I was checking out my “year in review” series just to see if I’ve missed a post (which I did, the 2010 review does not exist because it’s a black hole in my life that I’d rather not revisit).
I decided to click the first one I wrote in 2007 (yes, I’ve been blogging for almost 10 years now) just to see what kind of shit I was into back in the day but I didn’t expect to feel sad.
This particular post struck me deep because I made side notes about taking pictures with a friend:
That friend turned out to be Doy, who died 2 years ago. I met him back when I was starting out as a writer, scraping the bottom of the barrel and struggling with homesickness (being a probinsyana or from the province).
In the office, he was an imposing figure often seen lurking on the sidelines, trying his best not to stick out like a sore thumb. But blending in was hard for the poor fellow because of that sharp wit, and dry sense of humor. The guy could totally hand you your ass on a plate, physically and in writing, so most people were intimidated by him.
Doy was a brilliant writer, the first and only to earn the “master writer” title in the office. I looked up to the guy, what can I say?
I remember always waiting in anticipation for his next blog post, marveling at his adeptness in articulating his thoughts into words, complete with his sick, sick humor. He was fantastic.
When he found out that a couple of girls tried to pick a fight with me, he wasted no time insulting the shit out of these ladies and giving them the side eye of death.
He was the most random person I know. One time, he handed me a used shirt, it looked like it came straight from the ukay-ukay. It was a black, himul-mol-ridden Mario Bros. shirt. I might’ve mentioned how much I loved the game and he searched for that shirt just to give it to me. It was at least ten times bigger than my size. I’m kicking myself for losing that stupid shirt, ugh.
I remember when I was jobless and Doy helped me out. He took me under his wing, gave me side jobs so I could earn a few thousand pesos that I’d later squander on cheap shoes and bags, hahaha! I came a long way, obviously. Doy, you’d be proud, I write coherent things nao, lol jk.
I remember him best for his passion for food. The dude totally created a Facebook group called Pinoy Frugal Chow Hound. The page is where local foodies come together to post food pics and other finds, as well as set up visits to undiscovered restos all over the metro, particularly in the Ongpin area. He would invite me over and over again to join one of the group’s many gastronomic adventures but I was always too shy to go (I didn’t know anyone).
When news of his death reached me, I couldn’t believe it. It feels like, at any given moment, he’d ping me on Facebook, telling me, “Ineng, meron ka bang close up photo mo at ni Dimitri? I want to use that photo in my art plate,” or “Ineng, available ka ba next week for a food trip?”
And the dead guy still gives me fits of giggles even now! One of his last messages to me was about my ex, when he found out that we broke up: “Thank God! I am sorry for you, that former guy (I forgot his name, but he used to be my writer) is a bit of a drama queen. And he scares me. Hahahaha.
Right in the jugular.
Doy, you jerk, how could you die?!