… the steve factor …

September 2005

Still island time, but it’s as though I see off in the distance,
where the road turns, and a new time begins.
Once the woman of this house returns, my time here closes,
and although returning is more than possible, still that
Northern California town calls to me now…
and since it’s harvest time, the timing could be perfect.

The days tick along, with long walks, jungle clearing, jewelry
making, and occasional visits from this fellow Steve.
The woman tells me he’s a great guy, that they have been lovers,
and that I should consider him as well.
He’s also the one I’m supposed to call if something needs fixing.

It’s not that I don’t understand that old hippie ethic that includes
sharing lovers, but frankly I’m having doubts about her abilities of
discernment, and besides, and most importantly,
he does Nothing for me.
I’m in Love with Alcir.

Steve, on the other hand, can be very handy to fix things around
the place, and she keeps telling me this, but he’s like a
silly little panting dog, humping my leg.
Why do I get the feeling that he’s used to being paid in skin?
Could it be that he’s been getting happy endings too?

That Play opens up in Volcano, with Jason Scott Lee, and I must go,
cannot miss this opportunity, and though I ask Jeff and Eileen
to go with, only Steve ends up coming along.
I dress up, of course, and as we depart, I’m thinking that
he’s thinking it’s for him……..  whoops!

The theater is tiny, and set up like a small living room.
We are in the front row, of which there are only 3, and maybe
20 seats wide.
Small intimate venue.  Lovely.
Throughout the play, the actors are sometimes only a couple feet
away, and it creates this feeling of being part of the play yourself.
It’s Visceral, you Feel it, I mean they’re spitting on you….
Our front row seats are right there on the players’ floor….

The themes are timely, with political overtones, but clear character development.  Everyone is lively, present, and professional.

There’s something about Jason’s energies, his lightness, his
intelligence.  He Glows….There’s this underlying Joy that simply
Beams off of his face, his skin, like a leaping dolphin.

Afterwards, as we go out to mingle, I am able to spend a few
minutes with him, and my head literally spins with his energy.
The man is so conscious, present, softly intense.

He looks deeply in the eyes, takes in the words I share with him,
his warm hand holds magnetic resonance, and I do not wonder
why he has left Hollywood at the peak of his career.
The man is on another plane, highly evolved, a beautiful soul.

He grew up in Hawaii, Chinese Hawaiian like Keanu Reeves, and
there is that Asian, quietly thoughtful thing that you can pick up,
as well as intense discipline, and great physicality.

His personal directions involve environmental issues and
working to return the area of the land he has purchased
(around the theater he has built), to its original state,
as well as writing and acting and directing.
My contact high continues for quite a while after our exchange.
Now I want to see all his films…

Steve and I go home, and it’s clear to me he holds this Agenda.
Oh no…. oh please no….
I act tired, and he leaves… whew.

I guess since the woman was open to him, so perhaps he figures
it’s only a matter of time til I succomb as well…. sorry… ewwww.

Journal….Sept 14, 2005

After the play, I still thought maybe I could sometimes enjoy his
company …  but he came over wednesday nite with dinner,
and … am i wrong? …the evening descended on my brain like
a hammer made of gnats…
He brought this horrible chicken thing, and when I offered some
nice organic broccoli, he asked if I would cook it “mushy”…
The fresh pesto I made, he described as “interesting”, and
for the final seal …he Loves Bush and listens to Christian News.

Huge iridescent Red flags wave all around me, blocking sight of
anything  that might be even vaguely positive about the man.

“Just level Iraq”, he says,  “and get it over with. ”
I’m getting nauseous…
“Who knows about WMDs…maybe they were there…but…bla bla bla”

My mind goes fuzzy…if I wanted Rush, I’d dial him…… merde.

He’s an idiot, and I want him out of here Now…
How can this gypsy hippie woman, who subscribes to all the latest
cosmic groovies, pictures of gurus, and incense burning, and special
meditation tapes, and talk of a Spiritual Center…..all the cool-speak..
….and she dresses like she’s waiting for Rama to come out of the sky
for her and ask her to dance for him and be his bride….

