The construction behind my house continues apace. The noise is disquieting enough, but as if to add an exclamation point, the workers are blasting music all damn day long. Yesterday one of the songs had a familiar ring–it was the Billy Ray Cyrus classic Achy Breaky Heart. Except that it was in Tagalog. Do these lyrics even translate?

You can tell your ma I moved to Arkansas
You can tell your dog to bite my leg
Or tell your brother Cliff whose fist can tell my lip
He never really liked me anyway
Or tell your Aunt Louise, tell anything you please
Myself already knows I'm not okay
Or you can tell my eyes to watch out for my mind
It might be walking out on me today

I sang a little this morning on the way to the grocery store, and both my driver and my helper recognized the song. I did a Google search, and it turns out this was a worldwide hit, especially in the UK. I always thought of it as a funky country tune that didn’t appeal outside of its intended redneck audience. I was also surprised to see that the song inspired a Filipino movie called The Achy Breaky Hearts.

So, how’s my achy breaky heart doing? I reckon I’m doing alright, but it was a little disconcerting to wake up after my drunken Saturday night and see I had posted this pathetic little gem on Facebook:

All I want and all I need is someone by my side. Where are you hiding, my love?

By the time I saw it, there were already numerous likes and comments, so there was really no point in deleting it. I had no recollection of posting it or what prompted me to do so. I guess I just started feeling sorry for myself again. I am okay now, though, even if my drunken self has not yet totally embraced this solitary life of mine. I took some good-natured ribbing from a former crush when I ran into her the other day, and a commenter accused me of being “too picky.” Yeah, I’ve missed out on some opportunities through my stupidity hard-headedness, but I’ve also likely saved myself from additional pain as well. I’m keeping an open mind, and things can always change in the wink of a young girl’s eye.

I was surprised to hear from Loraine the other night. It’s been almost five years since she fucked me over. We’ve exchanged brief greetings for birthdays and holidays over the years, but no real substantial conversation. Well, texting, I mean. Anyway, things don’t seem to be going as planned with the man she dumped me for, but I take no joy in that, nor do I bear her any ill will. It did get me thinking about what my life here would have been like had she joined me as originally intended. We’ll never know, of course, but I remembered the last time we were physically together (about three weeks prior to her dumping me), we had celebrated her 50th birthday on Boracay. So, she’s going to be 55 soon. Wow. And I caught myself thinking, would I have remained satisfied with such an older woman? I hope so, and honestly, Loraine was plenty sexy and talented in the ways of lovemaking. Yeah, the younger gals may be smoking hot, but many of them aren’t so good in bed. So sayeth the 66-year-old wise man. Loraine ended the chat by saying she might come up for a Hash someday. I gave my standard response that “everyone is welcome.” I don’t expect I’ll be seeing her anytime soon.

My friend Bhel, the bartender at Outback, came out for yesterday’s Hash. It was her second time Hashing, and she said she enjoyed it. I was more than a little surprised when Thalia showed up. She’s the Angeles gal I met on a dating site who spent a weekend with me back in March. That didn’t end well, and it was disconcerting to see her back in town without any advance notice. Seeing her again gave me one of those “what was I thinking?” moments. There is nothing I find attractive about her.

As I feared, Thalia had it in her head that I would spend time with her after the Hash. I disabused her of that idea as gently but firmly as possible. She didn’t want to take no for an answer but eventually gave up and caught a bus back to Angeles. Meanwhile, Bhel assumed I had something going on with Thalia and gave me the cold shoulder all night. Perhaps a missed opportunity for us both. And so it goes.

Walking home after the Hash, I passed by the Carwash/Kamto, and my friend Erik was there, so I popped in. The ex was there too, and we had a friendly chat. I’m still not over her, though, and I found my mind wandering to places it doesn’t need to go. I left before I had anything to regret.

Saw this gal trying to get a picture of me today:

Don’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart, I just don’t think he’d understand…

The Hash was a little different than normal. The Hare didn’t pre-mark the trail; instead, he took a ten-minute headstart and marked as he went while we all followed in pursuit. That’s actually the traditional Hash method–the hounds chasing the Hare, as it were. The trail was almost entirely pavement, and the two climbs were via stairsteps. Not too hard, which of course, is the way I like it. Here are some photos:

And so it went, and so it goes.

And here’s a little bonus: Remember Rhinestone Cowboy by Glen Campbell? Here’s a Filipino version called Kawawang Cowboy. I have no idea if the Tagalog lyrics are the same, but I kinda doubt it.