Wind swept, Manila was a ghost town last night. Verse-chorus-verse, howling-silence-howling. Spent the entire night in prayer: Please don't let the windows break.
This morning, sunshine. My sister, the prophet, announced over last night's dinner that everything would blow over by tomorrow. It's like the weather always has the last laugh. Everytime the government cancels classes and work in advance, the storm decides to gather her dark billowing skirt and hops over to the next country. Laughing.
Howling.
Rock Awards
It was almost a sweep for Bamboo last night. This morning, Luis posted the winners in his blog, and, disappointed, really. Bamboo bagged Best Band, Vocals, Song and Drummer. Orange and Lemons, Best New Artist. Fuck that.
Nothing for Sugarfree and Cambio.
Urbandub, Album of the Year. And Buddy, finally, Bassist of the Year.
Just when good, indie bands are finally surfacing, the most commercial of them all gets the most recognition. It's just like Phil Collins winning over Aimee Mann. Well, not really. But almost.
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