… sad evening, happy days …


“I have some Murphy’s Soap,” comes the call, as I’m writing
in my journal…out of site but not mind…
“Maybe you can wash the table …”

The afternoon, the after outs, has been a series of instructions
and guidances from the Radiant One,
I call her this here, to avoid calling her by her real name….no wait….
by her Not-Real but Name-She-Calls-Herself Name…..
the one that lets the world know in no uncertain terms just
Who they are dealing with…

It’s more  a staking of claims thing, a series of Adjectives that
sound like she picked out three Angel cards for the day,
the ones that imply One Who Has Achieved Enlightenment,
just in case you were wondering,  instead of just nice suggestions
for the day’s meditations…
Oh, I hope I don’t sound too bitter… I’m loosing my hold on love…

…more instructions from the Radiant One who really would like it
if I stayed a while, so that her entire Reality is clean and sparkling
and Goddess Ready …

I choose not to answer, still ensconced on the Lanai, the one
with the folding table and chair, the one place that I can venture
to call mine, the one with mosquitos who have managed to slip
in through that small tear in the screen, and
are now ravaging my calves.

She is busy on the phone, checking in with all of her Support
Services, the ones she had wanted me to call and say it was her,
the ones I refused to lie to.
She checks in on that house that she wants built in the center
of the healing center that she wants to run.
She sounds irritated, and I wonder how things are progressing.

Meanwhile, evening descends, and I phone my friends Jeff and
Eileen, those heavy duty artist friends of mine, and before
I know it, I am crying as I share deep feelings of abandonment,
of being disrespected, of the power tripper I am at the mercy of,
all of it……… no…..
By now I am sobbing…. an abused child sobbing…

Eileen is aghast,  emotional, unable to grasp the reality that
I’m puttin’ down, unable to believe that anyone could be  so cruel,
so oblivious, so controlling.
By now I’ve lost any and all empathy for the woman, and feel
pure nausea at the abuse, but still there seems to be no escape.

And there’s still this part in me that wants to stay kind, and
not allow her attributes to alter mine.

Their car is still in process, tomorrow looks good, and the
woman is unwilling to move her fat ass to drive as far as
our mutual friends’ place…

Remember….they are the ones who introduced us in the first place,
they are the ones who brought back to her her very words when
she tried to reneg on the car and charge me rent on it…
they are the ones who supported me, encouraged me,  and
shared the fact that she has HUD, and only pays $200 a month,
when she tried to get me to pay her whole rent….

They are my friends.
They also thought She was a friend, but turns out Jeff only really
knew her from years ago, when they were all stoned hippies.

Eileen , as it turns out, later refused to even speak to the woman
for more than a year, and kept saying..
“But she was mean to my Friend!”
…while Jeff is just  totally confused  with the whole story,
perhaps a little doubtful, but still miffed.

So the night passes with minimum encounters, and I’m sleeping
on the little couch, the  radio comfort wafting into the
Radiant One’s ears, and my precious jar of organic honey that
I bought while staying with Jeff and Eileen has enjoyed a
last minute black ops rescue, and is now happily stuffed into
my almost out of here bags.
No one will steal my precious organic honey and live to see dawn.

My Friends come to pick me up the next day, and I breathe
a gigantic sigh of relief, while my poor little psyche licks her bruises
and mends all the lesions in those little Hopes and Dreams and
Aspirations for a new world, kind and
Smiling Happy People holding hands…. (nice thought REM…)

They cuddle me with soft strokes and fresh fruit smoothies,
take me on walks to their favorite waterfalls, and we toast
ourselves on those warm sands, dipping in turquoise waters
for the last time, and then to the Airport, and mainland, to
Northern California, my Mendocino Heaven, where
my dear friend Mick  picks me up from the bus, and
takes me to my real home once again…

A Love Note from Jeff and Eileen…..





…the visit…

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I didn’t write much of anything while V was with us.
There was so much intensity, so much to take in and feel.

