Tag Archives: younger men

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… the first time….

It was so Almost There….

Almost……achingly Almost totally….. It.

Icons meet and clash, like warriors that bend and dance…

The depth of passion, in this life, I will not experience again,

Unless it’s at the birth of my child’s child…

Or the birth of my own.

Is there much more than birth, death and the deepest love.

And what is love? Does anyone know.

But crazy indeniably irresistibly magnetic to the point of

Insanity might begin to describe….

And isn’t that what we all crave somewhere…?

Oblivion…..the Somewhere Else place, where self and other

Blends and melt-melds into the great glorious mysterious All.

Yes, love and great sex can indeed, like fresh mushrooms,

And fresh homegrown…and the oldtyme LSD, the real sacrament.

they can take you to paradise, goneness,

Oblivion, out of here man, and I don’t care and I don’t know

And it’s all just OK.

OK… so….. This man has just given me the most perfect kiss ever… in my life anywhere.   It embodied the most pure, the most innocent…. And moved thru all the punches………To complete sexually blended bliss.  How can this be with just lips?

For the next week, I literally ran away from him.   He showed up the next morning, because ‘he’d left his watch’, that multi-hundreds state-of-the-arts at-the-time divers’ watch.

Oh, wait…….. I forgot to tell you about the rest of the evening…..                                                     (she sighs and drifts….)

So supposedly he’s too drunk to drive home, and can he camp on the couch.  Ok, whatever.  The couch is in my studio, below where I sleep.  He snores.  I sleep well in my king size, Steven joining me as cuddle buddy….  He leaves early for some new job on the wharf.

And then….. Someone knocks at the ladder….

Are you surprised, dear reader?  Oh I hope so….

“Hello?  Can I come up and see the view in the light?…”  and before I can answer, this head appears just above the floor…  and he says something, and he’s here next to me, and……he pulls back the covers and climbs in….

I’m half asleep, and say ineffectual words about Steven, and wait, and……. He’s inside me….. with full kisses and legs surrounding me.   And before I’ve caught my breath,….. he comes.

I instinctively draw in my breath ……………He sits up.

“Oh I did not expect That…”…. And he holds his head.  The white sheet falls around his brown skin…  I start to laugh…

“Oh, I hope I have not given you a bad impression of Brasilians .”                                      …..and I laugh again… damn, how adorable Is he….

And I softly say…”No…. actually it’s sort of flattering..”

And “Oh yah, flattering…very funny…” ….comes back, nervously.

Then he was bustling, getting dressed, off to work, gathering his wits, ready-ing for the cove and the guys and the dive.  Off to jump in the ocean, and away from whateverthefuck this is.

Late that day, he returned for his pride and joy, his divers’ watch, and I remember holding the door in front of me, a shield from his shine, because I felt so naked and vulnerable and it all scared the shit out of me, and…                     I was totally swept away.

So… for the next week, I avoided him.  He showed up along maybe Wed nite with his diver buddy, and I sat at the far end of the table, engrossed in whatever the what I was engrossed in, just as long as I didn’t have to make eye contact with him.  After lots of laughs and a couple beers, they jolly well leave, and my heart rate slows to near normal.

Once I saw him with a few guys, on the back of a truck in town, and he flashed his trademark wide grin.  Like a hungry animal…..I looked away.

That weekend was the Fourth of July parade and gala… oh yah, a gala in a 3000 people town, back in the backhills hideaway on the NorCal coast.

The parade was classic.  Always the flags, the hippie floats, and the local guns and bad ass boys, a couple horses.  And some pretty girls… lots of creativity everywhere.

So we’re on the street, near the little town store, my girls and I, and along comes Big Alcir, walkin that way he walks, sort of a bad boy walk, like I could Kick your fuckin ass, no problem, walk…. but he’s got long Indian hair, and there’s a style to him that you can’t deny… he’s got class.

“Good Morning Ladies” comes the warm refrain.  Oh god…

He makes pleasantries, and passes.  Damn… he is rather intriguing…ya think?   But what just happened that night, that morning… I still haven’t completely figured it out, but I’m getting close.  Very close.

So I’m there with my two little girls, waiting for the parade to start, and he’s across from me, on the other side of the narrow street, behind someone else sort of, but not, and we eye contact… I make a motion like ‘do you have a light for this thing?’ …. ok, it’s the eighties, and yes, I smoke.

