The Home for Wayward Souls and The Talking Monkeys
This is the story so far…(much of it is now in the archives)…for the sake of those who missed the beginning….Now it can be read as a continuous story. After each entry is posted, I will also add it to this post, probably as a separate page.
The Talking Monkeys
Hello. My name is Frederick. This is not just my story, because so many others were involved in the telling of my story, as well as many others’. What happened to all of us was different for each of us in many ways, but as you will see the common thread connecting each of us to all of us has a backbone, as well as a central nervous system, that developed as a common consciousness, the more that we realized our common interests.
Also, my portion of the story could not have been told without the assistance of Mark, my handler. I was a second-generation research Chimpanzee. It was Mark who taught me American Sign Language (ASL) officially, at least. Mark was the first to notice that both my parents had begun to teach me ASL before the lab really started to consider me as a primary test subject. Prior to that point, I represented little more than an anecdotal reference to the union of Malkira and Lilith, my parents.
Malkira was a member of the tribe Pan Troglodytes, more commonly known as the Common Chimp, while Lilith was of the Pan Paniscus Tribe, and a Bonobo. My father’s families came from north of the Congo River, and my mother’s relatives habituated the south side of the Congo. The Congo is a wide and dangerous river, and chimps are not especially good swimmers. This is probably for the best, since the two tribes are not especially compatible, due to vast differences in both culture and temperament. I am not aware of any other matings of Chimps and Bonobos. The semi-captivity of the preserve upon which we live had provided much less formidable barriers than the Congo, but neither tribe seem to be especially interested in the other, since food was always plentiful and the habitats we large enough to allow a good deal of wandering without anyone encroaching upon anyone else’s territory.
At one point, both Malkira and Lilith were both placed in the Veterinary Unit for annual exams, lab tests, and inoculations, which involved an overnight observation and stay in the unit. Although they were placed several cages away from each other, both were fascinated by how much they looked like each other, only different. Also, virtually all the Chimps were familiar with each other, as were the bonobos with other members of their tribe. Malkira put on a very impressive display of dominant alpha-male behaviors, some of which were quite intimidating and ferocious and very much unlike the more passive posturings of the male bonobos. Lilith found it all very sexy. In a female-dominated society like the bonobo, Lilith knew of no previous experiences to compare to what she was witnessing.
The more advanced the species, the less likely it is that sexual behaviors are to be controlled exclusively by hormone levels. On the Chimpanzee and Bonobo level, playfulness and curiosity are additional pleasurable avenues that account for a great deal of their sexual experiences. Although Man separates procreation from sexuality and will copulate without regard for hormonal levels and may even take measures to prevent impregnation, the chimps and bonobos did not originally recognize the link between sexual congress and reproduction, and simply enjoyed it because it felt good and they liked it anytime they pleased. Other animals may rut out of hormonally-driven instincts to replenish the species, but we primates like to fuck for fun, and Lilith thought Malkira might be a lot of fun as she noticed certain parts of her monkey-fur were getting very wet.
The next day, both of them were returned to their respective habitats forever changed by their encounter. Lilith now found the company of the male bonobos to be about as stimulating as a luncheon with a convention of hairstylists, interior decorators and shoe salesmen. She found herself imagining Malkira chasing off her other suitors, roaring and brawling with all who were too foolish or imprudent enough to not be intimidated by his menacing fury, before he snatched her up and carried her off, already a prisoner of her own desires as well as his. She found herself becoming irritable and impatient with everything.
Lilith was not the only primate affected by their encounter. Malkira now regarded even the most comely and nubile Troglodytes as short, fat humorless and overbearing. Lilith, by contrast was tall, slender and almost disarmingly youthful in appearance, and seemed to possess an airy grace in her playful antics. Also, Lilith smelled differently than all the other female chimps he had ever known. It strangely resembled the musk of some of the female handlers he had noticed, and it mesmerized him.
The two habitats conjoined each other at only one narrow portion of the preserve, separated by high cliffs and a very steep waterfall.
Malkira stood one day on a prominent rock beside the waterfall high above the basin below. It was his favorite place to go at dusk to watch the sunset. On particularly beautiful occasions, he was often inspired to celebrate the joy he felt welling up inside him by dancing as the last rays of the day faded into twilight.
As he stood there, drinking in the experience, a familiar scent wafted up from the basin to his nostrils…could it be? Suddenly Lilith’s countenance flashed before him…but what is different?…Something earthy and fertile…Estrus! As Malkira searched the basin below him, he suddenly caught site of Lilith, who was looking upward laughing as she watched him dancing. She finally caught her breath and sighed deeply…who was he? From where had he come? Where does he go? What is he doing?
It was about that time that Malkira jumped. Lilith screamed. It was not a graceful Tarzan-style Swan dive. He simply leaped out into space like a being acting on pure foolish impulse without any regard for consequences…what a coincidence. A Monkey-jump, feet first, arms flailing in pure futility. Fortunately for Malkira, he landed in the deepest part of the pool basin. Except Malkira hated water, even worse than most chimps, probably because he could barely swim, even if his life depended on it, which it now did. Such is Love and infatuation. And then his head went below the water.
Fortunately, Lilith reached Malkira just in time to grab a thin shock of his hair, as she swam back to shore. His head stayed under the water most of the way, but after a short episode of violent coughing, retching and vomiting he was jubilantly screaming, and waving his hands above his head as he rolled head over heels, almost falling back into the water. Lilith quickly joined him in his triumphant dance just long enough to be roughly bent over and mounted forcefully and exquisitely in a manner wholly oblivious of tenderness, forethought, or foreplay. It was a savagely beautiful and erotic moment, and as they lay on the edge of the shore, a sigh passed between them.
It didn’t take more than a few hours for the handlers to locate Malkira and Lilith, but no one could explain the ferocity with which both of them resisted being separated, or putting Malkira back with the other Chimps. For several days, they both refused to eat, but once it was discovered that Lilith was pregnant it made about as much sense as could be expected, especially since this had never happened before.
This was how my parents met, and how I was conceived. It was told to me many times by both my parents, both jointly and individually. The emphasis or attention to various details would change slightly depending on who was telling it, or what had prompted the retelling, but it was always a grand, heroic tale of Love against all odds.
Although the Preserve was originally built as a Florida tourist attraction that featured a wide variety of wild African animals in a natural habitat that closely resembled the savannas of Africa, unmanageable operating costs and a fizzled economy forced the owners to seek additional financial backing, which came from a research corporation interested in Primate behaviors, learning, cognition and language abilities. The research corporation was not interested in the other African animals, which were sold to various zoos or similar institutions. A great deal of construction went on during my youth, because the researchers required a great deal of new laboratory space to conduct their experiments under controlled conditions despite the fact that the animals were allowed to live and maintain family units within the marginally captive conditions of their natural habitat. The idea was to be able to compare and contrast the effects of their research and the learning experiences of the primates to a known baseline of behaviors.
At the risk of sounding like some stuffy old pedant who is overly sensitive to incorrect usage of some “buzz word”, I am nonetheless compelled to point out that Gorillas, Orangutans, Chimpanzees and Bonobos are not really “Monkeys” at all, and are more correctly referred to as Great Apes. There is however, a common tendency to refer to all primates as “Monkeys”…well, considering that most humans also refer to all people of Asian descent as “Chinese” and seem incapable of distinguishing subtle genetic traits within their own species, it is really more of a moot point than a source of insult. By the way, you might be surprised to know that most primates find Humans to be just as zany, wacky, and foolishly hilarious as Humans find us…except when you are being cruel, sadistic, greedy, rapacious or dangerous…which unfortunately, is most of the time for Humans in their “natural state”. Some Humans might claim that lower Primates are not sufficiently evolved to have developed those characteristics…I suppose it depends on your definition of evolution. Humans say things like “Monkey see, Monkey do” and don’t even consider the possibility that we mock you when we put on clothes, wear glasses and hats, or smoke cigarettes…(the roller skating is pretty cool, all things taken on balance).
Evolution is a slippery slope at best…too much of what is commonly regarded as “intelligence” has made Man lazy, unfit, amorphously fearful, neurotic, sexually repressed, arrogant and complacent. Humans for instance, have become so obsessed with their spoken and written linguistic abilities that they have almost completely lost touch with their former telepathic abilities…something that almost all animals possess to some extent. The Great Apes are so adept at this that Man’s dependency on words to communicate seems pathetic. As Mark taught me ASL, I began to try to teach Mark how to communicate without opening his mouth.
Call Me Mark
Thus far, what you have been reading has been the joint results of both Frederick and myself trying to communicate with each other, as well as to you. I began sanctioned lessons in American sign Language for Frederick shortly after observing that both his parents were already starting to teach it to him on their own.
I am not aware of other Bonobo/Chimp matings, but Frederick is definitely a product of both his parents. I have come to regard him as an evolutionary quantum leap in primate development, cognition, and intelligence.
As you have already learned, Frederick’s observations and insights on Human primates are refreshingly devoid of reverence for our preconceived notions, arrogance, or hypocrisies.
I am Mark, an instructor in American Sign Language. My Master’s studies centered mostly around linguistics and primate behavior. I started working at the Sanctuary shortly after they commenced operations, about two years before Frederick was born.
Curiously, although Lilith was one of my best and brightest subjects, Malkira seemed to lack either the inclination or motivation to show much enthusiasm for signing. Malkira had high alpha-male status among the other chimps and was well-liked by everyone, including the handlers. He was a very large specimen within his breed, surprisingly strong and agile and quite bright. There was not a female chimp that would have spurned his amorous advances. Within his world, he already got about everything he wanted, almost effortlessly. In Malkira’s world, he was the mountain, and even Mohammad would have to come to him. He did not have much need for accolades, or recognition, or much of anything else he didn’t already have. Privilege often begets complacency. Were Malkira the least interested in politics, he would have been a Republican, but not for long, as Lilith, who was almost his antithesis in outlook and demeanor held a unique influence on his behaviors.
Lilith was forever the blithe spirit, a hippie of sorts who heard her own drums, and seemed to never stop dancing as she scampered hither and yon, cavorting and frolicking as she pleased, but because she did it with such finesse and charm, she always made the highest marks and achieved the most progress, usually in the shortest time, although she usually had so much fun playing around the subject or test, that the actual finish seemed almost an afterthought. She was often playfully argumentative in a way that often belied more intelligence than we have been comfortable attributing to primates, even bargaining over rewards or breaks. How do you discuss Lilith’s abilities to think outside the box to a community disinclined to recognize that she could think in the first place?
There were no recorded matings of Chimps and Bonobos prior to Malkira and Lilith. Chimpanzees (Pan troglidytes) and Bonobos (Pan Paniscus) have developed a hierarchy of patterns of socialization that are mutually exclusive of each other. Chimps are more likely to kill not only lower orders of monkeys for food, but even each other, and are markedly territorial, utilizing roaming gangs of males who will patrol the borders of their territory, sometimes killing intruders. Chimps are patriarchal, whereas Bonobos are matriarchal. Bonobos are noted for using sex as a bargaining strategy, and are polyamorous, in sharp contrast to the monogamous behaviors and socialization of the Chimps. Without the protective isolation afforded the Bonobos by the Congo River, it would be difficult to imagine a safe or intact outcome at the hands of the more aggressive and violent of the two tribes.
After a great deal of debate about the proper environment for Malkira, Lilith, and eventually Frederick, it was decided to provide them an isolated environment that afforded them protection from either the Chimps, or even the Bonobos, as well as maintaining the integrity of the other two cultures. After only minimal modifications, a long-abandoned monkey house provided them a tranquil, safe, and beautiful habitat sufficiently removed from the other clans in which they could pursue and develop a hybrid world of their own making. We held our breath for months as this bare nuclear family so accustomed to the same type of extended family dynamics as we have seen disappear in Western human culture within the last sixty years develop their own unique family dynamic in the absence of the peer pressure of either tribe.
It was about this time that Darcy came to work as a handler, and she proved to be a great fit to work with Malkira, Lilith, and Frederick. As she was new to both the Habitat and the Sanctuary, she would not conjure up memories of either tribe’s handlers, or their previous habitats. As I think back about it, I believe I had written in my notes somewhere that Darcy slightly reminded me of a Bonobo alpha female. Her face was almost unnaturally juvenile in appearance, much the same way that mature Bonobos often resemble adolescent Chimps. Her eyes were bright, very large, and full of mischief. She was very tall despite the fact that her features were quite petite, and that gave her a sort of thin, lanky look to her without seeming gawky or awkward. In fact, she had a very fluid grace in her movements much like those of Lilith, and both females bonded almost immediately. Also, Frederick latched onto Darcy in a way that was quite heartwarming to observe. Both tribes of primates practice joint parenting by females, and Darcy was the perfect “Aunt”. Darcy was not only single, but she had never been married before, and the way that Frederick had adopted Darcy really played a couple of high, soulful French Horn solos on her Fallopian Tubes. He had developed a habit of holding her chin close to his face, so he could stare deeply into her eyes for disarmingly long periods of time, which she freely accommodated, and sometimes even encouraged. She said she thought Frederick was trying to communicate non-verbally, and after they finished a few minutes together, both would get this dreamy star-struck beatific smile…their eyes even smiled. It was a thing of strange beauty to observe.
Because I spent so much attention and time teaching and observing Malikira, Lilith, and Frederick’s behaviors and amazing progress, Darcy and I were in close contact for many hours each week. Management was “quietly” interested in the project, and it soon became apparent that we were tacitly being given the “green light” and everyone within the Habitat couldn’t give enough help and support.
The five of us had become quiet rockstars within our tiny milieu. I was the
only one who had full access to the entire Habitat and I couldn’t help noticing the hushed, almost reverent way that the project was discussed without actually speaking directly about it….
The longer Darcy and I worked together, the closer we became. She had a down-to-earth humor and was very bright, and quick-witted, and just well-enough educated to appreciate my off-beat Zany Zen Wisdom, but not educated enough to feel compelled to draw attention to its flaws, or debunk me as some sort of Fallen, Charlatan Shaman. We made each other laugh sometimes so hard we would cry. She had a graceful knack for physical comedy and mimicry that bordered on genius. One day when a state inspector came to the facility, she managed to follow him into the building right to my office, mimicking his every move, nuance, and gesture, rolling of eyes, sighs, tossing of hair, or every other quirk this poor schnook exhibited with the almost imperceptible air of exaggeration so as to parody this self-impressed petty bureaucrat right under his very own nose, without him so much as suspecting he was being lampooned.
She loved the million-dollar words I used….
She taught me to dance a wild provocatively improvisational series of movements she called The Bandaloop, (or something like that). She said if you ever learned to do it exactly right, you would learn how to live forever…It was vaguely reminiscent of the Chimps’ Rain Dance, but every time I ever saw her do it, every ape in sight copied her in perfect unison like a bunch of Simian Rockettes.
Our schedules, including Darcy’s graduate classes left little time for romantic pursuits, despite the fact that we openly discussed our mutual infatuations as the sexual tension grew between us. Months passed as we even discussed every sort of quirk, fetish, perversion or passion that humans are wont to perform, as well as our own personal experiences and preferences, or even hilarious failures at odd moments alone. We even developed a shorthand way of alluding to some practices, including those of the Primates who were our leagues. A slightly lingering kiss, an inadvertent touch, a look of longing were hard to ignore, but with cameras in every imaginable corner of the Habitat, as well as the Sanctuary our self-proclaimed Imaginary Romance remained forestalled for so long by the seemingly most insignificant reasons that both of us began to wonder if maybe the other wasn’t just being polite (even if one or the other of us had been gay, it wouldn’t have stopped us, so strong was the Chemistry of our Crush…we had even jokingly discussed…What If? in a half dozen different scenarios that expounded upon our mutual curiosities.)
Darcy was living with a guy named Hank when she came to work at the Habitat. From the way she talked, it was not exactly a match made in Heaven, but I didn’t think it would be a good idea to get physically involved no matter how fascinated or curious we were about each other. I sensed a disappointment in her that I did not invite her to my apartment several times when we had opportunities to “explore our mutual fascination, but my apartment was way across the other side of town out in the country and took almost an hour to get there, and I really have an aversion to “cheating”. I realize that it is often difficult to set up yourself in single living accommodations, so many of us tend to jump from one frying pan to another, but I don’t like the dishonesty. I was in no hurry, no matter how much we desired each other. Besides, the anticipation was amplifying our desires so much that my only reservation was that I hoped the reality of our actual encounter would not be a letdown. It would only be a matter of time to find out, once Hank and Darcy blew up. It happened a little sooner than I expected, all things considered.
One weekend we managed to get the same two days off in a row. Our Crush had endured so long that we had saved enough money to go to Captiva. (I don’t do Sanibel Island anymore…for reasons I may or may not explain later….), which is a Mighty Reckless Move in the Name of Romance for two people hadn’t even gotten naked together…yet.
As much as I would love to go into details (…and Darcy isn’t shy either), THAT is a story that could run this tale right off the rails on its own right; suffice it to say it would have been called something like Fifty Shades of (Tequila) Sunrise. We got an apartment a week later (…in truth, Darcy’s new digs were perfect for us, so I moved in with her.)
When we got back from Captiva, Malkira, Lilith, and Frederick did a Rain Dance in our honor, which evolved into one of Darcy’s Bandaloop Dances. Never underestimate the power of simian nostrils to tell who just got their dance ticket filled….
One day, Darcy, almost out of nowhere said: “Darlin’ I’ve been around the block so many times they named one of the back alleys after me… She sighed……You sure you’re ready for the likes of me? I never did anything to outright hurt anybody in my life, but sometimes…well I’ve been known to ‘jump the fence’ so to speak, more than a few times…It won’t matter how much I love you…in fact, the more I love you, the sooner it will likely be to happen, ’cause I foolishly want to believe that somewhere out there is someone just as Hungry and Romantic as me that isn’t afraid, ashamed, embarrassed or guilt-ridden about their Deepest Secret Fantasies because they understand. I may be cursed with Romanticism by the Imp of the Perverse for believing that for every pot, there’s a lid, or that both of us can encourage each other to feel, and to live like there’s no tomorrow all the while acting like we’re never going to die. Don’t get me wrong, the first time you are inclined to want to ‘explore’ elsewhere, I may feel a great big lump in my throat, or you may notice a slight catch in my voice, or the start of a tear in the corner of my eye…it’s not because I don’t care, because right then and there, I will feel just how much I care in ways I didn’t even know the day before…and I really want you to know just how much I want you to be the one that uses the option first…It’s just that I don’t MIND the way most people do, and I’d rather set the example for the way I hope you take it when it’s my turn…and eventually it will be…and oh yeah…I will always come back as long as you want me.”
I still remember the way the sun shone through the window onto her face, and the way the air in the room smelled, the song that was playing in my head before she started to speak, even what I ate for breakfast that morning. As I closed my eyes for a moment before I spoke, I saw an Angel descending toward me wearing the most beatific expression I had ever seen. Heaven had opened, and the radiance and the music that flowed down on me swept away every single shred of fear or insecurity or inadequacy or guilt or shame I had ever known. I had become very careful about what I had wished for all my life prior to that moment, and I finally got it.
Darcy Sallye
Well, as Mick would say, “Please Allow Me to Introduce myself….” I am not much on formalities, and I don’t like to try to put on airs or pretend to be someone or something I’m not. You may not need Sherlock Holmes to figure me out, and Sigmund Freud would probably be better qualified to explain how I roll, but I am very straightforward although not the least bit straight laced.
When my Daddy came to this country, our name was Salle (pronounced Sal-yay), which everybody called Sal, so he changed it to Sallye because it was easier to change it once than it was to keep explaining.
