Less Than Attractive Notions
Over the past month, I have been in serious contemplation about the next step in my life’s progression. Most of my goals have been achieved, and setting new ones seem to be a rather difficult task considering there is very little left in life I really want to pursue. At this point, I just want to settle some old debts so I could be on my way. There has been a couple of events in between my blog posts that have made me see what I could probably hope for in the immediate future, but I no longer feel that I have the capacity to hope for more than the next person can. After all, it seems that currently any novelty my presence may have carried has long been gone now, and I have been nothing but an expendable add-on to the lives of those closest around me.
I can’t even hope for a decent night’s sleep, and that bothers me. I haven’t been sleeping a lot, and on some nights not at all. They say lack of sleep causes insanity. My own thread to reality seems to be on the verge of snapping.
The Final Wednesday. The bar where I cut my comedic teeth in a little less than six months ago has changed management, and has closed its doors to the only outlet I had for my own frustrations. No one even told me. I just went over there, like it was just another show, and then they informed me that it was going to be the last, and the date of the next show, if any, is still undetermined. To the rest of them, I’m not sure it was much of a blow. They were all veterans. Pros. They could do their comedy whenever they wanted. For someone like me, who only discovered this less than half a year ago, I saw this newfound opportunity at contentment slowly slipping away.
Of course, despite feelings, we all had to do our sets, and thank goodness I actually did well. Everyone did. It was like everyone brought their A-game thinking that there was no tomorrow, and whatever thoughts I may have had about me being the only one feeling shitty about the whole thing were quickly dispelled. Everyone even did an SNL type sendoff to end the show. I liked that. At that moment, I realized that on every Wednesday night, there were no lawyers there, or IT specialists, or web content writers or online tutors or HR people. We were all comedians.
A day after the show I was bothered by the possibility that I may not do stand up again. I thought back to the past year, and then the past couple of years, and I figured I needed doing it more than I expected. It was the only thing that had kept me sane over the past several months. All the feelings of inadequacy, of being taken for granted, of being disposable, all of that vanishes every time I hit the mic. It stopped mattering to me if I did well or if I sucked. I felt at peace knowing that I got to do it.
The days that came after were hard.
One on One with The Gadgeteer. A few nights after that farewell show, I had a few drinks with The Gadgeteer, himself, who I thought was under a pledge of sobriety now that he has a new girlfriend. Of course, I welcomed the company. He mentioned he needed break, and well, that’s what I do, help people get away from the hubbub. We laughed a lot, cause frankly, drinking and laughter are the have been the two constants in my life for the past decade. It was pleasant, and he thanked me for making his new relationship possible. (Not outright, but I think that’s what he meant with the final fist bump and words of gratitude of the night. Then again, he could have just been thanking me for letting him use my bathroom.) I went back to my little crypt alone, and I still couldn’t figure out what to do while I was sans stand up.
First Night Without Votre. By the time Wednesday swung around once more and not a show was set, I didn’t want to just hang around at home after working a long day at the Think Tank. After all, it was supposed to be the one night a week wherein I felt a certain level of importance and acceptance, but without it, I didn’t have anything. So I finally sent a call to arms, and I was not just joined by the Big Man, but the Tapa King was there as well. The best that I was hoping for was a nice quiet drinking session that would’ve produced a few laughs and exchanged a few stories. What I got was a night that I can’t fully remember, and probably a valuable reminder.
For all my bitching, the Tapa King has always been quasi-reliable. There’s just something about the guy, you know? He’s like a soldier, and without proper guidance who knows what he’ll get himself into alone. But, for the past couple of years, since the Little Prince has left the country, this unpredictable man-child has been habitually around our space. while his presence isn’t always favored, it usually does result in a night worth talking about. I may have been a little harsh with my treatment of him, in retrospect. It seems that I, myself have forgotten the very reason why me, the Big Man and Ol’ Football Head got along in the first place.
I didn’t really get it that night, but eventually, I did. When the King himself made the ultimate sacrifice to save a kingdom that was never really his. More on that, in a bit.
Therapy Begins. I was still reeling from the sudden loss of my relatively newfound passion, I hobbled on to the office (atrociously late as usual) with the usual “I don’t give a fuck” look on my face that has been reflected through my wardrobe for years. After five or so minutes of working, I needed a cigarette break, and lo and behold, who did I see applying for a position in the Think Tank? Jo F’n Regis’ ex, who I am now going to refer to as The Therapist. The person who, just a night before, I wanted to look up again because of my extremely off center emotional state.
This is a prime example of the serendipity that makes it easy being a writer. After all, who needs to come up with original shit when life itself provides you moments of extreme convenience like this? I’m taking this as a sign of good things to come. Relatively good things, at least.
A New Coffeehouse Dream. I did get one more shot at doing stand up on a Wednesday night, but, oddly enough, it was in a coffeehouse at a call center in Makati. On paper, it didn’t look like it was going to fly. Ina actuality, well, it really didn’t. Not from my point of view at least. The fact that it was taped by a major television network, and the mic conked out on us didn’t help matters either.