How can she Do it with him?
How could she let him into her body, with such a limited brain and
ridiculous opinions… I just can’t imagine.

When the puppy dog looks begin, I find myself once again nauseous,
and I feel this itchy irritation rising up in the back of my neck,
and behind my eyes.
From the beginning I thought I’d made it clear…

He gazes at me, as the TV searches begin.
He finds a soft porn channel, and wants to leave it on.
I don’t know whether to laugh or beat him up.
I leave to get a glass of water…

He lets me know he has “a chubby”.
(I laugh to myself that that was a good word to use, as
I greatly doubt it’s a “fatty”. )
I get up and clear away the glasses….

“I’m getting horny” he half states, half whines, as
I return from the bathroom….where I gaze at myself
in the mirror and ask….. WHA????.
At this point, my brain screams, but
I breathe….and
Slowly, Clearly, I say…

“Steve….nothing’s Ever gonna happen……Ever…….
Please…you must know that by now..
I’ve told you that …..  I’m engaged, I’m in love…”
I leave out the part about how I don’t find him at all
or in the least bit attractive, and that
Alcir  could Kill him with a look…

At last he leaves, and I can breath again.  I’ve finally and completely
realized the man is incapable of  Getting it, or even being a grownup.

I cannot spend a moment more with him around… that’s IT.
The irritation is not worth the occasional help, and
certainly not this big angry emotional hangover.

When the woman calls for her mail readings, I mention Steve,
and how completely irritating I find him.
She is incredulous, and cannot understand why.
WHA???

I was having doubts before, but now I am completely convinced
of this woman’s  strange and desperate consciousness.
Later I mention this to my friends, the ones who connected us
in the first place, and I can hear their mouths hanging open as
I fill them in on the happenings….

Good Lord, life is Strange…

 

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… the radiant one …

September, 2005

The near daily calls from the woman chip away at my patience.

She calls for the mail readings, she calls for any messages,
she calls to ask if I’m getting along ok with Paul, the owner…..

(Little does she know that Paul has great respect for me because
of all the work (paid) I do around the place, a bit of a contrast
from what he’s been used to….. )

She calls to ask if I’m walking the dog every day, and
to make sure I’m not driving the car too much….
She calls to ask if I can wash all her
windows and screens, and scrub the ceilings…
….no really.

Since I’ve been working for  Paul, she figures she’ll get some
stuff done.  I explain what my charges are, and she of course
wants to bargain.  I also mention that I don’t do ceilings….

There are calls from men, asking about massages, and when
she will return.
One asks if I would give massages, and if I do massages like
the Radiant One.
“”What kind is that?  I ask….
“Sensual Massage….” he answers.

Next time we talk, I mention the calls, and inquire about the
particulars, and after some specific prodding,
she basically tells me that sensual massage involves Release.

Oh Good Lord.  This woman is Nuts.  She actually explains about
the Mystical Healing energies involved, and how Release is
just part of a relaxing and Spiritual massage.

I explain that Happy Endings are not my thing, at least not
in a Professional Situation, and although I do enjoy giving
massages for good pay…
( as well as enjoying the employment of
Release in a Personal setting )…..
……I decide to do None of her clients,
for fear of getting into some
very sticky situations….

———————————-

… squirrel away …

The squirrel squirrels away,

The flea flees….

And so it is that the

all is nothing, and

nothing really matters.

Be like that squirrel,

and save nuts forever,

forgetting where they are.

For forgetting is eternity,

wrapped in a jar,

waiting to be

eaten with gusto.

———–

… home …

I’ve met my counterpoint.  my comfort zone.  my peace.
my Home.

Trouble …or not… is…

he’s still young.

figuring it out… angst…(i think)

 

oh but….that’s ok …truly…..

i really enjoy the alone.

…this life or next…

but there are those times, when

to relish,

or to share

becomes a battle of wits.

 

Miles’ Blue just takes me there,

and i’m there…. now

and it’s all ok…

 

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