Daze Maze

It’s not sleepwalking, so I don’t know what keeps me up at night. Beyond 11 in the evening, there’s no going beyond the apartment, unless I walk a kilometer to reach the village’s gate, and another 500 meters to get to 7-Eleven – my ultimate destination even if it’s really a non-place. Too generic/uniform to really mean anything, and I always just come and go. I never stay to talk to the cashiers or commune with the products.

So I usually go downstairs. I check the fridge, surf the channels, and loathe the stains on the white walls – a consequence perhaps of partying without chairs. Most of them come from dirty elbows or shoes that results when one leans against the surface, or Alex’s paws when she tries to catch a lizard or a moth. The recliner’s usually where I end up lounging. I bought this at a bargain from a friend who lived in the same village. I managed to dismantle it into two pieces, squeezed it in the car and ended up looking like a complex alternative for the ‘square peg in a round hole’ metaphor.

“Don’t worry if you can’t figure in. It’s just a case of being a mangled recliner in a ’97 Mitsubishi.”

Sometimes I go outside, at the open garage or the backyard where I’d find things to tinker with. It used to be empty bottles of liquor and beer which I would rearrange into neat pyramids or systematic rows. These days though it’s the kittens. Two of them, one named Sammy Davis Jr., and the other one named Lou Greta.

I keep myself awake at nights for no reason. I get frustrated at myself coz I know that my fake nostalgia will only lead to two consequences: first, go through the day like a zombie, or second, wake up at 2 in the afternoon. I can’t decide which one I like better. For the first one, the tasks I finish and errands I run end up shitty. As for the second, it means I’ll be awake again the whole night and will have to contend with ‘breaking the cycle.’ Something I’m not particularly willing to do. Y’see, systems are romantic.

Sometimes I think. And when I do it lasts. I can sit idle for hours, maybe come up with a good plot for a movie, apply the theory of ‘legitimation of the present’ to, I don’t know, modernist architecture or something. Last night, I thought about how Manila requires you to live fast, gather memories unrelentingly, the carrying space of time stretched to encompass the rabid stimuli of urban existence. It all means one thing to me: I have to forget fast as well. No wonder I get nostalgic so easily. My reference was Paul Virilio’s dromology.

Often I am afraid of my own imagination and would rather just plan, list or organize. I’m scared of how easy and fast I can navigate through fantasies and ideas recklessly without hesitation. I feel like if I do not restrain myself, I’d reach my subconscious and hate my mother, just like what Freud said.

I go back to my bed, curl into helplessness, and begin my sleep with the thought that tomorrow, when I wake up, I will analyze my dreams.

Summary

It was quite fun hosting this year’s New Year’s party for my friends. Just like last year, the set-up included the apartment’s roof deck, a lot of loud music, fireworks, booze, and disrespect for our neighbors. However, I think most people came on the prospect of Raf outdoing himself. Which happened, by the way. Y’see, Raf was smashed beyond wits during last year’s party and we were all secretly hoping he’d surpass his wastedness this year. True enough, he fell from the roof and landed flat on his face.

It was funny for two reasons: first, he got drunk from his own concoctions; and second, the facewhacking came abruptly amidst heavy cheering and egging, silencing everyone in an instant. It was like those anticlimactic moments in slapstick movies where a character massively disappoints a hyped crowd.

It was not funny for two reasons. First, Raf is a good friend, he truly is. Second, we all thought he died. Fortunately, he only suffered cuts on his chin (which required four stitches) and a minor amnesia. Poor guy still can’t remember what happened.

Anyway, I’ve realized nostalgia is best mitigated by tradition, or at least things that occur regularly. So the mission is to keep hosting this party year after year ‘till I lose the apartment or my friends abandon me, whichever comes first.

***

Got the honor of being Jason’s best man. I think I had him at our mutual appreciation of Hangover and our common hope that it’d happen to us at our bachelor’s parties. But, we’ve known each other for about 8 years now and our friendship has been strengthened by a little animosity and a huge deal of goodwill, respect and shared experiences.

As the best man, the task of hosting the party fell (hard) on my shoulders. I’m not supposed to talk about it coz it’s part of the best man-groom code. All I can say is that we partied in style.

Anyway, below are excerpts of my best man’s speech.

“We’ve been through so much together. And though this is a huge moment for you, I can’t help but feel nostalgic reminiscing of those days when all that really mattered were unopened bottles of gin or rum, and classes that could be missed the next day. But you have gone such a long way from those days.

“You’ve traded your headlamps for twinkling Christmas lights that now adore your home; You’ve swapped outdoor Casio wristwatches for a set of gentlemanly chronometers. And most importantly, you’ve traded your Coleman hiking boots for those fancy leather shoes that make you look four inches taller.

“But knowing you, this isn’t settling down, this is just setting up. I know your sense of adventure will remain insatiable. Your passions and interests will always be precise and thorough. Because that’s what you are: a grand lover of life.

“And I am glad that you have found someone with whom you can share your brand of living with. Nice, you look astoundingly beautiful. Jason is lucky to have you as his wife and I have no doubt in my heart that you and Jason are perfect for each other.”

***


‘Will be going to South Africa this coming April for a competition on International Humanitarian Law. Although I’m a bit excited coz of Mandela, apartheid and great white sharks, I can’t help but feel a bit anxious about this whole thing. Right now, I’m in a very, very tense state, with graduation just around the corner. Thing is, in law school, three months is a long time for shit to happen. I’m bracing myself for surprise attacks on my degree. Can’t be too sure in this life.