And by girls I don’t mean the wifey and the kiddo, my usual weekend dates. For a change, the past weekend was spent with girl friends, some of whom I haven’t seen in years — a funny thing since we live in the same city and basically go to the same coffee shops, supermarkets and payment centers.
Saturday, rainy as fuck, I was at Eastwood for the long overdue meetup with friends I met through the now defunct Multiply. Adelaide-based T___ was in town and wanted to hook up before she flies back home. Four of us made it, plus partners. Coffee at Starbucks to beat the cold and then lunch at Italianni’s. Jokes and stories galore — and the wildest first-person account I’ve heard about vibrators courtesy of M__. It was a whole afternoon of fun and warm camaraderie that we all hoped would be replicated soon.
Then the next day, Sunday, was my alma matter’s homecoming. There was a parade in the morning that I failed to join because of house chores and also the rain. Then a program in the afternoon at Ynares Center. Speeches and dance presentations by batches. Also a raffle. It was nice seeing my old class/batch-mates again. “Man, it’s been over 20 years” and all that. Program over, I joined our batch’s all-girl dance group to Calleza Bar and Grill for drinks. Stayed there longer than I had intended. Guess I got carried away by the vibe.
Indeed, fun weekend.
Playlist: Volbeat – Rock the Rebel/Metal the Devil; Danzig – Danzig
Thanks to social media, Valentine’s has become more commercial that it used to be. Whether that’s bad or good depends on one’s love life status, I guess, but I’ve never seen so many roses and teddy bears and red heart-shaped whatnot waved to my face as was yesterday on my way to work. Even LRT-2 had some kind of Valentine’s gimmick going on. And don’t get me started on Facebook posts. They almost made me diabetic.
Anyway, it was almost midnight when the wifey and I got to celebrate V-Day, no thanks to heavy traffic. It was a simple celebration: no resto, no movie, not even a coffee shop rendezvous. Just the two of us at home, with Carlo Rossi and a bag of Tostitos — our version of Ethan Hawke’s famous 90s movie line “You, me and five bucks.” Why spend more?
Meanwhile, my life continues to revolve around family, comics, movies, music and TV series. On fine weekend mornings I bike, and once again I’m trying to quit smoking. The other day I tried drawing again. When I can, I sleep early and wake up late. In short, life’s sweet for the meantime.
Playlist: Van Halen – Balance; Against Me! – Transgender Dysphoria Blues
Listened to new music again yesterday. New albums by Grandaddy, Elbow and Cloud Nothings. It’s been awhile. The last new album I listened to was Metallica’s Hardwired… to Self-Destruct, and that was in early January. Since then it’s all been throwback music, mostly from the 90s, my decade, a long ago and sorely missed period of my life.
For the last couple of weeks, my life seemed to have hit a snag. Static. Unexciting. Plain, boring, dead. Even the comics and books and magazines I read were old shit. Ditto the series I watched (Jessica Jones, from 2015). It was as if my psyche has lost its interest on new things and, hence, the future. I heard friends yak about the stuff that’s making them excited for 2017 — from new Stranger Things season in November to Megadeth on Pulp Summer Slam in April — but the feeling won’t rub on me. I sat there hearing them but at the same time having an out-of-body experience.
“Absence/lack of excitement. Tell-tale sign of depression.” Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tell me about it.
And Wednesday last week I exploded into rage. Long story — I could write it but won’t. Too ugly. Too painful. And what’s the point?
But yesterday I listened to new music again. And I’m looking forward to watching John Wick 2 this weekend, and curious about the upcoming sitcom Powerless, and seriously considering catching Megadeth for the second time in these shores. All this I take as a sign that I’m finally moving forward now.
Playlist: Hardline – Double Eclipse