wolfgang singing some of their best songs. a short performance, considering all the great hits they had accumulated over the years. basti looking so much like a foreigner than a filipino as he was half-supposed to be. getting swallowed by the crowd with his arms wrapped around me both for comfort… and protection too, perhaps. getting really drunk with all the thoughts storming through my head. philosophizing about life and people growing old. basti sure looked older. even rock stars grow old too, i guess. but man, i could just close my eyes and listen to him sing forever. amazing couldn’t even begin to describe such voice. no sound effects. just him and the mic and his band. and the crowd with us in it.

and then there was that bottle of mojitos which got me philosophizing about life even more. i stopped counting the number of shots i had, as there were only three of us sharing it. laughing about things i can no longer remember. looking at people dancing, talking, doing whatever. amping up their boring lives even for just one night. me wanting to buy that kurt cobain shoes sold at converse. thinking how the hell i can afford a pair which costs about 4 or 5 grand.

and then i thought, even at the height of drunken stupor, i still think too much.

overkill.