That was long before I was even a dirty look in my Mamma’s eye, so he never imagined I would grow up almost six feet tall, or that my friends would nickname me “Long Tall Sally”. I blossomed at an early age, so of course I started dating boys a lot older than me…I grew up quick. The boys my age were gross little sex maniacs…the older boys just learned to refine their act a bit, but it seemed like the boys who liked me were the Dirty Boys…I guess when I was really young they thought I would be easy…(and they were right), but by the time I met Mark, they were just a bad habit. Mark was a lot older than either me, or even most of my dirty boys, and he reminded me of a well-bred Southern Gentleman. I was living with Hank when I came to work for the Habitat, so the way Mark treated me with what he called deference curiously contrasted the way I felt when he would compliment me, especially if it acknowledged my womanhood in some way…he always made it sound like a respectful compliment, and as unused to that as I had become, well it just swept me off my feet…even though I figured I would have to make the first move, so I waited until Hank and I split up, but when I got an apartment for myself, I made sure it was big enough for two independent souls, and a lot closer to work than Mark’s place….
This was completely new ground for me…I had come to regard most men as a sort of necessary evil…I once said that to me, the ideal man would be one that could fuck me senseless for five hours and then turn into a deep-dish supreme pizza and a pitcher of margaritas…can you say “Black Widow”? Mark made me wish I could roll him up and carry him around in my vagina like a kangaroo.
Malkira and Lilith
Malkira
Lilith
As it turned out, because of Malkira’s large size within Chimp norms, and Lilith’s petite Bonobo pelvic girdle, it was very difficult to carry Frederick, and halfway through the pregnancy, she could barely stand up, let alone walk. A neonatal unit was set up and ready on a moment’s notice. Imagine a Bonobo on bedrest. Just try…that is about as close to bedrest as we ever got with the likes of Lilith, and she got spoiled very quickly, once she recognized that if she wanted for anything, all she had to do was to start to make an effort to get up, and either Darcy, or the full-time neonatologist, or her nurse would attend to her needs. Lilith’s proficiency with sign language skyrocketed during her pregnancy, it should be noted.
Long before active labor began, it was agreed by the medical team that attended Lilith (and Frederick) that the delivery would be a scheduled C-section and general anesthesia. It was also agreed that for Lilith’s sake, her tubes would be tied after delivery before they closed the case. As it was, she barely survived, and was in recovery for nearly a month.
As a result, Frederick was to be Malkira and Lilith’s only offspring. Management was clearly interested in not only Frederick, but in his parent’s abilities to socialize him…which is interesting enough on a purely scientific level, but gave pause to some in the organization to speculate as to the…well, let’s just say long-range projections concerning the possible fiduciary implications vis-à-vis Potential Non-Linear Inoptropic Gains regarding Return On Investment.
It was also decided that neither Malkira nor Lilith would be made aware of management’s decision regarding Lilith’s reproductive capabilities…there are some things that can easily be told, that may be possible to understand…On the lighter side, it should be noted that Malkira and Lilith enjoyed an amazing sex life (most of which we recorded, and would watch, from time to time….) that perfectly balanced their nurturance and hybrid socialization paradigms…(think about it…for the first time, these two Great Apes would be negotiating parenting styles like a pair of suburban humans).
A slight Aside Regarding Frederick
It is occasionally possible for two similar species of the same genus to reproduce, but the resultant offspring are often sterile, and unable to reproduce. What so intrigued Management about Frederick’s DNA was not only that the hybridization that had resulted was in fact capable of self-replication, but his closest genetic match was Homo Erectus, rather than either Pan Paniscus or Pan Troglidytes. The Great Divide between Man and Ape had finally been crossed in a Quantum Leap, rather than a series of tiny incremental Baby Steps. Although both possibilities were anticipated by Darwin, the more prevalent interpretation of Natural Selection tends to overlook the potential for a Quantum Leap occurring at any moment.
This was Frederick’s Moment, even if he had no idea as to the momentus implications. Frederick was special, even before he was born, so he had no frame of reference to compare his life from anyone else’s except his parents, like offspring of Aristocrats secluded from the public eye and the tabloids. Management was keeping their cards so close to their chest that despite the huge importance of their discovery about their progeny, nothing was publicized. Not a single word was printed or released, even among scientific circles, and all participating researchers, handlers, and contractors were forced to sign reams of confidentiality agreements associated with their contracts and terms of employment that were every bit as effective as a judicial gag order with no public knowledge whatsoever. The extremely generous compensation packages afforded anyone even remotely associated with the project helped assure that no one questioned the decidedly menacingly draconian language of the confidentiality agreements.
The Fringe
I realize that I may not be speaking for everybody on this issue, but most of my life has not been spent in the lap of Luxury, spoiled by social and financial privilege among The Beautiful People.
My gramma used to say Water seeks its own level. I always found the coolest treasures at Low Tide. The Stuff that got left Behind. Castaways, Castoffs, The Broken, The Orphaned, The Dropped and The Lost. Stragglers who missed the Warning Bell. They called out to me. They knew me by my name, and I knew them by sight.
“Hi, my name is Darcy and I am a Lost Soul.”
“Hello Darcy” the group droned in a mocking parody of All Twelve-Step Program introductions before breaking into raucous laughter. She had stood up suddenly in front of the backlit waterfall that had been constructed inside a sort of grotto of Banyan trees that had formed the canopy that shielded it from the sky and sun on even the brightest days. It was an impromptu audience of maybe six people or so that happened to be in the general area at the time, yet they seemed to chime in as if on cue, or perhaps it was a pre-determined straight line to set up their chorale if and when such a remark presented the opportunity…a comedic wave, if you will. They were visibly and audibly self-impressed by the success of this…shtick they had jointly constructed, and it was very obvious that humor was held in the highest regard within this camp. She grinned a sideways banana-eaters’ display of dental hygiene at its best as she shook her head wildly, throwing her long, straight blonde hair in every direction. It had been six months since she had come to Florida, and this was the first place she had been since she got there that even remotely interested her on this level. It was good to shake off the stuffy airs of pretentiousness that surround most professional research facilities. They usually failed to effectively account for the ubiquitous wild cards that often gravitate to scientific research in the first place. Next she shook her entire body like a Cuban Merengue dancer, arms and legs wide apart, as if to embrace the world. At least for a moment, she had found a niche. And if that niche just happened to be a deck of wild cards she was a whole deck of Queens of Hearts.
“…no offense, but that’s also pretty much the way I find most of my friends….” (To No One in Particular.)
“…and none taken, Darcy. In fact, that is usually the way most of my Parishioners find me. My name is Ashtar. Welcome to the Home for Wayward Souls. My friends call me Ash.” He had approached her from behind, silently as she spun around at the sound of his voice. He extended his hand to Darcy, which she grabbed with her left hand as she placed it on her left hip while she grasped his left hip with her right hand, pulling him to her so she could whisper in his ear.
“I’ve heard so much about you from Mark…I will most certainly call you Ash then, as I know we are going to be really good friends.” Darcy was on a roll, cocked and locked and ready to rock. Everything about this place exhilarated her, body, mind and soul alike.
With that, she nuzzled his earlobe gently as Ash tried to discern if she really had dragged her tongue across it as she spoke.
Ash blushed slightly as their eyes met, but Darcy just smiled like a Cheshire cat, knowingly, yet ever so enigmatically.
Like perfume on a light summer breeze, Kali encircled Ash and Darcy with a touch as light as a languid, caressing tickle. She was of average height, full-figured, fair of skin and dark of hair and eyes. She focused her attention on Darcy with wide, knowing eyes so affectionate and engaging that Darcy shivered slightly as if her optic nerve had suddenly been short-circuited to her clitoris.
“Mark has spoken so highly of you that I couldn’t wait to meet you. In fact, I planned to visit the Sanctuary on Monday just to find out more about the woman who has captivated our Mark.”
Kali winked at Darcy so slowly and affectionately that Darcy felt as if she was being willingly hypnotized…and seduced. It was a feeling she embraced like a child stepping into the van of a familiar stranger with candy.
“Where ever are my manners? Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Kali and I am just so glad to meet you. Our home is also our retreat…in days long gone, we would have called it our Church, but it has been Ash’s experience that some words are so likely to be misunderstood that they are best not used at all, just to avoid confusion and too many apologies or explanations…the accommodations are not lavish, but you are welcome to come anytime and stay as late or long as you wish. Please feel free to help yourself to whatever pleases you. There is plenty to eat or drink and no shortage of every sort of companionship, conversation, or entertainment you desire…and if you don’t see it don’t hesitate to ask…you may be surprised.”
“Oh yes, and one more thing…speaking of labels…some of us may be married to others of us, but we all are also nonetheless co-conspirators of common mind and interests in pursuit of Polyamory. Here there is no need to hold back your impulses, desires, or your heart. Sometimes I come on too strong for some people, but I have learned to trust my instincts…so know that you are among friends, because I want us to be the very best of friends.”
As Kali spoke, it was like listening to the purring of a large feral cat. Her expressions were beguiling, and her movements choreographed by Salome. She held out her arms to embrace Darcy, gliding forward until their bodies touched as Kali flipped her head to the side, simultaneously tossing her hair away from her face and placing her mouth over Darcy’s. Her lips were full and moist and parted so slightly as her tongue lightly darted out to part them. Darcy lifted her hand to caress Kali’s face. They lingered for a moment as knowing looks were exchanged, and as suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone, floating away to mingle with the others, leaving Darcy standing next to Ash, her mouth slightly agape, as a slight smile blossomed into a wide grin, her arms hanging by her side. Her face and neck were flushed and she suddenly realized how wet she had become.
Ash smiled and winked at her.
“And that, my dear was Kali. I know her well enough to venture that she is quite fascinated with you, and if my instincts are right, it is mutual. Mark and I are like brothers who share everything together. I would be remiss not to mention that I can see why he is so attracted to you, or that I share your desire that we should be the very best of friends. I applaud your choice of words, by the way…it is an expression that has become something of a term of art here…The Very Best of Friends…Kali could not have heard you, and if she had, would not intend to mock you. It is an expression whose definition you will find, becomes more limitless by the day.”
By the time that Darcy saw Mark again, he was talking with Merle, a pharmacist who worked for PharmaCorp, the parent company that had most recently acquired The Habitat and turned it into a primate research facility. Frederick was gingerly approaching Merle from the safety of Mark’s lap, only to turn and run several times. For his young age, he was quite adventurous and securely attached, but as soon as he caught sight of Darcy, all other interests were swept away as he ran straight to her, leaping into her arms, and hugging her tightly. Lilith would never have let anyone but Darcy leave the Habitat with Frederick, and it had taken Darcy several months of preparation, with increased duration and distance before she ever dared to go this far away. Mark had assured her that it was the perfect atmosphere for Frederick, as most of the grounds were landscaped tropical jungle. They both knew that Management would never be able to make a decision to let him off the premises, so they just neglected to ask.
While Darcy and Frederick exchanged signs and kisses, Mark drew Darcy and Frederick into the conversation, introducing Merle in the process.
“Hey, Babe. What do you think about the place so far? Frederick has been flipping out over the foliage, and I can barely keep him out of the trees. I’ve never seen him grin so much, and I can barely keep up with his signing. He’s very excited.” (Early on they had recognized that the same harnesses that had been in vogue in the 50′s to help restrain children, especially in public places would be the best way to protect Frederick any time they took him outdoors. A forty foot leash gave him enough range to roam comfortably, and most of the time they didn’t need it, as he tended to stay close in unfamiliar territory.) “Oh yeah, excuse me Darcy, this is Merle, one of the Pharmacists I told you about. Merle, this is Darcy…”
“Nice to meet you, at last, Darcy…You’re something of a celebrity in these circles, especially since Mark can’t seem to stop talking about you…and now I see why.”
“We were just discussing Merle’s latest discovery…courtesy of PharmaCorp…they were researching a new variety of anti-depressants. Turned out that one of the formulae has a bi-product that is just an analog isomer of the final product. It gets thrown out whenever they make a batch, but Merle discovered…well speculated at first, and it turned out he was right. The primary bi-product produces an effect on the brain that resembles a cross between Molly and electrical stimulation of the left parietal region…”
“…the God Phenomenon? Fucking brilliant…wow! Plus pure MDMA? Must be like the best Acid trip you ever had with a side of Yopo…”
“…well, that was a crude analogy on my part…Merle says it has to be experienced to really know…of course. And gratefully, it contains nothing that even resembles MDMA that could get it labeled as such, and it’s not in the least illegal…at least not yet, if we can keep a lid on this…but…Ash has already taken it. In fact he’s on it right now…so is Merle, and they are convinced it’s The Sacrament…”
“I prefer to think of it as the Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil…I keep thinking about the part in the Bible were God says ‘they think they are as we’, also implying a polytheistic view in the beginning of the Old Testament…way before the trinity…some people want to see God…others prefer to be God…in a half-dozen trials so far, it seems to be very flexible…as far as connecting the missing parts of any of our subjective realities…to give continuity to all things you see. I am Blissed beyond description…and charmed by your countenance, I might add.” Merle spoke in such calm, measured tones that Darcy and Mark hung on every word.
As Merle spoke, he began slowly standing up, or at least it seemed slowly, considering that Merle had been sitting cross-legged on top of a high-cut tree stump, and simply straightening out his long, lanky legs to stand up looked like an unending process, even though he accomplished the task effortlessly, with the grace of a crane. He was well over six and a half feet tall, somewhat thin, but wiry and almost too good-looking for a man. He wore a sort of Kaftan, or robe of some kind that bore designs unfamiliar to either Mark or Darcy. There was a sort of refined aboriginal look about it, as if it was a synthesis of several systems of hieroglyphs. Darcy and Merle just smiled knowingly at each other. She smiled reflexively, as she often did any time she saw a man taller than her near-six-foot stance, and he because he already knew how she felt…that all people either very short or very tall felt. The remarks (in good humor, but tiresomely inane), the looks they could feel whenever they stood up, or entered a room, or the isolation that one experiences every time you have to either stand on your toes, bend down, or otherwise attempt to either make eye contact, kiss, or align yourself in some way as to be on their (everyone else’s) level.
“It’s a good thing we’re outdoors…Ain’t you one long drink of water?!” Darcy quipped.
“I bet you play basketball…” Merle retorted.
How’s the weather up there?” Darcy asked.
“If you stand up too fast, do you ever get nosebleeds?”
“Wow! They should put a red light on your head to warn low-flying aircraft.”
“You have the most beautiful eyes…How’s that for one we don’t usually hear?”
Darcy gasped slightly, or perhaps she was afraid she did, as she found herself looking upwards into Merle’s eyes. Egyptian blue, which markedly contrasted his dark, almost black straight hair. Merle was Apache, except for his curiously blue eyes, (courtesy of one of his grandmother’s indiscretions, he was told). Darcy had become accustomed to only making that kind of eye contact in bed. This was proving to be one of the most interesting days she could remember in a long time, and for her that was saying something.
“At least that is how it appeared to me, and since I live here, take it on good advice, not for nothing considering how much weird shit I see around here all the time, but this day is special…speaking of bad manners, you’d think I was raised in the jungle or something…Please allow me to introduce myself…I am your narrator for this portion of your edification, enlightenment, and entertainment. I am Raul, a Cuban Tree Frog (Osteopilus septentrionalis).”
(Camera zooms out to reveal that last shot was over-the shoulder POV of small frog clinging to the bark on the trunk of a banyan tree. Next zoom in on eye of frog until all is black…)
“Hey! You don’t need five million dollars worth of special effects to suggest to you that you simply imagine, do you?…Go ahead, Reading could use a quantum leap like that in its conceptual development too…and so could we all.”
The Talking Monkeys: The Great Experiment
(Zoom out from center of frog’s eye to reveal over-the-shoulder shot of a telemarketing phone center cubby. Raul, our narrator, is on shoulder of one of the Member Care Advocates’ jacket, having hitch-hiked from his place of relative safety and comfort in the jungle, where last we saw him to This Place of Horrors that even laboratory test animals call “Where the Lab Rats go to Die”).
*Please note that Raul is wearing glasses, and a headset with boom mike, and reading the narration that you see here before you….
“So, what, did you think you were rid of me that easily after such a clever introduction?”
(Frog looks over eyeglasses with raised brow as he extends his left hand, palm up, imploringly as he slightly lowers his script. As he continues, the camera pans the cubby.)
“There is a computer, a flat-screen monitor on a cantilever arm, a physical telephone, (up to) three authorized and approved photographs, approved versions of about eight separate campaign scripts in sheet protectors on single ring binders hanging everywhere, a small dry-erase board, a drink mug, and half a landfill’s worth of food wrappers balled up like tumbleweeds.”
(“Even this is being read by your narrator, Raul, the Frog, who slightly whispers with the dispassionately detached impartiality of an Animal Planet voice-over”)
“Now I understand why they adopted the new, lower cubbies…no place to hide, further enhancing the concept of televised anonymity…you are not special…hit the green light…we see all, we hear all…and we are timing everything you do second by second…focus on this week’s stretch goal…too many personal breaks…you need to cut down on your fiber and drink less water if you intend to meet expectations…and if you don’t, the sides are too low to even hang yourself. God! I haven’t felt this sense of overwhelming hopeless Despair since that time I snuck into a high-school biology lab.”
“Observe the Telemarketer. Not the portrait of a happy, well-adjusted individual. His face is slack and devoid of enthusiasm. This was supposed to be a summer job, an interim or interlude to get him by until Something Better came along…it didn’t. How long can you fall before you hit bottom? He used to Dress for Success; suit and tie, the Full Monty. People used to mistaken him for Corporate…now he just barely skirts the minimum allowable limits of the dress Code. For over six months, his cubby sported a picture of a quote in German that bore the translation ‘Work shall set you free’ before someone realized it was a photograph of the entrance Gate to Dachau, and made him take it down.”
“When I first saw Charles, he had just come to visit THFWS (The Home for Wayward Souls). He had a desperate, exhausted look about him. That was right after he had his nervous breakdown…funny thing, though…call centers like these are one of the few places you can either get or keep a job when no one else will have you. The work place of the Doomed. It didn’t take long for Charles to become a regular at THFWS, or to learn how to channel his disdain for his occupation into an invisible contempt for his addiction to letting his temporary present circumstances determine his state of being. Somehow, the money seemed to come from unanticipated sources when he needed it most, and the rest of the time, he improvised, adapted and overcame (or repaired) with that cavalier air of detached compassion he learned so quickly from Ash, who had worked at the call center a few years ago, while he was trying to get THFWS financially afloat.
“That, by the way, was before Kali launched her website…it went viral in a big hurry…brilliant concept…it still not only pays the bills (even the legal fees), but may yet make the center financially independent…Yoga, Tantric, Kundalini, or Zen Eroticism…unflinchingly explicit…very sexy stuff for very spiritual people…controversial, and extremely popular, but, I digress….”
“Charles is going to participate in a ‘program’ (experiment) utilizing pre-recorded loops of anticipated ‘pivots’ using his voice, to be manipulated by ‘qualifiers’ who will not actually speak a word to any ‘targeted’ members ever. The theory being that three ‘Qualifiers’ can support one ‘Closer’ at any given time if allowances are made, as needed to ‘segue’ one ‘Closer’s’ lead to another closer by means of what sounds like a ‘warm transfer transition’ (also pre-recorded), allowing the second ‘Closer’ to take over if the first closer is busy. It all sounds ‘Live and In Person in RealTime’, but it’s all covered by probabilities based on research data that generally confirmed that at present, the vast majority of the people who actually answer unsolicited telephone calls from unknown origins are so dim-witted, drugged, drunk, senile and/or delirious, ignorant, and gullible that there really is not a great deal of need to present arguments in a Logic-Driven method as long as they are presented ‘Persuasively’.”
(“Raul continues to provide the voice-over,” quips the handsome and witty Raul until he is stopped by a voice in his headset…”Yes Sir…I understand…no more embellishments or improvisation on my part…I just thought ‘handsome and witty’ helped keep the thing light-hearted…no, no one gave me any such authorization…I understand…it won’t happen again.”)
