The Balcony Diaries

Entry#1:
August 5, 2011

5:15 AM

All the lights are out. Two of my friends are already lying face down on the couch and the comfy chairs that are carefully positioned on the irregular corners of this white living room. Only a few minutes ago, we were watching TV and drinking. Laughing at the insane mishaps we saw on television. Conversing about problems with our other friends, our past lives as kids. But the night gets the best of my two comrades. Sleep slowly creeps in and right now they are safely on their way to their personal haven of dreams. I feel like I’m being betrayed. While they lay there peacefully detached from the wide awake world, I am left here all alone stumbling in the darkness. 

I suddenly felt my bladder telling me I had one too many drinks so I fumble on the doorknob that leads to the restroom to relieve myself. Opened zipper. With my soft semi-erect penis already hanging loose, I let out with a steady stream of yellowish liquid all the while giving reverence to gravity. The steady jet lasted for about a couple of minutes. Oh my, I had a lot. I give the good ol’ general a few shakes before closing the zipper back up. I wash my hands at the toilet sink. It’s always been a habit of mine to ignore the mirror whenever I do that, but this time I give myself one hard look. I look like crap. Sleepless. Thin. Disheveled hair with eye bags the size of melons. Okay, probably not melons but close enough. If I see myself in the street walking looking like this, I would probably run as far away as possible. I wet my hands and splash water all over my face in the illusion that it will make things better. But it won’t. Ah well, I don’t really care anymore.

I head outside the balcony and examine the black surrounding. Dawn is about to creep in.  On my right, the ebony mantel that covered the night sky is slowly giving way to daylight, exposing a gray hue with small streaks of clouds. It’s like someone spilled gray paint on a black canvas and decided to drop a white feather just for humor.  It’s so funny how it looks that way. Or maybe the lack of sleep is just making me see things. I maybe crazy for all I know. I’m also guessing it’s going to rain today. Heavier gray clouds hang above me and the moist monsoon chill is somewhat saying that I shouldn’t have forgotten my umbrella at home. Fuck.

I decide to direct my sight to the opposite west. Still darkness, say for the one or two stars that flicker their faint iridescent red glow. At this hour, most of them are already returning to where they came from so only a few stubborn stars are left to be seen. I used to think that stars are like little dots that let you peak through heaven. But now, I don’t believe in heaven anymore. Or if there is one, I’m certainly not welcomed there. The west also gives me a magnificent view of the Manila harbour at night. Although the majority of the waters are obscured by two tall and obviously annoying buildings, I can still see a great deal of it. It’s so tranquil. And the lights from surrounding structures and buildings are magnificently reflected on the water. They sparkle like small diamonds carefully rested on black satin. It is a sight to behold. As if you don’t want to look away. It’s as if it’s hypnotic. Shame that something like this only exists on certain parts of the day. Oh Sun, you can be a bitch sometimes. Why do you always have to take away this beauty every morning?

Looking ahead, I see the vast metropolis under hushed tones of color. Malate certainly is beautiful at night. A striking contrast from what it looks like when the sun is up: smoky, putrid and cramped. The buildings below me look deserted and empty. They're devoid of anything aside from their artificial lights. Taft Avenue appears wider than usual with the absence of the jeepneys and cars and buses from hell. The yellow lamp posts, with their luminous glow that adorn the empty street give a surreal feeling of being in a movie. Creepy and magnificent at the same time. As much as I detest this place when the sun comes up, I adore Pedro Gil. I met this street when I was 17 and has grown to love it since then. I consider it an extension of my home and it will always have a special place in my heart. Shit. Lack of sleep and being high above the ground is making me an emotional wreck. I apologize to myself for being disgusting.

I look at the stores below, the houses, the schools and the gas stations with their neon signs.  They are so vibrant, so vivid. Their radiance is so intense. I notice that small dots of people are now making their way to begin their busy days. Do they know that someone eighteen stories up is looking at them now? I guess not. I concentrate hard on a single pedestrian, a man, as if trying to send a telepathic message that someone is watching over him. But he didn’t look up. Screw him. Suddenly, a big white train comes from behind my line of sight like a snake sneaking up from behind me. Of course that’s silly, it’s just the LRT faithfully giving service to early birds. Looking at all these, I realize how truly beautiful the city is from up here. How come it can’t always be like this?

And here comes the sun, an unwelcomed guest.

Everything is now bathed in his light.

Everything now looks exactly the way they’re supposed to.

I want to curse the sun for taking away all of the spectacular things I just saw a while ago.

I turn around and give the scene one last, furtive look before going inside the house.

I’ll come see you again some other night.

I promise.