… 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 day plods on …

Gathering her skirts and notes and bags and bells,
the Radiant One steps into the waiting car,
and I back out the long leafy drive, and
onto the red clay road, leading to town.

I have already loaded the one bag for the dump.
I’d cleaned things up long ago, but she wants it all gone.

The long list appears, and the woman begins the rundown….
“Turn here” she says, while I remind her it’s OK, I’ve lived
here a while, and can likely find my way to town.

“First we need to get gas… oh There…that’s where we get it.
Oh wait, pull around and back up,  wait…. there’s another one
a little further on, and I think it’s cheaper…. there on the right,
pull in there.  ”
Smoke signals tiptoe out of one ear.
I of course pump the gas, and pay for it.   Bad back.

“Now  I need to stop at the Natch… wait….turn right here, and
then you can go to the dump down that road…. Wait!
Wait! …you need to turn right there, so we can go to the dump! ”

“We’ll go on the way back”  I announce, beginning to feel some
semblance of my old spunk returning.

“OH, but the Smell…. we need to go there First”  she whines,
not realizing that those hot pink ear muffs are now already in place,
and the road long gone.

It is becoming clear to me that at this moment,  My hands are
on the wheel, and if only for a short while, I am in control.
Kind of….

“So now we need park there….oh wait….no, I think there’s another
one closer…go around again, and yes, you can pull up right there…
right there in front!”

“But it says NO PARKING…”  I reply, calmly tapping my fingernails.

“Oh it’s OK, I’ll just be a minute, she smiles, and unloads her Self,
taking out her list as she arranges her layers.

I sit a while, then pull away,  somewhat embarrassed …I mean,
this is the Groovy Natural Food Store, everyone looking healthy
and tan, very healthy and very Green, and tan,  and
I’m parked in the NO PARKING ZONE?
I drive around a couple times…. the minutes go by.
It’s now been 15…..

I find another parking space, and slide in, figuring she’ll
eventually see me, which she does at last, after
another 15 minutes have passed….

“Why did you part here?” she querries.    I don’t answer.
I’ve now boldly moved to passive aggressive, an inner smile
softly warming my gallstones.

“Now we need to go to my appointment at the Welfare Office…
…..it’s at 2..
It’s on Aloha, near the park…. turn left here, and then….”
…and the instructions lead us to a modern low slung
office building, ample parking,  full slots.

I pull up the the curb near the door, the way she likes it…

“So, I’ll go do something for a while, and come back…
…how long do you think?” I smile…
Freedom!……. I think….

“OH! come back at 2:15!  my appointment will only take
15 minutes,”  she instructs me.
I return at 2:15, such a good girl I am.
Oh!  Surprise!  ……I wait..

Half an hour later, she ambles out, and slides into the back seat,
and without my help.  She smiles serenely, as though all is well,
and my taxi clock has just been dutifully running…

“Now we need to stop at that …….and then…….and then the… ”

Smoke signals, this time in deep Fuschia.

At last we/she is done, I think, and we head homeward, this time
taking that turn for the dump.
I throw the one small bag into the pile, breathing a sigh of relief,
thinking I’m nearly There, and
I went to the dump when I Wanted to!
Yes! I’ve passed through the fruit loops, with
the goddess nearly gone.

“Oh Wait!…. if you turn right at the next road, we can go by
that plant store, and I can find something I really need,
and the pet store is right next door…
Park there….no wait, there’s one over there….no wait….”

I purposefully park where I damn well feel like,
wild and crazy rebel that I am, and stare straight ahead.

I quietly hold my breath so that the
now very Chartreuse smoke signals sink down,
twining around my body, oozing out onto my sandals.

At last we are home, I step out into the banana palms and
flowering trees, never looking back, walking down
that red clay road,
deep breaths and sky smiles,
ignoring any possibility of the call to arms,
or legs
or brain
or any other part of me she might think she owns.






… the coquis …

My friends Jeff and Eileen had to move again… they have been
house sitting the place on the papaya plantation, and that has
come to an end… so Jeff calls and asks if I’ll come look at this place
with him, as Eileen is on the mainland.

We arrive, and it’s in the middle of what is literally a tropical forest.
It’s an upstairs artists’ loft, and as we climb the stairs, there are
wild and leafy murals on each side, guiding us to a widely windowed
flat with sweeping views of the treetops, vines draping, little balconies
on which to stand, open except for a bedroom, enclosed Asian style.

The openness of the place immediately strikes me, and a vision of
their work spaces and wide tables covered with projects just fits,
under those high ceilings, fans dreamily turning, breezes softly
wafting, that eternal blueness in the distance.
It opens the brain pan, stretches the reach of inspiration.
…..and for me it’s an immediate Yes!

He is one of the inventors of the Hologram, with a couple other guys
back in the sixties.  Their style was the flat kind…the ones that jump
off the page at you.
There was another school of thought developing at the same time,
and oddly enough I know one of those fellows as well.
They each have chosen to spend time in Point Arena, and of course
are friends now as well.
That school developed the one that you can walk around, and the
image follows you and changes, moves…

The most famous and original holo is called The Kiss.  You may
have seen it.
The woman was quite young at the time, and she is blowing a kiss
to you as you move from one side to the other of this semi circle
of clear material mounted on the wall, that holds the imagery.

I wish I understood holos.  Jeff has tried to explain them to me,
but to no avail.  To me they are just magic, pure and simple.

Eileen is this magical little elfin person, a blond sprite brimming
over with energy and glee from just being alive.  She was the
protegee of Erte, the old queen artist world famous for costumes
and stage design, as well as fashion, in the thirties and forties.
She worked and trained with him for seven years.

