Monday, June 18, 2007

Sugar, We're Always Going Down

My brain has the consistency of squished fruit pulp, and I've decided that despite the fact that I don't drink a drop of alcohol, the past two days' events have rendered me incapable of coherent thought processes, let alone independent movement. If there was an available wheelchair in the house, I would gladly spend the rest of my life there. If not, there is always the bed.

I have approximately six more weeks before going back to Singapore. I have sadly been neglecting the bigger projects in my life because the social life is getting in the way. This is not good. The day before, I got home at around 4.30 in the morning; today, I arrived home at 6.00 AM and just had enough energy to take a shower before deciding that a horizontal position is greatly conducive to one who has just lost her brain. My head has decided to let elephants in and now they're tap-dancing across my temples. This, despite the fact that I neither smoke, drink, nor do drugs. I don't even have the excuse of inebriation to account for my actions - in other words, I am perfectly lucid and rational. I've also been told I'm one of the most pathetic sober people in the world, because I don't know how to drive and I really need to learn.

I think I may have lost a few screws along the way.

The thing is, there's a part of me that loves this kind of lifestyle, because I just soak up the atmosphere and the experiences and the stories surrounding me. And you know me: I've always been a sucker for stories. And given my fabulous friends and the lives we all lead - all full of drama and angst and suchlike - it's simply a minefield of stories and the complicated rituals of life and love and everything in between. And I can't imagine not living such a lifestyle. But yeah, maybe I need to slow down. My body can't catch up anymore.


Last night at Cubao X (otherwise known as the still-breathing Marikina Shoe Expo), where Ginny, Bel, and a bunch of other people ended up reading poetry at Blacksoup Art Space, I had a Moment.

You know these things, right? These Moments (yes, with a capital "M") where the world can stand still and you can feel the heartbeat of a thousand generations of gods, past and present. where the universe has allowed all stars to pause and the whirling cosmic winds have quieted down. That's a Moment.

Anyway, so Ginny and I were outside Heritage, chatting with some people, when Bel looks up and sees someone familiar that I had to do a double-take as well. And then she bounces in front of me and goes, "I shall introduce you to Ebe."

YESSSSSSS. Ebe Dancel. Sugarfree frontman. Demi-god. The man who saved my life in college, so to speak - at least musically.

I felt faint. I wanted to disappear into the ground. My knees started wobbling, and I realized there were so many things wrong with me and I cannot, absolutely cannot meet Ebe Dancel in that particular state of mind. I needed garlands of flowers, a ticker-tape parade, a marching band. I needed gold and silver to shower on him. This was insane.

But before I could run away in the opposite direction, Bel and Ginny had steered me inside Heritage and had plunked me right in front of Ebe, where he was busy examining old photos on the carousel rack. Bel goes up and hugs him, and then promptly introduces Ginny and me, saying, "This is my friend Gabby. She's a children's book writer." (I wanted to hide behind Ginny; can people please stop selling me to complete strangers? I'm about to tack on a copy of my resume on my back.) Ebe looks at me, breaks into the patent boyish grin, and I lost all ability to speak. Ginny produces her camera, but I shake my head slightly - any closer to Ebe and my knees would probably fail me. Not that it wouldn't be a good idea since he would probably be able to carry me, despite the fact that he's short, but it would be highly embarrassing to faint in front of your idol, right? So I settled for grinning rather goofily (I couldn't help it) while Bel and Ginny went to full small-talk mode.

After a few minutes, Ginny disappeared in the back shelves, and Ebe went off, and Bel pranced away, beer bottle in hand. I shuffled over to Ginny with a stupid, stupid grin on my face. Ginny was laughing like crazy; she had never seen me speechless in ages, and that was perhaps one of the rare times where language just failed me. I couldn't summon up even one wisecrack or joke, one brilliant one-liner to make him remember me. But still. God. That was a Moment.


First time at Big Sky Mind as well last night, which was an experience in itself as well: Ginny, Bel, myself, along with Bel's cousin Edsel and the most well-adjusted goth kid in the world, Jarek, moved from Cubao X to Big Sky Mind in the wee hours of the morning, where we met up with Moki (sans Joseph, sadly) and later on, Earl joined us as well. Despite my inability to hold on to even one drop of alcohol, I gamely joined in as stories and snatches of conversation were passed around and Ginny was already wasted on a couple of glasses of weak Malibog while San Mig Lite littered our tabletop like tumbledown old men slouched across the wooden surfaces. The cadaverous bartender, Hank, who looked as though he belonged to the main cast of The Addams Family, kept on bringing in the alcohol, and flirted with Ginny shamelessly.

Of course, as people's inhibitions were loosened up, tongues started getting freer with the stories and wallets started opening up for even more drinks (between the two of them, Earl and Gin spent over 1.400 pesos) and we ended up playing a raucous game of I Have Never. The last time I've heard of this drinking game was back in our Dumaguete days, when (according to the stories; I was not an eyewitness this time around), someone threw in the statement, "I have never had sex in a banca," and SOMEONE ACTUALLY DRANK. For the uninitiated, I Have Never is a round table drinking game where each person says "I have never [insert confession here]" and if you've done what the person confessed, you take a swig from your drink. The more things you've done, the drunker you become. (In my case, since I can't drink, I get smacked on the arm by everyone on the table.)

Let's just say that five or so rounds into the game, I have a pretty sore arm, and everyone was pretty drunk, AND I learned too much about my friends that could ever be said in normal conversation. Apparently, this game is fun when you're with sexually adventurous people. VERY sexually adventurous people. Half of the things confessed last night were things even I had never done, dammit, and I was pretty jealous as well. O_O

And amidst drunken banter and dancing to Marvin Gaye and the Backstreet Boys (please do not ask about Hank's choice of music; it was three in the morning and crazy things always happen at three in the morning), watching Moki and Ginny spin across the floor in graceful abandonment, I just realized how lucky I am to be with extremely crazy people. Things like this will never, ever happen in Singapore. And this is the reason why I need to come home.


Just reminding y'all: Fete de la Musique is on June 23, 2007, Saturday, around the Malate area (Roxas Boulevard, Remedios Circle, Nakpil Street). The stages start playing at 4.00 PM. ^_^

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