The Dowggie Blog

Every generation has its Outcats.

Bohemians, hippies, beboppers, beatniks, punks, D’ Pankz….

Each new incarnation has the same battle cry…

"Daddy! Hindi niyo talaga kami maiintindihang mga D’ Pankz!"

It’s a changing of the guard, see. The Establishment uses Right Guard. Outcats/D’ Pankz use Left Guard. =)

The Establishment uses Fire Exits. Outcats look for Fire Entrances.

In the immortal words of Morpheus of Matrix, "Gimme an entrance fee!"

c",)

So about that 2nd of the great loves that got away…

She was a Saggitarian (well, she still is, of course…).

We met on February 14, 1987. (The day I got together with the soulful-eyed Shukaleyly <– see previous blog post)

Then Sacred Sag and I became friends. She and I became really close platonic friends for practically a decade before we got together. She saw me through a number of girlfriends — a soulful shukaleyly, a cono capricorn, a sexual scorpio, a pensive piscean, another capricorn (who bore a miscarried daughter and my leo son… another of the great loves of my life) — while Sacred Sagg and I were friends.

Sacred Sagg was always there for me. The kind of friend I could talk about anything with. She knew everything about me. And I knew everything about her.

Sometime around ‘92, ‘93, Sacred Sagg and I started hanging out with each other more than we had for the first nine years of our friendship. We’d watch movies, have coffee, have lunch at the old Greenbelt… back when what is now Greenbelt 1 was the only Greenbelt there was. I had a car back then and knew what time her shift would end at her culinary job at the Mandarin, so I’d pass by for her if I was in the area.

We’d have midnight dinners and a beer or two at Rufo’s. Then I’d take her home. We both thought nothing of it. We’d been friends for so long that we fooled ourselves into thinking that romance was out of the question. That was on the conscious level.

My subconscious had other ideas, however.

Sometime during this pre-mating ritual thingy, I wrote a short story called "Male Bonding". (It’s the only short story I’ve ever had published… so far.) The story’s two main characters were a guy friend and a gal friend who would spend time at Rufo’s, thinking they weren’t dating… just "male bonding".

My conscious mind did its level best to deny what my subconscious found bloody obvious. We were falling in love.

Then came a fateful trip to Baguio (this seems to be a leitmotif in my lovelife… Baguio and love). She and I went up to Baguio with a friend of hers (who also went on to become friend of mine as well). We spent around three days there. On our last night there, we got tipsy on tequila. (The third-wheel friend didn’t partake of the tequila and elected to turn in early.)

Inebriated, Sacred Sagg and I decided to turn in as well. She and the 3rd wheel shared the bedroom. I had the couch in the living room.

After pre-bedtime rituals — teeth-brushing, face-washing and such — Sacred Sagg came out and complained of a toothache and asked for a massage.

So I took her pain.

Then we shared one of the most magical kisses I’ve ever been blessed with. We both saw fireworks. And that was how we got together. Hers were the best cookies this side of heaven. I loved her hair — long, black, lustrous. I loved the way she looked after taking a bath. She was (still is, undoubtedly) one possible definition of the perfect woman — at once the one you want to baby and the one you want to ravish in bed.

She was there when I first started to break into the Manila music scene. I have vivid memories of her being an audience of one at fledgling jazz gigs at Left Alone. I also have vivid memories of her dancing in the aisles of Kanarie as Kulay rocked the joint. There’re also equally vivid memories of P.D.A. embraces in the dunghole that was Kampo West.

All my friends loved her. To this day, my Mom berates me for letting Sacred Sag get away. They all knew she was the best I’d ever have (… so far). Of all the ladies who’ve ever touched my life, Sacred Sag is the one who loved me best. (…so far)

And she’s the one I wronged the most.

Which is, of course, why she calls me Stupad (… as the day is long). Me being the skirt-chaser I am… and being young, dumb and full of cum at the time… I fell into deep fascination with the singer in my band at the time. Stupad fuckin’ me, I thought the singer with a big nose was the princess I really wanted. Sacred Sagg loved me too well, you see. I guess some arians just ain’t happy with too much happiness. Or maybe it’s just me. =)

So I broke Sacred Sagg’s heart. Oh, I was a complete fuckin’ asshole, believe me. Sacred Sagg would ask me to drive her to Divisoria and help buy ingredients for her ambrosial culinary creations… and I’d beg off, preferring to hang with my band, my friends, my cd’s, the singer with a big nose.

Asshole with a capital A.

And that was just the beginning.

I remember with crystal clarity a night spent with Sacred Sagg at Conway’s. Legendary pianist Tateng Katindig and some chick singer were playing. The song was "Invisible War". Sacred Sagg and I were together but she knew my heart was unfaithful. Her face was etched with pain, tears were in her eyes. I was leaden with guilt. I could hardly look her in the eye.

A month or so after that night at Conway’s, I woke up. Decided that Sacred Sagg was good for me. (Too good for me, truth be told.) She gave me a second chance. It was more about the depth of her love than anything else. But I called it off after a couple of months. The truth was painfully evident. She was too good for me.

In a misguided but well-intentioned attempt at justice and retribution, I decided that I had no right to an angel like her. So we broke up.

I then promptly "fell in love" with yet another singer with a funny nose (singers with funny noses… yet another leitmotif in my life). I thought at the time that this newest fascination — an Ina Raymundo vibe-alike — was It with a Capital I.

She wasn’t, of course. She was just another singer with a funny nose. (… who ended up breaking my heart… buti nga sa ‘kin.)

While scorpio-singer-with-a-funny nose was breaking my heart, I sought refuge in Sacred Saggitarian’s arms. Pure-Asshole-with-a-capital-A that I was, I would give Sacred Sag a blow-by-blow account of my pining, broken heart while cradled in her arms.

