just own the night.


"so, that's it, huh? you're quitting life," she said, "trading work for karaoke?"
"yeah," i said. "might as well."
"what are you gonna do when you get back?"
"i dunno," i said. "get a job at a supermarket or bookstore, if i'm lucky."
"nothing wrong with that," she said. "i was just talking about that today," she said, "how americans are so goddamn competitive."
"yeah," i said. "we're only fooling ourselves."

my aunt, she put out this full spread, crabs and coca-cola and squid and eggrolls, but none of us could eat a damn thing. it was for my dead grandparents and the other deceased. if there was an afterlife, i could picture my grandparents chilling on clouds, and laughing at us from above. jesus, they'd think, why didn't she spend that money on the living instead? i watched as she picked out hopia, chicharron, and other snacks from overcrowded tiny shops.

earlier this month, my cousins and i went to boracay for four days and three nights. every night, we drank san miguel light until our faces turned red and we no longer felt self-conscious about dancing to bad pop music. "firework," "the time (dirty bit)," "like a g6," "the club can't handle me," "i like the way you lie," "we r who we r," etc. we karaoked until our voices went out, and we swam in the ocean until our mouths filled with salt, and we tanned until our skin peeled. we drank shakes from jonah's and ate all the seafood we could handle. because that's how you fucking do boracay.

and then there are the go-go bars. miss universal, east asia, malizia-2, air force one, golden dove, club 9, so many go-go bars and nineteen year-old girls sitting in rooms that i don't know what to make of it. chloe, she sits on my lap and sings "a thousand miles." i know it, so i sing with her. i ask if she's in school. she says she dropped out. why, i ask. financial problems, she says. duh. why else would be she be here, sitting on your lap? i look to my left, and my buddy angelo is shirtless, smothering his chosen one.

sometimes, i stop. you have to stop sometimes. am i really doing this? did i really just drink every night this week and say what i said to that young girl? am i really dancing like a fool right now and finally, completely letting go? is there any love in this world, or is it all just lust and its consequences? maybe the purpose of life is to just take one amazingly long hot shower. what i wouldn't give for a hot shower right now.

but it's best to not overanalyze. don't think about things too much. just keep going at it hard, nonstop, 24/7, e'rry goddamn day until you die.

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