Bossa Nova Boom Pow
A wild occurrence has happened to me lately. As a memory, it would cause me to surge in a laughter even in the gloomiest and rudest moments of my daily commuting. When I remember the white-streak-haired girl this morning in the UP-Katip jeepney –who knocked her bony elbow on my head and turned only to not say sorry after I blurted, “Ow!”– I would put the occurrence in my head and she would be absolved. I would smile on the corner, simpering, restraining my laughter… And before you mistake me as a psycho, let me explain… The occurrence was my orgmate Jerson a DUP performer mimicking Sitti in the notes of, yes, Lupang Hinirang. “Bayaaang… Magileeew…” he crooned as the people around him cracked. I must document him doing it, and show it to ye guys! (Surely you’ll lose your mind.) Albeit this, my apologies to the Queen of Bossa Nova and all her patriots.
Weeks ago, as a few of my journ batchmates hung out in the College of Music cafeteria, bossa nova boomed from the speakers. “This is so relaxing,” one said. The other went, “Are you kidding me? It makes me want to poop!“
Try figuring it out, have you not been struck by the emergence of the genre bossa nova in the airwaves three or four years ago? Did you just jive involuntarily with the coffee shop music… like how you danced through the beat of the much older N’Sync’s Pop? And did you happen to be wiggling your head with your scarves and an altogether pseudo-bohemian get-up because, what else, it’s bossa nova?!
Bossa Nova according to Wikipedia budded in the late 1950s, style coming from samba plus jazz. In Brazil, it first became popular then eventually reached out to the US, Western Europe, Japan, and to our horror, the Philippines. I have no idea if whether we JUST embraced the song, or it came back, or whichever. All these thanks to the great João Gilberto.
The question is, How can the hotel and restaurant employees keep up with the thing? How can they fake their smiles to the public if they know they’ve been spending hours with this kind of music?
I’ve been keeping up with my One GOOD book A Week schedule. Last weekend, I digested John Grisham’s Bleachers, again, from donor Kea. The slow-paced book dwelt on a 30-something former quarterback who returned to town because his coach was now dead.
It’s clearly a book for very exciting individuals who get so adventurous they wanna try something boring. I did not like it. The third chapter was horrible, as Neely Crenshaw the protagonist together with his forlorn football friends listened to a recorded radio program of their controversial ’87 game. The book could’ve made more sense if the coach Eddie Rake was the main character, and not those overgrown goofs. The best chapter was of course the third one, a confrontation between high school lovers who can’t get over the past. Haha. This is so me then.
NEELY: Can I kiss you?
CAMERON: Goodbye, Neely.
NEELY: Can I say I love you?
CAMERON: Goodye, Neely.