i had always only known one EDSA revolution: the one in 1986. the philippines had done the impossible: oust president marcos with minimal bloodshed and install the clear contender, president aquino. she would be the country's first female president. i think i was ten years old.

on its 20th anniversary, i went to a housewarming party with friends. woohoo!

shortly before catchphrase.

shortly after first and second drinks.

bea went around and showed everyone the barrelman. she made everyone stop talking and lifted the barrel. everyone laughed. she came to the side of room where joanne and i took to the food table and started picking at it. she was a little tipsy and everyone was still ruminating the meanings of such trickery.

"oh, you already know this," she said before i could be poked.

everyone laughed. she was drunk with happiness, just being on her second beer, and joanne and i resumed talking about life in america. she was born and raised here.

from the 40th floor of a condo near lake michigan, events in the homeland take on a greater meaning, especially if you talk about organizations to save frank lloyd wright's buildings put together solely because their founders were looking for something to fill their time with.

the girl's father did just that for his retirement and looked at her boyfriend, "why are we talking about this?"

i read them bea's poetry instead.

click HERE to read bea's poetry... or at least, the only one i asked of her, so far. hehehe.

the boyfriend scrammed after my finishing, running to bea to talk to her, and leaving me to his girlfriend.

these are the books that bea reads, the ones on the top shelf of her small bookcase. furnishing her condo is unfinished, and she has books piled inside a closet above the brooms, ironing board, mops, winter boots, summer sandals, winter coats and jackets, the incidentals invisible until you spill vinegar on the kitchen floor or when snow builds in twenty degree weather outside.

i had to leave a little past 2:30 a.m., just after eric and andy's entrance from the asian coalition formal. andy said, "what are you doing here?" because i normally shouldn't show up at parties. i wanted to say i responded to an invitation. i wanted to say i didn't want to leave yet. my huge messenger bag is fat with boots, a skirt, shirt, my wire bra and bulging journal, whose pages are sparse but filled with many a person's cards, stickers, movie/show/speaker/play ticket stubs, the labels of spirits, CDs, DVDs and books.

tomorrow i would acquire three roses for my room, but i can't fold them into the journal. they're long-stemmed and still budding.

i left with my messenger bag at around 2:30 a.m.

thanks for the party, bea! congrats again! :-)

¶ 2/25/2006 11:14:00 PM