So much attention to pay, and things to learn.  This was the only
child he had really given himself to.  As is frequently the case with
men, when they are young they do not allow themselves to get as
involved in child rearing as they do when they have matured, and
I knew by the pictures in the drawer and on the wall that he had
indeed been very involved.  It was a beautiful thing to see.

When his girlfriend got pregnant, Alcir was very happy, and began
his quest for a healthy child, by enforcing rules upon her.
He told me that he made her eat her broosel sprouts, and
made her stop smoking and drinking.

From what I could glean, they had already split up and made up many
times, so I’m sure there was a lot of adjustment going on on both sides.


Journal, February 2005…

“He told me that when he introduced his woman to his grandmother,
later she told him..
“She loves you, yes, but she loves you because
of what your penis does.
Later on, when you turn to her she will not be there.”

This was the grandmother who was the only one really There for him,
and did her best to support him, while witnessing the abuse that
he suffered every day from the father and mother.

He says V’s mother hated him for taking care of her
during the pregnancy.

“I made her eat her vegetables, wouldn’t let her smoke.
Not for her, but for what she was building inside of her.
That was mine, and I wanted my daughter to be strong
and intelligent.
This was not Hers… it was Ours. ” ”

She gazed at the tiny snapshot of the boy.  Such innocence,
such beauty.  Perfect symmetry, those wrap around eyes,
a pure, sweet baby.
And here was that little boy’s picture, overlaid with one
of little V.

The photos of them, his face glowing with pride and
complete satisfaction… these pictures amazed me.
To see this man I knew as a fierce warrior, now a tender father
caring for his child was a beautiful side, and I was fascinated.
There were faces there I had never seen before.

It was at a tender age that he began to turn;  he was constantly
in trouble in school, couldn’t sit still or be quiet.
He was beaten, and punished on a daily basis, and emotionally
abused as well, frequently in public.
I know they did it out of ignorance and stupidity…
but…what a travesty.

ADHD or not, the sort of Hatred that was heaped on him, because
his mother never wanted a child in the first place, was
unforgivable in my mind.
They also may have been embarassed in front of family and friends,
by his inability to behave and fit in, and the trouble at school.

They knew nothing about ADHD brain chemistry in those days, and
well I know it, for my brother is close to his age, and is ADHD too.
And as well, and this is really strange, both he and my brother
were left handed, and both mothers made them go Right.
I thoroughly believe this made things even more difficult.

“All I wanted was kisses from the mother,” he said.
” Kisses and holdings….
But the same mouth that kissed, that same mouth punished me
with hatred, told me I was worthless.
I was hated by them because they said I was the most intelligent
in the family.  The Most Intelligent! and all she wanted was to turn
me into a faggot.  She could control me if I was a faggot.
She couldn’t control me as I was, and she hated me for that. ”

This small room which served as living room and bedroom contained
only things of and about Him.  The only one else present, in the form
of photos, was his daughter, who was now eight years.

The rest of his life was in a drawer, and I did look at the pictures
now and then, when he was gone…. of course I did.
But I could not find one picture of the mothers…. his Or V’s.
I wanted, nay, needed, to understand just what it was that
made up this man.

So it’s Birthday Day, a day of delight for him, we picked up V,                                                   and the three of us went out to a wonderful dinner….
a very fancy family restaurant, where the waiters bring out
huge slabs of beef, and slice it in front of you, as much as you want.
This was my gift to him… dinner and his new Raybans,
which he wore with pride.

When we came home, there was romping and play with the two
of them, and I happily sat back, doing my part by taking
scores of pics, and thoroughly enjoying the cloud of
wild abandon between them.

That night, we all slept together on the simple bed we’d made on
the floor, and I let her take possession of her father.

She lay in his arms, between the two of us, arms and legs wrapping
up any thought that another might join in.
Little puffs of soft, light green jealousy clouds floated up
now and then, and from both sides.