Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away…

I can’t think of a better way to start the day than to wake up next to a sweet young brown-skinned woman. And that’s how I started mine! Then things took a turn for the better. Pearl wanted to know if I was going to do the Friday group hike and I asked if she had something else in mind. She did, suggesting we do our hike together in San Antonio, about 35K away in Zambales province.

Pearl said she knew of a resort there with hiking trails and she had always wanted to see what it was like. Sounds like a plan! We walked the dogs together, then headed down to the highway. Pearl didn’t have her hiking shoes with her, so she called her mother and asked her to meet us at Waltermart in Subic town. We caught a Jeepney and were on our way. Once she had her shoes we went back out on the highway to catch a bus. The way it works here is you stand on the side of the road and when you see a bus coming you wave it down. Provided there are seats available, the driver will pull over and pick you up. We didn’t have to wait long before we were aboard a nice air-conditioned bus destined to pass through San Antonio. Fare was 40 pesos each.

Because of traffic and frequent stops to pick up passengers, it took us about 45 minutes to reach our destination city. I’d been here a couple of times but was clueless as to where to go next. Luckily, Pearl knew her way around a lot better than me. We hailed a trike and Pearl asked the driver to take us to a restaurant she liked for breakfast. It seemed like we did a lot of driving around on backstreets before pulling up to a building with a “closed” sign on the door. Oh well. Pearl said we could eat at the resort, so off we went. It was a pretty good way out of town, but then things started looking oddly familiar. We were on the road to Pundaquit, an area where we had done a couple of Hashes back in the good ol’ days. We crossed the rickety old river bridge I remembered and shortly thereafter arrived at the Stonehill Farm and Resort.

Once we were back down and had exited the resort, we stood on the road and waited for an empty trike to pass by. I decided to start walking towards Pundaquit (poon-dock-it) to get my bearings straight. Soon enough I saw the road to Monty’s resort where we had done the Hash a couple of years ago. I knew there was a bar/restaurant I liked not much further away and then a trike arrived so we had him take us. “To the Gas Station”, I announced, and off we went. We kept going and going and I’m thinking, damn, I don’t remember it being this far. Finally, the trike pulled over and stopped at an abandoned gas station. I said, “no, no. This is not where I meant. The Gas Station is a restaurant!” He shook his head and shrugged. “Never mind, just take us back to San Antonio.” As we were driving I remembered a key detail–it’s not called The Gas Station. The name is Car Wash. Once I said those magic words the driver immediately knew what I was talking about.

After lunch, we caught a trike back to San Antonio and a bus pulled up almost immediately after we arrived. This one wasn’t airconditioned but it was breezy and comfortable. I got home in plenty of time to shower up and head out to the darts tourney.

Today has not been nearly as nice. But I’ll worry about that tomorrow.

I don’t know what the hell is going on but I’ve just about had enough, thank you very much. Yesterday morning my right foot big toe was hurting like hell, enough to wake me up early and make walking the dog unpleasant. Closer inspection revealed that the bitchy pedicurist had cut the nail way too short and an ingrown toenail was the result. I silently prayed for the Lord to make me forget about the toe pain and my prayers were answered. Later that morning when I got up out of my chair it felt like someone had stabbed me in the back. No idea where that came from, I didn’t slip, trip, or fall. I took some aspirin and went about my day, albeit uncomfortably. My back feels fine when I am sitting or laying down. Getting into those positions, or anything that involves bending over is borderline excruciating. It’s a dull pain when I stand or walk, which is at least bearable.

So, as you saw in the previous post, I did my bar review at Voodoo. Then I tried to dull the pain with more beers at It Doesn’t Matter. That didn’t work, so I figured a good back rub from my favorite at Cheap Charlies might do the trick. It did feel great and seemed to help. Until I walked down the stairs to head home. I popped into her place on the way to say goodnight and wound up confirming a “date” to go hiking this morning and have lunch afterward.

It was a painful night getting up to pee as often as I do. When I rolled out of bed at 0400 I was glad to see Buddy at least was sleeping peacefully.

After the morning dog walk, I knew I was in no condition to do the planned hike.

When I got back home I sent her a message saying I couldn’t walk but lunch was still a go if she were up for it. She was. So, I plopped some pork chops and cream of mushroom soup in the crockpot and awaited her arrival.

She is a real sweetheart. She brought along some remedies for my aching back.

I had everything for lunch just about ready to go when she arrived. Put it on a plate and served it up.

After we ate, we retreated to the bedroom where Pearl used her magic hands to rub my back and spread the medications around. One of them, I think it was the menthol, almost felt like it was burning me, but in a weird way, it also felt good. After the treatment, we cuddled and kissed and decided to take our relationship to the next level. Yep, here I go again. Wish me luck!

Later in the afternoon, She needed to return to her place of business. I walked with her there and felt less pain than I had on my morning walk. I also brought along some of the brownies I had made for dessert to share with her workers. Had a couple of beers while I was there and enjoyed spending a little more time with her.

