Tag Archives: love

by

… home again, home again …

Moving from one reality to another is both invigorating and
frightening.  A certain survival mode ensues, while the thrill
of newness seems to pull the scales from your eyes,
colors take on a brilliance, and happenstance and serendipity
become companions once more.

I have dear friends who move all the time, and I think this is why.
There is no way you can get in a rut, go unconscious or be bored.
Each day is fresh and new.

This stay was just this.  Fresh and New every day.
My dear friend Mick picked me up at the bus stop, and carried
me the two hours it takes to transverse the coastal mountains
and wind along the gorgeous, treacherous Highway 1,
of Scenic Magazines and Car Commercials fame.

He’s funny as shit, so my re-entry was nothing short of
complete hilarious delight.
I do love British humor, and when it’s from the source, it
can’t be topped.
What Is it about Brits ?  Is it the proximity they grew up with,
the genetic brilliance crammed into small dark quarters for
months at a time in the constant gray drizzle that made them
resort to being so witty and creative?  Word play rules!
The mind never sleeps…

With the time of year being what it was, I had immediate work
lined up, and in the next few weeks, I bounced from home to home,
doing what we do best, there in the emerald triangle, as some call it.
Seasonal harvests all over the place, and me right in the middle
of it, and all of it legal.
Gotta love California, the way it accepted the
inevitable with open arms.

I remember the olden days, when I first moved to Point Arena
back in the very early eighties.  Folks had been growing for over
a decade there in that backwoods town, filled with a mix of hippies,
intellectual city runaways, generations of old settler families,
young rednecks with big trucks and pit bulls tied in the back…..
What a place.
The hippies had grows in their back yard gardens, which moved
to the woods, which moved further into the woods, and by then
incorporating sleep overs with guns, helicopters hovering outside
your bedroom window, and hilarious trimming parties.
Rip offs became part of the deal, and folks grew more and more,
having to leave a portion for each: rip offs, cop raids, and the rats.

If you grew enough, you’d have enough left over to get you
through to the next year’s investment, and maybe
a trip to Bali or Baja.

Now my friends all had legal grows, and although everything was
quiet and within the close circle…. because all of the above was
still present….. there was a certain relax that settled quietly on
those happy little get togethers.
They were smaller than they used to be, two or three or four
friends sitting for hours, meditatively manicuring in whatever
fashion that particular house required…
Every house had it’s own style and look,
depending on the destination.

I stayed in trailers, large and small.
I stayed in guest rooms, elaborate with exotic decor.
I sat with one old friend in a basement,
while we talked about our grown kids and old times,
when Janice Joplin was her roommate.
She showed me some of Janice’s clothes she still had.

I slept on couches, and dark workshops.
I shared in group suppers with old friends…. I sat alone
working, housesitting while everyone was traveling.
Each week had its own flavor and joy.

One thing was sure…. I had abundance.
And Alcir was so jealous.  He loved that hippie world,
and always wished he could have been there.
I think that was one of his draws to me…. my hippie-ness.

I had been there for the Real Thing, and the sixties
were indeed filled with little bits of heaven.
We were making it up as we went along….
Peace and Love were pouring over all of us,
handing flowers to cops, everyone hugging….

Free Love and Freeing our Minds.
Timothy Leary and Native American sweat lodges in
real Sioux Teepees.
The old Renaissance Fairs, sleeping on the ground by the creek,
drums all night, the Hells Angels serving as our Security Force.
AH, those were the days.

And here I was, in the midst of old and new, each generation
lending it’s brilliance and vision to the dream we all held
for a kinder gentler world.

 

—————————————-

 

 

 

by

… fall approaches …

VIEW from Jeff and Eileen’s Condo…. to the Left.

—————————————————————————–

….. And to the Right.

————————————————————————-

As the “Radiant One”  stays a few weeks longer, I begin completing
tasks and contacts on the island.
The Hilton on Kona side loves my Gem Stone Jewelry, and puts
a dozen high end pieces in their showcases…. nice.
Expensive with rich clients…

The home owner who lives close by lets me know that if I want to
come back, he would gladly rent to me when the woman leaves.
He likes my work ethic…

My friends Jeff and Eileen have now moved to a third floor condo,
and with a view of the Bay, with little boats in and out.
I have this recurring fantasy of Alcir sailing into view.

Talks with Alcir continue, and although he is very distracted
with classes and long studies, we keep on having these great
times together.
I find myself feeling hopeful again, as his mood improves, and
great hopes for his future grow larger on the horizon.
He’s drinking less because of classes and studies, and his need
for clarity…. and a memory!

“You know Chico and Tekko?”  he asks.
Since i don’t get the reference, he explains…
“Chico and Tekko are this squirrel and this chipmunk in
a Disney  cartoon.

