So last weekend me and the girls finally got to check out Pinto Arts Museum, one of Antipolo City’s newest tourist attractions. Emphasis on “finally”: when friends from as far as Singapore and Dubai have been to Pinto and yet we, who live just a few kilometers away, have not, something is amiss. We decided to rectify that last Sunday.
First impression of the place: it’s effin’ huge, man. I was expecting one building housing all the arts and artifacts and stuff, but apparently there’s more. Aside from the actual museum, there were also galleries, gardens, a meditation area (under renovation during our visit), chapel, a cafè and a theater. A newbie could easily get lost in the maze. Thankfully, a map is provided at the entrance. It was helpful, especially if you’re looking for the nearest CR.
Anyway, will not go into details. Blogs about Pinto Arts Museum are dime-a-dozen. I’ll just say that if you dig arts, and old things, and culture — or you just fancy watching young pretty out-of-towners snap photos of themselves — you’ll be at home in this place.
Playlist: Asphyx – Last One on Earth; Terra Nova – Come Alive
Friday. Midnight. Somewhere in Makati. A bit tipsy in the company of new friends — all hip, all well dressed, all smart-trendy in their own way.
Actually, I was only there to pick up my wife.
My wife. She said for this year she wants to level up on her social skills. Go out, meet new people, enjoy new things. Well, why not?
So Friday night after work she said she’s going out with friends and asked me if I could pick her up. I told her to meet me at McDonald’s along Paseo de Roxas, our usual meeting place, at 11 p.m. I pictured myself having a quiet time reading comics and nursing a cappuccino while waiting for her. I liked the picture. I like tranquility.
But then she said she’s having too much fun to split at 11 so would I consider joining them instead since her friends were interested to meet me anyway.
She gave their whereabouts: Discovery Primea.
A fucking hotel? Talk about level up.
So I went, and there they were, some gals and some dudes, swigging wine and beer and munching home-cooked steak — wow! — all griping about the hotel’s no smoking policy. Loose conversation here and there: about vaping, the BPO industry, Bato dela Rosa. Ice-cold Red Horse hissed when I popped open the tab. How cool, I thought, being here and all.
Ah, this leveling up business. Bring it on!
Playlist: Soul Asylum – Let Your Dim Light Shine
One thing I like about 2016 is that Hardwired… to Self-Destruct happened. It’s Metallica saying fuck you to naysayers, in a time when all but the most loyal of fans have given up on them for churning out mediocre metal. Horns up for my sister-in-law, in town from Singapore, for this awesome pasalubong slash birthday gift.
Speaking of my birthday: I may have inadvertently given the impression that my special day sucked with my bitter-sounding previous entry. I will set the record straight now and say that it didn’t. It may not be perfect, but it was neither a disaster. And truth be known, I preferred a quiet celebration than a big party which would only leave me with a big hangover the next day. At 38, I no longer treat hangover as some sort of a badge rightfully earned for surviving a night of merry drunken mayhem. Now, it’s just a bummer.
Meanwhile, long time no blog. Was busy with house and work shit, and was therefore often too exhausted to write. It happens, and it sucks when it does, and these cold mornings we’re having aren’t really helping kick slumbering brain cells into action.
Playlist: Buffalo Tom – Skins; Pearl Jam – Vitalogy
Couple of minutes before midnight on a Friday. Just got home. Writing this as I wait for the coffee to cool down. Ditto my mood.
Turned 38 yesterday. There was no party. No drunk girls dancing to loud music blaring from the speakers. All the debauchery happened in my head, and the only food involved were the ones ordered for the “feeding program” that me and two other January celebrants sponsored at the office the previous day. Pancit (for long life), lumpiang shanghai, cake, pork barbecue. Soft drinks, but no beer.
On my 38th name day I woke up, had breakfast, took a dump, showered, got dressed, went to work, did what I’m paid to do for nine hours, said thank you to well wishers online and in person, punched out, went home, brooded, slept. In short, it was not unlike any other ordinary work day.
Today, I punched out early at work to meet the wifey in Makati. But she came a bit sloshed from drinking with an office-mate and at one point was even kind of belligerent. Would’ve loved to walk around Glorietta and Greenbelt and savor the night until our feet ached, but that’d be no fun in her condition. Instead we dined at Yoshinoya and went home.
Happy birthday to me.
I thought I was handling it pretty well. Then I realized I wasn’t. Fucking post-holiday blues, man.
It happened in Cubao on my way to work (still a holiday today, but no such thing in my gig). I saw the stalls that were selling Christmas decors (before Christmas) and fireworks (New Year) being dismantled and torn down. That drove home the fact to me that the holidays are over, and that it’s now back to the tired old boring-ass routine of the daily grind. What’s sadder is the fact that when I get home tonight, the wifey will no longer be there waiting for me, as she has to sleep early for her work tomorrow. I will miss those late-night chats over tea or coffee we had over the past few days. That’s actually my memory of Christmastime 2016. I am sentimental like that.
At work now. The air is syrupy quiet. Fighting to let the wretched post-holiday fact sink in… and not doing a pretty good job about it. Just smoked two cigarettes despite New Year resolution to drop the damn habit. Oh well…
Playlist: Blue Oyster Cult – Club Ninja; Bad Brains – I Against I