Subject: A very good day...
|Yesterday, I awoke a muddy mess. Well, not me really, but my clotheseses... Took a dive down a muddy slope the night before... It had rained, I was a little buzzed from waiting out the storm at Blakes, so first things first to the storage unit for a change of clothes. After a two hour session at the gym, lunch, research, I went back to the gym for what was billed as Raja Yoga. Skeptical as I was, I had to check it out. It was better than I could possibly have imagined.
"B.K." teaches the class. He is a very warm man. Says he learned from his dad as a boy. Then studied with Sunyasin in the Himalayas. Crazy. The class started with warmup excersizes, then some brutal abs work; I knew I was in the right place. Western physical trainers don't do shit like this... So then sun salutations as I've never seen them... very very very fast. Faster than I could follow; and his form was really tight. I had to stop and watch; it was too cool. Then he taught a couple more balance excersizes, and had everyone do the peacock; one of my fav's. Afterwards, I stopped to talk with him, and could barely control myself. I had found my next teacher. I was giddy with excitement. I want to study where he studied. Gonna have to rock that out...
Anywho. Afterward, I had a REALLY shitty dinner at a persian restaurant. Note to self: vegetarian and Persian food are strange bedfellows. Order with caution...
Last week I met Michael; he goes by the nomiker "pink man." Follow the link to see why. Okay I'll tell you... he wears a pink leotard and rides a unicycle. A true freak. Anyway, he clued me in to "Guerella Choir Night" at his house. Keith actually owns the house and has been hosting these evenings for 18 years! It started as a function of their "Temple of Melchisedec." (sp?) He's an old Rainbow Gathering vet, and this house is run in that spirit. Anywho. We jammed to the wee hours of the morning, myself on flute, really bustin' some chops with two people playing on a synthesizer, complete with packaged drum beats. But some of it was Way the fuck out there; channeling Frank Zappa and Taj Mahal.
So there I was, hanging out with a bunch of relatively older freaks. The youngest one around, wondering how I managed to find myself in that situation... Then, as I was getting ready for bed, in walked Nari. (dum dum DUMMMMM). Half Thai, half anglo-mutt. All beautiful. She had slept through the evening's entertainment and awaken for some soup apparently. We talked for almost an half an hour, and made plans to hang out today, which is her day off. Now she's off hanging out with her ex, and went so far as to see if I wanted to come to a dance tonight. I demured. I don't see her being "the one" that I am "holding out for" but would be relatively easy and free from commitment (initially)...
Today, I woke up long before I imagined she would. Oh yah, I crashed at Keith's house, her house, Pink Man's house, aka "Mel." Mel is the name of the house, the name of the owner, a name from a bay area comic strip when they were trying to decide whether to "do this" with the house thing, the shortened form of Melchezedec, and, most odd of all, the name of the guy who actually BUILT the house. I stayed in Mel, and awoke, left a note for Nari, and came to my "the Coffee Shop," Elodie. As I was about to give us, she showed up, with the wonderful idea of taking me to the Essex hot tub. Essex is the other of two oldest communities in Berkeley (mel being the other), and has a women's hot tub, where male guests are allowed if escorted. Keith has a code, but most men need to be escorted. The water is a proper 114 degrees. The women were cute. And before I knew what was going on, Nari and I were naked together.
Now here I sit in Elodie, writing this, trying to avoid getting attached to her. Damn all women. Poison, I say. Or rather, sexuality is Pharmakon. I need to be going. I've been writing this all day, and its still just a travelogue. I wanted to dive in deeper, but no luck for now. The details have been shared. Time to go. Until later, for more insite.
© Hudson Cress, 2003. All rights reserved.
Disclaimer: All events and people are part of the elaborate fiction that is my private reality. Any resemblence to actual people or events is purely coincidental.