Run Forrest Run

between the aisles of instant ramen and shrimp cracklings, this old acquaintance i chanced upon in this filipino deli this afternoon was so ostentatious in his use of air quotes. he would raise his arms as if a pentecostal praying whenever he bloviated about things, say “a culture of impoverished imagination,” as he railed mostly against politics in the old country. i did not know he was this pompous a dickhead. i extricated myself from his pontifications when i saw another familiar face by the lane of fish and soy sauce. this other acquaintance ended up talking to me melodramatically about her money woes back home and essentially sponging me off for something. an ontological expat question: what does it mean to be a filipino here in new york?  an epistemological pinoy immigrant question: is it possible for a filipino expat to have foreknowledge of how soul crushing one’s life can be here in new york? not that i intend to belabor these. i go by the wisdom doled out putatively by an english psychedelic rocker, the name of whom i can’t be bothered to remember. “the clever people are the ones who do as little as possible.” did i forget the air quotes?