Thx to Adriana, bartender and cooks at Red Robin; servers at China Cook; Sonic drivethru service; Walmart; Cynthia and cooks at Chili’s; the happy, smiling anonymous faces in crowds.
Author Archives: treetrunkrick
Did you have to, did you have to, did you have to kiss an angel?
Lee asked himself what happened during the 37 minutes he was zoned out on the massage table?
He waited until Bai held onto him with both hands, joining their body rhythms together.
Had he kissed an angel?
Angels don’t kiss on the lips.
Their kisses meet at the center below their thoughts, unconscious, devoid of the here-and-now.
Had they?
Was that why he would not say out loud what had happened?
With an inner solar system to populate, Lee kept asking himself what he was doing here, now.
What was his subcultural training worth and how was the subculture to which he was barely attached important to the future?
The only way to get there was to get over or around the current stumbling block, commit himself to the future rather than the past, a past which gave him a comfortable bourgeois lifestyle that those in relative poverty might wish for.
Lee had always wanted more.
No one was going to give it to him so he just had to take it, leaving the armchair critics (especially the one in his thoughts) behind.
It is never too late to change, never too late to practice.
Do koalas drink colas with cocoa?
Lee squirmed under Bai’s control.
She found more knots in his shoulder muscles and worked on them over and over, one by one, zeroing in on a knot’s kernel core and driving a finger or elbow in to break the knot apart.
Lee wanted to shout but kept quiet, allowing the pain to pulse through his body.
He suddenly saw himself driving through a subdivision outside downtown Ennis, County Clare, Ireland, on the way from the Old Ground Hotel to the office in Shannon. He remembered seeing Irish drivers lining up on the main road, waiting thirty minutes to get to and through an intersection. Lee experimented each morning for a week until he found side roads that passed in and out of subdivisions and carparks, cutting the drive time down to ten minutes from city centre to dual carriageway.
He raised his legs in the air, trying to escape Bai’s grip on him, literally and figuratively.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay. Sit up. Time to take a break, anyway. Drink some water.”
Lee looked at the clock. Bai had been working on him for 37 minutes. He drank from the measuring cup she handed him.
“Feeling better?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Move around. How does it feel?”
Lee rolled his shoulders. The stiffness was gone. “Hmnh…it…it feels great. Sorry I don’t sound so enthusiastic. It’ll feel even better tomorrow when the torture is over.”
“Thanks. Roll over on your stomach. I need to work on your back. How long do you want me to go?”
“As long as you think.”
“Great. I’ve got more work to do than I can get done in an hour.”
“Sorry, Alaur!”
“No problem. I’ve got to finish folding her clothes, don’t I? Bai, I don’t know how you pack your bags.”
“Here, I’ll show you. Lee, just relax and quit raising your shoulders. I’ll be right back.”
Lee checked his smartphone.
Unbeknownst to Bai, Lee ran a side business that dealt solely in audiovisual stimulation. A private contractor had hired Lee as a consultant for a secret project, an immersion technology planned for release in theatres, supplementing 3d glasses with cardionervous system feedback devices meant to read people’s bodies and instantly align their thought patterns and body functions with the on-screen character(s) their bodies indicated they most sympathised with and/or desired.
Initial tests had shown that audience members could actually recall sights, smells and sounds from the film as if they’d been on-screen in filmed scenes themselves.
A message on his phone told him that some audience members were experiencing unusual side effects, as if they could read the thoughts of the actors as they struggled to stay in character while surrounded by lighting, crew, camera and soundstage equipment rather than the imagined scenery and characters portrayed for entertainment purposes. The contractor was worried about lawsuits.
Lee told the contractor to simply include a more encompassing disclaimer about the total experience, stating that depending on your work in such fields as the film industry and/or psychology industry, your level of suspending disbelief would give you a unique perspective that cannot be duplicated with any other entertainment device available on the market — satisfaction guaranteed that your 5D Immersion would be yours and yours alone or your money back.
When they first worked on this idea, they decided that everyone on the project had to tell people they were former drug users in order to throw people off course, unable to guess that the technology the project team was developing was much more precise than even the best designer drugs, with little to no downtime, susceptible to abuse by addictive personalities at about the same rate as gambling, smoking, drug use, gaming and social media political chattering.
Lee put the phone back in his coat pocket.
Bai returned to see Lee resting on the massage table, his chin on the lip of the face hole, avoiding another asphyxiation.
“Your back looks so much better! It really shows how the work I’ve done on you has paid off!”
Lee mumbled affirmatively.
He watched through the hole in the massage table as her black-painted toenails, framed by the wood struts and wires of the table, walked into view, each big toe covered with a five-petaled hand painted flower and the cuticle lined with blingy crystals.
She finished an episode of “Witches of East End” and started an episode of “Sleepy Hollow” on the tellie.
Alaur brushed by Lee’s hip as she scooted between the sofa and the massage table.
Lee could see Alaur’s alluring purple-and-black eye shadow in his thoughts. What if…
A moment later, his thoughts vanished again as Bai pressed her whole body weight into a point on his back. He stopped breathing. He entered a transient trance, another fleeting glimpse of life outside the four dimensions of space and time. His heart pumped arrhythmically, restarting and restarting like a car with a gummed-up carburetor.
Bai realised Lee had stopped breathing. “Breathe!”