I know better than to speculate too much on what lies ahead. Que sera, sera, and all that. I’ll be happy if my back has improved enough to do the Hash run tomorrow.

Wish me luck!

Well, I'm a-running down the road
Tryin' to loosen my load
I've got seven women on my mind
Four that wanna own me
Two that wanna stone me
One says she's a friend of mine

Another day in the life yesterday, with a couple of unusual twists and turns. Here’s the recap:

I visited my dentist, Dr. Barrera, to see if he could re-insert my crown. We both had our doubts, but he did his magic with the glue and the crown is back where it belongs. For now anyway. He said it is likely that I’ll need to construct a new crown if and when this one falls off again. He also told me I’m long overdue for a cleaning. He might be right, I don’t think I’ve had one since moving here.

After the dentist, I crossed the highway in search of a salon that could give me a foot spa and pedicure. Found one, and was serviced by an obese woman who was as unfriendly as she was fat. Oh well, I got what I needed even if it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

My plan was to do a bar review of Voodoo, but since it was only 4:30 I figured I’d kill a little time right around the corner at It Doesn’t Matter. While enjoying my first beer of the day in the friendly company of Roan, I checked my phone and saw a post indicating it was P’s birthday. She’s the cutie I met on a Wednesday walk and wrote about most recently here. The birthday was being celebrated at a food stand she recently opened (yeah, the irony, I know) up the highway a kilometer or so. It seemed weird to go without a gift, so I finished my beer and crossed the street to the 7/11. I didn’t want to buy cheap convenience store chocolate but I recalled the ease of gift-giving in my Korean days.

So, I put a 1000 peso note inside, wrote a birthday greeting on outside, and headed for her as yet unnamed food place. She seemed genuinely happy to see me and was touched by mygift. She lived in Japan for a number of years and I asked if the gift envelope was also done there. She said “sometimes”. Anyway, it is the thought that counts.

I stayed long enough for a couple of beers and some chicken fingers. We talked some and she pretty much told me straight out that she was interested in giving me a try. Wow, wasn’t really expecting that. I went as far as inviting her to hike with me on Sunday and she agreed, provided I cook for her afterward. So, I think we have a deal. She also surprised me by showing up for today’s group hike even though she had planned to work. It seems she is serious. I might be too because those old feelings of fear are returning. Stay tuned.

So, it seems that the Gods might be calling my bluff about wanting a woman to love. Do I have seven on my mind yet? Let’s see:

1. P
2. Joy (the 23-year-old)
3. Reggie (the 43-year-old)
4. Maricel (a girl I haven’t met yet, but am supposed to meet for lunch tomorrow)
5. Roan (the sweet IDM waitress)
6. MJ (my massuse)
7. Alma (the Muslim girl from Cheap Charlies)

Well, if I’m fit to be tied to one gal, P feels like the best fit so far. I’m just going to take things slowly and try to get it right this time. Whatever right is.

Well, I'm running down the road
Trying to loosen my load
Got a world of trouble on my mind
Lookin' for a lover
Who won't blow my cover
She's so hard to find

Take it easy, take it easy
Don't let the sound of your own wheels make you crazy
Come on, baby
Don't say "Maybe"
I gotta know
If your sweet love
Is gonna save me

Yep, I lost my crown. Technically it’s not lost, I have it in a plastic baggie. I’ll see if my dentist can reinsert it in my tooth, but I’m not hopeful. Probably will have to have the tooth pulled and create yet another hole in my head. Ah, the joys of aging.

Speaking of aging, my Palm Tree post this morning was the four thousandth time I’ve written something on the blog since LTG was created nearly seventeen years ago. How many of those were worth reading is an entirely different matter.

I had a little trouble on Quora this morning. Several months ago I answered the question: “Am I lucky living in the Philippines?” I gave a positive response because I do feel lucky to live here. It’s gotten a lot more views than it warrants, but over 1,600 people have given it an upvote. I’ve also gotten quite a few comments, the vast majority being positive. Anyway, yesterday some dickhead took me to task for being a privileged white American living among the poverty-stricken Filipino people who are still suffering from past American and Spanish colonialism. On and on about how oppressed the people here are and implying I’m contributing to their misery. He then took me to task for asking and answering my own question. Well, that’s not how Quora works–someone else asked and I answered. Anyway, this is how I responded:

Sorry for you and your comprehension issues. I don’t think there are any meds for that. You see, I didn’t POSE the question, I answered it. That’s the way Quora works. Good luck to you, though. I know you must be a happy guy—ignorance being bliss and all.

