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Jason Moss the artist, Ely Buendia the musician, and I met the other day to discuss a book project. I arrived fifteen minutes ahead of time. Jason arrived exactly on time. Ely was thirty minutes late, making him the winner of the diva contest. Then he took out a giant ziploc bag containing bottles of vitamins and heart medicine and whatnot. So much for hanging out with a rockstar—it was like dining with old people.

After the meeting I suggested we walk around Greenbelt to see the new shops. “That way people will see us with Ely and be jealous,” I told Jason. Jason made a face. He is from an alien species: the gay outdoor jock who does not like shopping malls. 

Ayala Center is like Dark City: it’s always under construction so the geography keeps changing and you start suspecting that aliens are futzing with your memories. Greenbelt 1 now connects to Greenbelt 5, so one second you’re in rather grim surroundings and then whoosh! you’re in a more fashionable dimension. Marlon calls it Narnia: you go into the wardrobe, and suddenly you’re no longer in London during the Blitz.

It is not fun wandering the mall with a claustrophobic visual artist and a musician who’s borderline autistic savant. They don’t go into a store, examine the merchandise, and declare whether they approve or disapprove of the concept (which is what my usual companions do all the time). Ely went to Bang & Olufsen and checked out the audio set-up. When I heard the price my shriek of horror nearly shattered the windows. “That’s just for the speakers,” the salesperson helpfully added.

Nearly everyone we met looked at Ely, but no one approached him. The looks generally had five stages. One, “Hey, isn’t that. . .” Two, “Yes, it is!” Three, “He’s alive!” Four, “Mustn’t gawk, he’ll think I’m not cool.” Five, “I have to text someone!” There were a couple of double-takes, and a large, burly man’s thought balloon read, “Pare, I lab you.”

“I feel trapped,” Jason said. “I can’t stand these long hallways. I can’t see any trees!” Then he left to finish some paintings. (Visit Jason’s exhibit at Cubao X, the Marikina Shoe Expo in Cubao, later this week.)

On our way out of Greenbelt someone asked Ely if she could have her picture taken with him. She looked exactly like Francine Prieto the actress, because she was Francine Prieto the actress. Her companion snapped the photo. “Shouldn’t we all be in the picture?” Ely said. 

“Oh no, go ahead,” I said. I’m not standing next to a bombshell, what am I, suicidal?

At 5pm Ely went home. 

This rock and roll lifestyle is too exciting.