But, regardless, this is my thing now. As I have said before, this is what I have realized I wanted to do all along. Not for a career, mind you, though that’s something I’m completely going to sabotage when given the opportunity. But this is something I actually love doing. So I’m going to continue working on this, the way I relentlessly pursued other things that made me feel like I have an actual soul.
It was a good night. Especially with the Gadgeteer dropping by to watch my less than stellar set and then, over drinks, gave me a first hand look of some fall out drama my project has caused last year. That’s what I do, kids. I disrupt lives.
Family Matters. Speaking of disrupted lives, I had myself a night with The Big Man came at a time of mutual need. Of course, I had my usual post-stand up depression shit, he had his own problems. Primarily issues with certain untrustworthy people, and the discovery of certain acts of debauchery and infidelity that, given the reality of the situation, he wasn’t really guilty of. Technically.
So he needed a night away from the crapola of domestic and professional troubles, and I wanted the kind of comfort that comes from a bottle. It was perfect. I did what any friend would do in this situation, I brought him to places that would both clear and fuzz up his mind, and this was all done in a manner that would not add up to the insanity his life has become. This was not an easy task, mind you, considering that his wife was texting me about how the entire situation has affected her deeply. But multitasking comes with the package I guess.
So a session at a gas station, a dose of very unhealthy food (for me) and a night of singing at Marbles (with Brain Erasers) was probably enough to get his mind off whatever funk residing in his soul. For one night at least.
The hero in this tale isn’t me, no matter how self serving the previous paragraph may sound. The hero here, is the Tapa King. It’s obvious to everyone that I’ve always considered him an annoyance, but probably in the same way an annoying little brother could be. He’s been catching bullets for years now, this time, he not only took a bullet for someone he considers as his friend, he fucking threw himself on a grenade.
Knowing what kind of life the guy leads, I have an idea how much his interactions with The Big Man means to him. And now, he most likely gave it up to cover for his pal. That’s why I was the one taking the Big Man out and giving him the ten cent tour of my current Kingdom, and not the Tapa King, who has been his boy for months, especially after Hidalgo street sorta closed down.
Tapa King, you earned my respect. Not many people have. (Not that it’s a badge of honor or something. Just saying.)
The night after, I got summoned to hang once more in Cavite with the Human Torch, and briefly, The Critic, for drinks and cigars to celebrate the fact that the Big Man was about to have a Big Boy.The problems were still there (especially the morning after) but it was a pleasant night. Everyone misses their old days, more so as we get older.Here’s hoping everyone lands on their respective feet this year.
The Grill with the Torch. A few days later, on a Wednesday, I once again showed up in Makati hoping to do a bit more stand up. It didn’t exactly happen, but I did get a nice trade off; hitting the Grill again and this tim, with the Human Torch, who has his fair share of memorable nights in my favorite bar.
I came fresh off of an audition for a radio station and he was doing his usual decompression from his usually sleepy job, and we took in a movie and had a few beers. Like my night out with the Big Man, this was something that both the Torch and I needed, especially since we’re the only ones among the Boys that are unmarried and in the country. (The Critic doesn’t count. I will come up with a reason why.)
After that one on one we had a few weeks ago, I knew the Torch and I would be hanging out more, and it being in such a special place shows only good things.
Another Case Closed. After that remarkably pleasant night, I had another duty to fulfill with another friend who needed my presence in order to cut ties from the turmoil that has done damage to her personal and professional life. Being someone who has been in a very similar situation, and conveniently living 20 minutes away from the place wherein she was about to make this life changing act, I felt it would be wrong to deny her of said presence.
It was an interesting night, to say the least. I’ve lived in a particular way long enough to know that there will always be nights that would stand out in a person’s mind, nights wherein the person in question can say without any doubt that that was night that truly altered the course of his or her personal history. I was glad I could help out, though I really didn’t do much. She did most of the work the morning after, and I am proud of her for that.
I know she’s reading, and I hope she knows I wish her the best. Regardless of what I feel about the situation, or for the people involved,
A Legendary Fuck Up. The past three or four weeks have been kinda tough on me, but considering that during the course of this particular time period, I see people who struggle with their own shit, and somehow I still manage to influence their lives in some level, makes me feel somewhat less shitty about my own personal loss. Despite all my cursing, the life that I’ve managed to build for myself among this people is something that somehow keeps me going. Being a part of this large community of fuck ups still manages to help me crack a genuine smile fro time to time.
Now, if only I could get a decent night’s sleep, then I’d be golden. That, or more stand up gigs.
“Lay a whisper on my pillow
Leave the winter on the ground
I wake up lonely, is there a silence
In the bedroom and all around
Touch me now, I close my eyes
And dream away…
It must have been love, but it’s over now
It must have been good, but I lost it somehow
It must have been love, but it’s over now
From the moment we touched till the time had run out ” – Roxette, “It Must Have Been Love” (This song has been playing all fucking month.)
