quick plug

Usually March is a month of low cash flow for editorial photographers. Magazines come out with a single issue for the months of January and February, and the checks come out in Feb. No checks for March, and you got to live off your other gigs. But that's cool this year. Because making the covers of two magazines I enjoy shooting for is worth it. Please check out the March issues of Real Living and Travelife at magazines stands near you!

I got goosebumps whenever Ely would say, "We are the Eraserheads." It's like they had never broken up. It freezes the moment and the music for eternity.

Anyway, without the mass hysteria that went with the anticipation of the first but truncated Eraserheads reunion concert, this one still wasn't free of drama. Francis M, who they say was supposed to join the band for Superproxy, passed away the day before. The Eheads gave tribute by playing the first few lines of Kaleidoscope World before segueing into Huling El Bimbo.

Then Ely burned the Sticker Happy piano. On stage, with a whole bottle of lighter fluid and a lighter. So that's it. Let's take our closure from that, friends.

It's on us now, to remember the music, and the moments in our lives. We are the Eraserheads.

PS Hey look, Jazz is wearing our shirt. I could've pissed in my pants.

I often wonder about people who wander about, especially during midday. I wonder why they aren't at the office, or at school. Don't they have things to do? Before, between classes during my little film workshop, I'd wonder about all these people reading books on park benches in Union Square, or lying in the grass, getting some sun in Central Park. I figured they were all students, or actors between gigs, and they had time, between classes or auditions to literally just sit around.

Now that I'm here though, I wonder about all these people walking, standing around in the mall. Are they on errands? Are they on their way to meet other people? Are they between doing important, matters of consequence stuff, or do they just have a lot of time on their hands? I find myself wondering about this a lot because I wonder what they think about me, loitering about, between meetings, between shoots, on my way to get lunch, with my backpack and my book.

All images by Tod Papageorge, from his book, Passing Through Eden.

The Man From Manila

Francis M, 1964 to 2009.

ABC CBN
Philippine Star

getting out

I finally got to get out today. Around noon, I delivered to a friend nearby some of the t-shirts she wanted. Then I went on my way to get a Chinese lunch and a much-needed haircut. I was in light traffic, waiting in line to make a turn. I was really feeling better. When I get sick, I can get really down. And the past days of spiking fever, painful nodes, and soft food, - it was just going really bad for me.

It was good to finally get out, to be driving myself - despite what seems to be bruised bone somewhere in my left foot. I don't know how I injured it. I must've kicked something in my feverish sleep, and now I'm limping.

But, uncharacteristically, I was okay with that. Just another thing going on in the slow breakdown of my body. Another sign of the inevitability of an end. But also another reason to seize the moment. Yup, that's how I took it. No use getting down. I was just really glad to get out, to get back in my groove, see my friends, get back to work, albeit with a pill box full of antibiotics and vitamins.

Yeah, so back to being in my car, and in line to make a turn. I was feeling good, knowing there was life to enjoy and that I could tap into its infinite potential. It was such a moment, even my iPod was cooperating. It played the intro to an Ang Bandang Shirley song. I was doing my little hipster jiggling sway in the car (heavy tint helps), singing along:

Maari ba kitang masayaw
o di kaya kahit
upo lang muna tayo
habang inaantay
yung ating magiging...

Then my foot slipped the clutch, I was in gear, and I stalled the car.