“Raul blinks several times, wipes his glasses, and shakes his head as he reads ‘but the most bizarre part of this whole thing is that the ‘Qualifiers’ that are being trained are Chimpanzees and Bonobos. This is an experiment that has been years in the making, first training the primates to sign, then to respond correctly by listening for key words in what appears to be random speech by pressing a switch that is backlit with a particular icon associated with those certain key words at the next available opportunity when the member pauses. The key words are associated not by logical identification, but rather a hierarchy of needs that those words represent on a subconscious level. Anybody gullible enough to answer a telephone survey has contributed to that research on one level or another. The chimp doesn’t need to understand a single iota of what any of it means in order to simply associate a spoken word with a task, but they can quickly weed out the answering machines (press a telephone icon, thereby leaving a pre-recorded message), dead air, (different icon, scheduled for call-back at another time at least two hours later), and hang-ups that occur during the initial introduction. After that, the first few remarks made by the target are to be answered by pre-recorded messages that vaguely sound like they answer the question, but are really ‘set-up lines to ‘soften’ the Target while introducing the ‘Need’ by use of the Hierarchy outlined earlier. Properly applied, the Hierarchy is the equivalent of jangling your keys to distract a crying baby. In this respect, even the most successful and seasoned salespeople are by comparison, ‘loose cannons’ if they try to use Logic to manipulate targets that are NOT logic-driven at all. If the target gets through a specified series of responses, they are ‘handed off’ to the ‘Closer’. Although this ‘experiment’ appears to have legitimate value, (since primates are owned; they are not hired, and have even less rights that any human toiling in a ‘Right-To-Work’ state like Florida, so their only cost is represented in housing and maintenance) it would be naïve to assume that the real purpose of this project is even related to telemarketing, no matter how firmly their executives will proclaim otherwise, because they actually believe it as well. One corporate moron will receive ‘leaked’ information that Management is looking for something or another in the form of a pilot program to…(fill in the blank) because it needs to look like it came from within, even if its origins are much higher than appearances would lead one to believe. There is no better way to conduct any research than for the test subjects to believe they are participating in something that is totally unrelated to what is actually being measured. Add to that the possibility that the best way to keep top secret research secret is to conduct it as if it were researching something of much more mundane subjects.”
“Think about it…train an animal to take commands, to respond with sign language, to perform specific tasks to monitor computerized responses to specific stimuli…that does not question authority or make random moral judgments…that has faster reflexes, better hearing, and is at least five times stronger than any man…that does not expect a retirement or better benefits, will accept any ‘working conditions’ and will never try to set up a Union…and can be autopsied at any time if it is deemed necessary…who might be interested in something like that? …Who indeed…Remember, that when the Mercury Space Program was being created, the Primates outperformed the Humans on so many levels that it was finally decided to use Humans for the benefit of public opinion and interest.”
Raul looked like he was starting to recall those memories of that high school biology lab.
The Talking Monkeys: Management
You will read the term “Management” numerous times in the course of this story. Although it is somewhat purposely vague, as a concept, it is more important to understand what it represents, rather than specifically whom it is, as the identities are less important than the functions they perform, or why.
First comes Middle Mangement, the “Collaborators” of all work place functions. The term “Collaborator” was originally a World War Two invention used initially in France to describe the recently defeated citizens (mostly women), who were willing to suck Nazi Cock and/or perform “…any and all other tasks and assignments…as deemed necessary by Management…” for chocolate, nylons, cigarettes and other favors, usually at the expense of the rest of the others who weren’t. In France, it got your head shaved, while here it gets you a corner cubby, a badge, and other favors. In either case, it represents a person who is willing to sell out their own kind for personal benefit. If this seems like an unfair or harsh pronouncement, keep in mind that most Upper Management has read The Art of War, while Middle Management attempts to find new and imaginative ways to spin The Secret or The Power to their subordinates.
Management knows who their enemies are, and conducts their operations like Warfare, while the Employees are encouraged to think positive thoughts to bring positive results by being contented with whatever falls from Management’s Table. This is not to imply that The Secret, or The Power are not perceptive and valuable texts, but it is only after recognizing the subjugation and victimization practices in Management’s Warfare against their Workers, that one starts to look elsewhere to find out how to draw upon their own power by using positivity to affect their own lives.
Ironically, it would seem best to not Wage War against Management, but to rather redirect your own positive energies to your own devices. Middle management wants to have you believe than you can use positive thoughts to get better leads on a computer-programmed dialer that has pre-set parameters called “skill sets” to get better calls, rather than to use it to find better work…preferably something you love that rewards you rather than someone else. If the analogy of Middle Management prostituting itself to The Enemy seems extreme, then either you have never actually worked in either Upper or Middle Management, or you are sufficiently numb as to not even feel it any more when it is being done to you.
Upper Management can mean a lot of different things, since some corporations have vice presidents in charge of specific functions, who spend their time supervising that operation when they are not creating the perception of a need and justifying their own positions and salaries, often at the expense of the actual operation itself. Once called Efficiency Experts, Capitating Coordinators, or the like, they have to pay their salaries with the money saved by cuts and reductions in the production staff. More like Decapitation, it’s a corporate version of Three-Card Monty since Management is not likely to pay someone to spend more money without justifying it by taking it from someone else, and somehow Management prefers the idea of taking it away from the production staff so they can give it to some corporate cocksucker with an agenda, further evidence of the contempt Management has for their own staff, as if one Privileged Executive Life is supposed to equal three hundred rank-and-file workers.
This lowest strata of Upper Management are the Snake-Oil Salesmen of their realm, a sort of semi-legitimate version of the Long Con. They are generally contracted, rather than hired per se, and as such are often not company employees, but consultants. These are the guys that can sell a salesman a pipedream. They do not stay much of anywhere very long, and are about as useful as a Remora is to a Great White…at least as long as the Shark thinks so.
Then comes so-called Upper Management, most of whom can’t make a decision to take a crap without having “Legal” “look over it” first. Most of them spend the vast majority of their time and efforts just trying to keep their jobs. While they may be felons on any number of levels, they are not true Gangsters. Gangsters in upper management have all the swagger of a Made Man who has somehow leveraged his way into “Legitimate Business.” But even if he is a CEO, he still answers to a higher authority, one way or another.
Then comes The Government, part of which is also controlled by Wiseguys, rather than Wise Men. One day, The Wrong Dickhead from the Department of…, or the Bureau of…, “…and they just want to go over a few things…”. They are the Privateers of the business world…just doing the King’s business with Government Sanction…(These guys are also the intermediaries who may get used to manipulate an executive, or an entire corporation on behalf of Someone to whom allusions are made, but names are never spoken.)
Bigger corporations often own smaller corporations, and are not above wrecking one company just to benefit the other company, or to simply liquidate an acquisition as a method of securing capital. Bigger corporations are not above manipulating the government, its people, or their laws for as much as they can for as long as they can get away with it. If you get caught, no big deal…pay a ten million dollar fine for stealing five billion, and it’s no more than “the cost of doing business”
Government is just as likely to manipulate business as well, since even businesses that do not do government contracts know better than to just say no.
For these, and many other reasons, even when a business does something that looks too stupid for explanation, the chances are that it was done for other reasons not so easy to understand, by someone with no concern for the operation itself. Try to imagine a marionette being manipulated by another marionette, who is being controlled by a puppet master.
So when you read that Management has made some decision, keep in mind, that could be anyone, from a CEO’s wife to The President. Whoever pulls the strings.
The Talking Monkeys: Merle (as Introduced by Ash)
I first met Merle when we were enrolled at the University of Florida. He was studying Botany and Pharmacology, and I was enrolled in the Seminary. Back then, we didn’t pay much attention to gainful employment, or even life after college. We were in the moment…back then, our dreams and speculations centered around Utopian visions. Now our visions foretell of the Apocalypse. We both had generous scholarships, and came from the kind of middle-class homes that equated a college education with financial and social success, so there was no shortage of support of any kind. We felt Invincible. Our Needs were few, and we worked at pursuits that seemed to generate as much money as we needed, but didn’t require regular hours or interfere with our studies.
I played guitar and acted as front man for a sort of loosely arranged group of musicians that used to jam together. Each of us had our own arrangements, charts, and/or recordings of previous live performances that we would use to provide some identifiable semblance of structure, that we rehearsed in different forms so, depending on who was available at any given time, we could more or less show up at a gig, and just get into it, much like the way jazz musicians perform in some clubs. In a very peculiar way, they were our “Standards”, considering that we had an audience that usually was already familiar with the same influences. I recall someone calling the scene “Art Rock”, or something like that. We could be quite pretentiously unpretentious about form, or genre, and we catered to a very indulgent, but sophisticated audience.
It was a college town, so there was no shortage of well-trained versatile musicians, or dives, garages, basement clubs or bars; empty buildings awaiting their next future failed venture, and it was not at all unusual for other musicians we knew to just show up at one of our gigs, and jump right in. Sometimes we would hop from one club or practice session to another, or even crash an out-of-town gig to surprise a “rival” band…not that there seemed to be a lot of competitiveness in what we were doing…we were just doing it. To even get paid at all was great, and we frequently used most of what we got to buy more instruments, and electronics. We rarely ever spent much money on drugs, because there was also no shortage of fans and friends only too happy to see to it that we didn’t want for recreation, companionship, or entertainment. “Who Shall Entertain the Entertainers?” Indeed.
From my point of view, any money I got somehow justified all the money I was spending just to play in the first place. I realized at an early age just how much I loved to perform. The Clergy appeared to be a way to preform for an audience that was infinitely more respectable than Rock, or even Jazz Music, and Classical was way too straight-laced to suit my Nature. My folks were scientists, and they just wanted to be sure I had something to fall back on, preferably with a Health Care Plan.
We also had this shared following/audience of roadies, self-proclaimed agents (anybody that got us a job got ten percent), groupies, friends, zealots, and the most amazing group of hangers-on that I’ve ever known…college used to be like that…an intellectual, spiritual, and sexual Mecca for persons of like mind and aspirations…which leads us to Merle.
We called him Merlin the Magician because of his legendary talents with Botany, Chemistry, and Pharmacology, which he used to provide us with just about every sort of psychedelic, hallucinogenic, psychotropic, and stimulant imaginable and make it look like an experiment. He was from Arizona, so he had great access to many plants that were sources of Sacraments to the Aboriginal and Indigenous Peoples of North America. As a mixed breed Apache, he genuinely believed he was entitled to ancestral rights in the pursuit of his religion(s), which he had actively studied and pursued since his childhood. He was the son of a Shaman, and was well on his way to becoming an accomplished one himself. As much as each tribe strives to maintain their own cultural heritages, Merle had spent many summers traveling from one reservation to another, to swap magic with other Medicine Men and Brujos, picking up Mojo from every place he went, and eventually leaving a little of his own as well. He called it cross-pollinating, as he traveled like the bee, from flower to flower.
I had spent so much time and effort studying what I came to call Theoretical Theology that I did not recognize how far I was outside of mainstream religion or anything that remotely resembled any organized religion. I saw no conflict between my pursuit of deviant forms of music, sex, art, philosophy, theology, sociology, anthropology, or my own brand of spirituality and my desire to be a holy man, even if the prospects of finding a church to hire me were effectively nonexistent. Merle maintained that we were already both holy men by virtue of our chosen paths, as well as our actions themselves. He had wisely chosen a career path that would afford him means, and respectability as long as he kept himself within certain legal guidelines. I decided that I would try to conform enough to get hired by a Unitarian Universalist church that provided me with a lot of latitude as far as Theology was concerned, at least until I met Kali.
She came to us on the heels of a very ugly, messy divorce down in Palm Beach county that could have rivaled the Pulitzer divorce, had they been wealthier or more notorious. She had been sufficiently wise to get enough Hush Money in the settlement to be comfortable for a while, but she did not demand enough money to bring her future ex-husband into sufficient temptation to consider making her disappear, of which she believed him to be quite capable.
As it was there was a bit of tongue-wagging by a few of the more vocal and self-righteous married women within the congregation before Kali arrived, but we all found her to be intelligent, thoughtful, gracious, charming…and beautiful…especially me. We were married within the year, but already the clouds of controversy were looming on the horizon like a storm at sea, and eventually that controversy led to not only my dismissal, but the revocation of my membership in the Unitarian Church as well.
During this time, Merle managed to travel and gather experience pretty much wherever he chose, doing consultant work for several pharmacological labs. Whenever he was near enough, he would stay with us in our home. I did counseling and social work when I could get it, as much for the sake of my pride, which Kali respected, despite the fact that we essentially lived off the proceeds of her money and investments, which I largely to this day cannot pretend to really comprehend or understand, but I trust her instincts, as well as her intentions.
One time when he came to us, he brought Peyote he had just gathered during his last trip out West. Sometime during that visit, we sort of jointly received what most people, including myself would call an epiphany regarding the source of the controversy leading to my dismissal. Why not build a church around the very Principle that had precipitated my unemployment? Why not indeed? What has Brought About my Downfall Shall Become my Strength. Make Controversy the building blocks to set around the Cornerstone of my Church, which shall be a spiritual mission devoted to Polyamory, and in so doing provide a loving and creative environment of nurturance and support that would effectively channel and direct the same forces that by virtue of their strength can either destroy our culture, our families…even our spirits themselves, or energize and strengthen our thinking, our actions, and our approaches without Fear, Guilt, Sin, or Jealousy by embracing both Love and Sex without reservations or restrictions. To allow and encourage all of us to realize that we possess within us the power of both God and Goddess alike…The Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.
If it weren’t for Power, Death, Love and Sex there wouldn’t be any need for any Church at all….
You could say that Merle was my Wing-Man, and Kali was Our Angel.
The Talking Monkeys: Kali, Darcy, and Merle
As Mark and Darcy drove Frederick back to the Habitat, it was Darcy who first broke the silence. Gratefully, Mark issued a sigh of relief that went unnoticed by Darcy, who was wrestling with her words and thoughts. Mark really wanted an honest impression of what Darcy had just experienced, unfiltered by Mark’s expectations, and he did not want to prejudice her remarks in any way.
“Mark, I know how much these people mean to you…I wasn’t really prepared for what I experienced…” A fly was suddenly startled by the sound of a pin dropping somewhere in the car. “I want you to know just how honored I felt to even be in the presence of some of those people…I’ve spent most of my life rubbing elbows with some of the most intelligent people either you or I would be capable of appreciating, and I don’t know when I have experienced such a transcendent state of enlightenment that just passed as freely as a joint from one person to another…nobody was trying to be ‘heavier’ or ‘deeper’ than anybody else…fuck, nobody there seemed to be trying to outdo anybody else…you must know what I mean…at the lab they act like they are each trying to cling to the illusion that they are the smartest person they know…”
Mark laughed so hard he started to choke, as he just nodded in agreement.
“In all honesty, I was not prepared for any of that…precisely because there was NO pretentiousness, or even piety, as far as I have ever experienced…I probably should have said something sooner, but I was molested by a preacher that was my Daddy’s best friend…I ‘ve got no time for any truck from any religion…” Mark hung on every word ’til he thought he was going to have a shallow-water blackout. “…but this was nothing like that…nothing like anything I ever knew…I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but there was something about you when we first met…this…knowing…this calm…I fell in love with how you made me feel…they all have that quality…don’t get me wrong…it does not diminish how I feel for you…in fact, I am still in awe that you also have friends like that…and that they respect and love you as much as you do them…” She lowered her head just so slightly, and almost whispered, “…What I haven’t figured out yet is where do I fit into all this…? I ain’t all that special, and I don’t think I have a spiritual bone in my body…”
“Would you like one?…I mean I can pull the car right over here…I got a very special ‘spiritual bone’ that will make you call his name like you were preparing for the Second Coming…Hallelujah!”
“MMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmm!” She squeezed his cock affectionately as she stroked his thigh. ‘In due time, Darlin’…to everything, there is a season…and a time and a purpose under heaven…” chimed in Mark, (in harmony no less, mimicking the sixth harmony usually carried by Chris Hillman, if I recall correctly).
“Honey…I already know why I love you…why do you love me? What’s the big attraction?”
“Because you make it absolutely impossible not to…just by being yourself. You don’t have to ‘do’ or ‘be’ anything…it’s your nature, as well as mine….”
“So how come I feel…well, some of that feeling with…with all of them, in one way or another?”
“For the same reason they felt that in you…don’t underestimate yourself my dear. By the time you caught up with Merle and me…(and yes, Frederick…yes I know…you too.) we already knew what I suspected all along….”
“What? …and how did you know it?…know what?
“What the whole jungle was screaming, only you haven’t learned to hear it yet…I should have told you sooner, but Frederick has been teaching me telepathy for some time now, and we have been sharing it among a select few of us…and you just passed the test…”
“Excuse my impatience Darlin’ but WHAT FUCKING TEST?!?!?!
“There is a legend among the primates…of a woman who will liberate their species forever, who will enable the next Quantum leap in their tribes…it’s vague beyond that…you know what their language capacity is…well, their intuitive and spiritual capacities are far beyond that…I don’t want to get too far off the track…Kali is convinced you are The One, even though none of us really know what that means…What do you think of her?”
“Kali?” She was stalling, and didn’t want it to be too obvious, but the longer she thought about it, the more she realized she had nothing to prompt her to be in any way guarded in her answer to Mark. “She…is…just amazing! I have to admit, I was even more taken by Ash than you had warned I would be…it didn’t even feel like I was flirting, but when Kali suddenly appeared, I felt vey self-conscious about how…intimate our conversation had become…I felt like she was actually encouraging me, and all the while, I felt like she was…well, seducing me in the most easy-going, friendly way. I feel this incredible curiosity and attraction for her…OK, I admit her sexuality has to be experienced in person to really appreciate…but she made it feel like it was so much more than just that. I kept wondering what it would be like to take a bath with her…girly-sexy-intimate play…and I just met her. How can that be?”
Mark beamed a grin so wide he would have been wise to never show around any woman other than Darcy as he chuckled and shook his head, which ended in a sigh and a wistful smile.
“That’s just the way she is…I think I can tell you this, now that you’ve met her…until I met you, I thought I would never experience that with another woman and that Ash was the luckiest man alive…and I wanted to know that feeling…well, for myself. Somebody that belonged with me, rather than to me, and with whom I also belonged….”
“…and yet you’d just share her like a bottle of beer amongst your friends?”
“She would be the one doing the sharing, since I cannot pretend to own her. I would just consider myself fortunate enough to participate as she chooses to share herself with me.”
“Are you saying you would be comfortable sharing me with your friends?”
“No…but only because it would not be my place to presume to own you in the first place. But I would be honored for you to share whatever you choose with me. If you felt attracted to one of my friends, the real honor would be that you should trust me enough to also share that with me. And I would never lie to you…let’s face it, few things can beat the feeling you get in terms of validating your attraction for someone than by having your friends…or anyone, for that matter, expressing their attraction.”
“Well…I’ve been to a few ‘orgies’ in my life…they were fun, in their own way, but I didn’t happen to be in Love with anyone at the time…it was very hard to imagine experiencing anything that intimate with more than one person at a time…until I met Ash, and Kali…and Merle. Yeah…I have to admit, he really got to me…piqued my curiosity on several levels…I feel like he ‘gets’ me on more than one level…that doesn’t make you feel jealous?”
“It’s not that I don’t feel anything…in fact, in that regard, my feelings are almost overwhelming…because I Love you so much…and it just reinforces those feelings…reminding me how fortunate I am to know and Love you…and knowing that in allowing you to pursue your curiosity, as well as your heart that you will get everything your heart desires…which means you don’t have to ‘give up’ anything just to be in Love with me…won’t resent me for limiting you. It’s the ultimate Leap of Faith, not only for you, but for myself as well…not to mention my faith in the inevitability of all things to happen as they are supposed to, without the imposition of ‘Willfulness’…of course I believe in Free Will, and sometimes stubbornness or more correctly, ‘Determination’ has its virtues…but to accept the fact that the World will turn, according to its nature, either with or without us means to recognize that there are some things that we not only can’t control, we shouldn’t try to control in the first place…especially the heart. If it all ended today, I could only be grateful for having loved you…for having been given the privilege to know or even meet you at all. I can choose to continue to love you, without trying to possess or control you…my Love for you is my Choice…not even you can take that away from me. My ultimate gift of Love is your Freedom…and every time you return is a gift to me.”
Mark choked more than once, despite the fact that the words seem to flow from him like water from a mountain spring, and a tear or two trickled down his face as he spoke. Darcy was smiling that radiant, beatific expression Mark had come to love so dearly, despite that she also was sobbing like a child. His words touched her more deeply that she had ever thought possible.
Although they were only a few miles from the Habitat, Mark turned the car into a woods road, and they fucked like joyful Hyenas in Heat on the front seat, while Frederick sat in the back and masturbated.
The Talking Monkeys: …more on Merle…finally
In a not surprisingly short span, they were both attempting to regain their cum-posure, adjusting clothing, as well as the rear-view mirror, and generally fidgeting, giggling, and trying to catch their breath. In the midst of the scramble, they would suddenly, and in unison, grab each other by the face, make an impulsively amorous proclamation and scramble back to whatever they were doing before…(see above).
It was Darcy who spoke first, albeit a tad shyly…“So what is the story with Merle?
“Oh?…In regard to what? …I think I know what your are asking…Merle comes and goes…’Like the bee, from flower to flower…”
“I remember you said he was also a Botanist, but I got a feeling you’re talking about a different kind of flower altogether…”
“Actually, both…inasmuch as he has a knack for free-lancing all kinds of consulting assignments, even networking his projects ..,.and as regards his own personal ‘pollinating’ of various women’s flowers…well, he is very much in demand, but has little time for anything much more involved than casual or chance encounters because he and Kali are very much an item…have been right from the start, even though she met Merle through Ash, when he was making one of his visits. She treats both of them as equals, although she married Ash, and there is no jealousy or competition between them. It’s quite inspiring…”
She didn’t want to blurt it out, but she didn’t seem to be able to contain herself…this whole day had set the entire first floor of her brain on fire, and everyone on the second floor was dancing the Apocalypso, drinking Absinthe, and enjoying the view. “Is Merle going to be around for awhile?…I guess he usually stays with Ash and Kali….
“Would you like for me to invite him for dinner with us next weekend? Mark smiled in a benevolent, affectionate way that indicated that he not only approved, but understood. “Just remember the glove also fits on the other hand…in due time…it’s not like I’ve got an understudy waiting in the wings….”.
“I really have to admit…the thought does excite me…I mean, guys like either one of you two don’t come onto my radar screen very often…Did I die and go to slut-heaven? Somehow I don’t even feel embarrassed about this…God! Are you really OK about this?…What should I expect?…I’m babbling aren’t I?
“Joy has a way of attracting more Joy, once you open your eyes to the possibilities…and no, but although you haven’t died, would it really matter if it was like this?…and there is no need to feel embarrassed…if you can drop a deuce in front of me and not loose your train of thought, I’d say you’re ready for about anything. And last but not least, Yes, you are babbling like a bible-beater on Sunday, but as far as what to expect from Merle….” He paused longer than she could abide….
“Well…what?”
“There’s a whole lot more there than meets the eye…”
“I Figured he probably has a really big dick…please tell me I’m not wrong about that…I mean, I’ve been around…I’m no little school girl…but I have to admit I’m curious….and he is sooo tall!”
“It’s enormous…too big for most women in fact…but he has even bigger secrets and surprises than that waiting for you…but you will learn this all in good time, Lover, and I’d hate to spoil any of it, so I have to ask you as a friend, not to ask me to tell you any more…you’ll see in good time, and the suspense is half the show.“
“Just how big?…Enormous? Really?…???”
“You’re letting yourself get hypnotized by one aspect only…trust me, to really get to know Merle is a Mindfuck of Monumental proportions…that you don’t want to miss….”
It was just then that they reached their house, and Mark turned into the driveway.
The Talking Monkeys: Kali
Meanwhile, in another part of town, Kali bends over to adjust the temperature of the water for her shower, oblivious to the fact that her every move is being watched by a pair of eyes silently peering in through the bathroom window, high on the wall above her. Her nudity intrigues him as much as does her clothing…such nice, moist smooth skin, soft, but taught…it is senseless to cover it, he muses.
Kali lights a scented candle and then turns off the overhead light. She bends over again to add emollients, oils, and salts as she stirs the water with her hand. Lit by the candle alone, the twin mounds of her buttocks are illuminated, and reflect like two bright moons. His breathing increases rapidly, but she does not hear, yet suddenly, she turns around and stares up at he window, staring straight into the face of her observer, only to smile and “tsk!” as she shakes her smooth, shiny, shoulder-length chestnut brown hair in a way that makes it swirl around her face. She knows exactly how adorable and irresistible it makes her, and she does it for him as she throws him a kiss. “Raul…you are such a voyeur! Who would think a Tree Frog would gain such pleasure from viewing me naked…I can only imagine what or who you were in your previous life…and you are ever so diligent in keeping all manner of insects, mosquitoes, moths, and God-Knows-What away from my bathroom window, safe from prying eyes, save yours…and I do enjoy giving pleasure to anyone who enjoys the sight of my treasures…”
As she is speaking to Raul, gesturing upwards like Romeo up to Juliette’s balcony, Kali playfully drags her nails across her breasts, and then her belly, only to finally drag the backs of the tips of the nails of her middle and third fingers over the smooth labia, trailing downward as she turns her hand over, dragging her first and third fingertips over her mons again as her middle finger lingers just a little longer, furrowing ever so slightly between them.
“I beg you that I may take my leave, dear sir, for I must tend to important matters left unattended in my bath…you can stay for as long as it amuses you.”
As Kali begins to immerse her body into the tub, you would swear you could hear the steaming, swirling waters softly moaning as they enveloped every inch, every fold, every crease or curve of her soft, slightly voluptuous form. The water seemed to love her as much as she loved it, as they caressed and surrounded each other…where water meets industrial-strength organic moisture; wetness meets wetness…intimate spaces and places only the most trusted of lovers would ever touch, or lick…and a few places they might miss, depending….
Kali gently lowered her body even further into the tub, and began to lay back as the waters lapped at her full, pendulous breasts…a bath full of hot, wet tongues, licking her long, prominent nipples arching their backs skyward, her soft belly fully immersed, sliding up to her neck as mists, vapors and tiny clouds surround her face and invade her nostrils, her throat, and her lungs. She sighs deeply as she feels the water try to displace her slightly by lifting her gently to the surface…not floating, of course, but feeling “Lighter than a Feather” as the water buoys her spirits, as well as her flesh.
Tonight, she will be entertaining both Ash and Merle…this does not happen often; perhaps that seems surprising, or perhaps it doesn’t. It just depends on your perspective. Raul , who is something of an expert on the subject, maintains this sort of thing happens mainly on special occasions like holidays…and always on her birthday, or anything warranting Special Attention….
It’s not that Ash and Merle don’t get along…far from it. They enjoy and embrace their strength in numbers…they need it…despite their considerable individual prowess’ as lovers, Kali was capable of channeling so much sexual Chi from both of them, and could seem to store it like electrons in a capacitor, building up a charge of sufficient energy…to achieve the Sublime…the Rapture…The Knowledge…which is not an everyday thing. So it was decided that since Merle was frequently traveling and more nomadic by nature, and since Ash and Kali were more domestic, that Ash and Kali would enjoy the familiarity and solidarity of everyday life together (including the stressors, and all the rest of the ‘downside’), while Merle, ever the Nomad, would forever be a most welcome Guest, no matter how much they treated him like family. Merle, who adored Kali in a more reverent, less familiar way was very comfortable with that…he so feared that his relationship with her might become mundane that everything he did helped protect his two best and dearest friends from the Doldrums and Horse Latitudes of matrimonial monotony as well.
Besides, both Ash and Merle had other lovers, most of whom were all known to each other, and Kali enjoyed the occasional tryst with Mark, at least up until he moved in with Darcy…and now she was anticipating getting to know her better…much better, so as much as both men figured into her life, Kali still had time of her own to pursue all of her interests.
She lay her head back in the tub and closed her eyes. She tried to imagine what tonight was going to be like…
The Talking Monkeys: Prelude to the Evening
Kali stood in front of the mirror as she dried herself, as if taking inventory of her assets. She carefully studied the effects of the light on her soft, curvy form. How she looked from different angles, or from over her shoulder, twisting her torso, and of course, playfully bent over, looking backwards at herself in the mirror from between her ankles, face upside down, her hair dangling and swishing at floor length. Kali was not so much vain, as playful, and because of that, her actions were unselfconscious on a certain level. Yes, as an adult, she knew how to photographically catalogue a particular look, or pose, based as much on how she liked to be seen, as what worked for her admirers, her lovers…and for her fans. She stood all of about four-foot-thirteen and a half, but her figure was so…imposing by virtue of the exaggeration of her features, that each curve in her body seemed to call attention to itself, while contrasting its neighboring feature at the same time. She was childlike and whimsical, and had learned to be unabashedly unselfconsciously forward and precocious, if that word can ever be appropriate for an adult, and the fact that she kept every square inch of her body smooth and hairless further added to the illusion.
She raised her arms above her head, and giggled as she watched her large, round breasts levitate and swing slightly as she intertwined her arms that seemed to give her head a hug, nuzzling the skin of the inside of her upper arm, looking coyly at her image in the mirror. Whether she was frolicking like a fawn, or spreading her thighs, she could be both the ageless, shameless Goddess and the naughty vixen at the same time. Part temple prostitute, part Catholic school girl Lolita, part dirty country cousin, wise and innocently curious, she was all women at once. Imagine your Yoga instructor in crotchless panties, or the first girl that ever showed you her goodies behind the garage, under the porch, or in the tree-house or fort you had just built. Her complexion was a light mocha, and she had that nebulous sort of ethnic look that could as easily been Israeli, Arab, Italian, Greek, Slavic, Spanish, East , West or American Indian. Her face, like her body was a study of barely controlled generosity. Her cheekbones were high, and her face, including her nose, was just long enough to balance her large, disarming eyes. Her eyes were so dark that you could not tell were the pupil ended, or the iris began, and her lashes were long and dark. Her aureoles were large, puffy… dark as baker’s chocolate, and her nipples were so large, they looked to be erect all the time, but even the slightest tactile sensation would make them engorge and stiffen until they were as big as the first joint of your pinky finger. She had those National Geographic Titties you couldn’t take your eyes off of whether you were a fourteen year old boy pretending to read “the articles”, or a bored adult in the waiting room of the doctor’s office (doing the same thing). Her thighs and calves could not contain any secrets about her muscle tone as they swelled and receded accordingly any time she walked, or even shifted her stance. Despite her softness and roundness, she was very athletic and strong and gave the impression of a large feral cat, waiting to spring upon her prey. She was a study of contrasts and contradictions that seemed to change like the fluid landscape of the sea. There was a timelessness to her that balanced the Primal against the Refined, as well as the Sweetness against the Salt. She could be No Woman at All astride Every Woman who has ever been, or ever will be…Tonight.
Her lips were full and inviting, and if she smiled at you, she could make you forget your own mother’s first name, and maybe even your own….
And tonight, along with other anticipated functions, those lips would be telling the two most important men in her life of news she could barely contain, it excited her so. Her web site had finally gone viral…amidst a seemingly minor storm of controversy, and it now looked like The Sanctuary was so secure for funds that they were going to have to enlist the assistance of some serious financial and legal advisors.
A little over a year ago, she had decided to start up a website devoted to esoteric and spiritual eroticism. Throughout her life, she had devoted a great deal of time and effort studying what she had dubbed “Sexual Anthropology” comparing and contrasting the Culture of Lovemaking around the World, including a special interest in the erotic arts. From the Venus of Willendorf to Japanese Pillow Books or Persian and Turkish illustrations of Karezza texts, as well as a fair amount of Study of modern erotic art, including film and video, she had studied with the diligence of any serious-minded academician, except that she refused to be any more serious than was absolutely necessary, and sometimes, a great deal less. Her childlike playfulness was a cultivated art form she had developed the longer she pursued her studies.
What she had found to be most disturbing was the fact that although ancient erotic texts were revered and venerated, albeit somewhat apologetically, (at least among the academicians who knew about them in the first place) they were esoteric and occult to the zeitgeist of modern society, and even more scarce were the few worthwhile modern practitioners’ offerings.
“Its time to take Sacred Sex into The new Millennium and the Internet is just the thing to make that a reality, both practically and financially, and I believe that I can do it in a way that is authentic, spiritually and technically. It has to be genuine…the work of practitioners rather than actors, and devoted to the pursuit of the High Art of Lovemaking while still remaining essentially licentious, lewd, explicitly sexually stimulating…True Pornography minus the stigma.”
Her plan was to link her site to any reference to anyone’s version of Sacred Sex of one sort or another, as well as established types and genres of Modern Eroticism as Art, and providing still photographs of recreations of ancient erotic art and Sacred Sex to full-blown documentary style video depictions, even branching into live webcam performances, although she almost buried it away from common view, as if you didn’t know what to research, you wouldn’t be very likely to find it, and if you did, the website home page would only hint at what lay inside (i.e. you had to be able to read). And make it expensive, almost prohibitively so, to discourage all but the true believers, at least initially. The real question was if there was a large enough demographic of affluent intellectuals and connoisseurs to support both the site, as well as the Sanctuary. It had been a big gamble that had paid off handsomely.
Kali now represented the new face of Sacred Sex. Only she, Ash, and Merle had even dreamed of the power they had learned to unleash thus far, and tonight was to be a renewed awakening of the Sacred and Pagan Rites…the ways of Majic and Love to be used for Good Only…White majic and more to summons primal energies and spirits, a mingling of minds, and energies from the four winds, the four cardinal compass points, the four elements, the four seasons, the heavens above and the earth below.
Tonight, Kali would be not only the face, but the Altar herself.
The Talking Monkeys and The Home for Wayward Souls: The Willing Suspension of Disbelief
Earlier that afternoon, Ash and his band, The ArchAngels were rehearsing in the amphitheater at the Sanctuary for Saturday night‘s performance, as well as Sunday’s, which was much the same as Saturday’s, except for the fact that on Sunday, the content and material were less intense, and more family-oriented. Ash believed that he could still present the same message on Sunday as he did on Saturday night, but make it shorter, more concise, and more accessible to children, as well as some of the adults.
Ash had very successfully managed to combine the formats of Christian Televangelism and a Vegas-Style nightclub act featuring a band that played in the Rock and Jazz idiom, along with Late-Night Television-styled interviews with everyone from Buddhist monks, Islamic leaders, New-Age religious zealots, notable literary Atheists, Philosophers, Taoist and Vedic Gurus, experts on health, fitness, and nutrition, Martial Artists, and other musicians, to just about anybody that Ash found to be interesting who was also interested in being interviewed by Ash, who was gaining a reputation as an intelligent and perceptive vehicle for getting more obscure or less-than Mainstream opinions and points of view into the public eye without pandering to stupidity or ridicule. Although he often opened with a monologue like a late-night TV show, he always saved the best part for the finale, (which most would usually regard as The Sermon), which he used to launch into a song that would be written especially for that week’s message. He often tried to engage the audience/congregation in the song in a Gospel-styled kind of halleluiah chorus to give them something to take away with them that might stick in their minds, like an earworm; something to shut out the commercial jingles and TV theme songs, maybe even remind them of the message.
He took all his chances on Saturday night, which was usually a three to five hour show, so that he could do a sort of “Best Of” performance that ran about an hour on Sundays. Almost all of the interviews were conducted during the Saturday night show, and videotaped, so they could be edited and even projected onto a large video flat screen that flew above the Stage/Altar for the live audience. The Sunday performances were being picked up by a local-access cable television channel, although they ran it late at night, in order to avoid the wrath of the Moral Majority, and other Protectors of Childhood Ignorance and Superstition. Ash had been very careful to make sure that his congregation was prepared to accept the fact that parents should not be embarrassed about healthy sexuality or afraid to address complex intellectual or philosophical questions with their children. Ash also believed that everyone has to figure out what is true, or meaningful for themselves.
Given his vast knowledge of belief systems, although he was compelled to present all the information and knowledge he had acquired to his congregation, he was adamantly opposed to issuing dogma about what was right or true for anyone else. He was merely the messenger. He did a great deal of family and personal counseling to help them make their own decisions, but ultimately, it was up to them. So much information has been suppressed by one church or another, that it is often difficult to even know where to look for answers, or even information to make a conscious choice, and you are sure as hell are not likely to find it on TV, except maybe Ash’s show.
Ash was the son of a Lutheran Minister with a congregation in a wealthy suburb in Wisconsin, but he no longer considered himself to be a Christian, because he no longer considered himself to be exclusively Christian, and that was apparently not good enough for most Christians who did. He had gone through what most people would call a crisis of faith while he was still in college, studying for the seminary, and so it was that Ashton Mueller ended up with a Doctor of Divinity, a pseudo-Nazi surname, and little hope of finding either a specific religious affiliation, or a congregation…until Merle provided the inspiration (also by way of Kali) to provide a means for his followers to seek a path of higher consciousness not dependent upon the interlocking series of lies and manipulations that supported the religious and political Zeitgeist of Modern Man, and in the process, Ashtar was born.
He was tall and had a very Nordic-Viking sort of look about him. His hair was long, straight and dirty blonde. He was lantern-jawed, and his chiseled features were darkly tanned by the South Florida sunshine, which he worshiped religiously. He was long-boned, muscular, and very tastefully tattooed with a number of religious icons or talismans. It often seemed like every woman, young or old wanted to fuck him, and every man wanted to be his friend. He and Kali liked to go to Haulover Beach, a nudist-friendly section of oceanfront located on the Northern most edge of Dade County, just south of Fort Lauderdale, where they were usually accompanied by an entourage of members of his congregation. He was often quoted as having said that he felt much so more relaxed standing in front of his congregation clothed after having stood naked in front of many of them at the beach, that he began offering Sunrise Services right there at Haulover.
Ash stood in the center of the stage as he listened to the last echoes of the band bounce off the walls of the empty amphitheater staring out into the blackness. The band was tight, and this week’s material was well-suited for his sermon, entitled The Willing Suspension of Disbelief. He had been a big fan of Coleridge’s work since high school, and the theme of his message was about not only about lost faith and hope, but also how that fit into maintaining the Majik that allowed couples to stay in love for a lifetime.
Samuel Coleridge of course was writing about what it takes to make literature alive and connected to the reader, and how the story transported the reader out of his analytical mind into a state of being that became one with the story. In much the same way, Ash wanted to transport his congregation out of their mundane, analytical, rational, marginal existences into a world that embraced a Joy that continued to unfold, blossom, and bear fruit. There are all kinds of reality, and not all of them are mean or minimalist.
Ash always preferred to rehearse his sermons in the amphitheater, with the PA system and the assistance of his soundman, Lothar. The volume gave him what he called Big Balls, and an entire rack of digital special effects gave it the Ambience he liked to provide his own particular version of The Willing Suspension of Disbelief, including, surprisingly, “ canned laughter”, which helped him rehearse, which he also liked to consider “seed laughter” to help keep up the pace during the live performances, including signs that prompted Applause, or Moan that also flew above the stage. The rehearsals were more casual, and were generally improvised, but when he put on the headset to practice the sermon, he did it like The Whole World was Watching, and Ash always said, If God really is watching…let’s give him a good fucking show…Today was no exception. He had high hopes for later tonight, and he really projected that hope and enthusiasm into his delivery to his favorite audience…his band. He loved playing to the ArchAngels, because although they always got his most obscure and offbeat references, they also gave him the feedback he needed to keep it real…He took a moment to get in character, and to wind up for the pitch. He considered his voice to be an instrument, just like his guitar…only more like a baritone sax…
The Archangels broke into You’re Probably Wondering Why I’m Here (well so am I) by Frank Zappa, playing only the first eight bars, then abruptly stopping. (This was a fairly common theme that they employed to open Ash’s sermon that Ash and the band often referred to as Introductus Interruptus.)
There’s something I’d like to share with you all tonight, because it suddenly came to me as something of a revelation I experienced while I was in the Shower this morning. (Laughter)…No I’m serious…I’ve shared that with many of you before, that I get some of my best ideas in the shower (More laughter)…I can see where your minds are going tonight…And good for you! That means you’re still Alive, and Playful, but to move on, last night I had been reading about The Palace of Kubla Khan, both the unfinished poem, and many things written about it over the years…(Loud Snoring sound bite blares out over the PA)…(Laughter)…but to get to the point…Samuel Taylor Coleridge once wrote how part of what constituted good literature, in his opinion, required the Willing Suspension of Disbelief, whereby the reader is given sufficient provocation to suspend the mind’s analytical tendencies long enough to accept and assimilate the story, transporting the reader to a place outside the common mind, Where Anything is Possible, and freely accepted as real and true, at least for that moment, The Ever-Present-Never-Present Moment, which is where we all come in…You can take your analytical brain far enough into Quantum Mechanics to find reasons to believe in many different versions of what we call Reality that closely mimic any number of belief systems based upon Faith.
There is a symbol that has been a trademark of more than a few movements (…and an unknown number of tattoos) that involves the image of a Snake Eating its own Tail, called the Uroboros. It has been used to symbolize the conversion of matter into energy, and even the conversion of energy into matter, rebirth, and even the spiral verbal presentation style of the Aboriginal Fireside Talks.
Another way to look at it is this: If All Things Return to the One, to Where Does the One Return?
Ash touched the tip of his thumb to first the index, then middle, and finally both middle and ring fingers of his right hand, with the thumb on the bottom, palm facing down…he watched his hand perform the pantomime like it was a puppet performing there for everyone, smiled, and shrugged, dropping his hand beside him as he returned his focus to the “audience” not due to arrive until tomorrow night…
Funny how each of those hand gestures form a Zero, even though each one has a different possible implication of its own…but the answer would still appear to be Zero…even the One returns to Zero. Hmmmmmmm! But as always I digress…
In most belief systems, everything leads back not only to its origin, but its polar opposite, like Yin encircling Yang. Scientific research can lead us away from our faith in one form of Religion as well as toward faith in Something Else. Even Science presupposes to ascribe to dogmatic and axiomatic beliefs that cannot be empirically proven outside of itself…Faith in Science…. Sometime later, I will share a rant or two about how Physics, especially Astrophysics, Relativity, and Quantum Mechanics lead me from Despair to Rapture or if you will, how the road of Excess lead me to the Palace of Wisdom. But just for now, digressions and all, I would like to present an idea that may give you pleasure to pursue all the way back to your own palaces.
It is this; To Be the Hero of One’s Own Hero is to Steal Fire from the Gods. (This slogan appears on the flat-screen projection above the stage, quoting the source, a Navajo wedding vow). Think about it. When two people enter into a marriage, if both are equally committed to the other to ensure that whatever that significant other of yours wants or believes, you will do everything within your power to help them achieve, it does not matter if that world that you two create within and between yourselves is something the rest of the world considers to be a delusional fantasy, as long as you both can continue to maintain that reinforcement of Reality as you see it.
About a year ago, I was discovered by a member of the self-proclaimed, self-righteous Moral Majority and pronounced as be the Man Farthest Outside of the Religious Mainstream in All of America…and my career skyrocketed. His attack included my wife, Kali, whom he described as a witch: “The Pornographic Priestess of the New Sodom and Gomorra”, and as a direct result, her website went viral. He never bothered to explain how he found her website in the first place, by the way, since she had purposefully tried to obscure it from the Ignorant, the Superstitious, and the Salacious or Malevolent. Business was never so good before that, and so Kali and I decided to donate ten thousand dollars of our own money to the Church of my self-proclaimed enemy, which proves that whatever you focus your energies upon, you strengthen and energize it, even with hatred or anger, and we were most grateful for his support. In My world, the louder he denounces me, the more of his flock that are driven to me. Of course there is more than enough room in this world for both of us to prosper, so I wish him every good fortune. The more he attempts to draw attention to himself, the more my congregation increases.
It appears that there are a lot of people who crave the fellowship of others in search of not only earthly happiness, but also Communion with some sort of Higher Consciousness or Higher Power, who doesn’t try to convince them that God somehow does not want them to enjoy oral or anal sex, or even share that love with others who love them as well. We seek Union with Something Larger than Just Ourselves, as well as each other. We already know that there are no shortage of swingers’ clubs around here in South Florida, but there are also a lot of people who would also attend some kind of church as long as it didn’t mean you had to get up early on Sunday morning, just to be damned and berated for what you did on Saturday night…tends to make me believe Poor Mr. Preacher ain’t getting No Satisfaction, either from Mrs. Preacher, or anyone else…Nothing like Envy or Jealousy to bring out the moral prick in almost anyone. (Band launches into eight bars of The Stones’ Satisfaction and pulls out hard…Musicas Interruptus…)
Now just in case you find yourself asking ‘Brother Ash, are you suggesting…
are you saying…
that a lot of the self-proclaimed Modern Holy Fathers need to get laid?’
(Snare shot, kick drum and crash cymbal, damped)
Hell Yes! That’s exactly what I am saying!
When I look at most of those people, I think to myself…Shit! I can’t imagine any of those people Fucking Anybody…even each other. (Laughter as the Band break into eight bars of The Apocalypso, an original piece.)
Hey! Thanks, I’ll be here all night, and don’t forget to tip your waitress…
(Camera slowly zooms in for Extreme Close-up)
No, seriously, that’s what The Home for Wayward Souls is all about…a Sanctuary for Lost Souls of Common Mind. I’m not saying you have to be either a Sodomite or a Swinger…or even both…but if you are, we will still love you, because We Like the Way You Think…and it’s a great way to hook up with other people who do too. (Another rim shot on the snare, kick drum and damped cymbal crash, but no laughter.)
(Camera switches to Head and Shoulders shot.)
We often talk about ‘Communities’, like Swingers, The Gay Community, or the BDSM, or GLBT as if we all lived in the same neighborhood (although sometimes we do, and never know about it…), but here, no matter who you are, or where you live, this is Your Home.
(Band launches into The Apocalypso again, and plays it through the first chorus. The flying flat screen starts to project the final lyrics for the evening, which first Ash, then the rest of the band began to sing.)
First, I want for all the men to sing along with me:
“I woke up this morning and I said to myself,
I must be the luckiest man on the planet,
And every day, my Spouse and my family
Wake up and do everything
They can
To prove me right,
And I do the same for them.”
(Ash claps his hands as he lets his electric guitar slide around to his back, still suspended by its wide leather strap.)
Now I want all the women in the audience to sing along with my Soul Chorus, Ladies Please:
“I woke up this morning
And I thought to myself
That I must be the luckiest woman
In all the world,
And every day,
My Spouse and my family
Do everything they can to prove me right,
And I do just the same for them.”
Now I want the children in the audience to sing along with the Archangels:
“I woke up this morning
And I thought to myself,
I must be the luckiest person
In All the Universe,
And every day
My parents do everything they can
To prove me right,
And I do exactly the same for them.”
Now everyone (in Ash’s mind, at least) is standing, clapping their hands and doing a dance that Darcy had shown him earlier, that she called the ‘Bandaloop’, or something that sounded like that…and the Archangels did everything they could to make him look good, and sound good, and prove him right, because he did everything he knew how to return the Love right back to Everyone.
The Talking Monkeys and The Home for Wayward Souls: a work in progress
It’s Sunday morning…just barely…and I have been up for a couple of hours. It seems…it feels like my latest project is developing well. No matter what I think I will use as a theme for the latest chapter, the final product seems to take on a life of its own, which I consider to be a good thing because I no longer feel like I am forcing some set of ideas into the story, but rather that I am extracting a story that is already out there, somewhere, waiting for me to chronicle. I hope it does have a life of its own….
Almost all of my posts for the last six months are related to this project, whether they are titled The Home for Wayward Souls, The Talking Monkeys or a number of poems and other entries, like my posts on Polyamory, In Search of Cinnamon or The Crush, because it seems that whatever I write begins to manifest itself and roost within my private life, which is becoming more than I had ever hoped before…to see my dreams materialize….
Whether I was trying to create in the medium of Music, Visual Arts, or Words I have often felt as if I was intercepting some kind of code, like Venus Gas Music that comes to me like radio waves, if only I choose to listen.
Emerson once wrote how genius stands hand in hand, and one shock is felt the whole world round…I wouldn’t know about genius, but ingenuity and creativity are subjects upon which I feel qualified to comment. I thought the other night that perhaps whatever it is that represents the vital life force within each of us that leaves the body when we die becomes the Dreams we dream and the Ideas we entertain.
Perhaps as we host those Ideas and Dreams and conjure our own visions from their inspiration we breathe Life into Energy, as well as momentary Immortality into our Ancestors…Mortality Extension?…It’s just a thought.
I hope you find this story entertaining as it unfolds; it is now my Journal. Feel free to discuss this among yourself(ves)…I’d love to get some feedback. I will eventually put them all in one folder entitled The Talking Monkeys and The Home for Wayward Souls, like I did Dancing in Dreamland, my first novel.
The Talking Monkeys and The Home for Wayward Souls: The ArchAngels
The ArchAngels
Most of the members of the ArchAngels were college buddies Ash had known for years. When The Home for Wayward Souls became financially self-sufficient, Ash began contacting them to make arrangements to put them all on salary on a full-time permanent basis. Their talents and skills ranged from “professional” musicians who were proficient sight-readers who fully understood the fundamentals of Harmonization and Theory who had been schooled to players who were strictly “by ear” but who possessed an uncanny knack for keeping up with everyone else who nonetheless provided a great deal of originality and innovation that often took the best skills of the schooled musicians to interpret into charts and arrangements for the entire band.
Although the original ArchAngels rarely ever performed in any configuration larger than about seven members at any one given time, their repertoire was gleaned from over two dozen regulars, some of whom would appear at the last minute and simply “sit in” with the rest of the band who had rehearsed during the week. In similar fashion, the new, improved ArchAngels who performed on a weekly basis and rehearsed on a daily schedule were often augmented by guest players who were not paid who were usually long-time friends of Ash, as well as occasional guest stars who sat in just for “shits and giggles”. The Sanctuary was fast becoming known as a haven for innovative musicians and a prime venue to showcase their talents, as well as to just enjoy playing and exchanging ideas among the Avant-Garde of their field.
Although Ash had studied several semesters of Harmony and Theory in college and was not only a proficient player, but a skilled writer, the ArchAngels were like a comet that Ash had hitchhiked a ride from, and as bandleader, he often referred to himself as The Tail that Wags the Dog. He was as grateful to act as host, (just to be a part of a band that was this good) as his band members were to having a regular gig that paid reasonably well and provided healthcare and retirement benefits in a field where that had been previously unheard. Ash and Kali both considered the ArchAngels to be their family, and they were frequently guests for meals and other occasions. When there were sufficient guest quarters available that were not being used by either guest speakers or out-of-town celebrities, they were often in use by members of the band, who might not even leave the compound for days at a time.
His background singers, the Soul Chorus came from every genre, but all had to be proficient and knowledgeable in Gospel. As long as they could harmonize, improvise, and hit the right notes, they all brought something unique to the mix. One of the sopranos was schooled in opera, and had tremendous range and discipline, but could get funkier than a Baptist minister’s scrotum in July when the occasion and need arose. Most were either rock or jazz vocalists, but with that much talent, there was no room for prima donnas, and as a rule the ladies quickly learned you either had to get along or get out because if it wasn’t fun, and if it didn’t seem effortless, the whole point would have been lost.
The percussion and rhythm section bordered on organized chaos, because they frequently used two complete trap sets, congas, timbales, gongs, marimbas, chimes, vibes, tubular bells, steel drums and just about every other sort of noisemaker or toy that might appeal to a percussionist’s tastes. These “drummers” were by far the most animated, energetic, and childlike members of the band. They could get a little unruly or out of control at times, but they were also the driving force behind almost everything that they performed, and seemed to take it upon themselves to ensure that everyone was having a great time.
They also tended to be practical jokers that favored sight gags and physical comedy, which they often carried out extemporaneously during the performances, especially on Saturday nights. It also was not uncommon for the members of the rhythm section to trade roles, even in the middle of the performances, jumping around and changing instruments or seats without warning. Raphael, the bassist was the unofficial leader of the rhythm section because he was well-liked and good-natured enough to keep up with their shenanigans, but also highly respected as a musician who had an uncommon presence to him that could have been menacing were he not so affable. He made it easy to do what he told you to do, but if you veered off course too far you risked bringing out the gunnery sergeant in him…not a person you would want to piss off.
Neville was a Rastafarian who shared the stage with Grant, a die-hard Metal Rocker who claimed to be somehow related to Aynsley Dunbar, but nobody cared enough about to either refute or verify. The longer Grant was with the ArchAngels, the less he seemed to need to mention it; besides, he was becoming something of a star in his own right. Yoshi was a true master of tuned percussion from vibraphone to every manner of bell or chime, including steel drums, sometimes doing duets with Neville. Grant was the only member of the rhythm section that looked like he was chained to his seat. Neville and Yoshi would practically fly from congas to tympani and back while Grant laid down a backbeat as regular as railroad ties. Sometimes Neville would play counter rhythms on his trap set giving certain original pieces they had written a decidedly jazz polyrhythmic feel. It was also not unusual for them to press other members of the band into service if they were not actively playing their assigned instrument at the time.
The keyboardists were more like orchestra conductors, given the fact that they not only coordinated pianos, organs, synthesizers, and string ensembles, but they generally wrote the charts for the reeds and woodwinds. Karan also played viola and cello, as well as flute, and on occasion even performed on trombone, making you think of Glenn Miller (but only if you were either old enough, or happened to be a musicologist). She had what is sometimes called perfect relative pitch, because she had a very keen ear for intervals and could almost instantly identify which instrument…or voice was sharp or flat, but could still reference all the pitches, even to an out-of-tune piano if necessary. Ian was her perfect co-conspirator, and an understudy of hers who had been taking piano lessons from her since he was eight years old. There was an unspoken language that passed between them in the form of music that, so matter how polyphonic or abstract the tonality of one or the other one got, they effortlessly resolved the harmonies in a way that Ash described as a musical uroborus, although Karan preferred to call it soixante-neuf harmonization. Given her proclivity for…well, let’s just call it mischief; it was no secret that her best student had been studying a myriad of things under her tutelage, and although he was almost twenty years her junior, he was not the least shy about offering that “We make Music like it was Sex because we also make Sex like it was Music.”
Red played tenor and baritone sax, occasionally both at once, like Roland Kirk. A self-described electric be bopper who got his nickname because of his long strawberry blonde hair; no one had any idea how old Red really was, because to listen to him talk, you would think he was at least seventy, just by his fixation with fifties jazz and its jargon (everyone was a cat to him, for instance), but he had all his hair although his face had that bronzed appearance that no one except George Hamilton or a homeless person gets, including the leathery wrinkles. Mutton chop sideburns almost met the walrus/Foo Manchu mustache offset by a soul patch under his bottom lip. The only time anyone had ever seen him without his sunglasses and his hat was when Ash and Kali went to visit him in the hospital right out of surgery…still recovering from the anesthesia, they gave the hat and glasses back to him by way of the ER, knowing it would be his first request. He even swam in the pool in his hat and sunglasses, and it was rumored that he bathed and showered in them, although Sonja, his mulatto Puerto Rican girlfriend who put him in the Emergency Room after she stabbed him was unavailable for comment as to whether he slept or screwed with them on. It would only be a short matter of time before there would be a new expert on the subject, however, if any of them had been curious, since Red rarely ever was found wanting for female companionship for any significant length of time.
Ishmael played alto and soprano saxes, clarinet, and flutes, and had degrees in both Mathematics and Physics, as well as Music. Ish was a germophobe, although he was quick to point out to anyone who called him one that the more correct term was Mysophobia, (fear of uncleanliness). He carried a battery powered ultraviolet light with him everywhere, scanning for evidence of the presence of bodily fluids. It was embarrassing to be somewhere in public and witness him scan all the adjacent surfaces within his reach, but it was also disturbingly unsettling to watch him repeatedly confirm his worst suspicions and thereby make them ours as well. The truth is, most of us really don’t want to know all the things we touch that are somehow contaminated by urine, mucous, semen, vaginal alluvium, saliva, dander, miscellaneous insect debris, hair, sweat, blood, and feces, otherwise you’d be as afraid to get out of bed, as to stay in it. He was also a Sephardic Hasid. He felt out of place no matter where he went, until he joined the ArchAngels. The characters he encountered were perhaps a bit more bizarre than out in the rest of the world, but here he was respected in his own right as much as everyone else, so it was easy to do the same for them.
Since Ash was the bandleader and front man, he got plenty of opportunities to play flashy guitar solos when he wanted to, but Zack was really the HMFIC when it came to all matters pertaining to the playing, caring and feeding of the electric guitar. Originally from Nashville, and a master of everything from Country to Rockabilly, to Jazz to Metal, Shred, Grunge, and everything Jimi Hendrix or Eddy Van Halen ever played, he learned electronics and avionics during a brief stint with the Air Force during his late teens and early twenties, siting “creative differences” as the reason for his departure as soon as his tour was up. He drank a bit too much and practically chain smoked marijuana. He was trained in Shuri-Ryu Karate, an avid firearms aficionado, and a Zen Buddhist/Taoist who referred to himself as a Pacifist, although in truth, he was less Pacific and more Fist. He could somehow snap from being one of the most good-natured and patient individuals you could ever hope to meet to going right to the brink of physical violence without batting an eyelash or even raising his voice if threatened. It was spooky to observe. It was like he flipped a switch in his head that went from Poet to Warrior, but he rarely displayed any anger in the process, just resolution, acceptance and a certain degree of regret. He regarded violence as a “sad reality”, but refused to be a victim. He was a Zen Dharma Bum, part Redneck, part Shaman and Visionary, full-time Hedonist. He met Ash in a Dojo in North Miami Beach and they had been friends ever since.
Add two Roadies, Otis and Mickey, plus Lothar, the soundman and electronics wizard. The ArchAngels. Travel agents to a higher reality where Escape Velocity is Ground Zero.
The Talking Monkeys: Charles
Charles
Charles raced back to his cubicle to avoid any additional occurrences being recorded on his schedule adherence record. On a fifteen-minute break, he was allowed a one minute “grace period” before he accrued half a point. Anything up to three hours was also half a point. Beyond three hours was one point. Sixty-One Seconds late for work was half a point, up to three hours; no doctor’s note, traffic citation, accident report or note from your mother made any difference; if it was an “Unscheduled Event”, you took your half a point, no exceptions. If you clocked off your computer more than three minutes before the end of your shift, you got half a point, but if you were smart, you waited for your supervisor to clear you after it was established that there were no more calls in cue. A supervisor could make your life a living hell if they did not actually like you, because by PharmaCorp’s rules, you were already fucked by definition, since you were only tolerated by The Management for as long as you didn’t bring too much attention to yourself, made them money, and didn’t cost them any more than anybody else.
It was not at all unusual for an employee to receive an “Atta Boy” (complimentary report from a member/customer/patient), only to have the call reviewed by a member of the Quality Management Team, and receive negative, derogatory, or disciplinary actions to be put in their file, to be used at corrective action hearings, or during yearly evaluations, when your pay raise, if any, was determined. Keep Your Head Low…Stay Below the Radar at All Times.
