Je Bautista

2011-04-05T12:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Je,

(I gave in to the pressure of starting my letter with "dear")

I still don't believe that you're gone. I just tried to text you the other day, when a friend of mine had a gig in Conspiracy (around 5 years ago when you asked me to drop by there, your instructions were, it's in Visayas ave, almost right in front of Shell). I invited you. How dare you turn me down?I also e-mailed Gigi, your "roommate". She confirmed that you already passed away. How dare you not let me know? I miss you, ok? You should be telling me things like that, things like passing away. You always tell me things like that. You always tell me things. I remember.

Like during the times you'd bitbit me on gigs (especially of Shuffle Union's). You'd always tell me music stuff. If there's one person who breathes music, that would be you. You exposed me to real music. You know your music. You never got tired of sending me files that I should listen to. I remember the nights you tirelessly sent files through ym and yousendit, and that time you asked me to drop by and bring an external HDD. You sure know your music.

And the endless discussion about politics. Oh god. They just won't end, huh? I remember you telling me that you hate all things structured, that's why you don't like politics nor religion. But you never got tired of ranting about GMA. You were already a bordering Conrado de Quiros then. You'd explain to me what rallies are for, and you'd explain your point of view on what's going on (senate, congress, everything). If it weren't for you I wouldn't be grounded when GMA used her "emergency powers". I remember you trying to explain why she's wrong, why her cronies should go to jail, and why everything's so hopeless. You never believed in our government. That's when my idealism was developed, you know that? I admired your passion. I loved hearing your insights.

There's this time that we've talked for hours because I was under this delusion that I want to be someone famous. I remember your reaction - ngik. Then you advised me "demanda mo si gloria", which turned to "e di si raul gonzales" because I thought suing GMA was overrated . Then you told me to write a book just before I was supposed to tell you that you're not taking me seriously. You actually convinced me that i can get famous by writing a book (although fame's no really your thing). I miss you man.

I remember that birthday of mine we spent together. That dates back to our Kolumn Bar days. Shuffle Union had a birthday gig for Mae, but you convinced me that the party was also for me. You even bought some pansit (It wasn't Poncianas but it's that store beside it in Torillo. I think it's something like Lolo Tebans but I'm not really sure. I know I'm supposed to remember things like that, I'm sorry. Just blame it on genetics). You asked me to just spend the night at your place, since it was already very late. Of course I was hesitant, but you promised that you won't do me any harm. I slept well that night, I remember. I guess it was like a "dad" was watching over me again. Although of course, you were too young to be my dad. The day after, we went to this CD sale in Timog Ave. You decided not to take a bath because I didn't. I think you said something like, isipin mo na lang, hippie tayo. After a Jollibee treat while waiting for Mae, and the others, you bought me a Jars of Clay CD. The person who doesn't believe in the church actually bought me a praise and worship CD. I was moved. And hey, even if my spiritual phase has passed, I still listen to that CD when I miss you.

I've met you in that time when my ideals mattered the world to me. I remember you telling me that my ideal phase was just a phase, and that "it shall come to pass". I didn't believe you then. I believe you now. I wish you were around now, to assure me that my being cynical about most things is also just a phase. That it's just plain pragmatism.

There are a lot of things I could talk about, but they don't really matter now, you see. I miss you Je. I wish I could knock on that apartment door again, popcorn in hand, expecting you to open the door, inviting me in for some Jack Daniels and cigarettes. I miss your stories man. Whenever I see a photo of Comic Book Guy, I still remember you. You in that jacket that you never got tired of wearing.

I wish we had one last round of drinks before you left, a final toast. As if warning me that you won't be around for a while. We'll have drinks, talk like we used to talk, smoke like we used to smoke, do what we used to do. There'll be silence every now and then, but they won't be awkward pauses. And in the morning, after all the drinks have been drank, after all cigarettes have been smoked, I'll hug you tight then I'll let you know that I'll miss you, and you'll tell me that you'll feel the same way. And that you'll take care.

xoxo

PS I'm sorry if this took a while. And I'm sorry if I wasn't able to go to your wake. I think you know naman that my heart was crushed when I found out about you going somewhere else. Then again, I guess it's also better that way, so I can simply think that you're just somewhere else. I'll pretend to be ignorant of your demise. One day we'll meet again, yes?

Hello and Goodbye

Je Bautista