funny how death knocks at my door.. and i seem to welcome it with open arms and open legs, much like a penis both reluctant and eager to breath each time one has the urge to pee.
twice have my doors been knocked, twice that were most memorable. the first, was an incident two years ago in a bar/ resto in manila called sharkys. i was probably too drunk and too high on love to explain my feeling of euphoria when two guys decided to play tug of war over a gun behind the table where my friends and i were drinking... i remember, we all hugged the floor... i pressed my cheek on the cold brick, closed my eyes and smiled. i even uttered the words:"ang saya saya" (dont ask) right before the gun went off. by then my mind went blank. i thought i was going to rest forever. to stay "masaya" forever. i could have died with a bullet wound on my head and a smile on face, two long years ago.
and just a few hours back. on our way home from texas, my uncle's chauvinistic-im-the-king-of-the-road attitude emerged like an unwanted semen. I-44 NORTHBOUND's left lane had to be closed due to some road work, so everyone was made to stay on the right, which caused the slow movement of the traffic. My Uncle had to overtake some cars (im guessing he was hungry for some catfish), worse, he felt like it was his right to cut in between to huge 10 wheelers which were driven by sex-craved, agitated drivers (probably). I could still hear my aunt scream as our small toyota camry slid in between two trucks and almost hit one of the containers. i didnt care if i died, but i felt sorry for my auntie, who was sobbing like crazy. "I dont want to die.", drowned out the noise from the horns as my tita clinged with all her might on her chair. Again, i didnt care if i died on that spot.
A few minutes later, my tita, wiped the tears off her cheeks, i knew a fight was brewing. I sighed and went back on my reading. SUsan Orlean accompanied me the whole time during our day trip to dallas, and McGeehee's FAmous Catfish. SHe wrote the book THE ORCHID THIEF which spawned a movie called:" adaptation," starring Nic Cage and MEryl STreep. And after the "brush with death" (exxag mode) ordeal, i remembered a qoute from the book that really hit me, "...that the reason it matters to care passionately about something is that it whittles the world down to a more manageable size."
Perhaps i didnt care, because i lost passion for life. i had it, i lived it, i was happiest basking in it and then i had to leave it. it sucks. im at a point in my life where nothing happens, where i am but a fish swimming in a tank of insatiable consumerist wants, and used condoms. it sucks.
90 or so miles later, we arrived at NOrman, 30 minutes away from OKlahoma CIty. My tita decided to watch a movie, to vent out her pent up anger at my uncle, i guess. We bought tickets to see Million DOllar Baby. At first, i was skeptic about the movie, i didnt want to pay 6 bucks to watch another version of ROCKY. But i was totally proven wrong. At the risk of sounding mushy and cheesy, i almost cried. shit i hate sad movies, but im a sucker for it. Bobo was right. it was a terrific movie, exceptional preformances by Hillary Swank, Clint Eastwood and Morgan Freeman. YOu guys should go see it.
HERE COMES THE CHEESY PART: (feel free to click these links and enjoy!)
How does the movie, relate to the boring drama called my life? Well, Maggie Fitzgerald (Swank's character), oozes with passion, well not just her... but also frankie and that of Freeman's character. they were passionate about what they do... Their characters were people true to the word "living" or "alive", pretty much like the people who risk their lives for what they believe, for human rights, FOR LOVE, for the simple things that makes life more interesting, worthwhile.... MANAGEABLE. Makes me realize that, if i died today... i wouldnt have been able to say. "im ready", really say "im ready" like i mean it.