“I only have two neurons, Chico and Tekko…. ” he smiles.
“I usually work with one at a time, but when they get together,
they fight…”  and he chuckles at his own imagery.

He mentions calling me long time ago, when he returned
to Brasil, after the Foreign Legion.
As we talk, I realize he means Before I ever emailed him,
long time ago, like 1990s sometime.
As I question him, it all comes out, and he says.
“I called when I came back to Brasil the second time…. 1994?…
…after Desert Storm…and I got some store who said they
never heard of you.
I called your old number…the one on your card”

“You kept my Card?” I wondered incredulously …
my Celestial Dreams card, my cute little store in town.

I remembered when he called me, way back  in the old days…
“Hello?  Eeees Theeees Celestial Dreeeems?  Yes…..
I’d like to order one Celestial Dreeem Pleeees…..”

Funny thing was, after spending over a year on Kauai and
going through Hurricane Iniki in 1992, when I returned to the
NorCal coast I actually tried to get my old number again.
I thought it would be a good thing for any number of reasons,
some professional contacts….but they said it was already
being used by someone else.

But I also remembered thinking way back there in my mind that
if I had that number again, perhaps someday he’d find me.

I begin to make plans for leaving.  I’m thinking back to the
Northern California Coast, and such a great timing, what with
harvest season, and so many friends there offering work.
Oh this will be fun And abundance for travel!

 

—————————————

 

 

 

by

… 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…

 

————————————–

 

 

 

by

… her birthday …

It was 9-11, and I knew it would be a hard day for him.
Nothing to do with the US, just that it was the birthday of
the daughter, and he’d been dreading the day.

I called him yesterday, and he said he was studying hard,
because tomorrow he planed to go to the store early and
get drunk all day.

“Well,” I said…”I’ll be here if you want to talk.”

“I won’t be wanting to talk.”  he replied.

So about one pm, just when I was about to leave for Jeff’s,
he called.   There were two hangups before, but…

“Call Back!” he said. “I’m worth a minute…”

When I did, and he picked up, all he said was…

“I don’ wanna talk…just listen…”

“OK…” I blurted…

And there, through the airways come these sounds…

“Come a little closer…. Hear what I have to say
Just like children sleepin…We could dream this night away.
But there’s a full moon risin…Let’s go dancin in the light
We know where the music’s playin…Let’s go out and feel the night.

Because I’m still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I’m still in love with you
On this Harvest Moon….

When we were strangers….I watched you from afar
When we were lovers…I loved you with all my heart
But now it’s getting late…. and the moon is climbin high
I want to celebrate……See it shinin in your eye

Because I’m still in love with you
I want to see you dance tonight
Because I’m still in love with you
On this Harvest Moon.”

When it was finished, he was back on the line.

“This is my proclamation to you!” he said.
“Those Canadians… they always last.
Like a turd, you flush it and it just stays there…”

He laughed at himself…
“Guess that’s why they’re so close to the asshole…”
…he snickered again…  “I just made that up, just now”

“So…how’s that for someone who had nothing to say,
and a Canadian said it all for me…
That’s how I feel babe.  It’s all true.
In all this misery, I forgot the one good thing in my life,
and that is You.
Thank you for being in my life”
…”Wait…..are you sobbing?”

“No, just a couple tears…”

“Oh you woman…!”

“Thank you for being in My life” I returned..
“We Both deserve it”

“Whatever!”

“Whatever!…..Bye!”

“Bye…!’

Odd thing was…. I realized later that
that very night Was the Harvest Moon.

…and I knew it was no youtube….he’d just been playing his Records…
…. he had no idea it was the Harvest Moon in the US….

 

————————————–

 

 

by

… 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….

http://www.hawaiiancoqui.org/

——————————————–

by

… time …

Weeks pass, the eternal summer of the tropics mending
illness and injury, cooling the mind, warming the soul.

The house woman decides to stay away a little longer,
and time
stretches out
before her
unmeasured,
allowing
the forgetting of
times and dates.

Only now.

Work presents itself, friends offer frolic, ancient jungle
rhythms mingle with the dailies, the sounds of the language
softening her mind’s workings.

Rain comes, then leaves, always at the right time.
Never too much, just enough to wash away the
dusty thoughts cluttering moments.

The perspective provided lends to balance and sanity,
allowing . . . . . . . . . . .   space. . . . .
space, that
… as with brilliant art or great jazz …
creates the other half of the whole.

Within her heart comes peace, a sense of the allness,
the rightness of everything.

Questions subside for now, and there is only being.

 

—————-

 

 

by

…pick up lines…

Her journal is frequently a source of amusement, and
often she’s laughed at herself, and for any number of reasons.