The trance was broken. Lee had wanted to stay in the trance but attempted a breath to please the woman, a foot shorter than he, domineering over him.
Lee had entered trance states only a few times before, rarely without pharmacological assistance.
In this particular trance, Lee saw the energy traces connecting people and things. Most significantly, he saw they were nameless.
He also saw a crossroads in the future he could reach by answering a single question one way or the other.
But which question? Planning a pro-am dance competition with Bai in February? Dancing into the late night with her at an event in January? Letting her work on his hips when she returned a month later so she could get his spine straighter?
In the trance, Lee saw his love for Bai had been and remained timeless, sensing something in her the first moment they met and she began to describe all of her dance instructors as Lee encouraged her to give him her life history to write about, fascinated by the exotic nature of a wild but tame animal in front of him.
Lee wasn’t a believer in past lives but he knew that some people had a way of connecting that made them feel as if they had already been close companions upon their first meeting.
Lee wanted to discount these connections, unable to accept that his flawed personality was not so very much flawed and his connections with others was truly wonderful because of perceived/real flaws and life scars, not despite them.
He just didn’t expect Bai to have this effect on him. He thought Guin was the reason for his recent happiness.
To be continued…
Huxley’s trippy dream or nightmare?
Which vision of the future do you want, “Brave New World” or random interactions?
Are you Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta…yes, the Greeks shall inherit the earth.
Happy hiker’s selfie
Thanks to folks like Doug Phillips (congrats for 30 years of “Discovering Alabama,” documenting one of the most ecologically diverse geographical tracts on Earth!), Soos Webber and Roger for working hard to protect our wild, natural resources.
Polypodia “hair” on a tree
Found in a forest…
Who’s shooting whom?
Winter in Dixie
Some photos to share during annual late-fall hike…
The illusion of excitement
Living most often in my imagination, believing that I would be someone I’m not if I wasn’t who I am (which of course I would be so why spin thoughts unnecessarily?), I pause.
The local cable television network has replaced the music channels I enjoyed — two classical music varieties — with “Latin Christmas Music” and “Sounds of the Seasons.” Since I listen to classical music as incidental background sounds, I’ve switched over to the “Soundscapes” music channel which serves a form of slo-mo pop classical music soundtrack for this blog entry.
Tomorrow, my wife and I will volunteer to serve food to runners during the Rocket City Marathon, then attend a chamber music concert starring Robert McDuffie and his sister, Margery McDuffie Whatley. We might even make it over to the Huntsville Swing Dance Society event at the Flying Monkey Centre.
In my imagination, I am a jealous/envious god but a kind one. I worry about the repercussions echoed in overheard conversations between white people discussing the connection between the sign language interpreter at the Nelson Mandela tribute in South Africa and his attendance at an event interpreting the song “Kill the Boer” — usually, people at the margins of society or, rather, people who have been marginalised by society, most often less stable mentally, will act upon socially-unacceptable thoughts in ways we put into storylines for violent shows on the tellie.
It is those overheard conversations I miss in my tinnitus-wrapped thought set.
Whispers, rumours, hearsay, scuttlebutt.
The softly-spoken dreams and desires.
That is why I am happy to have in the core of my thoughts the spoiled first-b0rn god’s wants and desires rather than the vengeful/hate-filled desires of an insecure god.
That way, I can think in the interest of a whole planet rather than a single species, as long as I get some satisfactory portion of what I want/desire that seems fair to me in return.
Take, for instance, these deepest feelings I recorded in my secret journal a few days ago:
For the past two years or so, I felt a renewal in my belief, my hope, for joyous changes to the habits I had formed during the first five decades of my life.
I placed a lot of that on the imaginary shoulders of a woman I’d met at a dance studio — Y.
Y was/is so much like my sister and yet she isn’t my sister; thus, I could let the occasional sexual fantasy pass through my thoughts without feeling too guilty.
Guilt, however, was not the problem. If I could have had sex with my wife in that timeframe, I might have been able to handle a longterm friendship with Y and not let some of my sexual frustrations carry over onto the dance floor.
Just not meant to be, I guess.
As my wife has gained weight during the past ten years, especially in the stomach area, trying to place my six-inch erection into/onto her vaginal area was an acrobatic act that became uncomfortable; rather than insult my wife about her weight, I chose to tell her that my back was acting up and I couldn’t have sex with her in the position she preferred — on her back, with me on top.
We haven’t made love in six or seven years.
Masturbation can only relieve so much of the frustration.
It’s not fair to the women with whom I’ve fallen in love, including both Y and Z, to put my hopes for a sexual relationship on them when my sexual bodily commitment to my wife is wrapped up in a social contract my parents made when they baptised me in the Christian religious community in which I was raised and am expected to continue to support.
I have been unhappy in that regard, knowing the moment I stood at the front of the church to marry my wife that I was giving up my sexual freedom for the security of community support.
Ahh…the price we pay for security…sigh…I am sad and depressed today and will be for I don’t know how long.
My suffering is imaginary. For that, I am truly happy. Sadness and depression in middle-class living is usually a way to make up for ennui. A universal perspective will open one’s eyes to endless possibilities outside of one’s temporal emotions, one’s temporary set of states of energy in flux, including envy, jealousy or any sense of fairness.
treetrunkdings 