Even that can wait

Lawrence Ypil
Dog-ears in the Wrong Notebook

IF WE had planned the whole thing, Raymund and I, we know we wouldn’t have enjoyed it as much. I know I wouldn’t: being obsessed as I am with lists and plans and At-the-start-of-the-day-on-a-piece-of-paper-write-down-in-decreasing-order-of-importance-what-one-needs-to-achieve-by-the-end-of-it. A sense of fulfillment, yes, as a dark, decisive line cuts across the bullet point, but everyone knows too that something potentially transformative (potentially life changing) has been lost. The human will wins, but no one can deny that a part of the human spirit has been diminished — the part that loves a good surprise.

So it was kind of perfect that stepping out of the supermarket after having done the groceries, a pack of mango gelatins at hand in thaw, and the latest craving—boy bawang — I bump into Raymund, on the way to the parking lot. He was off to the nearby coffee shop. I hadn’t seen him since I was back. He was as glad to see him as I was him. I patted him on the back. “Let me join you briefly for a cup.”

When one hasn’t seen a friend for a while, there is no time for idle chit chat. Soon enough, I find a table outside, Raymund orders a cup, and before either of us know it, already: a catch up on projects (both finished and unfinished), a planned exhibit (this time on sleep) and then quickly, full-throttle just after lift off: a whole theory of art (on the philosophy of images, on the need to find – or invent – in the world of objects and faces, real — or imagined — the unquestionable and physical correlative of an inner landscape of feeling. (Whew!) The best thing about Raymund is that he’s always willing to take such abstract digressions within minutes. It is a thrill to watch this swift swerve up into the level of ideas (a politics of portraitures, a philosophy of the real) and then just as quickly, down down to a question on the practical fundamentals of color: How does Amorsolo capture Philippine light? There are warm colors like yellow and red. And cold colors like blue and violet. Was Abellana Fernando’s star student? Chances are. Behind every lofty theory of art is everyday gossip.

One misses out on life if one doesn’t at least for a certain period have a friend that is willing to enjoy the recklessness of ideas, the exuberance of thoughts, plans made or not made, and the surprise of their being fulfilled— even that can wait. And it helps if they are as flippant with time as you are, as I am. “I need to go Rayms. I need to make a quick escape. I’m headed home.” “Sure.”

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