapag punong-puno na talaga ay humihiling ako ng TOIL para mabawi ang mga Sabado at Linggong iginugol sa trabaho, at makapiling si AGT sa paggagalugad sa mga daang kariton ng Nueva Ecija sabay magpugay na din kay San Geronimo dahil nagkataong pista ng Baloc.
At kapag punong-punong-puno na talaga, ganito ang pinakamabisang pansalo sa mga ligwak at tulo:
