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the little engines that could

2004-09-07 -

"Baby you're a horse."

is what started the whole thing. Some possible truths are right under you and you wonder how you could've ever missed them. Like the lyrics to a song you've (not me) been falsely singing a certain way for years, and then some smart person gives you the real flip on it. Suddenly it's a song that makes sense. But some songs make sense in both versions. "Nobody Does It Like Sara Lee," is supposedly "Nobody Doesn't Like Sara Lee." I was surprised and hurt and then amused to find that out. Both versions are correct if Sara is in fact as good as they say she is, and the jingle tune creators can chalk it up to ingenious and dual purpose marketing, like reversable tee shirts. So on the way to this Labor Day party Verune's horse comment was directed at her car (not me).

"Oh yeah, lots of people know this. You really have to watch what you project onto your car. That's why I pat it like this when I say it." (the horse comment )

She said in certain spiritual circles (not mine) your malfunctioning car is an indication of your malfunctioning life.

"What is it when your brakes go?"

"That you need to stop and take care of stuff you're not taking care of."

"Radiator?"

"You need more fluids."

"Transmission."

"Your heart."

"So then overheating is an anger thing?"

"Right."

I would have liked to know which part of me was malfunctioning years ago when I had to pull over on a four lane highway and was under my car tying some big metal piece to some other metal piece with a rubber band and rope. Mack trucks whizzed by me closer than I was expecting that day. The guy that stopped to help me the first time my car's lung fell off used a hollowed out Bic pen and a piece of string. Useless on a desert island. Anyway the passing truckers didn't think I was doing so bad under there.

Luckily, it only took us an extra two hours yesterday to meet up with Eneidra and her kids in Hollywood, all of who were following us there, and it wasn't 110 degrees yet, only 101. If it wasn't for all the salt I ate, I would have been a dried fruit snack by the time we got it all together and got to the house, which is located in one of the most desperately hot regions of Southern Ca. Second only to hell, the San Fernando Valley would be my other most unfavorite place to hang out. But some of the houses are nice, and inexpensive.

And Stacy decorates it nice. It was lived in but dusted. Verune and me brought some salad and an avocado and an apple in case it was a flesh eating bloodbath. Thankfully I heard that Eneidra had just completed a 40 day fast and was breaking it with veggies and fruit. On the finale Stacy the host is a compulsive shopper, and released an entire indoor garden of vegetables on the counter which I was very happy about. Until she knocked the raw vegan lifestyle by saying her 15 year raw friends looked sickly and unhealthy. It sounded personal to her, so I ate a crunchy pepper every time I wanted to contest her remarks. I only allowed

"Maybe your friends need to eat more of a variety of food."

"They're the ones who started the diet."

No they weren't, but I ate a pepper and shut my mouth.

Paloma is the oldest of Eneidra's children, and like the rest of her family, she looks like a striking cross between a Nubian and an Egyptian, and more mature at twelve than most fifty year olds. I hope that her friends can keep up with her. While we talked about the low points of ADD and how ridiculous materialism was in any age group, Dr. Mary showed up. She was the bubbly character I went to a few years ago and later confused my msg poisoning with her chakra table. She does some really cool things with your body and one of them is muscle testing, so in essence your body answers a given question with the reaction your arm has when she puts weight on it.

"Is this body ready for drag racing?" would be an example.

Dr. Mary is a total character. To Poloma: (during our focused conversation)

"Well hi, I remember you! Do you remember me? What a beautiful girl!" (waving the plastic sparkle wand in her hand that I remembered from our session)

"Nnn. No, sorry!"

"I did a treatment on you 4 and a half years ago."

I said, I guess then she was 7.

"No, I don't remember, I'm sorry."

"Well you need to know you did really well! You needed to know you were very insecure and you are a beautiful girl!"

"Ohhh, thanks."

"Would you like to be in a commercial at some point if I can get you the connection that I think I can?"

Initial silence.

"I don't know if that would ever happen."

"Never say doubtful things about yourself, sweetie. Say yes I would do that. I'd like that."

"Yes."

"Oh you have to say yes, you don't want to put anything negative out in the universe."

I read somewhere that if you say a negative, I think you have to say two positives to reneg it, so I told the doctor that.

"That's right! Anything can happen, ok? ANYthing I think the treatment worked on you, but maybe we'll do a few more, ok sweetie?"

She would've made an amazing good witch with that wand, and the positive feedback. She had a side ponytail which you just don't get to see anymore. She's bringing it back in a safe way. Pam at my job has the add on ponytail, which makes her look adorable too, like a 50's movie extra, and it's even catching on to the soul sisters in the company. They look proud wearing it. The topsy turvy pony tail. It's got some queer idea of a name like that.

SINGING DUO PRODUCES A SAD FACED RICK

There were a few musicians there, in fact a few too many. All I'll add here is that actors should act and singers should sing, and unless the crossover is smooth, it's a very bad idea. As I ate enough watermelon to anchor a ship, the two guys playing music on the couch were warming up for each other. One of them was drunk and it was funny, but not to his sidekick. I thought the drunk guy was gay, until he asked for my number. Rick, the other guy, ended up mentioning to me that he was only 30 days sober and miserable from a recent breakup, so he got an earful from me on both fronts. I was pretty clear at that moment that he was one of the reasons I had to go to this party. Sad sad sad. Broken, wants to die, needs a meeting. So we talked shop and he got to unload all the alcoholic devastation he's inflicted upon everyone he knows. Lurking inside a smiling guitar player is sometimes an untreated condition that needs attention.

Dempsey, because I forgot her name, was also singing the entire day. She mostly sang acapella, because she didn't stay in one spot long enough for anyone to accompany her. I thought her version of 'Silly Of Me' with her head tilted, was very good, and I told her she should sing professionally. She already does of course. So what, I was a few years late. In fact she records with the funny drunk guy, who was sobering up. Dempsey took over as the stoned woman. I never acted as chipper as she was on weed. She could clean cook sing but probably not drive. So since we were on the topic of her voice, a it was happening where groups of three would go to her car and hear her latest recording. Verune wouldn't come listen with me because the title was something like "For My Fallen Soldier Angel", and Verune has a son presently serving the country without an apron.

How did Dempsey know a soldier? How did she get into the mind of a mother of one? She was a soap actress. Her daughter was only four, and I don't know any four year old soldiers, though in this country, I wouldn't blink twice upon passing one. I think it was a song with universal meaning, that's the whole thing, and since my group was Dempsey (of course) broken Rick, and some girl ( a silent prop) with a brown and yellow bikini and a cowboy hat (pool party, hot out) I gather that we would all extract different meaning from her song.

The stoned are a lot like the dead, at times. They're here, but they don't always know it. I couldn't hear Dempsey introducing the song up front, solely because of the militant a/c blasting throughout every crack in the car, and I looked over at Rick, who couldn't hear it either, but he looked beaten and intentionally scrunched in his seat, even though it was a huge truck. His own car must have a very bad tranny presently. I dedicated the song to him, in light of his pain, but I had to yell it twice until they shut off the air.

It was a really beautiful song. It could even make someone cry, just not me . Probably because I looked up and Dempsey was mouthing the words to it. I would imagine her partner would've been really proud of her and her song, it's just that she had already mentioned to me earlier that he was in prison for possession, and she didn't want him to have custody of their four year old in any way, anymore.

I was really ready to wrap it up when the guitarists and off key participants started with those grocery market type songs that make living painful.

On the way home Verune's car was acting up but she insisted it wasn't the transmission. She tapped the dash.

"Oh, you have colic, baby."

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