albert.

I spent the night at Albert’s place. Nothing fancy, no celebration of any sort. I just wanted to hang-out at some people’s house before classes start next week. We had plans of getting some booze, but what can you expect from a place near the mountains of Rizal, Rodriguez to be exact. Nada.

Good thing Albert can cook. He saw a bag of elbow macaroni and poof! there was Sopas. In fairness, it was really good. Perhaps, part of the credits goes to the garlic he used. He said that it is the secret for making a good one. It was so good, that my dad should be ashamed that he cooks a similar dish which he calls by the same name.

We talked all night. We spoke in English. But this is not to sound stupid or poser-ish in many ways. But the truth is we didn’t go to a school where people speak English everyday, not your high end, first-class high school. So it was weird, really.

The conversation was weirder. He asked things like, how can you make every second count with the person that you miss? Or things like, if there is one thing in your past that you want to change, what will it be? He specifically said that he didn’t want to talk about any other things, unless it sounds like a question made for pageants. Some questions came from song lyrics. When I couldn’t understand, he would sing the line. And sometimes, questions were really nonsense, but I answered anyways.

We talked while Sitti was singing on the background. There were those moments when he would sing while I answer his questions, and would say, sorry. He just couldn’t help it. It’s his favorite daw. It was Bossa nova the whole night. But I think it was just an excuse to sing more. That was after Karen stole his last karaoke song at Joseph’s despedida.

He asked me about the recent Lantern Parade. He reminded me that he went to the 2007 parade and saw me with a friend. When asked what that friend looked like, he said my friend was like Fred. (To that friend, you shouldn’t be that flattered. It’s not even a compliment. Peace Fred!) Right, Albert.

The next thing we knew, it was my time to go home. The sun’s already up. So I asked for his final words for me and I quote, “Lean not on your own understanding.” I asked what that meant because it was so out of context. He promised me the explanation when “our paths cross again in the future” (direct quote, promise). For the mean time, he wants me to think about it. Pa-Confucius effect?

He’ll visit UP this February for the Fair. It’s always nice to see old friends in a different place. But for next week, it’ll be UP for me once again.

***

That’s an old shot of Marc, Albert, and Lean.

***

I still disgust the Sunken Garden. Wala lang, just a thought.