By: Iris P. Concepcion
Finally, the drainage system here is working!
The dreaded typhoon yesterday did not create havoc of biblical proportions only because of this fact: the system was plowed before the elections. People worked overtime (green people, read my entry about the taxi driver who gave me a lecture on the symbiosis between roads and drainage systems) to fix these while everyone was hyper: griping about everything, from eyebrows to prices.
The water subsided fast; I saw disaster centers near the place where I am staying currently and despite the rains, I saw students braved it and went to school anyway. I am dismayed though that the bulk of garbage was courtesy of some brands which might have been promoted at the expense of the "fix the drainage" job. I was walking and it was not lost on me.
Cynics were hollering: too much water (none), wind (I have experienced worse when I was a student), catastrophe (I've had the best night of my life previously and it could not dampen me, even when I only have 50 bucks on my wallet).
About the night:
That has got to be one of the most magical twists of my cryptic life. Everything was in total reverse.
Drizzles tapped the pavements and had my furry hood cover my head once again. My own uplifting parka-------air is nothing, air shivers through it like inefficient windmill, air passes through it, begrudgingly astounded.
Anyway, I walked my usual strides like a chick hopping away from mud...plak, plak, plak my feet soundboarded.
Anyway, there is this film--I shall leave out everything for the time being because it is too pure to get commercialized---that is a kicker. What do I mean by this? It means being eureka-d only at the end. It started out so bad that I am reminded of my Southern viewing of a t.v. show. that I cursed endlessly---editing, sound, everything a wham. Bored somewhere in the middle (I tried sleeping but I must tread on), I started looking at my left, then right, and this is where the REAL film kicked super butts.
I was sitting beside an "aswang", (small guy with some of his dorky friends saying rakenrol), his teeth did not dig deep into his gums, it was like protruding like the falling tower of enamel, and he was really into the movie.
His face: he seemed to totally like it and I do not know for what reason. Bad dialogue, ghosts coming out like huh, and he was clapping and enjoying it like he is watching a porn quickie. It was cool. And he is an "aswang."
Smack in the middle of this tremendously beautiful theater is a guy who always turned his head whenever there is a ghost coming out as if he would have liked the camera to tilt further. It was really funny. He donned these heaviest shoulder pads like mothership.
By the time the third story was rolling (it is a trilogy of super B-film), I could no longer contain my laughter (it was so bad that I had to bite my tongue least the audience shall wonder why I am giggling in the middle of a crying scene) that I texted away my confusion.
Miracle of miracles, everyone in the theater started to laugh, like a clown wave or a flower power was flowing and I said: my God, they felt me.
What started out as a horror/drama/thriller film became the hugest satire comedy that nakakahawang chortles dragged, right inside the comfort rooms, the lobby, and I was still grinning when I arrived at my destination.
Someone was picking his toenails at the beautiful lobby and you wonder if the Oscar's just leaped out from the screen. It is ALIVE!! And an esteemed director was slicing through this madness like heaven. Perfect.
It was a bad, bad, bad freaking blast and so gauche and ugly and ewww that it is sooooo good.
Rohmer and his ilk strike again.
Thank you for making me feel alright even when I only had 50 bucks on me that night. I even gave 5 bucks (he was asking for piso only) to a kid who bathed in the night rain and was singing away with ini mini mini mo lover.
I mean, THIS is happiness.