Yesterday at the news center canteen, we were having dinner when the Saksi report came in saying that National Artist Levi Celerio was dead. Music maestro Lucio San Pedro went to heaven a little bit ahead of him. It makes me wonder why so many people died the past week. Most of them had more significant contributions to humanity than silver screen fluff. But of course Rico Yan ruled the headlines.

On the way home, the bus I rode in smelled like the insides of a really well worn shoe. Ugh. I couldn't breathe, and I wanted to get off, but the bus had crossed Edsa and we were stuck in the middle of a really horrible traffic jam. I was seated in the very last row, and one of the guys asked me where the gates to La Salle was. It was only then that I remembered that everyone was going there for Rico Yan's wake. Fans galore, with ambulant vendors and double parking. I really should have taken the other route. Oh well.