For every Memo or SOP, there is its antithesis, waiting, to be sited by Management, at their discretion to fit whatever agenda suits their purposes at that time. No Exceptions (…except at the sole discretion and express stipulation of Management, as determined by them, at any time, and without any further warning or written change of policy).
Charles had acquired IFMLA (Intermittent Family Medical Leave Act) certification for a short laundry-list of medical conditions that had been documented since he began to work for PharmaCorp. If he was going to be late for work, or needed to take off too much time for his own doctors’ visits in addition to a number of other medical conditions for which his wife was being treated, as long as he had an adequate supply of PTO (paid time off), he simply needed to call out on the Attendance Line, call his supervisor, and then log onto an automated response telephone line run by an independently-owned contractor that took about fifteen minutes to record, if everything went well the first time…it usually took almost thirty minutes, even if you were prepared with the claim number, ID number, password, date of claim, time of claim, and type of claim. It was not at all uncommon to have the automated response system inform you that they had no record of that claim, and then disconnect you without warning or recourse. If it required being referred to a live person, that time would usually last about an hour. Believe it or not, although by comparison, Charles had learned how to use the system to his benefit; it still required him to document illnesses and conditions he had acquired while working for that system, and even then, your lunch and other scheduled breaks could get you fired. Twelve points in twelve months equals termination.
Last week, an associate of his had been fired without warning for too many accruals. Just like that. Came to her desk right after lunch and Security escorted her away to (In)Human Relations for a meeting, while another supervisor cleaned out her personal belongings from her desk, placed them into a white cardboard archives box, and handed them to her as she left the office, once they told her she was fired. No previous incidents, So sorry. Just like that.
Eight years earlier, he took the job thinking it was a temporary alternative… (to being unemployed). Freedom Medical Supply was then bought by Rexco, who was then bought out by PharmaCorp, his current employer. Four years earlier, he suffered a general nervous breakdown. Anywhere else, he never would have been able to keep his job. Here, hardly anyone noticed. He had been up and down so many times he lost count. Eighty thousand dollars in commissions, plus over thirty thousand in salary and overtime in one year, but less than half that amount a year later. Sixty grand gross the next year, and half that the next. He was back on the upside for about the last year, but any good fortune that came along just made him hold his breath as he prepared for the next shitstorm…not if, but when….
He often referred to himself and his peers as Lab Rats. As he saw it, they all were participating in a carefully controlled experiment in Human Engineering, to see exactly how much productivity could be extracted from a human being before it was officially documented and proven to be inhumane. Fuck the MLD (a pharmaceutical reference to the median (lethal) dose needed to kill one-half of its recipients.)…just wait until Congress decrees it to be inhumane, and then just claim “Who Knew?”
Just like the tobacco companies, except that in this case, psychological harm and mental impairment are very difficult to track and document in terms that the courts would find to be meaningful or significant. Similarly, being able to link cardiac, cancer, or diabetic diseases, or even erectile dysfunction to stress might prove to be even more difficult, no matter how obvious it appeared to the doctors who treated those employees. The healthcare insurance that PharmaCorp provided was a PPO, and the network providers in general had a distinct proclivity for avoiding addressing the issue in the first place. Most of the providers worked in the same building, and were sub-contracted by a single Management and Payroll contractor. It doesn’t take too long to realize upon what side your bread is buttered. Risk Management (Damage Control) Divisions work
hand-in-hand with Legal departments to push that envelope as hard and as far as possible, using seemingly unlimited resources and funds to discourage any challenges, even to what would have been regarded as flagrant violations of several civil rights and liberties formerly believed to be Constitutionally guaranteed.
How much time was spent on “personal non-work” (Bio-Breaks)? Management knows…to the second. How much time was actually spent “talking”? It’s also timed to the second automatically…. What was your “wrap-up time”? Tick, Tock, Tick Tock….What is your Adherence? How many conversions? What is your ratio of Rx’s per hour? What is your work percentage? Better hurry up, the clock is ticking, the recorder is documenting…Charles began to joke about “repetitive thought injury,” calling it “Cerebral Tunnel Syndrome.” All verbal responses, even the rebuttals, were very tightly scripted. If you stuck close enough to the script, you could even type while you rattled off paragraph after paragraph of required statements, legal disclaimers and other verbal mantras that no longer required mentation to recite. The script was the doctrine and dogma of the call center, and all heretics were subject to be burned at the stake (at the sole discretion of Management).
He would awake from bizarre dreams involving programs that wouldn’t open, or screens that populated with inappropriate information, all the while chanting the script. Then he started to notice that he couldn’t recall familiar names or words or terms that once sprang from his tongue like flushed quail from a bush…or his own phone number…or the name of an old friend.
It was the brain’s version of repetitive motion injury. He speculated it was from excessive stimulation of specific sets of neurons causing a build-up in acetylcholinesterase in response to high levels of acetylcholine caused by the rapid-fire stimulus-response mediated reactions to a very limited number of stimuli, but that was just his own best guess. After all, he was just a retired paramedic, not a neurologist. It just seemed to him that it was too much like stepping on the gas and revving the engine with the brakes locked and the transmission in gear. And that never even took into account the effects of SS/NRI (selective serotonin/norepinephrine reuptake inhibitors) that so many of his colleagues, as well as he were taking for depression. Charles once described the effects of these “next generation” anti-depressants as like experiencing a home invasion of your brain at the hands of party crashers you never met before, or having homeless people set up housekeeping in your attic.
He also began to realize the effects of the two-edged sword of stress and depression upon his general, as well as his mental health. Eventually he realized that after he could no longer feel anger over the daily offenses to his character and intelligence, the Depression would set in. For a long time, those seemed to be his choices, Unruly Anger or Compliant Depression. Eventually, humor proved to be his saving grace, although it frequently got him into trouble with Management, or rather middle-management, who became his nemesis over his “attitude”, fearing that it might “corrupt” the other employees.
Charles no longer possessed the ability to feel fear the way he had once felt it before. For one thing, Romance was back in his life in a very real way, and he and his wife were back in love and back on track as a joint entity in a way they had never experienced before, after over twenty years of marriage and three children, no less. Over the years, they had grown progressively farther and farther out of sync until only dysfunction and hostility remained until a series of intriguing coincidences brought them together again. Off and on, one or the other would try to revive the corpse of their marriage to no real avail. It was as if this was the one thing in his life that was so hopelessly fucked up for so much of his life that when he finally realized how easy it is to be happy and essentially fearless, a discernable calm passed over him that had been conspicuous in its absence. He said that Zen had taught him the difference between being emotionally dependent upon the kind of love that needed to be reciprocated from love that needed no payoff, that gave you pleasure just to give without expectations…now for the first time they were both doing the same thing at the same time for each other.
They spoiled and indulged each other in every way they could, even when they were broke, because acknowledgement, validation, appreciation, and some good old-fashioned idolatry cost nothing. As a result, it seemed like nothing threatened them anymore, as long as they had each other in the here and now. It seemed like they encircled each other in a protective spell of positivity that remained unbroken and imparted a state of mind that is infinitely calm and focused that generates, self-replicates, and attracts more Joy and subtle manifestations of power and peace into Life itself. They became fearless as each became the other’s idol.
Charles was something of a Jack of All Trades, but he had developed a mastery of more than a few things that made him invaluable to The Home for Wayward Souls and in many ways, he could have been their poster child, and The Home for Wayward Souls was a perfect outlet for his energies. He generally shunned the spotlight, and preferred to play a more supportive but occult role. His expertise ranged from Music to Martial Arts, from Saucier to Security and Countermeasures, from Medicine to Mayhem, from Electronics to the Occult, Auto Mechanics and Gunsmithing. He could troubleshoot almost anything that was broken or inoperable well enough to at least to get you home on a wing and a prayer. He loved to improvise, and if anyone knew a way to make high explosives out of a stick of butter, it was him.
The Talking Monkeys: TeleMarketers
TeleMarketers
This may be a good point to call attention to several ideas worth noting. Chimpanzees, Bonobos, Orangutans, and Gorillas are not monkeys. The fact that they cannot vocalize their displeasure over this common misparlance does not diminish the vehemence of their umbrage in being categorically misassociated with such lesser primates. Although racism or even breed prejudice is a regrettably common and repugnant offense in both the animal and human species, I feel less inclined to begrudge our hairier cousins for their misdeeds than I do Man(un)kind. Racism is a fact that cannot be ignored, for in our ignorance we have done terrible injustices to ourselves, as well as our victims, but trying to pretend to be oblivious to differences in race out of political correctness deprives us all of the benefit of insight and humor in seeing ourselves as both unique and yet the same.
Charles was a team leader for The Chimp Project, although his supervisors told him it was called the Qualifier/Closer Feeder Project, which in itself was a misnomer insofar as both Chimpanzees, as well as Bonobos were used in the project which included a mixed-breed Chimnobo, (as he was originally dubbed), who quickly pointed out that he preferred to be known as a Bonanzee, because he liked the association with both Bonzai and Bonanza. His name was Frederick, and the “trainers” who were trying to ascertain just how far his linguistic abilities could be developed in the absence of vocalization were reportedly getting taught a lesson or two themselves, once they “discovered” Frederick’s uncanny ability to communicate telepathically. In truth, it was more of a matter of Frederick being able to finally break through the researchers’ oblivion and bias.
None of those results, tests, or findings were brought to the attention of Management because, first of all, it was never authorized, and secondly, the researchers involved did not want to expose themselves to ridicule or disdain from the scientific community. But it was certainly an incredible serendipity for those involved who actually experienced it, and it was Frederick who had coined the term Talking Monkeys to describe not only the Humans involved in the project, but also the Project itself.
Charles had become privy to all of this because of his conversations with Mark and Darcy, the Trainer and Handler who attended numerous events at The Home for Wayward Souls, which most members called The Sanctuary (which was actually the amphitheater where most of the services were held, or performed, if you will). They had only coincidental contact at PharmaCorp, but became friends at their place of “worship”. Mark once said “We worship Life…God can take care of himself…but Life needs Nurturance.” Ash later heard of the remark, and was so impressed that he worked it into an entire sermon.
As mentioned before, Charles had become a TeleMarketer out of regrettable circumstance rather than a plethora of more desirable choices. Charles’ skills and experiences were wide and far-reaching, but when he found himself both grounded and shipwrecked by his previous career occupations, he eventually washed up on the shore of The Island of Lost Souls…Telemarketing. Frederick was Charles’ link to the outside world of potential customers, or Leads who were qualified by Frederick to eliminate the members who were either not interested in signing up for PharmaCorp’s services, and would be channeled off to another department, like Customer Services, or who could be delayed with prerecorded messages until Charles or another secondary feed could be assigned to a Hot Lead with marketing potential.
Charles had two cousins that were hearing impaired, and had taken the time to learn American Sign Language well enough to communicate with emergency patients he encountered as a municipal Paramedic. It was a delightful coincidence of circumstances that Charles got to meet (and communicate) with Frederick through Mark and Darcy, because not only did they work out of two physically separate facilities, but Charles, as well as the other participants in the “Feeder Project” were never even informed that their qualifiers were not human. Mark and Darcy had sworn Charles to secrecy about the facts of the project because it had been made very clear to them that any leaks about anything associated with The Chimp Project would have dire consequences for all those involved. The so-called “Talking Monkeys” project was in fact a small part of a very convoluted series of experiments with far-reaching future implications, depending on the results of these initial findings. As omnipresent as PharmaCorp was in both the business community and everyday lives of millions of people, they were small potatoes to the real movers and shakers who were quietly monitoring those results from a very safe and remote distance…at least for now.
Telemarketing has become yet another lint-trap or catch basin for both Angels who fell far from grace from very high distances to knuckle-draggers who barely stand upright. Sometimes it only takes one misstep to go from a six-figure salary to homelessness, and Charles had done it more times than he could count. He was just grateful that it hadn’t had to come to this until fairly late in his life. For now, telemarketing would almost pay his basic bills with few frills, indulgences or perks. And also for right now, The Home for Wayward Souls had shown him a way to achieve a type of fulfillment that no career could offer. He sought involvement with other people of like mind. Now it was beginning to look like there were some very interesting overlaps or apparent coincidences and circumstances that seemed to be drawing themselves together of their own volition.
From soccer moms to strippers and aged semi-respectable crack whores, real estate agents, mortgage brokers, automobile salesmen, yacht brokers to marine mechanics, electronics technicians, construction workers, waitresses with masters’ degrees and heterosexual waiters, overeducated shitheads who don’t appear to be capable of tying their own shoes, chefs and short-order cooks, bartenders, middle-aged widows and divorcées, bright young kids who are trying to work through college and college professors who broke the wrong rules, senior citizens who couldn’t or didn’t want to have to live off just Medicare and Social Security, nouveau riche Aristocrats who hit the skids, anybody with enough skeletons in their closets to fill a neighborhood graveyard, but not enough to involve time in a federal penitentiary, (unless they are involved in the Witness Protection Program), African-Americans, Hispanics, Asians, Arabs, East, West and American Indians, and Carribeans of every stripe and stature, Caucasians with no imagination, focus, direction or purpose who just fell down the rabbit-hole, all trying to get ahead, or get by until something better comes along, if there is a call center in your neighborhood, this is where they will land eventually, if they fall far enough. When the economy tanked, the pickings were never so good.
Then there are the infirm, the disabled, and the marginal who come to the call centers. Morbidly obese diabetics, chronic lungers, and the psychologically infirm, wheelchair-bound paraplegics and amputees, they roll, limp on crutches or half-crawl into work, dragging their oxygen and insulated containers for their insulin with them, or people just nuttier than squirrel shit that couldn’t possibly hold a job anywhere. Where else? A yard-and-a-half of ass hanging over both sides of the seats of their electric carts with nasal cannulas drooping over their upper lips like Frito-Bandito mustaches, they all have a workplace to call home, special parking and handicapped-friendly access to every corner of the building. “Give me your Tired, your Poor, your Huddled Masses yearning to breathe free; send these, the Tempest-tossed to Me…we’ll leave the light on.”
The Talking Monkeys: TeleMarketers…But Wait! There’s More!
The Talking Monkeys: TeleMarketers…but what! There’s More!
“…Call before Midnight tonight and receive a free oven mitten.”
Just in case it hasn’t been made exceedingly clear, the physically infirm are not the ones who present the most disturbing vision of a call center. Their lot in life has already been cast, and it was not a matter of choice. But what grabs you by the eyeballs are the ones who choose to acquire enough facial tattoos, piercings and jewelry to set off an airport metal detector and earn them a free escort by an air marshal. Goths, Bikers, and Submissives embrace the branding irons of their respective cults. Their commitment to their domain requires isolation from the straight, vanilla-sex rank and file. They neither crave nor know how to accept acceptance or approval from those outside their ranks due to the rigid conformity required by their clan.
It is nothing short of amazing to see how far clothing and fashion standards can be taken, yet still conform to something that technically does not stray too far outside the guidelines of “Business Casual”, and because PharmaCorp recently relaxed the standard to “Informal” all bets are officially off, with the unaccountable change in policy to disallow “Scrubs” which had been the uniform of the day for Charles for more than ten years whether he was home or at work.
One of the air ambulance companies for whom he had worked issued him five complete sets. The scrub pants had proven to be the most remarkable feature of the sets, as they had regular, sewn-in pockets, two rear pockets with buttons, and truly amazing cargo pockets that had pockets within the pockets, a separate watch pocket…and…a zipper fly front. Because he did wear them literally every day, they had also acquired the gradual accumulation of stains and battle scars of fishing, shooting, and automobile and marine mechanics to the point where even he was a little reluctant to wear them to work, and he was not likely to pay the money a new, similar set would cost, even if the supplier could be located. It was just easier to do a lateral transfer to cargo shorts as old was replaced by new. He was slowly learning the advantages of “flying below the radar”.
Given the fact that most employees not only lost their religion, but also most of their other illusions by the time they land in a call center, it is really something of an exercise in futility to try to pitch “Dress for Success” to people who are more accustomed to “Drop your pants and spread ‘em”. From a strictly pragmatic point of view, anything more than a bathrobe and flip-flops is just window dressing for people who are meant to be Heard and not Seen. And yet, the more repressive an employer becomes, the more imaginative the employees likewise become to look for new ways to circumvent the old rules.
From a Humanistic point of view, this is a good thing since it reflects playful rebelliousness, one of the last traits of higher beings to drop off before becoming Zombies. From the point of view of Management, Imagination, Humor, Inventiveness and Improvisation are similarly regarded as Liabilities, because the day they can program a computer to do your job, you can be sure that they will.
For him, it was his humor that usually caused him to fall from grace. From time to time, as memos were circulated, he had been known to reprint parodies and satires of the original memos that periodically went viral, and if one of his friends sent it without removing the “from” line when forwarding it…(they were generally regarded as quite hilarious by everyone…except Management)…eventually the other shoe would drop in the form of some sort of retaliation that was not directly attributable to his literary indiscretion.
One of the more curious features of all animate sexual behaviors is that, when confronted by hardship, adversity or even immanent death or capture, a fascinating compulsive sex drive seems to override any type of rational thought process, or compunction regarding obsessive-compulsive behaviors.
Not all humans behave in this way. Enough stress can trigger a complete shutdown of one’s ability to respond to pleasure. The technical term for this condition is Ahedonism…but for those who can still cum, a corporation like PharmaCorp can be a breeding ground for a Never-Ending-Fuck-Fest for those of like mind.
Widows, widowers, divorcees and Cougars cast their nets on a daily basis, seeking replacement, revenge, or simple sport-fucking from among the herd. Swingers, Switch-Hitters, Sodomites, Slaves and Submissives, Sirens and the daughters of Sappho, similarly seek satiation according to their own particular sexual niche. Virtually all bear some clue or identifier as to their particular preference concerning whatever blows their skirts up.
Work-spouses, puppy-lovers, hero-worshipers, ardent admirers, and unrequited Lust or Love objects round out most of the rest of the available stock. If it weren’t for the fact that they are literally held accountable for every second that they are on or off the clock, it would be a miracle that any work ever got done at all.
The Talking Monkeys: TeleMarketers…Incentives, Bonuses, Perks and other Bananas
The Talking Monkeys: Incentives, Commissions, Bonuses, Perks and other Bananas…
All to be dangled just out of reach… (after all, the whole purpose of the carrot is that the donkey never gets it, right?) He/She just keeps plodding away, pulling his/her load as if just one more step will yield the desired results until the Dream, the Ideal takes on an almost Mythic persona of its own that precludes rational discourse or examination.
The standard paradigm for sales managers is that more than eighty percent of all the commissions go to less than ten percent of the sales force. There is a method to this madness insofar as the top ten percent are elevated to Superstar status over the rank and file. Why? Because if it was a truly level playing field, the Leveling Effect would dilute the desire of the schnooks who have to sift through mountains of shit to even make commission at all.
If you consider yourself fortunate to make, say forty-five thousand gross, before taxes, you will envy those who bank eighty in commissions alone. If everyone could average sixty, and the Vunderkind only made the ten to twenty percent more that the average bell curve would predict, then most of the employees would be happy to just do their jobs, not sweat the small shit, and make fifty.
If you are among the uninitiated to Telemarketing, you are probably asking yourself “But how is it that Management can control who gets what calls?” (and thank you for asking, by the way)….
In the early days (c. Glengarry Glen Ross), you simply either got access to The Good List or you didn’t. This was years before the advent of computer-controlled dialers pre-loaded with lists of leads. It was clearly defined as to whose dick you needed to lick in order to be given the leads for the good prospects. It doesn’t take a great deal of business acumen to separate the wheat from the chaff.