Well, I was very surprised when Quora deleted my comment as a violation of their rules. It was mild compared to what the loser had said about me. I appealed the ruling and before long I got a message that my comment had been restored. Then an hour later, it was deleted again. I told them to make up their mind one way or the other. Then the dickhead got the final word by leaving this gem:

Glad you deleted your comment. Your insults aren’t clever nor offensive just shows what you’re insecure about. You use a photo from maybe 50 years ago and spend most your time online because you don’t get enough attention in the real world. You moved to the Philippines because you were poor in America even with your government pension. You are just like every other loser from America that comes here because the 100s of years of colonization has brainwashed Filipinos into thinking anyone white is special, but you are not. Go back to America and you will find out in 1 day you are not special. You are a loser. You need to know at least that all the Filipinos that are nice to you, only care about your money nothing else. They gossip and talk shit on you behind your back. If you knew anything about the culture you would know that.

Maybe he’s right. Racist pricks sometimes are. Just like a stopped clock. Oh well, that’s the internet for you.

Moving on to happier topics about my life here in the Philippines. Like beer drinking for example. After I left Palm Tree last night I went next door to Mango’s. Took up my regular seat on the patio, started downing San Miguel Zero beers, and watched people on the crowded beach enjoying the late Sunday afternoon.

Once the sun went down there was nothing left to see so I decided to move on. Wasn’t sure where to go next, but once I was out on the highway I decided It Doesn’t Matter. So that’s where I went. Had a nice chat with owner Cliff and of course Roan joined me so she could enjoy my wit and witticisms the commissions from the lady drinks I purchased. She asked me what I planned to do for dinner and I said I hadn’t made up my mind yet. She pointed at the Daily Special sign featuring chicken parmigiana with pasta for only 280 pesos. I told Roan I wasn’t big on pasta, then I saw the hunger in her eyes and asked if she wanted to share one with me. I got an “I thought you’d never ask” look and the order was placed.

Home early and up early again this morning. Walked the dogs, then walked myself to Baloy Beach.

Hash is coming up, but I did the trail work yesterday. Will help send the group on their way from VFW and then will meet them later at the Blue Butterfly On-Home.

On-On!

If it is really true that it is better to give than receive, I had a pretty good day yesterday.

I started with breakfast at Arizona. On the way, I successfully withdrew some pesos from the only BPI ATM in town. Turns out I was going to need them.

It has been quite some time since I’ve had a meal at Arizona. It’s a long way from home with lots of other options in between. I ordered a sausage and egg muffin. My date ordered lasagna. It took 45 minutes and we were the only customers. I asked my waitress what was going on and she just shrugged and said something about “chef issues”. Oh well. As I said, I have many other dining options for the future.

She was the reason I was there. Turns out yesterday was her brother’s birthday and she needed money for a cake. Since she lives nearby Arizona, I suggested we meet there. She was late, but not as late as the food. After we ate, I gave her 1000 pesos and wished her well.

While waiting for breakfast I received a frantic message from Maris at the Kitchenette. First time I’ve heard from her in a couple of weeks. She was in distress because the canteen was out of food stock and she had no money to buy more. She says she wants to stay open until she can find someone to take it over. I told her I’d stop by later after breakfast. Maris was alone when I arrived. I told her if she sold out of food and had no money to replace it, her prices were obviously too low. She started crying. I gave her 10,000 pesos and left. I don’t need that drama in my life. I gave her the opportunity, what she does with it is up to her. So far, I’m not impressed.

There was some good news when I got back home. My friend Bhel was finally being released from the hospital after an eight-day confinement. Seven of which were apparently unnecessary–she had the surgery the previous day.

Of course, she couldn’t actually leave the hospital until her account had been settled. That’s where I come in. Now, when I had first volunteered to provide the financial means for this surgery (and I did volunteer, she didn’t ask) it was supposed to be an in and out procedure, with at most an overnight stay. I committed to 35,000 pesos ($700.) provided I could pay via credit card. Things changed, and instead of the private hospital and doctor, she wound up at Gordon hospital in Olongapo, which is known as “the place where people go to die” in the expat community. Her stories of seeming incompetence and uncaring attitudes from the staff were frankly shocking. I figured they were unnecessarily extending her stay just to run up the bill. I was almost afraid to ask how much she needed to buy her freedom. She sent me the bill and I was pleasantly surprised to discover you can be tortured for eight days for just under 30,000 pesos. Since Gordon doesn’t accept credit card payments, I wired the money via Western Union, and her freedom was secured. I had given 10,000 when she checked in for meds and tests, so all in was close to what I had originally agreed to fund. Here’s to wishing Bhel a full and complete recovery.

Jane needed parts for her motor scooter and food for her kids and pleaded with me to let her give me a massage. I guess I was in a giving mood, so she came over and rubbed me the right way. She’s actually a nice woman and doesn’t go overboard with her requests, so I don’t really mind helping her out occasionally. She left my house with 3500 pesos and a bag of cookies.

I had planned to do another bar review yesterday evening, but when I walked by, that bar was under renovation. I’ll try again tomorrow. Since I was in the neighborhood, I popped into It Doesn’t Matter. Had some beers and bought some lady drink beers (3 at 200 pesos each) for my bar sweetheart, Roan. I also gave her a 100 peso tip when I left.

