I went to Baler with Skydive Academy for a gig organized by a surfing school named Charlie Does. I was struck by the strange calmness of the place, the tender heat and the immensity of the shoreline. There is something in the thought of gazing back into the most enormous ocean in the world that touches on my sense of the sublime.
I had fun, perhaps too much. In the heat of the frenzy I called Nikki and said I missed her. While resting in a surfboard which served a seat, Ton opened the topic – randomly -regarding having fun and being bourgeois. While drinking beer he said he kind of feels guilty for indulging in decadence like this. I told him all people deserve to have fun, and I think that this is exactly the point of struggle. I was, of course, tipsy, babbling and perhaps just trying steer the conversation away from petitbougenois guilt circlejerk. I thought to myself that this is perhaps the very contradiction which defines the class conscious privileged peti-b- every form of entertainment loses its appeal, and to some extent having fun becomes a minor form of self-deception.
My friends and I left the party and went to the beach to chill. We then went to the place where my friends were staying (I was staying in my band’s hut). I realized I lost my phone. We laid down on a bamboo raft floating on a placid river or lake of some sort. The people, of course, talked about stars and stuff.
I decided to go back to my band’s hut at around 4 or 5 am. Ton drove me to the spot with Janine. I remember feeling glad of all the beautiful things around me. I walked into the hut and my feet felt like they’re walking on marshmallows.