I get high with a little help from my friends.

I think it's catching.
Break-up of lovers among some friends, I mean.

It started as a jest, referring to the three of us (and Jeff's friend from Bicol) as the Lonely Heart's Club Band. Partly it's because I couldn't think of a better photo blog entry title. Partly because I found myself humming the song that came after "Sgt Pepper" while I was uploading photos.

Thing is three out of four of us came from recent break-ups, if one could call 5 months ago "recent"; the other one just confided some boyfriend troubles which struck me to be more serious than it seemed.

And so things snapped and the last one seems to be currently in that ambiguous point between an "actual" and "formal" break-up.

"Sis," one of the bandmates told me (let's call him Sporty Spice),"2008 seems a bad year with fag couples breaking up."

I wouldn't know about bad years, but I just want this year over and done with.

This morning, I caught the new member of the Break-up Club online and asked him how he's doing. He invited me out for drinks and will dish the details then. "It's a long complicated story," he said.

"Ooh," I replied. "Something like the long and complicated story I had?" With subplots, backstories and annotated footnotes. It's the long and complicated story told over bottles of beer, while the storyteller is trying to make sense of how things really did happen.

You, dear people who could read this: you're such a lovely audience and we'd love to take you home with us, we'd love to take you home.

But some things are best told over booze. And anyways, I promised I won't tell other people what was told to me.


Non-sequitur postscript.
It must be 90s night on the radio station. "Twelve M's," I told the people in the car. There was me, Tin-tin, Mona and her husband Chris, who was driving.

"Why 12 M's?" Tin-tin asked. I told her it's because of the song title. Instead of humming 4 times, it's easier to refer to the songs that way. "But who sang it?"

Bless me, I forgot. I could remember song and could imagine the video that went with it (a theater with children performing stage adaptations of their lives in front of their parents) but, damn it, I couldn't remember the band's name.

And then on my way to my parents' I remembered it. It was two days late and, even if it wasn't so, it'll be odd messaging Tin-tin for a minor thing like that. But at least I could sleep more soundly.

The band was Crash Test Dummies.