It was still a little before 8:00 and I wasn’t sure what to do next. I hadn’t had dinner but I also wasn’t feeling hungry. I thought about just taking a trike back home, but then decided I’d have another beer at Barcelona. It’s been ages since I’ve been there. I was surprised when the door girl greeted me by name. Remembering names seems to be a special talent for Filipinas in the service industry. It always makes me feel welcome even though I have no clue who it is that is speaking to me. I had a couple more beers and for some reason, I was in a shitty mood at the end of my long day. I even felt compelled to take a selfie to document those feelings:

Oh well, today’s another day. Led the group hike this morning and I’ll post about that tomorrow. I’ve got the Friday darts tourney at Alley Cats on tap a bit later. Hmm, might need to hit that ATM again too.

I’m not sure this is correct, but I guess it illustrates how a comma can make a difference.

And that’s all he wrote.

If I had been born a woman I would certainly have been a prostitute. Since I had been born a man I craved women constantly, the lower the better. And yet women—good women—frightened me because they eventually wanted your soul, and what was left of mine I wanted to keep. Basically I craved prostitutes, base women, because they were deadly hard and made no personal demands. Nothing was lost when they left. Yet at the same time I yearned for a gentle, good woman, despite the overwhelming price. Either way I was lost. A strong man would give up both. I wasn’t strong. So I continued to struggle with women, the idea of women.

Charles Bukowski

I’ve been thinking some about this life of mine. Yeah, that can definitely be dangerous. I’m lucky in many ways, and mostly content with the path I’ve chosen. I usually just immerse myself in my routines and live in the moment. What else am I going to do? But then something happens that gets me wondering about those things I might be missing out on, and my peace of mind is challenged by the dreaded “what ifs?”.

Yesterday was a typical day in most ways–the Friday hike, a darts tourney, and lots of beer. But I was also preoccupied with thoughts of “is that all there is?”. In a rare moment of self-awareness, I had to admit that as much as I enjoy my life here, I am, in fact, a lonely man. And yeah, I can usually chase away those blues by remembering all the women over the years who taught me the hard lesson that there are worse things than being alone. Some of those wounds have never healed, and my band-aids like the FWB program and bargirl company serve to distract me from the residual pain that comes from wanting what you can’t have. And then something (or someone) triggers me to ask “why can’t I try again?”. Well, the sad answer to that is because I’m a coward.

So, what triggered all this introspection? A combination of things I suppose. I had an early morning chat with Pearl, that gal I met on a hike with the Wednesday Walkers a few weeks back.

Although we had exchanged some messages periodically, yesterday was a lengthy and in-depth conversation. I enjoyed the hell out of it and it got my mind going down that road of “why can’t I have something like this in my life all the time?” Well, there’s that boyfriend thing, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be with Pearl. There must be other women out there who check all my boxes.

Then there was Facebook reminding me of the happy times I spent with my last Korean girlfriend, Eun Oke.

And then we have the four-year anniversary of my proclamation of love for Loraine and her breaking my heart only twenty-four hours later. A record-shattering event I wrote about in a post appropriately entitled “FUCK ME!“.

So, I had lots to think about during the hike yesterday. Last year I made a couple of ill-fated attempts to have a loving relationship. Regular readers may remember Jessa and Iline. Both of them have found new loves and I am happy for them. I have some regrets about losing Jessa and I’m very thankful to have dodged a bullet with Iline. And so it goes.

During the hike, I saw something that may have been a message from God concerning my so-called love life:

But hope springs eternal and you never know what is going to happen next. Near the end of the dart tournament last night I was surprised to see Pearl and a girlfriend come into the bar. I got them a seat near me a bought them both a drink. We had a nice chat, then I had to play a match. I’m not blaming being distracted by the beautiful gal watching me play for my loss. I didn’t care anyway. They had to leave shortly thereafter, but Pearl promised to come out for another tourney soon. She used to play some in Japan and I’m hoping to get her interested in playing again. We’ll see.

Shortly after Pearl and her friend left Alley Cats, I got a message from Joy at Marick’s asking me to come visit. The bar is relocating and it was the last night they’d be open for a couple of weeks. How could I say no?

I went home drunk and conflicted and today I’m sober and conflicted. I’ll fix the first part of that equation later on when I do my next bar review. Had another nice chat with Pearl and was happy when she said she enjoyed watching me play darts last night and that my attempts at drunken humor didn’t offend her at all. I sent her this quote I like from Richard Bach:

“Like attracts like. Just be who you are, calm and clear and bright. Automatically, as we shine who we are, asking ourselves every minute is this what I really want to do, doing it only when we answer yes, automatically that turns away those who have nothing to learn from who we are,and attracts those who do, and from whom we have to learn, as well.”

I guess I’ve laid down the gauntlet now. We’ll see what happens next.

At this stage of my life, the last thing I want to be doing is dealing with drama queens. That’s one of the factors that makes it hard for me to get involved in a serious romantic relationship. I don’t know why, but Filipinas seem especially adept at stirring up shit by trash-talking about their fellow Filipinas. This seems to be especially blatant among the Hash gals. Why they feel the need to tear each other down is difficult to understand but it happens so frequently here there is even a name for it: crab mentality.

