smells like team spirit

The last two days in less than 50 words:

“I excuse myself I’m used to my little cell
I amuse myself in my very own private hell” *


Day one of office team building gig at Tarawoods in Tanauan, Batangas: Drunk from a lethal combination of gin-beer and wiggy from no sleep or at least not enough. With friends at first: laughing, swapping stories, bonding. Then alone staring at the night sky, enjoying the sound of crickets and little wings and other things unseen.

Upchucking your dinner and finding yourself locked out of the guesthouse in the bitter late-night cold is never fun, but I’ll chalk it down as an “experience.”

Day two: From Tarawoods straight to the waiting office. Floaty head, watery eyes and a bellyful of Extra Joss to keep the Sandman at bay. A pile of stories to edit and upload and a bite-sized Toblerone for dinner (better let sleeping ulcers lie). CCR’s  “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?” playing on and on on Youtube.

Ominous droplets of something dark in my hankie every time I cough.

Maybe there is such a thing as clean, sober fun. But I’m not acquainted with it.

(Photo courtesy of TJ Dimacali)

* from Alice in Chains’ “Private Hell”



So it’s Christmas and I’m pulling an all-nighter at work. That’s like breaking up with your girlfriend on Valentine’s Day. I’ve no complains. I am, after all, a professional journalist, and this is part of the job. To quote Hunter S. Thompson: You buy the ticket, you take the ride.

At 4 am I’ll be off to Nueva Ecija to join my wife and her family for their reunion. I’ll try not to sleep on the bus because I love watching the view outside and do a lot of thinking. A lot of people are uncomfortable with long rides. Not me. But since I’ve been up for more than 24 hours now, powered only by cigarettes and good vibes, staying awake for the three-hour trip would be a tough order.

Merry Christmas, y’all. Herpes and falling teeth to our enemies.