He crosses the street, his Varnets intact, hair beautifully tousled, a neat plaid in soft tans adorns his ever more interesting body.  He walks like a cat.   So…what’s happening today, what’s the deals in this town, (where are you going) blahdeblah ensues.   So he mentions that this whole thing is just too Wholesome for him.  And I say……

“…hmmm… so why don’t you come over sometime, and take me away from all this wholesomeness. ”   ….Really…. No Really, I actually said that.                   And “Really…?” was what He said back to me…

The parade starts, he goes to the store, hands us something as he passes, a candy for the girls, and he’s gone.  The day with its barbeques and sweetness that only a small town can dish up, included a giant picnic at the park, and I was singing in a Blues Band.

I vaguely remember his face in the crowd as I concentrate on my vocals, coming and going, appearing once when I’m out dancing, watching me, offering me a light as I hang with friends.  But he’s etherial, and I’m relieved to see him that way.   I have, in my gut, been keeping him at arm’s length, and he is picking up on that, not pushing me, not rushing it, just being there and waiting…. like that kiss.   I like that.

The proceedings move day to night, and now it’s very dark.

I am sitting on a large log with my girls, facing the sea.

In front of me is a Gaugin painting, a Van Gogh of sand and crashing surf, dark but with well heard drums as background.  A huge bonfire erupts into the sky, and the sparks and stars combine and swirl (starry starry night) with the giant booms and flashes of fireworks, shot out over the ocean, enough to make the world dance forever.

Beautiful happy hairy hippies dancing and meandering round the fire, and I swear at that moment I thought to myself that I was in heaven.  The beauty was beyond any dream…. such sweetness…

And then I swear, I thought………… If only he were here….

And once again, I swear…. I hear over my left shoulder…

“Good Evening Ladies…”… that deep dark voice.

And he sits beside me, all of us hunkered down to warmth, and we talk……                        Like really talk  for the first time.

“So how are you?”

“Oh I’m great, just fine, oh ya….” …he trails off….there’s a wistfulness there…

“Not so great, actually…”

“Why?  What’s happening..?”

“Oh, new kid on the block, I guess…….I don’t know…”

“So… how’s your spiritual life?” I venture, and to this day I don’t know why…

“Oh ya, just great… hahahahaaa, and he nervously fills in the blank air.              I’ve thrown him a curve…

“Hmmm….” I mysteriously hmmmm.  I think now that I wanted to convey to him that there was more to me than the surface that he so enjoyed…                      I also sense he was looking for redemption somewhere, and I wanted to take him somewhere, lead him somewhere else, to some sort of new dawn.

Long pause.  We both look at the fire, the trailing sparks, the stars, the dancers….

“So…what are you doing after this?

“Oh, I have to take the girls home soon…. Ya,  pretty soon……”

“Oh really?  So…maybe could I come over later?”

“Umm… ya…. maybe later, maybe like 10 or so?”

“Ok…” and he smiles in the dark… I can feel the smile more than see it.

He says good evening, and wanders off.  My heart is now salsa dancing.

Oh god….what have I done?..

 

 

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…….mr brasil comes to town…..

A very old friend, younger by years but plenty of history between us, just Begged me for more stories!  Can you believe it?  It’s Just what I want to hear, my darlings, and it only takes a bit of encouragement for me to shift into gear, drop what I am doing, and prattle on with my memoirs.  Don’t you love what those French words add to your tastebuds…

Must admit, the Brasil saga comes to mind, not just because it was the last real and deeply touching adventure I had, but also because there is something about those people in general, and Alcir in specific, that sticks like gum that has perma dried under the theatre seat.  It’s there for eternity, all its dirty, messy, germ laden mass, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

When I met Alcir, I was definitely in my prime on all counts.  (shall I post pictures sometime?)  I was feelin my power, and was quite attractive.  Now What i attracted was another story, as I have frequently wondered ‘What the What?’, when it comes to that issue…. just What is it that brings in the strange and neurotic, the needy and the distant, and the occaisional unclassifiable ?   He was one of the last.

I had a friend named Steven.  He was relatively new in town, strange and a little Other, yet a Mensa member, and he was entertaining at a time that i had lots of energy for casual entertainment.  I had a great house, kids coming and going, a little cottage industry making jesters and jack in the boxes, and life was quite lovely.