In other news, Maris posted on Facebook that she is looking for someone to take over the Kitchenette. Says she is “tired”. Well, it is her business and she can do what she wants, but I can’t help but feel disappointed by this decision. For me, it is yet another example of how difficult it is to help lift someone up and provide an opportunity for a better life. She said having a canteen was her dream, I assumed she’d be willing to work for it. Anyway, I made the investment in her, and once again my judgment has proven to be faulty. At least I tried.

I got drafted to be a substitute on my old dart league team this afternoon. One of the players (yep, a Filipina) just up and left without warning or notice. I really don’t like playing in the league, primarily because of the 2:00 start time, but my old mates were desperate so here I go.

What else? Well, I guess the FWB program has run its course. I was down to one member anyway. She has a young daughter that got a dog bite and needed the rabies vaccination. Of course, she didn’t have money and requested my help. I was glad to do so and asked for nothing in return. It felt good to be back in that mode. I’m going to return to doing selective charity and saying “no” when I don’t feel the circumstances warrant my intervention. I’ll keep my personal wants and needs separate. Another lesson learned.

I had lunch in Seoul yesterday. The Seoul restaurant on the old Navy base, I mean. Took the 23-year-old I’ve been goofing with and her sister along to celebrate the sister’s birthday. Had dakgangjeong, samgyeopsal, bulgogi, and some sides like kimchi, spicy cucumber, and macaroni salad. It was all excellent. I’m kind of losing interest in the young gal though. Just not feeling it, so why waste my time?

Well, I reckon that’s enough drama for one post, don’t you?

Things just didn’t click with the older gal I met for lunch. That’s the way it goes sometimes. She looked better in her pictures than she did in person (at least with clothes on) but the reality for me was that I was just not feeling any kind of connection with her. I don’t expect there will be a second date. She’s still messaging me though so maybe I didn’t adequately convey my lack of interest.

I’ll be Hashing with the Angeles City group today. The On-Home is an old hotel across the street from Sit-n-Bull called the Bella Monte. I’d never even been inside there before, but yesterday I helped the Beer Meister move a dozen of cases of beer, five ice chests, and assorted soft drinks, from my house to the hotel’s poolside. It looks like it will be a good venue.

Speaking of Sit-n-Bull, it was just announced they are moving up the street to the vacant space the Lollipop bar used to occupy. Apparently, the landlord at the current location thought it would be a good idea to raise the rent during these troubled times. That didn’t work out for him. Good luck to Ron and his crew in their new home.

Tomorrow is the 28th Anniversary of the Subic Bay Hash House Harriers and I’ve got the shirt to prove it:

That’s it from here this morning. Don’t miss my review of Dynamite Dick’s bar in the preceding post. Back with more tomorrow.

I’ve received some interesting feedback on my most recent FWB post. A commenter noted it seemed a lot like prostitution with a different name. Another reader emailed me some links about the actual human trafficking law in the Philippines and provided some commentary and analysis on how the law is implemented. It is certainly a law I do not want or intend to violate. Prison and/or deportation are not consistent with my life’s goals.

I think I’ve muddied the waters with my own sloppy writing. To clarify, FWB is not and was not intended to be about sex for money. I came up with the idea of friends helping friends in response to getting besieged with requests for financial assistance from people in need. I would help when and where I could, but I couldn’t help everyone all the time. So it seemed natural to choose to help the ones who were also willing to help me. My needs are pretty simple and basic. I enjoy some companionship now and then and I’m always up for a nice massage. I have girls join me on my hikes sometimes and some have been quite handy with massages. To me, that’s a win-win. Fulfilling each other’s needs created a comfortable relationship-like bond with some of my FWBs, a girlfriend experience without all the baggage. While in some cases things have become physical, there was never any coercion or other enticement–it was just what happens naturally between two consenting adults who care about one another. I hope that sets the record straight. If I wanted to pay for sex I’d make it easy on myself and hire a prostitute from one of the bars where they work. That’s just not my thing.

Alright then, everything else is pretty much the same as every other day around here. Did the bar visit at Outback (see the previous post) to start my evening, then did the pork chop dinner at Mango’s.

A few more beers at Cheap Charlies then called it a night.

I’m feeling a little better I guess. One indicator is I started craving my vape last night. I resisted the urge, but the fact that I wanted to fill my lungs with water vapor again must be a good sign. On the other hand, I bailed on the group hike this morning. Just wasn’t feeling it. I was the only old slow fuck who showed up today and I fell behind on the flat ground where I can usually keep up. Once the climb started I knew I just didn’t have it in me today. Oh well.

It’s going to be a Hashy weekend. The Corona Hashers are in town from Angeles City for an outstation event. They are doing a bar crawl tomorrow and a run on Sunday. I plan to attend the Sunday event at least. Monday is the Subic Hash 28th Anniversary run.