Now she designs the most glorious sculptures that are reproduced
for large companies like Promax, MTV,  and others, for their awards ceremonies.
We’ve all seen the Oscars… no, she didn’t design these, but hers
are much like that, frequently female forms which she excels in,
and you can see Erte’s influence in all her work.  Lucky her!

She has been commissioned make both 2D and 3D objects d’Art
for many famous people and their estates, like the clear lucite
miniature “Lucile” guitar, a gift for BB King, and etched repros of
John Lennon sketches.  So many wonderful things,  I won’t go on.

So an expansive creative space for these two is rather essential!

I’m completely going Yes with all of my being, and Jeff loves it, but
he’s having trouble deciding.  Eileen is gone, he must make the call,
and there’s one big problem.
That gorgeous jungle out three sides of windows?  it’s filled with….
the infamous COQUI FROG!!.  Millions of them.

They started invading the big island years ago, and now have taken
over many places…so much so that it’s lowering the land values.
No Really… some people just freak out at the sound.
Personally, i think it’s quite clever of those little frogs…

See… they are tiny frogs (one inch) with very big voices, and
at night they hold major parties with wild abandon, dancing girls
and froggy orgies…!
Great for them, but their chirps are so loud, you’d never guess
their tiny size, and some people’s brains just get taken over
by their vibrational levels.

To me they sound like crickets… allbeit very Loud crickets…but
I can just put them in that category in my mind, and be done with it.
He’s just not sure She will be able to cope.  She’s sensitive…

He decides, we decide, and next day I help him move all their studios
into this magical place… done with it, and Eis will have to adjust, at
least until the next place.   Earplugs work…she loves ear plugs.

They like to move a lot, and because of their work they have so many connections with monied folks, and they end up house sitting 3/4 of
the time in amazing places.  They love change.  I think it inspires them.

Meanwhile, I am delighting in my little hippie house with dog and cat, landscaping work, helping the owner next door organize and clean,
and exploring the island a little.

Up in a town called Volcano, up top of the…. bet you guessed….
there has been built a tiny theater … the Ulua , named for a fish…
and the entire area around it is being brought back to its original
glory, with plantings and clearings.

Jason Scott Lee, famous for playing Bruce Lee, Mowgli in Jungle Book,
and The King on stage in NY in their the King and I production….
He has left Hollywood,  gone native, back to his roots, and built this
little theater, so now there’s this little energy center forming that
I find fascinating.
He’s focusing on natural farming and sustainable agriculture, all
around his property, and is seriously weary of the Hollywood scene.

There’s his first play opening soon, Burn This, and I plan to go.
Maybe Jeff and Eileen, and maybe this guy Steve, will go too…..


Go here if you want to know more  about the COQUIS!!!
and you can hear them too….



…moving along…

On to my next adventure!  It’s time to move to my new
place, and be alone for the first time in three weeks….
something I really enjoy.

I pack lightly, a friend will drive my things to the other
side of the island in a day or two, as weight restrictions
on these interisland flights are limiting.
My friend J meets me, decked out in Fedora and string
tie, looking all island glam, and we pick up where we left
off years ago.  Real friends are like that, aren’t they?

His wife E is on the mainland for a few days, so he and I play
catchup, and he shows me His island life.  The music he shares
is so uplifting and inspirational, very broad based and hip.

Here’s one of his Very Favorites… between Jazz, Classic Rock,
and Alternative stuff I’d never heard, this was the One he
played the most of…
Such an Uplifting Message!

They are staying in a gorgeous, huge place, in the middle of
a papaya farm, with jungle views and distant blues…
They go swimming every day!

He drives his van around the coolest spots, where we swim
in the little lagoons and find the hidden lava pools, where
families gather to embrace the sparkling blue energies from
deep within the island hollows.

We go to a hula show, a Real one at a small bar, with several
members of the same family, all different ages, and the
sweetest voices ever.
My friend has this beautiful awakening to Hawaiian music
and hula, actually grokking its essence and spirituality.
He’s higher than the clouds now, and we are both blissed out.

Alcir called several times, drunk and bummed out about his boat…
or should I say his Not Boat.
One time he’s happy, the next very sad… and what he calls
“Drunk as a Skunk”.
I feel strangely distant, and find myself gaining perspectives
on some of it… at least on the bi-polar aspects of his world.

Journal… Thurs June 9, 2005

“I just begin wondering if it will ever work out.  It all seems so
far away, and he doesn’t seem to be able to break out of his
web of restraints.
I must go on alone, and let things open for me, set up a future
that has no definition.  Shit… I thought alone was done for.
This whole thing seems a little cruel.”

“Can I deal with a drunk who does drugs, hates his mother,
has few friends and major regrets about his life?  That’s a lot.

When he’s straight, he’s Aquarian, cool, controlled, serious
and thought provoking.  He’s brilliant and very sane.

When he’s drunk, he’s funny… then progresses to morbidly
sad and focuses on my ass.  Not really appealing. ”

On Sunday, I will go to the housesitting place, get introduced to
the scene there in Pahoa, and get to know the little animal folk
I will be living with.
The woman will be there a couple days, and then leave for
many weeks.  I’m excited!



…on the move…

The party had partied itself to yesterday, and she was
ready for her next motion moments…
Her friend went back to her life, and she to her future.

Still, the still life memories of the space she’d enjoyed
lingered in her imagery, full of color and calm.

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Next a visit with another friend nearby, where they made
enchiladas and dined on leftover chocolate fondue….

Soon she would settle in to her new space, the house sitting
abode with dog and cat, the cosmic hippie haven on the
Hilo side, where green lushness filled the air, welcome
moisture once again soothing her skin and curling her hair.