from the book Womenagerie

Monica has a flair for the dramatic. She lives her life like a soap opera in which she plays all the roles; in Dallas she would be all the Ewings, in Falcon Crest, all the Channings, in Knots Landing, Alice and Val. There is always something slightly off kilter about her, as if she had been pre-recorded and played back the wrong speed.

Her voice is breathy and conspirational, except that it carries far to the corners of whatever room she happens to be in. Thus, all secrets are broadcast, and soon became public knowledge. When taking public transport with her, it is advisable to bring a paper bag. You will need it when she launches into a loud, graphic description of her sex life. When the other passengers start staring at her, and at you, quickly put the paper bag over your head. It will spare you from acute embarrassment, especially when she delivers her comparative analysis of the men in her life.

Her background, not surprisingly, is in the theatre. I imagine she would be excellent in highly-charged roles such as Medea. In fact, I suspect that she has a script for her life, something part-B-movie (Mutant on the Bounty, Oversexed Rugsuckers from Mars) and part-Wagnerian opera. Her vocabulary is peppered with terms from drama criticism class: angst, weltanschauung, zeitgest. All of which sound rather peculiar when used in ordinary conversation, i.e. "I love him, he's so Brechtian." Or "Si Kwan, cultivates this persona to cover her angst.

For a living she does smthing which has to do with public relations. Don't ask me to explain. All I know is, she promotes things. Musical board games, restaurant, prawn feed and I-don't-know-what. She is perpetually armed with large brown envelopes bulging with press releases. She has complimentary tickets to this and that. Her work takes her, quite literally, everywhere; she is a walking itenerary and mother lode of information. Who's seeing who, who's leaving whom, who recently embarrassed himself in public. She speaks of famous people with great familiarity, as if she were on toothbrush-sharing terms with them. And you believe her. You have no choice.

Monica often describes herself as a child of the sixties. At retro-rock pubs, she would take the microphone and launch into an Everly Brothers medley. You will have to pry the mike out of her hand with a crowbar.

It is easy to tell when she is in love. She goes round with a glazed expression on her face, as if she had been sitting too close to a nuclear explosion. She mentions her loved one every 21 seconds, approximately. Every movie she sees reminds her of him--a considerable feat. How do you find references to your love one in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre?"

Speaking of the movies, Monica appears bent on seeing every single movie released in Beta-videocassette format. A cursory inspection of her bag will reveal make-up, a copy of Bonfire of the Vanities or whatever book she is into at the moment, a styrofoam burger box containing the latest stray kitten she has picked up from the street, and around ten thousand videocasettes. Her character, she says, most closely resembles that of Marcello Mastroianni in the movie Macaroni (or was it MacAroni). The first great film idol and love of her life was Bruce Lee. She still considers him her spiritual teacher. She has not only seen every single Bruce Lee movie ever made, she has also memorized all their dialogues. Her special talent almost got her on TV once. A tape of The Big Boss was to have been played with the volume off--Monica would have recited the lines of all the characters. Too bad the TV appearance didn't push through--it would've been fun, like lipsynching in reverse.

She is given to following her impulses, and will take of for, say, Sagada at a moment's notice. She will unhesitatingly turn to whoever is eated next to her on the bus, in waiting rooms, in restaurants, and start a conversation. Within half an hour she would have established a kinship with the stranger. She will have discovered that their sisters are dating men who have worked at one time or another in the same corporation. She would have offered to find her new acquiantance a better job, a better apartment, a blind date. It is hard not to open up to her, because she throws her life open before you as casually as if she was ripping into a bag of potato chips. It is hard to remain aloof when she divided her cheeseburger, hands you half, and eats all the sesame seeds in the bun before biting into her half.

She is generous and thoughtful, and will go out of her way to do you favors. Mention in passing that most bookstores do not carry copies of Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury, and a few days later she will present you with a copy, which she scoured the second-hand bookstores of Manila to find. Her loyalty to her friend is extreme. In college, for instance, she had a friend who was an activist. His curses incurred the ire of certain people; his dead body was found floating on the Pasig River. Monica does not forget. Everytime she walks along the Pasig River, she throws in a flower, and she sings. How many people would do that, huh?

There's a story in her somewhere, and it is at least as strange as fiction.

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