The Hash Beer Meister is out of town, so I’ve volunteered my carport as a storage place for our beer supply.

In completely unrelated news, a friend posted this meme about how McDonald’s has changed in old age:

She’s a youngster in her 20s. I shared with her how McDonald’s looked when I was a kid:

Alright then, back to the real world for me. I’ll be back with an update on my so-called life tomorrow.

Well, I woke up this morning and I took that as a good sign that I remain among the living. What are the odds? I tease, of course, but I almost had to force myself to go out last night, and even after I left the house, I considered turning around and going back home. That’s a clear indication of just how crappy I felt. But I persevered in my endeavor and 2,512 steps later I plopped myself down at It Doesn’t Matter. The outside area of the bar was pretty packed and my usual stool at the far end of the counter was taken. So, I found myself seated at the “owner’s table” with one of the two proprietors, Bob, and a couple of guys I know from the Hash. That changed things up a bit and instead of sitting one-on-one with Roan I found myself engaging in some nice back and forth with my table mates.

When I told one of the guys about my recent bout with whatever this is, he told me he had scored some ivermectin and had been taking it for an illness similar to mine. To be clear, not COVID, he’s been vaxxed and I’ve been infected, but what the hell, if it kills worms in horses it ought to destroy what been messin’ with me this past few days. Yeah, yeah, I know that is not what this particular drug is intended for, but I began using drugs for unapproved purposes before a lot you readers were even born. I tried about everything going during my wild teen years (never used anything requiring a needle though) and lived to tell about it. So, I didn’t hesitate to pop the two tablets I was supplied figuring it couldn’t hurt and might make things better. And as I mentioned above, I woke up this morning, so there’s that.

Did the invermectin help? I can’t really say. I’m better today than yesterday, but that might have been the case regardless of what I ingested. The important thing is I’m back to being close to normal. Even had the will power to go out and do a 6K hike this morning.

This afternoon one of my FWB’s came over to the house and gave me a relaxing and satisfying massage. So I’m feeling pretty dandy at the moment.

On my walk this morning I spotted another potential way I might lose my life here:

My carport here at the house has become quite busy:

Well, it is fixin’ to be Saturday night, and those new meds have me in the mood to do some horsin’ around. *ahem* I’m thinking I’ll begin my night with documenting the first bar in my Bars of Barretto feature. Stay tuned.

Well, damn. Yesterday felt like progress, especially in losing the cough. But it’s back today and I feel like shit again. Didn’t even attempt the Friday walking group hike. Oh well. Little by little I suppose.

One thing that is rather strange and I can only assume is illness-related, is that I haven’t vaped since Monday. It wasn’t like I said to myself, “don’t put anything into your lungs until you feel better”, it was just a matter of having no craving or desire to do my vaping routine. I’ve been a big-time vaper for seven or eight years now and before that a rather heavy smoker. That I have no compunction compulsion to inhale nicotine seems bizarre. Anyway, at this point, I’m going to go with the flow and try to end my habit. Vaping isn’t anywhere near as bad as smoking, but not as healthy as nothing. Plus maintaining the equipment is a pain in the ass. We’ll see how that goes.

The morning wasn’t a complete waste at least. I came across a crockpot recipe that I decided to give a try.

Last night I changed things up a bit in my bar-hopping routine. I started out at Queen Victoria for a couple, then crossed the street and visited Outback. It’s been quite some time since I’ve been to either one and frankly, last night was a pretty good reminder of why. I did get to thinking about doing a series of posts highlighting the Bars of Barretto. Years ago I reviewed the Dart Bars of Itaewon in a series of posts. This would be something similar–one man’s perspective on the drinking venues here in my little town. Does anyone like that idea?

After I left Outback, I went to my regular hangout at Mango’s. My usual staff servers were off, and the gal that was there left me sitting with an empty beer bottle for a period of time that exceed my tolerance level. So, instead of dining and drinking, it was one and out for me. I moved up the street and ate at Maris’ Kitchenette instead. Had chicken wings and fries, which hit the spot. The owner and two of her friends were busy drinking Filipino-style–shots of Emperador rum and Coke. I didn’t think it was a good look, but that’s not my business. The two workers were sober and diligent at least.

My final stop on the night was Wet Spot, one of my favorite bars that for some reason I just don’t visit that often these days. Bought a couple of drinks for the food waitress and she’s now my newest Facebook friend. The owner came in and we had a very nice chat. I was happy to hear that his bars are at least in a break-even status and like everyone, he’s looking forward to better days to come when the tourists return. In the meantime, he’s employing a bunch of friendly gals (must have been 25 or more in there) that would otherwise be without work. Good on you, Dave!

