Joed’s Lutong Hapon’s Yaki Udon at P110 I am willing to take risk when it comes to traveling, but I am not as daring when it comes to food. Admittedly, I have this habit of associating restaurants with food, thus limiting my culinary experience. No, I don’t have a discriminating taste. But I eat what I’m most comfortable with. A surprising food writing/photography assignment changed this habit. An omnivorous scouted Cebu City for restaurants that offer varied vegetarian or vegetarian-friendly dishes.
November 1st and the colors it brought I greeted November with the thoughts of going home but stayed in the city instead. I welcomed November with a bottle of Tanduay Ice along the lonely, crowded Mango Street dazed from its post-October bliss with Sashi, Virhenia, and Jacklyn. We were cool for sitting and drinking in front of National Bookstore waving to the passing motorists, who smiled at our antics—our sorry attempt on pretending as prostitutes in heat.
So fine was the morning except for a streak of wind here and there that the sea and sky looked all one fabric, as if sails were stuck high up in the sky, or the clouds had dropped down into the sea.—Virginia Woolf, “To the Lighthouse”
On Memories, Drawing, Truth, and David Foster Wallace “What is drawing?” my high school TLE teacher once asked us. “It is the combination of colors,” a classmate answered for the sake of class participation. “It has shadows.” “It depicts nature and life.” “It shows emotions.” He nodded to some by-the-book tries, which sounded novel—not attempts on novelty—to the high-school Jona. I did not know the word “novelty” th.en “But, basically,” he momentarily stopped to build suspense perhaps, “drawing is a combination of lines,” he continued. We wore the look of stupidity.