The Coño Boy 4: Jake

Excursus, To My Friend: Brian

Author's Notes:
One of my dearest friends is migrating to the US and we had a despedida for him last night. I want to take a break and pay tribute to the friend who helped The Coño Boy come to fruition.

Today, I grieve.

I grieve because one of my dearest friends is going away. Not that far away that a plane ride across the Pacific Ocean can't reach but I grieve the seemingly damning distance this places on our friendship.

They say that the friends you make in school are often the friends that you make for life. Brian was one of those friends who have been so dear to me through the years. We didn't go to the same school, we never grew up in the same neighborhood, nor did we always see each other as often —BUT we shared a passion for the Arts, a love for the fine things, shared the stage, made remarkable illusions on the stage, reveled in the delights of intelligent conversation, we have dissected the universe and the possible realities in between, we gave Lucifer his shot at redemption despite what tradition calls his hubris, we have laughed at almost everything, dealt with our own quarter-life crises, screamed at the Weeping Angels of Doctor Who, unexpectedly got hooked with RuPaul's Drag Race, and both agreed that Francisco Lachowski is the Gay Bathalas gift to gaykind.

Of all the friends I have had that have stayed by my side all these years, I would count our friendship as unique. In the absence of a blood brother, I got Brian (no offense to my half brothers and half sister, by the way). Last night, as Richard was asking us to sign your card, I ran out of words. Perhaps this could make up for it.

No life is perfect. To have some of your dreams dashed away in your 20s and having to settle for a life that's good but somehow devoid of the things that stir your very soul requires a great friend. I'm happy that I've made more than one through Brian.

At a quarter to four in the morning today, I gave my friend a hug saying something like "Parang nalalagasan tayo, ano ba yan", to which you replied with an aversion to revolting sentimentality,  "It's not as if you don't have the means to see me there." —I may have to figure out a way to be a manananggal so I can see you that often in California though. Why naman now, I ask, when I was starting to get back on my feet in the biz? This is my last shot and I wanna share this victory with you. Kaso you're leaving just before the show's premiere. But then again there's TFC.

I could ramble on. I could recall so many memories and put them to words. I could go on but I don't think 6,000 words would be enough. Yet, I have so much to be thankful for. One of them is for being one of the greatest friends one could ever have. Thank you for editing the layout of my book with less than four hours every night of sleep in three days. Thank you for pointing out my questionable choices despite my good taste. Thank you for driving all the way to my house and bonding over  cups of coffee until the wee hours of the morning during weekends, and thank you for being there during the darkest nights of my soul.

You were instrumental in bringing The Coño Boy to what it is now. You encouraged me to continue to write it despite my personal tragedies and setbacks. You of all people shared my passion for stories that challenged our very perceptions of accepted reality, rattling the clichés of popular culture, and always coming from a place of excellence. In fact, we have also been our harshest critics of our own works.

I would also like to thank Earl, Caleb, Ramon, Richard, and Markee for the gift of friendship. My best memories of Christmas have always been the December 28th parties I would throw at my house. As Caleb put it, you guys have joked about me being stuck in a monasterio on top of a mountain surrounded by mafia money chanting to all the santos, because of how elusive I have been, but hopefully I could be a better friend to you guys in the years to come. It's kind of ironic na kung kailan I'm this age, I'm being like this.

I've lost a lot of people, I don't wanna lose more, nor do I wanna lose myself again.

I have always been happy for your successes. From your creative triumphs at that events company to making it to the banner of Mega Magazine, I have lived vicariously through you.

I can only pray and hope that you find a career there that challenges your brilliance, that pushes you to wow everyone with such admirable (and theatrical) aplomb, and one that gives you such purpose that it will make this change so worth it. Ang hirap sa ating mga tangan ang sining at puso natin, parang ang hirap hanapin ng lugar natin sa mundo.

I wish to end this here. My eyes have been betraying me since the 417th word I typed. Like I said in the card, there's a hole in my soul the size of the Titanic now that you're leaving. I don't think I'll ever survive seeing you at the departure area of the airport so I'll put this here. But I'll see you at LAX na when I have my laurels to share.

Today I grieve.

Tomorrow I will grieve some more.

In a week, a few months time, I may grieve still.

But tears have such a price.

A great friend is worth that piercing pain and the tears during times like this.

And I celebrate you, Brian.

My friend and my brother.

~Quinn213 a.k.a. @TheLostConyo