… 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 next day …

Morning rudely rises, the bustling of skirts and stuff being
moved about reminding me of just where I am.

I rise and fold my blankies, sigh and stretch, and wonder where
today will take me.  To my friends’ home, I hope, but somehow
something in the air doesn’t feel like that.

The radiant woman showers and dresses and perfumes and
jewels herself for a goodly amount of time, while I hope for a
bathroom moment.
While she begins once again spreading out her papers and notes
and pictures, I quickly make a cup of coffee, brush my hair
and teeth, and wander outside to breathe in the day.

“Can you come here for a moment?” she sings,
“so we can go over some things?”

I sit across from her on the little couch, the papers between
us in neat little piles, my body language clearly stating that
I’m only half there, my other half running quickly
down the red clay path.

“Let’s go over our notes” she begins, and so it proceeds,
day by day, week by week, with how much time I actually spent
sewing for her, and why did I charge $10 for cleaning that
3 days sitting juicer, and what about this call here to the
mainland, did it Really take all those hours to wash all the screens,
and how much ink did I use on the printer, do I think.
Dog food?  how much was that again?  do you have receipts
for the dog brush and shampoo?”

The ants in my pants begin to bite.

At last it comes to a place where I can escape, and I go outside
to breathe, red flames flashing from my nostrils when
she’s not looking…. calm….  I must stay calm.

“We need to go out today, my back is too bad for me to drive, and
I need to get food and mail some things, and we should make a
dump run, and I need to stop by the welfare office for a minute,
and …”
Slowly my mental ear muffs slide over the openings to my brain,
and I realize I am trapped, no escape here.
There is no way for me to leave on my own, my friends’ car is in
the shop for a couple days, and my head begins spinning.

She Has me, and she’s not about to let this opportunity pass her by.
Goddess only knows when the next fly will wander into the web.





… 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….


… 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.



…the fight…

So now there were plans in place, the ticket was bought,
the house situation was settled, and she had only to finalize
a few things, and it was off to the Big Island…!

Meanwhile, on his end, he seemed to be having more than
several crises…

He tells her that he was sitting on his own steps, when three
guys came over and beat him up.  This obviously had some
sort of history, but she couldn’t quite get the story straight.
He was still drinking, wound up from the whole drama, and
said the guy was going to Die.  …. oh great.

It was a terrible night for her, and an anxious morning,
but she finally got him on the phone, and he hadn’t killed
anyone yet.  Oy!
He was very sad, but he’d gone to a boat show, and his
spirit was lifted somewhat from thinking about his boat.

Journal… May 9th

“So he went back and kicked the guy’s ass… a good whoopin’
he said.  His hand was sore, and he said he loved it when he
heard the ambulance coming for the guy.

He took someone along, gave him his pistol, and after the
fight had started, after the guy was bleeding, the same two
sons who had joined in before, made moves to get into it.

So the guy with the pistol put it to the older brother’s head,
and let him know in no uncertain terms that he’d better just
step back, and leave it to the two of them.
And added that if anything more happened, there would be
serious consequences for him, his wife, his mother,
and all the rest of his family, friends and relations…
That seemed to cool them off, and it remained one on one,
the way it should be.
He said he felt a lot better after that….”

Geeeeeesh!  Men!  and Brasil!  He really has to get out of there.
Could their lives be any more Different right now?

All this did was to make her even more certain that he
needed to leave; and she, for now, needed the islands.

Fresh air, clean outdoor living, swims in the ocean with
the turtles, the farmers’ markets with fresh fruits and
vegetables, and friends who liked to live the way she did.



…making a move…

The weeks turned into months, with no solution.
She’d been living with a daughter, helping her settle into
a new house, but now the daughter was helping her, to
the point of exhaustion.  It was time to leave.

A direction was beckoning, with friends, work, and places
to stay…. Hawaii.  The tropics agreed with her.