Sometimes it’s just obvious that she’s seen too many movies.
Other times, little insights that popped into head at odd
moments find their way to pen, and
later she is glad she had one.

Here’s One….

—————————————————–

Pick up lines through the ages…

1960s………….wanna ball?

1970s………….what sign are you?

1980s………….you look like you need a back rub

1990s …………you’re such a Goddess

2000s…………….have you been tested?

—————————

“I wonder..” she thought “what the new one
will be for this decade…..”
She remembered a few that had been used on her…

>>>What’s your website…..?

Are you blogging…..?

**You look like you need a hug**….

^You’re such a doll, can I touch your hair^….. ?

) How many lovers do you have now (….?

>Do you skype …… ?

>>>>>Are you on Facebook?<<<<< ….. ya..!
That’s probably the one.”

Got any more  good suggestions ???

 

——————————

 

 

by

… backing off …

Journal… tuesday, july 12-13th  2005

She thought about the difference between men and women…
cliche, right?  but maybe not.  Alike but different.
maybe same feelings, different actions…

And another thing… how much is men-women chemistry, how
much is cultural bias.  I mean, come on… born with a penis?
automatic member (no pun) of the boys’ club.

And that club has different rules.  Things may be changing here,
slowly, but let’s face it, men are really having a hard time with
change, and can you blame them?

They’re bigger, stronger, more agressive.  So right there they have
this advantage over women… and I know, I’m generalizing right
now, but yes, in general, and cross culturally, this is true.

Next come the double standards.  Why is is forgivable for men
to fuck around?  Are they called a slut?  no… they’re Men.
Men are just like that.

They can shut off their emotions, separate into sectional brain
of theirs, and just do what they want.  Part of that is because
they Know it will be alright in the long run, because…
….men just Do that.  Not to be taken seriously.

How many times have we heard that…. it meant nothing.
it was Just Sex.
Oh, nice… ok…. and how many have said that to someone
about ME?
It’s the pat answer, isn’t it.  Why?  Because Men Do That…

It’s like some urban myth.  Everyone’s heard it, and everyone
kind of believes it….
But know what…. I don’t buy it.  They may have impulses…
but they have the ability to control them.
They can stop and think, even with alcohol.

So in my opinion, whatever it’s worth… well…. you get the point.

Now she thought about him.  About how distant he’d been lately,
how moody and difficult to reach.  The mood swings were
becoming intolerable, and she was feeling taken for granted.

Being that that was number one on that list of Most Hated
Treatment, she made a clear decision with herself.  Back Off.
Be moody and hard to get, just like him.
The only way to know what’s really going on with him was
to not be there.

That ..”How can I miss you if you never leave?” sort of thing.

 

—————————————

by

… onion skin moods …

Journal…July 8th

“I struggled through 3 days of layers, of onion skin moods…
This day I finally figured how to charge my old phone card,
and called him.
He wasn’t home til early afternoon…7 there…I told him…
hmmmm….something…I can’t remember…and he was in a
shit mood, self absorbed, short with me.
I got mad….
“See Ya!”  I said….and hung up.

I felt bad, and after a couple phone conversations,
called him back, and said…

“We promised not to end in anger.”
and he said
“Fuck the Lawyers, let’s talk”…. and we did.

He said at first that he wasn’t sorry he’d told me, just that
he’d told someone who didn’t want the truth, and would
rather live in ignorance…
that actually, he could have never told me….
which didn’t help at all.
In fact, it Really pissed me off.

“Please!  Give me the Respect of letting me go through
3 days of processing, my way…!”  I said…
…emphatically, sternly, clearly.

And the pause let me know that he too was processing…

“It’s not going to happen again…” came the voice, unsolicited.

“Really…?”

“No….. it’s not the way I want to do things…”

“So…what…. you’re telling me…you learned something?”

“Definitely…”

————————–

She thought about the conversations they had had in the last
few days, when he was still high on alcohol, on sex, on
testosterone, on whatever else… and he had tried to
rewrite the definitions of TRUE….
…as in Be True to Me… and
she had found it embarrassing, sad, insulting, self deprecating.

Fortunately for him, he did quickly apologize for breaking the
agreement, which was his discreet and face saving macho
style… and she accepted that.

Her head still spun with these ridiculous patters that went on
like a litany of questions, confrontations… of him and of self…

…what did you get from it, what did it do for you, make you,
give you…was she like me…was she pure…was she a slut…
was she blonde…young, adoring, aloof…what?  what was it?

what was it that turned you on? was she Like me?  something
i wish i could be?  something totally different from me…
…did she inspire you? … what!

In the end, only time and doing things, waiting for the clouds
of confusion and disillusionment to dissipate and pass, allowed
for new skies to form, and created a new palette
upon which to write the future.

 

——————————————–