(written on the 3rd of September this year)
Nirvana's “Lithium” and “The Best Awful” by Carrie Fisher. Nothing captures the insane world of the bipolar than these two. In light of my recent manic-like exploits (as i am not at all sure if i do suffer from the disorder), Carrie Fisher (who by the way played the role of Princess Lea in Star Wars' ancient version) has had me questioning all this wind-riding with my friend Marlo Just last Thursday, we had agreed to go into another of our random urban trips (what i like to call wind-riding), so after my shift at work, we crossed the street and hailed the first jeepney that came by us, which turned out to be en route to Ramos St. But when we saw the tattoo shop at the corner of Escario St., we alighted from the vehicle and went to inquire in Kukuk's Nest of the rates,but found that we'd missed the tattoo artist by just a few minutes. And for good reason anyway – we didn't have enough dah-dah for a even a small tattoo, but it would have been fun. Next random stop was Capitol Church where we joined the people praying the rosary in the hope of finding any form of salvation and i almost dozed off but i guess God would have forgiven me for trying anyway. Then another random ride in a random jeepney that brought us to Robinson's department store en route to a search for Holy Kettle Corn, but we before we could get the heavenly treat, we got stuck ogling at the books in the book sale until they had to close shop; took a long walk to the popcorn station, bought a couple of chocolate-flavored smokes, walked from Mango Square all the way to Ayala Center in front of JCA Pizza where we experimented with Yakult and Leche Flan and Marlo's lactose-intolerance, and when no awful stinky business happened, we toasted in jubilation with San Mig light and Marimar and Fernando Jose making love in the rain on a sari-sari store television set; we took a long walk to Asilo where I screamed loud enough for some gawking high schoolers to hear to keep arguing about my identity (*Hala pag lalis pa mo!*) after which we laughed a loud bitchy, witchy laugh and ran like raving lunatics to the habal-habals and asked directions to that dark heaven in Tops. Went to JY Square Mall and hired some trusty service of a habal-habal and rode off nearer to the sky and temporary liberty. “Cheers to the Shit and Insanity and Spontaneity of Life!” we sang on top of a hill that showed us a galaxy of city lights, lights that screamed back, “We are You! We are You!” and our lives were never firecrackeringly brighter than that moment. It was there where we suspected Koreans and other people speaking some unintelligible language system to be aliens who do surveys on humans on that high point on the mountain which, we discovered, actually is just called by its singular form – Top; where we tried to let the cosmos console us for the expensive entrance fee; and where I wished I had some green stuff to turn the view into a field of sunflowers; where I wished I could stay till dawn and stand by for the coming of Almighty King Sun in celebratory firecracking light; and me, in a welcoming scream with arms outflung: “Cheers to the Shit and the Insanity and Spontaneity of Life!”
