Monday, June 20, 2005

A letter to the Mother and the Father in Singapore.

Hello Mother,

How’s your trip so far? Take lots of nice pictures, and remember there are separate settings on the camera, so don’t forget to adjust whenever needed.

We had the electricity checked out last night. The guy was a friend of Kuya Dick’s, and he said that there wasn’t anything fundamentally wrong with our electricity. That grounding he was talking about, it might have come from the next door neighbor’s electric wires, not ours. If it came from ours, then the inside of the house would have burned first, and you and Tay wouldn’t have a home to come to at all. =D

It was volte face, actually. Quite ironic, if you count the number of times I had thought that the house was being robbed or burning down while I was out of it. The one time I went to Z’s to sleep at her house (after French Music Festival; details below), there had to be a small fire at the back. Only Ate G, J, and their friend were at the house, and they were scared of what had happened. I felt guilty all the time sleeping over at Z’s, and then I came home to realize that my nightmares had almost come true.


I went to the annual French Music Festival at Ortigas last Saturday night. Ugh. Thousands upon thousands of people, not all of them smelling good. Tons of teenage rocker wannabes, and lots of goodlooking guys actually, but they were pitifully outnumbered. The stink, oh the stink. Egads.

I was only able to listen to a couple of bands, and I didn’t particularly enjoy the experience, as tons of people crowding inside the bars and in the outside area as well. I got TV time, though, saying hi to my friends on GMA’s TEXTTUBE. Your daughter, she’s famous. Along with D and T. The greeting will air on Tuesday and Thursday.

Sigh. Would have enjoyed said festival, if not for the volume of people crowding place. As it happened, we decided to get out early, around one in the morning (believe me, that was early). We hitched with C, a friend of ours, and goodness, we couldn’t even drive out of the stupid place, as it was packed.

Made ourselves feel better by lowering window and shouting as if drunk, “Yung mga Tatay niyo, batiin niyo! Father’s Day ngayon! Of course, we shouted that only after we made sure that the road was clear of any obstacles that would bar us from burning rubber. We didn’t want to be in the middle of a rumble. Too many jologs, so few of us.

So many kids, Mom. You couldn’t imagine the volume of the crowd that night. It was like everyone in the Greater Manila Area decided to crash. It was pretty wild, and not in a good way. The crush of people was too much, and everyone was jostling for one breath of air, preferably without the mingling of smoke, beer, and err, some other drugs that couldn’t be bought over the counter. Fortunately, we found an oasis at the underground parking. We spent a lot of time there, you could tell.

The experience depressed me a bit, so maybe I might not go next year. Why is it when things grow popular, it also grows a bit needless? The next time I want to listen to music, I just might swing over to a jazz bar in Makati.

I will conveniently rag John about your instructions and continue to be irritating older sister to the pasaway one.

Love you guys!

The Not so Proverbial Daughter,


Blogger djong said...

sadly, monk's dream has closed down. we have to find a new jazz hangout.

12:36 AM  
Blogger sarah said...

oo nga eh. would really like to listen to blue jean junkies, the band that zane's been telling me about. =)

4:27 PM  

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