So, in one of the seldom frequented bars mentioned above, I chatted with a bartender I’ve been acquainted with for quite a while now. When I offered the standard greeting of “how you doing?”, she responded not so good. Turns out she is currently experiencing some medical issues (gynecological in nature, so I didn’t press for details) that she said require surgery. And of course, she doesn’t have the 35,000 pesos ($700.) required to have the operation. So, apparently, she’s been suffering for several months now. I offered her my sympathies and talked a little about how fucked the working poor are when faced with this situation. It was kind of chilling my vibe though, so I finished my beer, wished her well, and said goodnight.

I got to thinking about it more later and sent her a message: Does the hospital accept credit card payments? She didn’t know but said she would find out. I told her if they do, I’d help her out so she could get the surgery she needs. Yeah, look at me. That’s the most expensive pussy I’ve ever paid for and I’m not even getting any (nor do I want to, just to be clear). Today she messaged that credit cards are accepted and I told her to go ahead and get the procedure scheduled. The credit card thing was not about me not being able to get the cash, it was all about making sure I was getting what I’m paying for. Based on the photos of the paperwork she sent, it all seems legit, including the cost. It’s still a lot of money, but at least I’m blowing it on a worthy purpose this time.

Anyway, that’s how things are going in my sick little world.

Well, shit. Here I was all proud of myself for my Hash performance on Monday, then I wake up sick again on Tuesday. This time the symptoms are more cold-like–a cough emanating from the upper chest, a runny nose, light-headedness, and an almost complete lack of energy. I managed to get the grocery shopping done in the morning and nothing much else.

You know it’s pretty bad when I voluntarily forego my daily dose of beer. Can’t even remember the last time that’s happened. I was actually wavering, entertaining thoughts of “maybe just a couple” when mother nature intervened by unleashing a hellacious combination of wind and rain. Yep, staying home definitely proved to be the right decision. Pretty boring though. I fired up my seldom used television and watched some old episodes of One Step Beyond and some other videos on YouTube. Surfed the net, played some online solitaire, then hit the sack early. My helper gave me some cough medicine and a decongestant. That helped me sleep a little more peaceably. I’ve also been using my nebulizer a lot more than usual to keep the lungs functioning satisfactorily under the stress of whatever is ailing me.

I woke up this morning still alive, so I took that as a good sign. While not exactly refreshed, I was feeling a bit more energetic.

I wasn’t really feeling up to doing the hike with the Wednesday Walkers group. Scott sent me the map of the path they would be taking. Around 8K and flat. Just prior to their scheduled departure time I thought to myself, “fuck it, I’m going to walk this shit off.” So I headed out and joined them. I did some coughing and sneezing along the way, but otherwise handled the exercise pretty well. Dog tired at the end though.

Now I’m sitting here dealing with the symptoms (the runny nose is the most irritating) and making plans for my immediate future. And yes, I will be following that age-old advice and drinking plenty of liquids. I do feel better than yesterday, so there’s that. And it’s Wingsday, I have a tradition to maintain.

Gawd, I’m sounding like an old man bitching about his health issues, aren’t I? Then again, I am an old man. It’s what we do!

…makes you stronger. I don’t know about that, but here I am, alive and kicking!

I guess all that gloom and doom this morning was for naught. I ain’t complaining, mind you. Did some heavy breathing and got soaked with sweat, but nothing unusual on the scouting hike today. Since I’m still alive we can Relive it together:

And life goes on. Until it doesn’t. Stay tuned!

Does real goodness even exist, or is it always compromised by the dividends it pays to the do-gooder?

That’s the title of a post I came across at the Althouse blog. The question is posed in a review of a new novel by Jonathan Franzen called “Crossroads”. I haven’t read this book or anything else by Franzen, but this quote from the review set me to thinking:

To ethicists, that is a question about whether right thinking matters more than right action—that is, whether we should judge people’s goodness based on what they are doing or on why they are doing it. Most of them agree that motives matter: in a perfect world, we would all do the right thing simply because it is the right thing to do. But we don’t, and Franzen repeatedly exploits the gap between what we do and why we do it—which, in fiction, is the gap between plot and character.

Now, I like to think of myself as at least being somewhat charitable. But I acknowledge that even my smallest acts of charity, like giving “mama” a hundred pesos when I see her, are based at least in part on a foundation of selfishness: throwing some money around to help someone in need helps serve to assuage my guilt that comes from living a rich life in a poor country. I don’t know that acknowledging that fact diminishes the impact of my gift-giving; it certainly doesn’t matter to the recipients. But the larger question regarding my motives is perhaps one to ponder. Helping people out now and then certainly doesn’t magically make me a nice guy.

Take yesterday for example. I spent about $100. at the grocery store on things to be used in the Kitchenette. I have no expectation of ever being paid back, but my continued support of the business might help it become profitable to the extent that my help is no longer needed. I do get a measure of satisfaction from my involvement in creating something that didn’t previously exist. I also enjoy seeing people getting employment opportunities and a chance to better their lives. And amongst those groceries that I purchased were a bag of frozen chicken nuggets and french fries–food I can enjoy when I stop by after my nightly bar crawl. I don’t know if the “what’s in it for me?” aspect diminishes the value of the gift, but in the end, I don’t think it matters either.