Once computers could be linked to automatic dialers, it was easier to disguise the favoritism. Eventually, the word got out that someone would monitor the recordings, or the live conversations at their discretion, and would assess their Skill Setting, and use various forms of favoritism like place in line versus next available call for inbound calls. Outbound calls that are actually answered by a live person rather than an answering machine can be assigned by skill set to filter out everything except members who are new to the offering, have never been called before, never cancelled their services before, and take more than five prescription medications, for instance. This is a non-stop ride on the Unlimited.
The salespersons who are on this skill set routinely make twelve to fourteen conversions in an eight hour shift and end up with sixty prescriptions. Because they are only sent outbound answers, they are not subject to inbound calls that are improperly routed, who want to make payments or need to speak with customer services that just waste your time.
The percentages of useful opportunities from inbound calls are very low, and also require about four times more documentation to disposition correctly, which just wastes more time, but when you compare number of calls answered, the outbound only dialer indicates more calls answered, so the supervisors tell the personnel who are getting the run of schedule that they need to decrease their turn-around time, as if it indicates some character flaw or inefficiency is responsible for your shitty sales figures.
By contrast, those less favored individuals make eighteen to twenty conversions in the same eight hours, and end up with between eighteen and forty prescriptions on their very best days, but somebody has to shovel and sift the shit, and unless you are really desperate and made to fear for your job on a daily basis, no one would.
Eventually qualification for eligibility to even receive the commission you already earned is tied to quarterly sales goals for the entire division, not even regions or individual operations. Additional barriers include work percentage, schedule adherence, quality monitoring percentages, no written corrective actions, and no more than eight hours unscheduled leave during the commission period (thirty days). So even if you make whatever numbers they require, they can still snatch away your money away from you, even for simply using the paid time off they tell you that you are entitled for sick leave or whatever other excuse they offer and you will be angry, but you will know there is nothing you can do about it because they do it all with impunity. And the longer they do it, the more normal it seems until acceptance eventually numbs your ability to care.
Then manipulations of the stock prices through acquisitions, mergers and other ventures geared mostly to confusing the right-minded employees with melodramatic bellwether pronouncements by the CEO of impending days of uncertainty and belt-tightening causing them to sell off whatever they have invested at a loss only to be bought up again at a bargain right before the company reports record-breaking profits for the next two quarters, driving stock prices (by virtue of perceived value) higher than ever and further separating the Haves from the have-nots. Chances are, most of the people you knew on the job lost money, and most of the people who knew the members of the board of directors at their country clubs made money.
Regardless of what you are selling, you sell one of two things, namely Goods (something of substance, that is finite and measurable, presumably of assessable value), or Services, something that cannot be seen or measured, and is more dependent upon Perception of Value, and is by definition, Insubstantial…having no substance. In truth, both are controlled by a principle called Market Value, which is almost completely controlled by Consumer Perception of Value. If you are selling services, it’s all smoke and mirrors….
Pharmaceutical manufacturers actually produce the product, but distribution and point-of-service sales were completely controlled by Drug Stores, especially franchised chains or networks of stores, until the advent of mail-order prescription delivery delivered a swift kick to the nuts to local drug stores.
First, ninety day supplies were available only by mail order. This was arranged by collusion between the healthcare providers, insurance underwriters, and the prescription benefit administrators who provided management services, namely companies like PharmaCorp. They promised to contain skyrocketing costs to the providers and the underwriters.
Initially, the efficiency of a limited number of warehousing facilities labeled “pharmacies” that distribute over wide areas, the reduction of duplication of services, inventories, and personnel and overhead combined with greater buying power allowed for wider profit margins coupled with a burgeoning market yielded unbridled success, but as is often the case, that was not enough once greed took over.
First to suffer was the quality of the medications themselves, followed by deceptive and misleading manipulations of the minimum legal requirements for truth as determined by entire firms of attorneys already on huge retainers bent on reinforcing the perceived value of their services coupled with a lack of competition breeding a general contempt for the quality of the services or customer retention resulting in legally strong-arming the general public into submission by a lack of choice of alternatives as written into the prescription drug benefits themselves.
The reason they always get away with it is because the very rich, powerful, and financially and socially privileged barons would rather support the rest of the financial aristocracy by screwing the general public as hard and long and repeatedly as they can get away with it, and since they can afford to be as infinitely patient as necessary and because it is incremental and inevitable, it will continue.
Whether they have to victimize a thousand members to support the salary of one attorney, or a hundred thousand members to support the salary of one corporate executive, no one cares as long as there are an almost unlimited number of victims, because if you aren’t a member of their country club, you are just shit on the bottoms of their golf shoes.
The Talking Monkeys: Charles and Suki
There was an atmosphere that surrounded Charles that seemed to protect and insulate him from the toxic environment of his workplace. His demeanor had noticeably changed in the last nine months. It was as if nothing could hurt him, or diminish his Animated Serenity, as he called it.
There was always a core group around him, no matter where they moved him that responded well to his Zen Crazy Wisdom, uncensored offbeat humor, and generally irreverent persona. They protected each other from the Madness….
Any time there was more than thirty seconds between calls, someone would tell a joke, or a story that was usually calculated for its shock value. All the stories were interrupted, and told in installments in the spaces between the calls. It could take over an hour to relate the presentation to whatever part of the group was paying attention at that moment. It was fractured, disjointed, and yet cohesive for those who learned to keep up with the flow…there could be four or more stories being told concurrently over an entire afternoon or evening, each one picking up where they had left off before the interruption.
Sometimes they got caught in mid-laugh. The harder you try to suppress it, the more difficult it is to get through the presentation. Laughing during the pitch was absolutely not tolerated, and if captured and monitored, could lower your quality score enough to cost you your entire month’s commission. Same goes for eating during a presentation. It was like musical chairs. Everybody did it until the music stopped.
Woven throughout those stories would also be intermittent interjections about family, money, sex, politics, current events, relationships, “Asshole Remarks” from members who were usually mimicked and mocked (with the mute button pressed) while the call continued, as they revealed a great deal about themselves and their lives in the process. This process of sharing was part Chautauqua, part group therapy, and part rant.
Everyone was as much touched and moved by Charles’ devotion to his wife and family as by the sadness he carried over his disappointment regarding his relationship with his wife, Suki…he never complained, but it was just as obvious by what he didn’t say that told the story just the same…until that all changed for the better…it changed suddenly, almost overnight, it seemed, amidst scandalous rumors he never tried to deny…for good reason…the result had a galvanizing effect on everything about him from his posture, his expression, and the way everybody regarded him, as well as his sales figures….
Nobody in the business of Sales will deny the importance of Attitude in successful business negotiations…you don’t really sell anything…you sell yourself…that is what people buy…the features, advantages, even the price is just an opportunity to seduce the target because while you are pitching the client; the appearance of any great degree of reasoning is all smoke and mirrors that you use to hypnotize and persuade.
Pitching a target is a chance to flex your muscles, to see how far you can take that target to make them think it was their idea in the first place, or that they really wanted it all along. Everybody wants to get their own way; you just show them how to get it.
Charles projected a serenity that seemed to come from some secret place…some secret he possessed, a certain detachment that came from being able to see through the illusions that surround almost everything that most people do, or believe. Instead of sleight of hand, he used sleight of mind…like the way you jingle your keys to distract a crying baby, or the way a pickpocket jostles a mark to distract them…or the way an Aikido master re-directs the force of an opponent’s attack.
He did not avoid any questions, in fact, he welcomed all questions and objections, he just didn’t give any answers he didn’t want to divulge, but gave the impression that he was responding to their objections, all the while capitalizing on their perceptions of reality, which dictated their perception of their needs.
Some people do not want to be sold on convenience, for instance, because they regard that as laziness, but you can sell them on how it frees up more time to pursue whatever it is they call happiness, especially if you can play upon their deep-seated guilt over not giving enough time or attention to their families.
If price doesn’t work for them, then sell value, or quality. “…An American Company…” may still be owned by some Japanese or Chinese conglomerate, but if the client is a victim of either jingoism or xenophobia, then you need to be as American as plastic surgery or sweaters for dogs.
Some people are susceptible to how a particular product may improve their image, as if mere possession of said item makes a statement about who they are (as long as they don’t realize what you are really pitching). Vanity may work for some, whereas Pride or Self-esteem may be the trigger point that releases the wallet for others.
The next, newest, best thing will sell for some, where others may regard it as gimmickry. Tradition and stability usually appeal to them. Phrases such as “So you never have to worry again”, or “Set it and forget it”, or “Peace of Mind”… “for your family’s sake” can open a target like a fresh oyster.
“To avoid the embarrassment of…to prevent future problems…we all hate…nobody wants…we all need…and other similar phrases play upon fear, insecurity, envy, loneliness, or other nebulous but deep-seated emotional connections we have with primal experiences that shaped our perception of the world.
The Art of it all is to distract and disguise these blatant manipulations, or their lack of connection with the original question. As long as you can establish, address, and channel the need, they will forget the question.
But the real charm, that intangible grace and power he had come to acquire so recently was also the result of one part Wicca, one part Tantric, and several generous portions of séance.
Suki had been a practicing witch for more than ten years, and Charles had been a practitioner of Tantric for almost twenty, but the doldrums and alienation within their relationship had signaled a decline in their enthusiasm for most of their interests and outlets. When the passion suddenly returned to their marriage, so did the Majic….
About the time that Suki began her incantations and spells, Charles shot a hole through a mirror to attempt to create a “portal” to allow spirits to “cross over” from “the other side”. After about a half-dozen failed attempts, something remarkable happened. Instead of shattering completely, a series of concentric cracks and radial fissures allowed the rest of the mirror to remain intact as the fractures were entirely self-contained.
The result was a hole that when viewed one way, looked like an eye and when viewed from another angle looked like a vagina…the Mother of all Portals. It was disarmingly beautiful and fascinatingly frightening to stare into this sparkling but unblinking vortex that seemed to draw you into it…that was about the time that things got really interesting.
Regardless of whether it was ritual or recreation, they began to notice apparitions and spirits around them whenever they had sex. A first, a lone entity, followed by several more souls. Luminosities, rays and beams of light or glowing orbs floated, flitted, and flew around the room, dancing, darting, bouncing and reflecting off everything, giving an eerie blush to everything they touched.
On one occasion, while in mid-trance they visualized being in a pit, surrounded on all sides by onlookers. On another, their room was like a Lucite cage suspended in blackness, their bed a stage, with thousands of eyes following their every move.
Sometimes, phantom touches and caresses augmented their unions.
In their dreams, the spirits spoke to them, and gave faces to their presences, as well as a new perspective to their lives.
Eventually, they began teaching classes at the Sanctuary.
The Talking Monkeys: Charles and Suki
There was an atmosphere that surrounded Charles that seemed to protect and insulate him from the toxic environment of his workplace. His demeanor had noticeably changed in the last nine months. It was as if nothing could hurt him, or diminish his Animated Serenity, as he called it.
There was always a core group around him, no matter where they moved him that responded well to his Zen Crazy Wisdom, uncensored offbeat humor, and generally irreverent persona. They protected each other from the Madness….
Any time there was more than thirty seconds between calls, someone would tell a joke, or a story that was usually calculated for its shock value. All the stories were interrupted, and told in installments in the spaces between the calls. It could take over an hour to relate the presentation to whatever part of the group was paying attention at that moment. It was fractured, disjointed, and yet cohesive for those who learned to keep up with the flow…there could be four or more stories being told concurrently over an entire afternoon or evening, each one picking up where they had left off before the interruption.
Sometimes they got caught in mid-laugh. The harder you try to suppress it, the more difficult it is to get through the presentation. Laughing during the pitch was absolutely not tolerated, and if captured and monitored, could lower your quality score enough to cost you your entire month’s commission. Same goes for eating during a presentation. It was like musical chairs. Everybody did it until the music stopped.
Woven throughout those stories would also be intermittent interjections about family, money, sex, politics, current events, relationships, “Asshole Remarks” from members who were usually mimicked and mocked (with the mute button pressed) while the call continued, as they revealed a great deal about themselves and their lives in the process. This process of sharing was part Chautauqua, part group therapy, and part rant.
Everyone was as much touched and moved by Charles’ devotion to his wife and family as by the sadness he carried over his disappointment regarding his relationship with his wife, Suki…he never complained, but it was just as obvious by what he didn’t say that told the story just the same…until that all changed for the better…it changed suddenly, almost overnight, it seemed, amidst scandalous rumors he never tried to deny…for good reason…the result had a galvanizing effect on everything about him from his posture, his expression, and the way everybody regarded him, as well as his sales figures….
Nobody in the business of Sales will deny the importance of Attitude in successful business negotiations…you don’t really sell anything…you sell yourself…that is what people buy…the features, advantages, even the price is just an opportunity to seduce the target because while you are pitching the client; the appearance of any great degree of reasoning is all smoke and mirrors that you use to hypnotize and persuade.
Pitching a target is a chance to flex your muscles, to see how far you can take that target to make them think it was their idea in the first place, or that they really wanted it all along. Everybody wants to get their own way; you just show them how to get it.
Charles projected a serenity that seemed to come from some secret place…some secret he possessed, a certain detachment that came from being able to see through the illusions that surround almost everything that most people do, or believe. Instead of sleight of hand, he used sleight of mind…like the way you jingle your keys to distract a crying baby, or the way a pickpocket jostles a mark to distract them…or the way an Aikido master re-directs the force of an opponent’s attack.
He did not avoid any questions, in fact, he welcomed all questions and objections, he just didn’t give any answers he didn’t want to divulge, but gave the impression that he was responding to their objections, all the while capitalizing on their perceptions of reality, which dictated their perception of their needs.
Some people do not want to be sold on convenience, for instance, because they regard that as laziness, but you can sell them on how it frees up more time to pursue whatever it is they call happiness, especially if you can play upon their deep-seated guilt over not giving enough time or attention to their families.
If price doesn’t work for them, then sell value, or quality. “…An American Company…” may still be owned by some Japanese or Chinese conglomerate, but if the client is a victim of either jingoism or xenophobia, then you need to be as American as plastic surgery or sweaters for dogs.
Some people are susceptible to how a particular product may improve their image, as if mere possession of said item makes a statement about who they are (as long as they don’t realize what you are really pitching). Vanity may work for some, whereas Pride or Self-esteem may be the trigger point that releases the wallet for others.
The next, newest, best thing will sell for some, where others may regard it as gimmickry. Tradition and stability usually appeal to them. Phrases such as “So you never have to worry again”, or “Set it and forget it”, or “Peace of Mind”… “for your family’s sake” can open a target like a fresh oyster.
“To avoid the embarrassment of…to prevent future problems…we all hate…nobody wants…we all need…and other similar phrases play upon fear, insecurity, envy, loneliness, or other nebulous but deep-seated emotional connections we have with primal experiences that shaped our perception of the world.
The Art of it all is to distract and disguise these blatant manipulations, or their lack of connection with the original question. As long as you can establish, address, and channel the need, they will forget the question.
But the real charm, that intangible grace and power he had come to acquire so recently was also the result of one part Wicca, one part Tantric, and several generous portions of séance.
Suki had been a practicing witch for more than ten years, and Charles had been a practitioner of Tantric for almost twenty, but the doldrums and alienation within their relationship had signaled a decline in their enthusiasm for most of their interests and outlets. When the passion suddenly returned to their marriage, so did the Majic….
About the time that Suki began her incantations and spells, Charles shot a hole through a mirror to attempt to create a “portal” to allow spirits to “cross over” from “the other side”. After about a half-dozen failed attempts, something remarkable happened. Instead of shattering completely, a series of concentric cracks and radial fissures allowed the rest of the mirror to remain intact as the fractures were entirely self-contained.
The result was a hole that when viewed one way, looked like an eye and when viewed from another angle looked like a vagina…the Mother of all Portals. It was disarmingly beautiful and fascinatingly frightening to stare into this sparkling but unblinking vortex that seemed to draw you into it…that was about the time that things got really interesting.
Regardless of whether it was ritual or recreation, they began to notice apparitions and spirits around them whenever they had sex. A first, a lone entity, followed by several more souls. Luminosities, rays and beams of light or glowing orbs floated, flitted, and flew around the room, dancing, darting, bouncing and reflecting off everything, giving an eerie blush to everything they touched.
On one occasion, while in mid-trance they visualized being in a pit, surrounded on all sides by onlookers. On another, their room was like a Lucite cage suspended in blackness, their bed a stage, with thousands of eyes following their every move.
Sometimes, phantom touches and caresses augmented their unions.
In their dreams, the spirits spoke to them, and gave faces to their presences, as well as a new perspective to their lives.
Eventually, they began teaching classes at the Sanctuary.
The Talking Monkeys: Charles and Suki
There was an atmosphere that surrounded Charles that seemed to protect and insulate him from the toxic environment of his workplace. His demeanor had noticeably changed in the last nine months. It was as if nothing could hurt him, or diminish his Animated Serenity, as he called it.
There was always a core group around him, no matter where they moved him that responded well to his Zen Crazy Wisdom, uncensored offbeat humor, and generally irreverent persona. They protected each other from the Madness….
Any time there was more than thirty seconds between calls, someone would tell a joke, or a story that was usually calculated for its shock value. All the stories were interrupted, and told in installments in the spaces between the calls. It could take over an hour to relate the presentation to whatever part of the group was paying attention at that moment. It was fractured, disjointed, and yet cohesive for those who learned to keep up with the flow…there could be four or more stories being told concurrently over an entire afternoon or evening, each one picking up where they had left off before the interruption.
Sometimes they got caught in mid-laugh. The harder you try to suppress it, the more difficult it is to get through the presentation. Laughing during the pitch was absolutely not tolerated, and if captured and monitored, could lower your quality score enough to cost you your entire month’s commission. Same goes for eating during a presentation. It was like musical chairs. Everybody did it until the music stopped.
Woven throughout those stories would also be intermittent interjections about family, money, sex, politics, current events, relationships, “Asshole Remarks” from members who were usually mimicked and mocked (with the mute button pressed) while the call continued, as they revealed a great deal about themselves and their lives in the process. This process of sharing was part Chautauqua, part group therapy, and part rant.
Everyone was as much touched and moved by Charles’ devotion to his wife and family as by the sadness he carried over his disappointment regarding his relationship with his wife, Suki…he never complained, but it was just as obvious by what he didn’t say that told the story just the same…until that all changed for the better…it changed suddenly, almost overnight, it seemed, amidst scandalous rumors he never tried to deny…for good reason…the result had a galvanizing effect on everything about him from his posture, his expression, and the way everybody regarded him, as well as his sales figures….
Nobody in the business of Sales will deny the importance of Attitude in successful business negotiations…you don’t really sell anything…you sell yourself…that is what people buy…the features, advantages, even the price is just an opportunity to seduce the target because while you are pitching the client; the appearance of any great degree of reasoning is all smoke and mirrors that you use to hypnotize and persuade.
Pitching a target is a chance to flex your muscles, to see how far you can take that target to make them think it was their idea in the first place, or that they really wanted it all along. Everybody wants to get their own way; you just show them how to get it.
Charles projected a serenity that seemed to come from some secret place…some secret he possessed, a certain detachment that came from being able to see through the illusions that surround almost everything that most people do, or believe. Instead of sleight of hand, he used sleight of mind…like the way you jingle your keys to distract a crying baby, or the way a pickpocket jostles a mark to distract them…or the way an Aikido master re-directs the force of an opponent’s attack.
He did not avoid any questions, in fact, he welcomed all questions and objections, he just didn’t give any answers he didn’t want to divulge, but gave the impression that he was responding to their objections, all the while capitalizing on their perceptions of reality, which dictated their perception of their needs.
Some people do not want to be sold on convenience, for instance, because they regard that as laziness, but you can sell them on how it frees up more time to pursue whatever it is they call happiness, especially if you can play upon their deep-seated guilt over not giving enough time or attention to their families.
If price doesn’t work for them, then sell value, or quality. “…An American Company…” may still be owned by some Japanese or Chinese conglomerate, but if the client is a victim of either jingoism or xenophobia, then you need to be as American as plastic surgery or sweaters for dogs.
