I’m sorry Cap’n Lou Albano, who skippers this crazy ship, for abandoning my post for as long as I have. I know this had happened once, but that was entirely excusable: I had unwittingly driven myself into the rotting gut of Divisoria at 3AM, when everything that the market-state would spit out for the day is first swallowed in, carried by delivery trucks and kargadores. I was immediately lost, in a drunken stupor.

It took a while for sobriety to take over for me to be able to file that report here, and even then I’m still not sure why it happened, if it actually did, as in a case of alien abduction, or when you say whatever it is you’re on you pass this very minute (and by that you absolutely mean illegal substances).

I’m sorry, too, readers who are waylaid here for some reason if all I’d left you in that long absence were dirty fishballs and instructions on where to sit on the FX. If they were of any use to you, then good, now you’re eating tasty rotten fish and like window seats. If they weren’t, well, that’s good, too, because this blog has always been about random road thoughts and rarely are they of use to anyone for more than two seconds. At least we thought them.

But I’m back. Again.
Read the rest of this entry »

If you sat next to the driver of the FX on the way to work or school, you were in the worst possible seat in the house.

I don’t know why anyone would consciously want to be sat there. Read the rest of this entry »

Where are these people? Are they still doing brisk business? I miss them.

Maybe you don’t, because you’ve been a victim. You had no idea how they did it. You just fell for it. That is why you have to hand it to them: they were able to come up with the most psychologically advanced con there is known to man.
Read the rest of this entry »

The unwritten rule is: The dirtier, the better.

Which is the way it is for all street food, but with fish balls—and squid  balls, chicken balls, and kikiam—it’s crucial. Read the rest of this entry »

“Paharang-harang e. Paharang-harang sa daan.”These were the words of the man who made it in the news two Sundays ago when, irked by the standstill on his way to Crame, decided to counterflow Edsa—literally driving on the wrong side of the road—plowing 22 cars along the way, stopping only when he couldn’t squeeze through the gridlock at the Edsa-Ortigas flyover, where the MMDA and police finally caught up with him, yanking him out of his vehicle and mauling him to the ground. Read the rest of this entry »