Yesterday afternoon I had a visit from one of the gals I’d advanced 1000 pesos for future “massage” services. I was somewhat surprised to get her message that she was ready to come over. As background, she’s a person that was constantly begging for money to cover various emergencies, paying the bills, and feeding her children. After a while, I grew tired of the seemingly endless requests and was ready to just cut her off completely. But before I blocked her permanently I offered her the opportunity to participate in the Friends With Benefits Program–you help take care of my needs, I’ll help take care of yours. I didn’t actually expect her to accept those terms, but I guess her desperation led her to agree. Anyway, I wasn’t really in the mood for anything physical yesterday. Instead, we chatted some, cuddled a little bit, and touched each other in a non-sexual way. It was nice and I compensated her in the same amount I would have done for “full service”. Do I consider that an act of charity? No, of course not. My support does make life better for her and her kids and I feel good about that. That I get something in return doesn’t negate that fact. I’m not saying it makes me a nice guy or worthy of praise, but then again, people helping each other satisfy their needs is nothing to be ashamed of either.

Last night I played darts at Alley Cats. My partner and I took first place.

After the above photo was taken, I gave my partner my share of the winnings. Really no big deal to me, but it made her night–probably doubling her daily salary. Which says more about how low her pay is than it does my generosity. No other motive on my part but to make her happy. Seeing that smile made me feel good too, so I guess maybe it was another case of quid pro quo.

Anyway, that’s just an aspect of life here. Lots of people in need and you can’t help them all. Selfish fuckers like me have to find a way to pick and choose when and where to provide assistance. Upon reflection, I don’t think my actions are praiseworthy. But I don’t feel bad about my methods either. Maybe that’s not “real goodness”, but the results are real good for everyone involved. And that’s good enough.

It was hard to bear. I shit you not.

I did my normal Sunday walk this morning. What made it unusual was about 1K in, I felt the urge to poop. Now, I’m a regular guy and I normally take care of business before I even finish my morning coffee. Today was no different. That is why I was surprised by the pressure I was feeling in my bowels. So, what to do? Turn around and head for home? Lately, any excuse to postpone a hike is welcomed, but today I didn’t want to give up. And even though I was on the National highway, finding a place to take a dump was not in the cards. The gas station I passed had a urinal-only men’s room and the lady’s room door was locked. So, I decided to just hold it all in and continue my hike as planned. The pressure mounted, and I was afraid to even pass gas for fear of the dreaded shart. Around the 4K mark, I was on the GOVIC highway and knew I wasn’t going to make it. Plan B was to find some woods and make like a bear. That proved to be easier thought than done. I was going to need some privacy, and that meant getting off the road. But the first couple of footpaths I spotted led to houses and no cover. At last, I picked a spot alongside a building that featured a bush blocking the view from the highway. Just as I was lowering my shorts, a dog appeared and began loudly barking at me. Fuck. This wasn’t going to work either.

I moved another 50 yards or so up the highway and spotted what appeared to be a little-used and overgrown path. I took it far enough to be away from the road and with no time to spare dropped my pants and shit on a rock. I bearly made it. It occurred to me that this was the first time in all the years I’ve been hiking, both here and in Korea, that I had found it necessary to crap without the benefit of a toilet. I hope it proves to be the final time. Well, everything came out okay, so there’s that.

Here’s the hike (sorry, no shitty pics) if you want to Relive it:

Nothing real special to report from my Saturday night. I started out at Marick’s, but my favorite bargirl wasn’t working. I was surprised and asked Marick why someone would be off on potentially the busiest night of the week. Marick said it really wasn’t her business to ask the girls why they aren’t coming to work (I disagree with that premise) but she assumed it was an issue with her husband. WHAT!? She has a husband? I specifically asked her that and she denied it. Marick just shrugged. Man, I was pissed and went on a rant. Marick told me to calm down and so I eventually did, but I wasn’t a happy camper. I had seen this girl at my house a week ago and that potentially put me at risk. I confronted her on messenger later and she continues to vehemently deny having a husband. Said she didn’t come to work because she wasn’t feeling well. So now I don’t know what to believe.

Left Marick’s place and headed over to my regular hangout, It Doesn’t Matter. Crowded with bikers from the local motorcycle club, but I was able to grab the last outside seat. My old new favorite girl, Roan, took good care of me there.

Just a couple of brews there and I was off to Mango’s for some supper. Sold out of pork chops, so I went with roast chicken and coleslaw. It hit the spot, then I hit the road for home.

I’ve already told you about my shitty morning, so that pretty much brings you up to date. Oh, I did see the eye doctor yesterday too, and the eyes continue to show improvement. The “new” eye is 20-20 and the other one is still not up to speed. I’ve gotten to where I like not having to wear glasses though, so I might just live with it. We’ll see (or maybe not) about that.

Alright then, thanks for bearing with me while I bared my soul. Yeah, I know the difference. It was all about the pun.