Aaaah, Sunday!

Yes, Sunday.

The average Sunday from where I am.

Engelbert Humperdink and Tom Jones are the canonized saints of the airwaves, from the public transports to stores.

Silver Pozzoli and 80s Italo-Disco help conjure memories of Atari game consoles, bad mullets and the playground demonstrations of the annual school Sportsfests/ Intramurals.

A faint party hint creeps as bass frequencies seep through the window glass, courtesy of generous neighbors who think they bear great responsibility of providing the soundtrack for the remaining half of the weekend. That would be hours of jologs rap or Taylor Swift.

Different denominations convene in one single jeep, identified by their respective icons - whether a Bible, a rosary, a libretto, or a hijab -  all submissively meditating to the music of Cliff Richard or the Beatles.

Minds run wild searching for the best place for family lunch.

The beach is the next best alternative to church. You know, Sabbath means rest, and the beach is relaxing, ergo the Beach = Sabbath. (There goes the connection, the Beach Boys are indeed as dark as Black Sabbath can get). Of course, with beer, broiled pork liempo or fish, crushed ice - lots of it.

The malls, don't forget the malls. If you hate sand on your shorts, you can always head to the safe arms of the comfy malls and get lost with a hundred others who do not also know why they have to be there with their last 100 Php. A cone of ice cream will do, or you may spare jeepney fare and splurge the remaining Pesoses for cheap fancy coffee and enjoy the fake bossa nova wafting in the speakers. Watch the girls. Watch the guys. Smell first the coffee. Cross your legs, and act haciendero.

Amidst all of that and more, this remains my best Sunday.

Its my first Sunday without assignment as a church musician, with the liberty of choosing which service to attend.

Now isn't that neat? No guitars to tote, no uniforms, no soundchecks. Just my Bible and me. I attend a service, I smile, I shake hands, belt a big laugh without having to rush where I left my guitar. It can't get any better than this.

So! To the shower, and with gusto:

"Every day I wake up, And I start to break up, lonely is the man without loooooooove". Brrr.