Before tongues start wagging, let me set the record straight. I love Ms. Zafra, but I'm in love with Marat. Me and him, it just totally makes sense. Like peanut butter and jelly, like yin and yang, like Dolce and Gabbana. Or something to that effect, hehe. Basta, it's Marat all the way and doncha forget it!
courtesy of www.maratsafin.comBut really, who knew the queen of varbarian pursuits would have anything in common with the queen of twisted irony? (Hey, was that a pleonasm? I can't say.)
She, whose books in school I would devour, which offered tremendous hope for the perennially oddball, unpopular types that people thought were never going to get with the fab.
She, whose biting candor and acerbic wit made chronicling of the seemingly mundane into an effortless art worthy of a subject slot in the curriculum for mass communications in peyups. (Deconstructing Pop Culture 101, anyone?)
She, the dominatrix from planet Twisted who looked at me with a withering eye across the room in Powerbooks Megamall one time when I was sheepishly asking the bookstore attendant, "Miss, I can't seem to find the sale section...?"
She, whose language and voice inspired and helped shape my own.
And we like the same things? Granted, maybe only a couple of things. But mind you, that's a hefty couple of somethings.
The other Jessica, of Dogeaters fame.
Epicureans, we are.
Two things already.
Tennis players. And tennis, of course.
"I love Marat, but he’s the great squandered genius of his time."
You said it, JZ.
You can check out more of Jessica Zafra's photos here.
2 comments:
ako, one thing i have in common with her is the stacks of old issues of The New Yorker, hehe
sosi ka ever mama bear hehe...
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