Yes, rather than paint a dead kid, or finish watching a film about filmmaking ("A Year Ago In Winter," "69 1/2"), bring me to a place I am more familiar with. Let me spend the hours before my regular work begins in utmost glee.
Perhaps Market!Market! as a venue made me less receptive to the first two Cinemanila films. It's the ambience, dearie. There's a different world out there, after being used to comfort zones like Greenbelt or Power Plant.
It was not the right time to watch a talky film, so I just browsed through "A Year Ago In Winter," saw its first 20 minutes, then checked out what else was showing. There was this local digital film, which claims to be a movie about the making of the most artistic Pinoy pornographic film made me curious.
Well curiosity won't always lead to priceless discoveries. Enough said. Comedy as a wrapping will only work if at least I laughed. Maybe I am too "Market!Market!" to absorb the filmmaking jokes, and anti-sexual sex songs. There was something too messianic about a film that talks about the ideal film. Sigh.
Good thing about Market!Market!, it's right next door to where Retroville is, The Fort Strip. By retro, I mean, where else in Manila will you find three days in a week devoted to music I grew up with?
Tuesdays, Swing Night at Fuel. Thursdays, Retro Music Night at Mint. And Fridays, there's Boyet Almazan's Decadance, still going strong.
After a series of Thursday martinis, in chocolate, ginger, coconut, and pineapple, my hangover didn't stop me from having red wine. There was only one choice, one brand, whether it was a Cabernet or a Merlot. So I wrapped up this unusually alcoholic week with good ole San Miguel Light.
"Da-rat-dat-di-dah... a-rico-mambo, a-rico mambo yeah, I get the feeling , I get the feeling."
I showed them the Vicor Dancer in me. Unmindful if anybody's watching. I deserve this week. I decided to work once more. And my, the way to arriving at this decision wasn't that smooth-sailing nor easy. I could've danced all night. I was celebrating the finality of my options.
But, as always, once the 80's music dies down, and the spinner segues to the 90's, way beyond my youthful peak, I shut off. When the Rico Mambo was over, I suddenly felt tired. I am no "Faces", "Mars," nor a "Euphoria" kid. I just can't get enough, no I just can't get enough of the 80's.
Retroville is my default homepage. Unless someone invites me to sing once more, now that's another comfort zone. I might give in, in spite of this week-long hangover.
And yes, I finally got my favorite Jill's tapa, flavorful with the beef fat intact. I hope those grams of cholesterol dissolved with my sweat as I did my hyper Rico Mambo moves. I did it at level 10. Intensity and magnitude boundless, as if I was dancing to the last days of freedom.
My, what a week that was.
I will savor my final weeks as a free soul.Soon, I will be like anyone else.Waiting for the 15th and 30th of the month, and spending hard-earned cash singing and dancing to the music of my time.
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