vociferating, “I partied! I survive! Thank you, Cosmos!”
January 8, 2007. Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, Morato – my new home. Where wifi and power supplies are free. And extension cables are offered (no, provided is an understatement).
I thought I was the ever-partying animal everyone thought. But those series of partying every weekends made me think whether I was about to be sent to the gallows. You know. That feeling of being paranoid at what’s going to happen next in your so-called life after having too much fun and good cheers. Schopenhauer said that life is full of chaos and frustrations, the good times are merely respite from such. Or was it Nietsche who said that? Hey, I am not complaining. Don’t get me wrong. Let’s just say I am still in disbelief at having too much fun. I am saying it over and over again so I guess by that you now understand my predicament. Or maybe you didn’t have fun at all this past season you just can’t relate. Duh! Is that my fault? Unlike you, some people are happy. Now go kill yourself.
As a matter of fact, here are some pictorial documentations to make you drool, keen with envy, hate your patron saint for not giving you enough fun as I had. Slip into abject self pity. Pictures that will make you mull over suicide.
Let me not include my Malate weekends in the list below. My Malate-weekends, as I would consider them, are not exactly Shopenhauerian (or Nietscheian) diversions but rather some form of social obligation. You can also say, “Duty to the national economy.”
November 24th, last year. I grabbed my bag, a toothpaste, a flannel for my face, pajama, my shoes and… guitar (yes, it’s from a song)… I said to my reflection, “Let’s get out of this place.” I went to Subic all by myself. Well, technically I took a ride in Seamstress’ car on his way back to Olongapo. Seamstress is an Olongapo-based friend of mine who have just recently moved Singapore. I’ll be joining him in Olongapo and another friend Olongapo-based friend, Sambo as we last-hurrah before he moves to Singapore. Praxides, one of my closest friends here in Manila, is becoming intrigued as to what causes me to be always in Subic. He was suspecting that I left some secrets back in Olongapo which explains my unexplained trips there. He was suspecting I left something under the sands of Subic’s beaches. Not really, my secrets are safely tacked away in my closet in Villa Espana. This weekend was spent on sleeping in the mornings, gobbling plates and plates of adobo, sleep again, and all-night partying. We reenact the same scene the next day. It’s a simple life. But, ahhh, that’s the life.
Yes! I have found my calling!
Following weekend, December 2nd. Bagbag was scheduled to leave for Haiti in two weeks’ time. My sis-in-law and brother organized a weekend getaway with the rest of our friends and Bagbag’s at Filipinas Shell’s vacation compound in Pililia, Rizal. I thought the location was just in the suburbs outside Metro Manila. On our way, the environment changed from the skyscrapers of Ortigas, to the suburbs of Antipolo, to the pastoral scenery of Laguna de Bay. Suddenly, there were palay being dried on the road. I took it as a sign that we’re not in Kansas anymore. But the compound, perched near a power plant, is implemented with a pool, fully airconditioned vacation houses with rooms larger than my pad. Lovely. There were food, music, alcohol, lots of laughter.
Sayonara, Bagbag Ko!
Seven days later, December 10th. In appreciation to my sis-in-law and brother, Bagbag organized dinner for them and some friends in Dampa, Farmers Market, Cubao. Sis-in-law and bro didn’t make it due to some prior arrangements. But The Friendseses were always present. Bagbag and I took the occasion to hand out our Christmas gifts. Crabs galore and coffee cum intelligent conversation till almost 3 AM at Zirkoh, Araneta!
This time, we ate something cooked.
Next Sunday, December 12th, as if dispedida parties are becoming a trend, Rollo, my housemate, threw his own at our pad in Villa Espana. Nah, he was just leaving for an extended holiday vacation in Iligan City. I underestimated this one. The girls stayed till 3 AM unmindful of the dawning Monday. I, in particular, had so much fun I’m buying Rollo a ticket back to Iligan as soon as he comes back to Manila.
Hey, you people, it's 3 in the morning! Go home!
December 22rd, before Christmas officially hits the calendar, The Frendseses has to have its Christmas Party. Where else but at the lofty abode of Her Fabulousness, Empress of Oriental Gardens, Nympha. Was so tired and missing my Bagbag, Red Horse downed me early. I woke up all alone in the sala. Everyone has left. And in the camera I found a pic of me sprawled on the floor.
Ok, who's not here? Let's talk about them.
Again, the song: …a toothpaste, a flannel for my face, pajama, my shoes and… guitar… I said to my reflection, “Let’s get out of this place.” This was December 24th and I was catching an FX ride to Tabang, Giguinto, Bulacan where I’m joining my high school best friend, Anabelrama, and his family for Christmas. At last, I’m going to have a family-oriented Christmas complete with a Mom, sisters, a Tita (though I have lots of them in Malate), niece (my goddaughter), and so many other smiling faces on the night of Jesus’ birthday… fine, I am not going to have a theological debate on this one.
Xmas Mom and Niece
An impromptu reunion with highschool classmates. Scared everyone with my newfound bulliness. Har har har...
December 31st, I was late to the most important parties I have to have this year. Nieces, nephews and in-laws were already at my brother’s place in Novaliches since afternoon while I was still watching Zsazsa Zaturna in Gateway Mall with Anabelrama. But late is still better than never. This New Yeaar celebration with my family will linger in me for the rest of the year. I reserve the details on how this one transpired. Beyond words.
Just lovely. Wont miss this one for the fireworks of Ayala.
In between these dates, there were gathering -- great and small – that I have missed or slipped into my shrunken schedule, Houdini style. What concerns me are the ones I missed. My failure could damage might my reputation as a party animal.
Wait. I think I know what's Latin for Party. Samba?