She loved the way her skin felt after a day with sand and sea…
loved the shade she turned as the days turned to weeks.
The brilliant colors fed her eyes and inspired her to new
directions in her art.   It all made sense.
To just breathe…

Need Nothing…Desire Everything…Choose What Shows Up.

She liked that outlook.  OK…. the islands it would be.
As well, this would take the pressure off of him, leave him to
himself, without the pull of her needs, her emotional stress,
her questions.  Maybe that would allow him to relax and
figure out things, for he was still stuck.

He had vacillated continually, was often drunk when they
talked, frequently contradicting himself .
Getting away from all of this was just what she needed.
Taking action out of limbo land was the proper tack.

Her friend Eileen had an idea, and a good one.  A friend of hers
needed a house sitter for a month or two, there was a dog and
cat to watch, and perhaps even a car… a necessity on the big
island with its expanses.
The woman friend was nice enough at the onset, but seemed
intent on not only having her house and animals taken care of,
but also making money in the deal…
She wanted all her rent paid, and reneged on the car unless it
was rented at a separate rate.
Funny thing was, it became known that the woman received
most of her rent from government subsidies, only paying a small
amount herself.
This all began to feel uncomfortable, a certain used car salesman
aspect to an otherwise lovely adventure…
The Real funny thing was she went by one of those super cosmic
spiritual names, and did her very best to appear a super spiritual
gypsy, always dressing as if going to some reunion with
Swami Sensational and the Maha Rootietootie, and she was to be
their dancing girl, and crystal ball advisor.

Way too much jewelry, blackened Kole eyes, and … of course,
as it turned out… Pachouli.

… Goddess Beyondananda, she smiled to herself…..Perfect….

It became problematic at the onset, but eventually the woman
put away her sales talk about how special it was to be on the island,
and how lucky the girl would be, and realized she had the best deal
going to get a little bit of her rent paid, the amount she Actually
paid, and throw the car in the deal.
It would just be sitting there anyway!

She also knew very well that a great recommendation, a referral
with trust, and an animal person, was a priceless commodity.
There was just no other way for either of them.

She began to get excited.  Friends, places to go, nature everywhere,
a mellow dog for company, and her little monthly income covering
the basics.
She’d worked with Eileen before, so that might fit in as well… cool!

Now there were three things:  her stuff, her animals, and money.

The stuff got packed into storage.  The animals were to stay with the
daughter, and with her son in the woods.  The money came in…

As the time neared, Alcir seemed to be more receptive, even
leaning in as she pulled back… and isn’t that a typical response in
relationships?  the old dance of energies.

Journal…May 5, 2006

Alcir proposed on the phone tonite.  He said he wants to adopt
a black boy, to give one the advantages, to make up for the things
he’d done in war.  She thought that was sweet, and also knew that
tomorrow the thought would be replaced with another…
both curse and blessing with ADD…

“Do you know what I want?” he began.  “I want Peace.
I want to wake up every morning, and kiss you on the mouth,
and tell  you I love you.”
That made her smile…

He’s looking for a place in Ibicui… July is the goal.
“Sell your ticket…!  When are you coming?”…
But she says ‘no…you don’t have a place for me yet.’

Journal entry… May 7

She was scared…scared shitless.. scared beyond scared…
It was big…biggest…A change of life beyond what she’d ever
known, or imagined.
She drank Vodka tonics… she’d never drank like this.
And he?  He was a drunk.  The last two talks were impossible.

He couldn’t talk about reality at all… only bullshit.
His ups and downs were exhausting.

There were two things he said stuck in her mind, made her
laugh, and she noted them in her journal…

“I’m a mixture of Homer Simpson and Melvin Udall…
most men are…”  he said one night …
…”and I’m the only one who’ll admit it.”
She pictured Jack Nicholson in As Good as it Gets…

…and the best of all …

“I can never be someone else, because I will fail”

So it’s off to the healing balm of the islands, to clear the
mind and find center.

Maybe in a month or two, there will be a clearer path to him
and Brasil.  He had to find himself and his way, before he could
ever be fully with her, but she admitted to being eager to begin
this new chapter in their mutual life.