Again… Asshole with a capital A. Stupad as the day is long, indeed.

Mea maxima culpa.

Incredibly, Sacred Sagg kept on loving me. I say again, of all the ladies who’ve ever touched my life, she was the one who loved me best.

She then went to New York, though.

We made a go at a long-distance relationship for a while. Ran up a phone bill so high it cost me a beloved guitar named Stella.

Then my band at the time went to Indonesia, where I racked up a whole lotta notches on my bedpost. Stupad asshole. Young, dumb and fulla cum… which I proceeded to squander on pussy of all shapes, sizes, nationalities and religions.

Stupad asshole.

Then, back in Manila, I met a woman who eventually became the mother of my baby saggitarian girl.

As the song says, love moves in mysterious ways.

Let’s call the mother of my baby girl, Lost Soul. (Oh, and she too had a funny nose…) =)

Sacred Sag found out eventually. By this time Lost Soul was pregnant with my baby girl.

Sacred Sagg’s heart was broken yet again.

She came home to Manila. Came to one of my gigs. Confronted me right outside the bandroom. With flaming tears of righteous indignation. While Lost Soul looked on, pregnant, from the top of a flight of stairs.

I hung my head and mea culpa’d as best as I could.

Karma, like love, moves in mysterious ways. Lost Soul dealt me a devastating karmic return stroke. When our daughter was three months old, she started having an affair with some married guy. Hahaha. Buti nga sa akin. =)

Lost Soul ran off with her lover three times. She came back to me three times. Three times I forgave her and welcomed her back with open arms. I wanted to be able to look my daughter in the eye and say I did everything I could. And I did love Lost Soul. Would that I had loved Sacred Sag as I did Lost Soul.

Oops. Sorry. He he he. =)

I’m sorry, Sacred Sagg. I’m so very sorry. Again… would that I’d loved you as well as I’ve since learned to. I wasted the best of my love on women nowhere near your equal.

But then, we both knew you were always too good for me.

Sacred Sagg, like Soulful Shukaleyly, is happily married now. I’m happy for her. =)

Truth be told, though, I can’t help but look at the pictures of their baby and wish he was ours. And I can’t help but look at my saggitarian daughter and wish Sacred Sagg was her mother.

I have a thing for double-S femme’s. That’s part of the reason Stella By Starlight is my theme song.

If you don’t live it, it won’t come outta your horn.

I’m a jazz outcat through and through. And jazz outcats do the strangest things.

That’s the price to pay, I guess. I just wish other people didn’t have to pay for my stupad-ity. Especially not one as sacred as Sacred Saggitarius. Love, Karma and Jazz move in mysterious ways.

It’s my daughter’s birthday today. She’s a Saggitarian (same as another of my great loves who got away). Ava Amica Yuson, my seven year old daughter, is the lady in my life right now. In a sense, I see Ava as my chance to redeem myself. I wronged that great Saggitarian love, you see. Wronged her a whole lot. Ava is, in a sense, part of the karmic system of checks and balances.

So today I took Ava shopping. The spark of happiness in her eyes made the dough I splurged on a new Bratz Doll and new Barbie shoes worth it.

Of course, money and shopping aren’t the measure of a father’s love for his daughter. So we also spent time eating two different chocolate cakes, slurping ice cream, scarfing Kit Kat chocolates, singing, making each other kulit, viewing fireworks by Manila Bay, pondering the sea, climbing a Figaro building, jumping off said Figaro building, playing our Gollum game (she loves that…), laughing, hugging and stuff.

I love my daughter very, very, very much. She’s truly The Lady In My Life.

It’s true what they say… there is no purer a love than that of a father for his daughter.

c",)

An old girlfriend came to the gig last night. She was as gorgeous last night as she was 18 years ago. Sigh…. She’s one of those who got away.

Those soulful shukaleyly eyes.

Ah, well….

One of the things I remember most is that she was the one person whose handwriting was actually worse than mine. And believe me, that’s saying a lot.

But the thoughts she put down in that hand….

Ah, well….

A soul of gossamer moonlight. A laugh like the tinkling of bells. Her nose crinkles when she laughs… just like the woman for whom "The Way You Look Tonight" was written.

She’s an 80’s kid, like me. To this day, when I hear that 80’s Toto tune whose title is her name, I sigh and wallow in bitterweet nostalgia.

Of course, it doesn’t help much that  "Love Moves In Mysterious Ways" is being played in this internet cafe as I write this.

The most I can wish for is that she listen to my cd once in a while and remember those loooooong conversations we used to have.

We got together February 14, 1987 (or ‘88?). We both knew where it was going weeks prior to Valentine’s so she told me to prepare a speech. Hahahahaha.

That valentine’s day still stands out as one of the happiest, most perfect days of my life. I spent the first half of that day competing in — and winning — a karate tournament. After the tourney, I proceeded to St. Scho, where the Shukaleyly and I were to meet up and spend the day. They had a high school fair, you see.

(an interesting sub-plot… that day was also the day I met someone who was also to be a future ex… in fact, the 2nd of the 3 great loves who got away… but that’s another story)

And so we got together. ‘Twas perfectly chaste. The most chaste love I’ve had, in fact. I sometimes think it was more agape than eros. But if that were really the case, my heart wouldn’t've skipped several beats each time we made eye contact last night.

Thank God I’m 32 now. The 13 year old me couldn’t handle it. That’s actually what drove her away, I think.

Ah, sigh….

I wish her well. I wish her everlasting love with her hubby. I wish her love.

They’re singing songs of love… but not for me.

Tangina, ang drama ko. =)

If you’re forever a square peg in a round hole, what else can you be but an outcat jazz musician? =)