So I dropped off the face of the Earth for four days because of mangoes.
Neva's mom and her stepdad Les have a mango farm (Kokomojo) in Guimaras, which, if you are a mango aficionado, you will know as the place where the best mangoes come from. Not just in the Philippines, but THE WORLD. Cool, no? I had to read up on this stuff because I wrote a brochure, that Le Sexy Mark Lavin beautifully designed. Anyway, there's this Asian Ethnic Food Fair that just took place at the World Trade Center, site of the most recent NU Rock Awards. Their farm had a booth, and we manned it from Friday to Sunday. Thursday was spent getting materials, getting ready, setting up the booth, picking up brochures and tarps and whatnot (unfortunately, we missed Hibla because of this, though from reports of Mich and Quark maybe unfortunately is not the right word). The Food Expo wasn't bad. It's the first time I've been involved with actually being an exhibitor at one of these things; usually I'm just a visitor with my family. But seeing everything that goes into it is an experience. You always go home dead tired from being cheerful, you always lack sleep, your muscles start freezing up from sitting down all day. It was also amazing seeing how much food there is from our country that I am simply unaware of. All sorts of jams and drinks and small snacks. Thankfully most every booth had some kind of free samples to give out. I swear, the whole time I was there I didn't pay for a single meal. Whenever I was hungry I'd just take a walk around getting free food samples and drinks, then I'd be fine. The only problem is your stomach has to be able to mix all sorts of foods from chocolate to mango rum to dilis to sardines to pili nuts to crackers and salad dressing to passion fruit jam. Yum. We shared a booth with Don Roberto's Mango Wine, which claims to be the first Mango Wine in the world, and whenever the owner wasn't there me and the guy manning the booth would take shots. We'd also attack the Crispy Spicy Dilis when we had the chance.
Mostly, though, I am becoming sick of mangoes. 3 days of chewing dried mangoes, smelling mangoes, seeing mangoes and drinking mangoes will do that to you. Not only that, but the unused leftover mangoes we didn't use was generously given by Neva to my family, and I can't even look at them without immediately turning away (my mom and cousin are thankful, though).
There was also a Garden and Pets Show as well as a Christmas Bazaar (I guess the WTC really is that big). And because Neva is Neva she got some new pets. 5 Gray Java birds, who we now call The Hives because they all look like they're wearing suits. She's taking very good care of them, and they're in her flat which she shares now with her brother Kline. Just last night, upon finding some ants near the birdcage: "Stupid, stupid ants!"
The Down video won at the Rock Awards, so congratulate Quark (who directed), Chris (who shot), Lia (who edited), Mich (who styled), and Joey (who provided) when you see 'em. Boldstar won Best New Artist, too. Cool beans. I don't think I need to write about the Rock Awards anymore, everybody else pretty much covered all the bases. It was a riot. No, really.
The Rock Awards reminded me: I really want Daydream Cycle's album.
Went to Quark's class today, which I suppose is really his first because he gave an actual lecture that was 2 hrs and 15 mins long. I took some pics but don't know when they can be up.
Of course when you haven't been online in a while it's hard not to react to some of your friends' blogs, like Goldie's disturbing story of the priest who walks out on a confession just because this girl finally got up the courage to confess to her abortion. I've heard other stories where priests openly remark DURING the confession, or would go "tsk tsk" or some such thing, and it's horrible. Make things easier why don't you? It's terribly inappropriate, considering the setting. Here's someone confessing their sins to you, and you're supposed to shut the fuck up and give penance. No judgment, no pontificating. Ernan, on the other hand, has a new post that really takes me back to freshman year at Ateneo, which honestly feels like a long time ago now. Feel old. PJ (where are your comments at, girl?!) reminded me of when I was in Boston almost three years ago, going around the Boston Met by myself and falling in love with Edward Weston's photographs. I got a postcard for Neva but didn't write anything in it until I got to New York, which became Central Park.
Finally, go to Karen's blog. And Chris's new Moral set diary is up.