The farts of change

The Epifanio Epiphany, I shall call it — a space-time phenomenon I’d experienced while inching through EDSA last week. It was 8 p.m. on a Wednesday and, naturally, I was walled in by rush-hour traffic, the vortex of much ado about nothing that even the most rational of drivers find difficult to avoid. With the overwhelming mass of taillights stretched out across the avenue’s expanse, billboards that suggest an abuse of crack in the advertising industry (see Richard Gutierrez’s Flawless campaign), and the constant road oppression of buses that have you recite a mantra of patience after every attempted sideswipe, my mind had attained a transcendence that only the mystics know of.  

During this unexplainable event, a supernatural being had revealed itself, emerging from the exhaust pipe of the bus before me and appearing right on my passenger seat. “I am the Spirit of EDSA,” said the apparition, whose face, bearing swelling eyes and a glaringly pasty complexion, resembled that of Jinky Oda, and whose shirtless male torso with 26-inch waistline was that of Piolo Pascual’s from the Pasig River Bench billboard. With that, the following exchange occurred:

 “Holy ****, Spirit of EDSA. You’re a hybrid of freakishness,” I exclaimed, stunned yet thankful that I could listen to something other than the radio DJ absorbed in feigning such an unplaceable accent — British-Californian, perhaps?

“Yeah, but I transform every so often based on which billboards are most talked about. Anyway, I’m here to give you a message,” the spirit said, idly stroking a Belo-airbrushed stomach muscle.

 “Well, why me?” I asked, trying to do my best impression of unlikely candidate chosen for greatness, like Shia LaBoeuf in Transformers. “There are times I seriously hate you. You’re, like, the worst circumferential road and highway in the world.”

 “That’s the thing, you whiny, pseudo-intellectual moron. There was a time you loved me. In fact, there was a moment or two in time where practically everyone loved me. I even recall you steadying yourself on a chunk of sidewalk, chanting ‘Erap, resign!’ and raucously applauding Rivermaya when they played at the shrine.”

“That was way back in 2001. Things are different now. Rico Blanco isn’t even in Rivermaya anymore. I think I saw him at Gold’s Gym a couple of months ago. He had a personal trainer.” 

 “True, things are different — I mean, who’d have thought Sandara Park could be reincarnated as cool? 2NE1’s vid for Fire was slick! Only gets better for that chick. But look —” the apparition said, sweeping its hand towards the traffic up ahead. “Things haven’t changed much either. After that second EDSA, all of you dirtying me up with cigarette butts and discarded glow sticks, I feel like, any day now, you’re all going to be back at the same spot. It’s just revolt, forget, repeat with you guys.” 

 “Okay, well what do you want me to do about it, Spirit of EDSA? I mean, to get people to read anything these days, you’d have to be Ricky Lo. Or blog about food or dirty lifestyle columnist deeds, at least.”

 “I thought about bringing this all up with Ricky but the guy is always busy, texting celebrities and what-not. And the dude behind Our Awesome Planet gets a lot more event invites than you ‘lifestyle journalists,’ so he might be a little tied up as well. As for you, you’re the only columnist who belts out Journey while simultaneously picking his nose in an un-tinted car, so I figured you’d be easier to reach. Plus, Supreme’s second anniversary’s coming up, so the whole looking-back thing seems to fit.”  

 “Jesus, what’s the point of having your 2x2 photo printed on a national broadsheet if you can’t even grab a bag of swag, right?” 

 “You’re missing the point, you fool! I just want you to use what hardly-read space you have to compare now and then. You know how they say movie trilogies just screw up the original? Same goes for Filipino enthusiasm on the curb — unless you get Lady Gaga back for a post-rev street party, that is,” the spirit said, its brows and nose suddenly sharpening considerably. “Damn it, Jinkee Pacquiao is already gaining on Jinky’s Glutamax billboard. I gotta run soon.”   

 “The Pacquiaos for Belo — knockout combo. Okay, fine, I’ll do it. But I hardly think EDSA 4 will happen or whatever you’re blathering about. But whatever.”

 “‘Whatever’ — that’s so 2000.”

 “Are you always this bitchy, Spirit of EDSA?”

 “Well, you’ll be stuck with me for another 45 minutes, so…”