Steven was one of those lost boys, misunderstood, yet not demanding in any unwanted way.  He wasn’t my type as a Guy, but he was amusing.   So after sharing the occasional dinner with him, it was the night He had agreed to cook dinner for Us.  Me and my two younger daughters.  Shana was at college, and Tod was in his own cabin on the acreage I rented.  Sweet.

So it’s nine o’clock, and the door knocks, and there stand two fellows, one i recognize, one i don’t, and they’re both drunk off their jolly well asses.   I neglected to tell you that he Had called from the bar, and asked to bring this new fellow home, and I sort of shrugged an OK.  Whatever, just get over here and do what you’d said you’d do…..

So they both do this weird Asian bow, and it was only later that I realized it was because I was wearing a kimono, which I was really into at the time…. kimonos were available by the hundred pound bale out of Honolulu, and I had been buying them for a store I was partners in.   So Ok, these funny giddy fellows tumble in with a Frozen Chicken, and proceed to start dinner.  Oh this is going to be interesting…

I am introduced to this Latin guy, and I really didn’t look at him that much.  It was only later I saw those Eyes, that indian hair, that brown skin and the devastating, white toothed grin.  He was different, but I really didn’t pick up on it til he stood looking at this framed picture i had over my stove.  There was no window there, and I had always gazed at it as I cooked, as tho it were  a portal into another realm.  It was one of those reverse paintings, where they paint on the back of the glass, and then arrange these Irridescent Blue Morpho Butterfly wings, to make the sky and sea.   Gorgeous, and I have a huge collection of them now.

So this fellow, with an unusual accent that I didn’t recognize, stands there and says… in his winsome Desi Arnez way….. “WHAT eeeez  theees wooooman doooing weeeeth theees in her keeetchin?  I have grown up loooooking at theeees very sceeeeene.  WHAT eeeez Theeeees wooooman dooooing weeeeth theeees theeeeng?”  It was a scene of Pao d’Asucar, or Sugar Loaf as we Americans call it.  Palm trees, the rolling hills of Rio, the whole bit….

“Oh!…. you’re a Brasilian? “… came my rather startled response.  I’d never met a Brasilian.

“Yessss…. What ?….. deeed yoouuu theeenk I waz a stoooopid Mexicaaan?   They don eeven care eenuf about theees countreee to learn the language.”

Ouch.  Later I found out that he was frequently mistaken for Mexican, which insulted him… I mean how many Brasilians visit the Mendo Coast?  and oh ya… he spoke Five languages, and came from an old aristocratic family.  He had studied in the most prestigious school in Brasil, in Rio, where when you graduate from High School, you have learned the equivalent of two years of College.  He spoke French, Spanish, English, Brazilian Portuguese, and several Indigenous dialects.

I looked him over a bit more at that point….  High tech expensive sports shoes… Varnet sunglasses…. a very expensive diver’s watch.  His hands were gorgeous.  And his eyes.  Wicked Intelligence sprang out of them, and they were dark, huge and wrap around, with a certain slanted corner to them.   Oh yes, he was different alright.   His voice was deep, and had that sort of powerful texture that Jose Ferrer has…. or some black actors.  Brazil is a combination of the Portuguese sailors who moved on in, the Black Slaves they kidnapped to do their dirty work, and the Indiginous tribes who to this day just want to be left alone.  He seemed Portuguese, with refined European feature, but the skin, hair and eyes seemed Indian, (his Grandmother was Indian, and he had Her eyes)… and somehow I do believe a little of black had slipped in, although the aristocratic families are always in denial.   His eyes…. his voice….

Through the evening, he constantly made us laugh.  He was hip, made lots of puns with a language that wasn’t native to him, double entendres galore.  And…. at times when no one else was looking, he would stare at me across the room.  Staring?  like boring holes in my temples, blasting a message into eyeballs, past the forebrain, and down into lizard brain land.   He was not subtle per se, but in a non verbal sense he was, for there were no gropings or obvious come ons.  Just that deadly stare across the room.
I silently mouthed “…stop that..!”…. and he smiled.

Ok….. back to work.  Mmmmm it’s fun remembering…..  Encourage me, encourage me, and i shall continue my stories for You!