Dear Mykel,

Eating at Jollibee for the first time since I got back to Los Baños; impromptu late-night drive to the APEC wasteland; MWF 12 noon lunch schedules; lechon kawali dinner at Batcave; hogging a long table at McDo to read for long periods of time. These flurry of events signal one thing - needles is back.

It's having your old familiar pillow back from the cleaners, all fresh and new.

Music playing on Launch My Station: It's In Our Hands by Bjork. Now, the trouble with playing songs by Bjork, Radiohead, Massive Attack and their ilk is that you're not quite sure if it's really the music or your Launch connection is once again screwed, your music sounding like Alvin and the Chipmunks on helium. (Wait, so how does that sound now - sonic dogwhistle?)

For some time now, I've been trying to capture what seems to me elusive moments - be they gastronomic, musical, or the mix of social company. The near-elusive musical moment happened last Tuesday night. In between my 3rd and 4th beer with C. and J., the usual trite music piping from the speakers of IC's suddenly gave way to an unexpected song - Sparks by Coldplay. A Coldplay song (and a B-side at that) at that place, whose idea of mood music is South Border's Rainbow and the occasional pretentious bossa nova insertion. I leaned back to find out who's manning the music. It was J., a really old student who is a fixture of the Old Humanities building and IC's, for that matter. He approached our table to greet C., who was his former teacher, I assume. I asked him if he had any more Coldplay songs. (By this time, a live performance of In My Place was playing. I wanted to weep.) Even better, he said. He has Dave Matthews Band. I immediately asked for #41.

I didn't know if it was the beer or the well-done quarter pounder I wolfed down, C.'s boisterous laughter or J.'s quirky storytelling, but # 41 sealed the night with the promise of similar moments to come.

A.

P.S. Just to let you know, I've decided to stick it out here. It feels unnatural to pack up and leave in the middle of the year. I've been giving my natural rhythm a bad rap. Enough of that.