Thursday, September 16, 2004

11:01 AM | Rain is Orgasmic

I'm strangely happy today. Must have been the sporadic rain in Dumaguete lately. It has not rained in Dumaguete for quite some time -- a perplexing, dry extension of summer. Whenever I turned on the TV for news and I'd hear about the floods in China, the gales over Manila, the hurricane havoc over Florida and the Carribean, I'd ask myself: Rain, what rain? The last time there was a typhoon in Dumaguete was in 1993 or thereabouts. That one came with such viciousness, but the people of Dumagueute -- unsure over what to do in such circumstances -- just went about their day like it was just another day. I went to the movies that day, for example, and saw Rob Reiner's When Harry Met Sally...in Ever Theater. In the darkness of the theater, I found my brothers and their barkada, too, eating popcorn and throwing kernels at the screen. On the way home on a lazy pedicab, the wind was pulling out everything. Trees were flying about, and what-not. The pedicab driver and I were looking around, bemused. How cute, I said.



That was what I said, too, when I went to Manila last year for the Palanca, and another hurricane was making Manila a Third World version of Venice. I remember I was stuck in a taxicab on the way to my hotel from the airport, and flood water was all around us. I could hear the water lapping at the bottom of the car. I told myself, Hala, parang boat ang taxi! and beamed. It was just so cute.



That's me, Dumaguete Boy. Knows only summer all year around.



But the rain is starting to come back naman, mostly at night when everybody else has gone to bed. Except for an insomniac like me. The pitter-patter last night was cold comfort. I love the rain. This morning, when I woke up, I felt refreshed. I was smiling.



Or maybe I feel good because I woke up to the sound of Debarge's Who's Holding Donna Now filling the entire apartment. No better morning music than this 80's hit. My bubu was dancing about the pad, naked, lip-synching to the song.



Give him that, I said to myself, smiling. Today is his birthday after all.



Happy Birthday, M. Trust me, being 21 is orgasmic.

[0] This is Where You Bite the Sandwich

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