Monday, 8 September 2008

In the Past 72 Hours...

- I went clubbing at O, which burned out my eyes and throat with cigarette smoke and left me stumbling home deaf and drenched in sweat at 4:30am. Aside from the fact that everyone was literally packed thigh to thigh and dancing consisted of rotating my shoulderblades, it was a blast. The underage sex worker that I befriended also showed up when I stepped outside for air, but he seemed hurt when I didn't offer to pay his cover for the club but I'm pretty sure buying drinks for a minor is against CUREC guidelines, and after watching heavyset, grizzled, paper-white AARP members with a cloud of twinky Filipino boys circling them like atoms all night, it also violated any shred of ethics that I still possess.

- Hours later, I hauled my tired ass onto the LRT to interview a priest. Among other things, we talked about his sex drive and whether masturbation is sinful or pretty awesome (hint: all parties were in emphatic agreement on that one). When I left, I mentioned that I'd been to O, but still needed to visit Bed. And in the kindest goodbye I've had with anyone in recent memory, he got this impish grin, clasped my hand and said, "oh, Ryan, something tells me anyone would jump at the chance to take you to Bed." He's 80. It was my favorite interview, hands down.

- I gave my cell phone number to one of my interviewees, who responded by texting me about fifteen times the next day. I hate texts and fear commitment, so I was like, ooh, yikes, and responded once, coolly. I felt bad, though, and so today I took him out for coffee and a tart before his afternoon classes and felt like a not terrible person again. My soul costs 27 pesos.

- Tonight, I spent the evening up in one of the cities in Metro Manila, where I knocked off 12 interviews (that's stamina, raw and unadulterated) before wearily taking a cab back after eight hours of non-stop Q and A. It was a total hoot, though - I brought donuts for everyone from Dunkin', and as I was leaving, they asked if I'd come back for a goodbye party on Saturday. I decided that this is probably a bigger deal than Petula Clark, and said I'd be there. Possibly with donuts, definitely with beer.

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