A song (and a blog) for the dead

HE SAYS

Aldrin Cardon

04/09/2008

It was a David Bowie song, supposedly delivered on the final night of the dead by his brothers and close friends, which struck me. Space Oddity was enough to remember one simple obit, okay not so simple because the dead was given several precious pages by a glossy magazine that shows how high society lives — and dies, although it was claimed he did so by a stroke.

Which reminds me of my last will, which does not carry much material possession, but an order to have John Lennon’s Imagine scribbled in what could be my epitaph, if I deserve one: Here lies a man who did nothing but imagine. He imagined life like one imagines utopia. He imagined richness as only in soul, until Beyoncé added some rhythm and sexiness, to what was otherwise a bland life without blues and black music.

You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. I hope someday you’ll join us, and the world will be as one. Yooohoooooo! And so my dictum goes, stolen from Lennon, who else?

Bowie’s place is several rungs lower than Lennon, but he would do, his absurd fashion sense and music and all. But his words will not share a space in my final place, only Lennon’s are allowed.

It was odd that an article on the death of a young retail scion struck me because of its music. But it did, until it was all forgotten but Bowie, only to resurface again and stream into my consciousness through a newspaper report related to a blog, which I did not give much thought of because high society never stole my interest from say, my neighbor Edong Kangkong, who is an economic wonder he could feed eight mouths by earning just a little over P50 selling kangkong (what else?) at the neighborhood talipapa on any God-given day.

Edong does not know blogs, he knows gin bilog, which he does not hesitate to share with us, his neighbors, who regale him with songs and stories under clear moonlights. He doesn’t know how to read or write, and he thinks artistas are overly rich, until he heard or saw Korina Sanchez tackle the story of one Australian blog author who riled against his former boyfriend who duped him of $70,000 through the help of his friends, socialites and social climbers, whom he claimed were “cokeheads” and freeloaders.

I also used to have freeloading friends who now freeload someplace else. But I did not have a friend who could spare $70,000 for some good times, good life and good sex. It also made Edong wonder how big money that is for a lot of people to get stirred into reading the blog (which Edong mistakenly calls bulog), and Korina made the country aware of it, hits were said to have nearly doubled since Brian Gorrell, the Australian blog author, swore to reveal more about the lives of these high society personalities, even Edong Kangkong now wants to stay tuned.

Too bad he no longer listens to my song. Last night, when we were both drunk, he asked to see the moon fade in his eyes as he got apprised on the latest on Gorrell, whom he calls Kurel.

I don’t read his blogs. I don’t even read blogs. Not even my friends’ blogs. Not that they don’t interest me, but I still have books to finish and there are still more where they came from (mostly Books for Less and Book Sale).

It’s from the newspaper report where I got my report to Edong Kangkong. I told him Gorrell will start sharing radio time with the more eloquent DJ Mo and co-hosts Mojo and Grace on Magic 89.9. I told him Gorrell has recently hinted of the possible murder, or some socialites’ participation in it, as they continued on partying high while one was dying of drug overdose in the sofa, and Gorrell’s boyfriend supposedly knew what really happened there.

I told him other things, but Edong was only concerned about the “Gucci Gang,” as Gorrell called his former friends. Edong swore to have not seen a Gucci at all, I told him me too. But he sure had his taste of high living through the fast lanes of drugs and endless partying; he sure swore he would never like to become a billionaire, but sure he wants to live like one. I told him, me too.

It was only when I reminded him to go home and get some sleep as he needed to rise early today to catch the early birds in our talipapa. “Tama, mahal na ang bigas, kailangang kumayod” was all he could say.

I wonder if Edong had seen cocaine in his life.

I get my dose from Eric Clapton — daily. Bowie? He can keep calling on Major Tom before ground control says it’s time for the countdown. Like he did to the man on the magazine, which I think was the same man Gorrell claimed to have died on drug overdose while his friends were watching.

They did nothing.

Gorrell is trying to do something by trying to right was has been so wrong. Only gossips, as what his writings are what now, could take him as far.

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