Some people are susceptible to how a particular product may improve their image, as if mere possession of said item makes a statement about who they are (as long as they don’t realize what you are really pitching). Vanity may work for some, whereas Pride or Self-esteem may be the trigger point that releases the wallet for others.
The next, newest, best thing will sell for some, where others may regard it as gimmickry. Tradition and stability usually appeal to them. Phrases such as “So you never have to worry again”, or “Set it and forget it”, or “Peace of Mind”… “for your family’s sake” can open a target like a fresh oyster.
“To avoid the embarrassment of…to prevent future problems…we all hate…nobody wants…we all need…and other similar phrases play upon fear, insecurity, envy, loneliness, or other nebulous but deep-seated emotional connections we have with primal experiences that shaped our perception of the world.
The Art of it all is to distract and disguise these blatant manipulations, or their lack of connection with the original question. As long as you can establish, address, and channel the need, they will forget the question.
But the real charm, that intangible grace and power he had come to acquire so recently was also the result of one part Wicca, one part Tantric, and several generous portions of séance.
Suki had been a practicing witch for more than ten years, and Charles had been a practitioner of Tantric for almost twenty, but the doldrums and alienation within their relationship had signaled a decline in their enthusiasm for most of their interests and outlets. When the passion suddenly returned to their marriage, so did the Majic….
About the time that Suki began her incantations and spells, Charles shot a hole through a mirror to attempt to create a “portal” to allow spirits to “cross over” from “the other side”. After about a half-dozen failed attempts, something remarkable happened. Instead of shattering completely, a series of concentric cracks and radial fissures allowed the rest of the mirror to remain intact as the fractures were entirely self-contained.
The result was a hole that when viewed one way, looked like an eye and when viewed from another angle looked like a vagina…the Mother of all Portals. It was disarmingly beautiful and fascinatingly frightening to stare into this sparkling but unblinking vortex that seemed to draw you into it…that was about the time that things got really interesting.
Regardless of whether it was ritual or recreation, they began to notice apparitions and spirits around them whenever they had sex. A first, a lone entity, followed by several more souls. Luminosities, rays and beams of light or glowing orbs floated, flitted, and flew around the room, dancing, darting, bouncing and reflecting off everything, giving an eerie blush to everything they touched.
On one occasion, while in mid-trance they visualized being in a pit, surrounded on all sides by onlookers. On another, their room was like a Lucite cage suspended in blackness, their bed a stage, with thousands of eyes following their every move.
Sometimes, phantom touches and caresses augmented their unions.
In their dreams, the spirits spoke to them, and gave faces to their presences, as well as a new perspective to their lives.
Eventually, they began teaching classes at the Sanctuary.
The Talking Monkeys: The Script
The Talking Monkeys: “Good Morning, Welcome to PharmaCorp…”
“Good Morning…”
“Good Afternoon…”
“Good Evening…”
“My name is Charles…”
“My name is Jeff…”
“My name is Gina…”
“My name is Brittany…”
“My name is Mike…”
“My name is Ron…”
“ My name is Vicki…”
“My name is Tina…”
“My name is Tyrone…”
“My name is Don…”
“My name is [your name here]…”
“…and I’m a Prescription Benefits Specialist for PharmaCorp…”
“…and this call may be monitored and recorded…”
“…for quality assurance…”
“…for your protection…”
May I please speak with [target name here]?”
“We’re the program administrators for your prescription drug plan benefits for [Provider Name Here]…”
“…and I am a resource for helping you make the best use of your existing prescription benefit options.”
“I have two benefits that I would like to discuss with you today.”
“…and in order to protect your privacy, we always have to be sure we’re speaking with the right person.”
“I see you’re born in the month of [state month here]…”
“…Would you please verify the day and the year?
“Thank you.”
“One of your benefits is you do have the option of having your prescription medications delivered directly to your home from our pharmacy…”
“…and I see one of your most recent refills was for [state name of drug]…”
“…it was last filled on [date of fill]…”
“…for a [# of days] supply of [# of pills]…”
“…are you still taking that medication?”
“I see it was prescribed by Dr. [name of physician] in [name of city].”
“Now when you purchased that medication at [name of pharmacy]…”
“…you paid [state retail cost of medication]…”
“…and PharmaCorp can send you up to a ninety-day supply of [state quantity]…”
“…for only [state cost]…”
“…and send it to your home about ten days before your next scheduled refill date…”
“…so you have it in plenty of time before your next refill…”
“…we also have automatic refill of your medications available at no extra cost…”
“…or you can order any medication as needed if you prefer…”
“…and in either case, there is no additional cost for standard shipping…”
“…and no additional service fees or hidden costs of any kind…”
“To make it even easier for you to take advantage of this benefit…”
“…with your permission, we can contact your Doctor by fax to request authorization for up to a ninety-day supply, as well as three refills, so your prescription is good for up to a year…”
“We have similar savings on other medications, and I would be happy to go over those savings with you as well…”
“Does that sound like something in which you would be interested?”
Now that was pretty much the script verbatim, and if you knew what was good for you, you memorized it as quickly as possible so well that you start to repeat it in your sleep…so well that very little of anything above brainstem activity is required to repeat it flawlessly…with or without…interruption, so that you can manipulate two main programs running on different screens, that have several sub-programs each, transferring data by copy-and-paste to provide the specifics of the script as you are reciting it.
All the while, you have to be prepared for numerous interruptions, interjections, objections and diatribes from the target, because these objections will provide you with the key as to how to sell that target…they think that their objections are exposing your weaknesses, but in fact, they are telling you what you need to address in order to get them to roll over and give it up.
Now listen to the same script, as it might be heard on any given day or night, in the midst of an island of twenty cubicles in two rows of ten. Imagine listening to the sheer vastness of what initially sounds like an unintelligible tsunami of words overwhelming you, and carrying you away, as fragments of sounds begin to take shape into recognizable words and phrases:
“Good Morning…”
“Is it five yet?”
“Good Afternoon…”
“Who wants to split a calzone?”
“Good Evening…”
“Can anybody break a ten?”
“My name is Charles…”
“Has anybody seen…[name a movie]?
“My name is Jeff…”
“What’s the Spanish word for ‘jerk-off’?”
“…I don’t know, probably ‘Jeff’…no, seriously…”
“Hello, my name is Gina…”
“Hey, I heard a joke…what’s the difference between…?”
“My name is [your name here]…”
“…a pick-pocket and a peeping Tom?”
“What happens if somebody takes you to court and gets a judgment against you?”
“Hi, my name is Vicki…”
“…a pick-pocket snatches watches…”
“…and I’m a Prescription Benefits Specialist for PharmaCorp…”
“…Can they garnish your wages?”
“What’s the difference between a women’s track team and a tribe of Pygmies?”
“…and this call may be monitored and recorded…”
“No, but they can get a judgment against you, and put a lien on your house, or anything of substantial value…”
“Hello, my name is Charles…”
“…the Pygmies are a bunch of cunning runts…”
“…for quality assurance…”
“….and take it from you?”
“Hey, I heard one…two Jews walked into a pharmacy…No, seriously…I keed…I keed….” (Done in a Mid-Eastern Dialect)
“ Hello, my name is Mike….”
“…for your protection…”
“…Hey what happened to Sandra?”
“Good Afternoon, My name is Don…”
“…for your protection…”
“Here’s a good one…Dr. Peter Cockbern…Urology!
“…You didn’t hear?”
“No, but if you try to sell it, they have to be paid before you get your money…”
“No…”
“I just got off the phone with Mei Hung Lo…”
May I please speak with [target name here]?”
“Has anyone else spoken with a Phat Ho?
“…for Quality Assurance…”
“…Third arrest for DUI…she’s in county…”
“I need to take money out of my 401-K…”
“We’re the program administrators for your prescription drug plan benefits for [Provider Name Here]…”
“…so I guess she won’t be in the talent show next week…”
“…Is there a penalty for that?”
“A guy just told me he was Jack Kanoff…”
“…and I am a resource for helping you make the best use of your existing prescription benefit options.”
“…not likely…”
“How old are you?”
“…in order to protect your privacy…”
“You said your name is Tsay Nguyen…? (pronounced ‘Say When’)
“I have two benefits that I would like to discuss with you today.”
“Fifty-two, why?”
“May I please speak with Harry Kuntz?” (She pronounces it with a long ‘U’ to no avail…) “…that’s Kuntz?” (pronounced with a short ‘u’…remember…she can’t laugh).
“…for your convenience…”
“…Makes you think maybe God really loves Music after all…she couldn’t hit a high note to save her life…”
“…and in order to protect your privacy, we always have to be sure we’re speaking with the right person.”
“If you’re under sixty-one and a half, there’s a penalty…”
“You said you’re Dick Kurtz?”
“I see you’re born in the month of [state month here]…”
“…Hell, her voice is even lower than mine…”
“…but you can borrow against it…”
“Is there Amanda Huggenkis there?”
“Well the whiskey and the cigarettes don’t help any…”
“…at your convenience…”
“May I speak with Mike Hunt?”
“…Would you please verify the day and the year?
“…even if I need money now…how am I going to pay it back later?”
“…you do have the option…”
“Who’s watching her kids?”
“Ben Dover?…Ninja Please!
“…my name is Tyrone…”
“Thank you.”
“What were their parents thinking?”
“…for your safety…”
“I think they give you a year’s forbearance or something to catch up…”
“…Children and Family Services, until her mom came down from Tennessee…”
“Hello, my name is Ron…”
“One of your benefits is you do have is the option of having your prescription medications delivered directly to your home from our pharmacy…”
“Yeah…like next year is going to be any better….”
“…Too bad…I love her kids…but I fuckin’ hate Karaoke…”
“…at no extra charge…”
“Well keep in mind…Hung Wang does not mean the same thing in Korean…”
“…and I see one of your most recent refills was for [state name of drug]…”
“…I’ll just be grateful if it’s not worse…”
“…Didn’t you guys date for a while last year?”
“…it was last filled on [date of fill]…”
“What’s Chlamydia?”
“Good afternoon, my name is Jeff…”
“…yeah, until her psycho ex-husband got out of prison…”
“…for a [# of days] supply of [# of pills]…”
“You mean that street in West Palm where all the clubs are?”
“Hello, my name is Tyrone…”
“…and came down here on a stolen motorcycle…”
“…and I am a resource…”
“…no, that’s Clematis…your wife gave you VD?”
“…are you still taking that medication?”
“…No…my wife said she got it at the city pool, while the kids were learning to swim…”
“…until they extradited him back, after he violated…”
“…for your safety and protection…”
“I see it was prescribed by Dr. [name of physician] in [name of city].”
“…Yeah…maybe if she fucked one of the lifeguards…”
“Hello, my name is Josh.”
“…parole…”
“Now when you purchased that medication at [name of pharmacy]…”
“…I should be so lucky…one less thankless task for me to do…”
“What does it take to get a restraining order?”
“Hello, my name is Tina…”
“…you paid [state retail cost of medication]…”
“…I don’t know…sounds like you got a pinch-hitter…”
“…restraining order?…what…on Jeff?”
“Hello, my name is Brittany…”
“…and PharmaCorp can send you up to a ninety-day supply of [state quantity]…”
“…for your convenience…”
“…So what…she told you to take azithromycin, or doxycycline?”
“…in order to protect…”
“No…he’s harmless…no offense Jeff….”
“My name is Brittany, and I am a Prescription Benefit Specialist…”
“…for only [state cost]…”
“…doxy…and metronidazole…”
“…All that talk about Sandy’s husband got me thinking about my ex…”
“…and send it to your home about ten days before your next scheduled refill date…”
“…dude…that’s for Trichomoniasis…”
“…in order to protect your identity…”
“…don’t worry, he’ll never take out an order against you, as long as you still keep answering his booty calls…”
“Hello, my name is Gina…”
“…so you have it in plenty of time before your next refill…”
“…from raw pork?”
“Hey! That’s not fair!…It was just that one time…”
“…at no extra charge…”
“May I please speak with Jenna Talia?”
“…we also have automatic refill of your medications available at no extra cost…”
“…you could say that…they’re both sexually transmitted diseases, but no, you’re thinking of trichinosis…sounds like there’s some wild pork involved somewhere though…”
“…at your convenience…”
“…It was Christmas, and I was feelin’ blue…”
“…or you can order any medication as needed if you prefer…”
“Are you sure?”
“…he told me his wife left him…”
“…and in either case, there is no additional cost for standard shipping…”
“Hey, don’t believe me…ask your doctor…”
“…for your safety…”
“…which was true, except he didn’t mention she was coming back in a week…she was just visiting family up North…Prick!
“…and no additional service fees or hidden costs of any kind…”
“That’s cold, bro’…”
“What do you expect from a man? As long as we let them play us against each other, they will always act like animals, and get away with it…”
“Hello, my name is Brittany…”
“To make it even easier for you to take advantage of this benefit…”
“…I think you and your wife need to have a talk…I’m just sayin’…”
“…delivered to your home…”
“I promise you if I do decide to embrace the lesbian lifestyle, you’ll be the first to know…”
“I think I might be a lesbian…”
“Sorry Jeff…you can’t be a lesbian.”
“…But we like all the same stuff…”
“…automatically…”
“…with your permission, we can contact your Doctor by fax to request authorization for up to a ninety-day supply, as well as three refills, so your prescription is good for a year…”
“…at your convenience…”
“What does ‘Cabrone’ mean?”
“Thanks, but I still prefer the hotdog over the taco…”
“We have similar savings on other medications, and I would be happy to go over those savings with you as well…”
“Depends on the country…it can mean anything from ‘Cuckold’ to ‘Motherfucker’…in what context?”
“…to protect your privacy…”
“Does that sound like something in which you would be interested?”
“Some guy yelled it into the phone before he hung up.”
The Talking Monkeys: Merlin has a Few Tricks up his sleeve
The Talking Monkeys: Merlin has a Few Tricks up his sleeve
Merlin sits at his kitchen table, staring at twelve capsules he has just finished filling. Somehow, in Merlin’s kitchen, the four-beam Ohaus scale, as well as the other assorted laboratory glassware and utensils don’t particularly seem out of place. The gallon Ziploc had nearly one kilogram of what Merle had come to refer to as “The Wisdom” or “The Knowledge of Good and Evil. His laboratory test results and a little “sampling” had convinced him it was not only safe, but quite effective. Tonight, he would be testing its effectiveness in achieving the desired effect on Ash, Kali, and himself.
A little over one year ago, he had begun research into a new form of anti-depressant that was supposed to revolutionize Psychotherapy. The idea was to not only raise serum serotonin and norepinephrine levels without overloading the rest of the body (particularly the enteric tract), but to also trigger release of several very interesting polypeptides related to a sort of non-euphoric enthusiasm, spontaneous joy, and an almost childlike renewal of interest in routine activities of daily living.
The most remarkable aspect was that it showed indications of being able to channel critical thinking and problem-solving in a way that encouraged its users to objectively reflect upon self-sabotage, and inconsistencies of behaviors, as well as more effective methods for success in achieving desired goals. With a minimum of counseling and guidance, the patient literally teaches themself as they learn and evolve, and new neuron pathways are established. The psychiatric community long ago abandoned the concept of actually counseling their patients as long as they could continue to write more prescriptions, see more patients, and make more money. This drug could conceivably relegate the psychiatrists to the position of Lifeguard, Referee, or Hall Monitor.
That drug was not what was on Merlin’s kitchen table. Although research was still in the earliest stages concerning the development of PharmaCorp’s hottest prospect, he also discovered an analog isomer of the desired drug that possessed all the above characteristics, but also produced LSD-like visions, and universally triggered an awareness of the presence of a supernatural, or higher being as well as the connectivity of all beings and forms of existence, resulting in a euphoria that lasted long after the administration of the drug.
Similar results from electrical stimulation to the left parietal region of the brain producing a “God Effect” or “God Phenomenon” were transient and short-lived. This showed all the promise of unlocking Enlightenment…maybe permanently. Once Merle recognized the potential importance of this discovery, he discretely produced two kilograms of it, and had the other kilo discretely “put away for safekeeping”. As little as one hundred micrograms could produce threshold effects.
He knew better than to reveal those findings to PharmaCorp, since any sort of visions would be considered undesirable side-effects, and the spiritual awakenings would be similarly ill-received. For instance, the word Euphoria is always listed as an undesirable side effect…why? What is wrong with feeling Good? Even if we have every good reason to feel bad, what good comes from feeling bad?
If there is a happy ending out there somewhere, aren’t we more likely to recognize, experience and appreciate it if we are already feeling good? Why do we let our temporary external circumstances determine not only our mood, but also our image, self-concept, or perception of self-worth to the point where we lose our ability to be able to pursue happiness?
“Too close to schizophrenia for people unable to tell the difference between Madness and Genius.” He mused.
“Look at what happened with Dr. Timothy Leary; he recognized the tremendous potential of LSD, but a few people had bad reactions, (usually because it caused them to recoil in fear when they realized what evil monsters they had lurking inside themselves). Although it was initially intended to be used in conjunction with close supervision and therapy, it was not just too much fun for America’s Puritanical, pleasure-hating society…It had all the earmarks of Beelzebub and Revolution to the fearful eyes of the Powerful….
“The result was that LSD was made illegal, so it could no longer be used for legitimate purposes by trained professionals. That resulted in “bathtub” chemistry, uncontrolled and unknown quality and strength, uncontrolled settings and circumstances, and instead of professional supervision, it now required commission of a felony to manufacture, sell or possess…all in the name of protecting the public from itself….”
The Wisdom was just so much more…all initial indications were that it truly enhanced and enlightened Consciousness, Awareness and Sentience in a way that was powerful. Ash, Kali and Merle had already learned to combine Tantric, Wicca, and Shamanism in a way that was producing tangible results in all their lives.
The Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil had gotten Adam and Eve banished from the Garden…That Fall from Grace had cursed Man to an endless cycle of Desire and Suffering because they lacked the ability to separate the two. The Wisdom might just be able to empower Man to walk with God.
Merle suddenly decided it was time for him to Dress for the occasion….
The Talking Monkeys and The Home for WaywardSouls: Dress for Success
The Home for Wayward Souls and The Talking Monkeys: Dress for Success
Merle paused for a moment to reflect as he sat on the edge of his bed. It was a California King, vast…immense…sprawling, and yet, if he were to lay back on a diagonal with his arms and legs spread, he would cover most of it. He often told people he was the second-shortest member of his family, surpassing only his mother, a mere petite five feet, twenty-six inches.
The Apache possess a gene or two that often produce very tall offspring, but unlike the Watutsi, they tended to be bigger-boned and more broad-shouldered like the Mandé. Most of Merle’s relatives, however, would have been immensely offended by the comparison to African tribes. It would seem that those who suffer from racism frequently are just as prone to indulging in it as those who would pre-judge them, but to Merle (who was in fact named after Merle Haggard, not Merlin the Magician) it was all a tragically amusing illusion in which it seemed all peoples indulged.
He considered himself fortunate that he came from a family of Shamans, Brujos, Sorcerers, and Medicine Men and Women that raised him in an atmosphere of enlightenment and tolerance. That tolerance was especially important to Merle, given a few of his proclivities, as we shall see….
As he sat upon the edge of the bed he meditated, eventually allowing himself to visualize what should be his choice of wardrobe for this evening’s ceremonies.
A great number of his practices allowed him to wear long flowing robes, which he preferred whenever possible, and was generally his mode of dress within his home…what was not generally known, except to his very closest of acquaintances was what he often wore underneath.
Merle admitted that he liked leather and denim as much as he liked satin and lace. Although he was preternaturally handsome and well-muscled, he had little body or facial hair and his features were somewhat androgynous in the same way that certain Nordic or Arian female genotypes may be stunningly beautiful while nonetheless lacking certain typically feminine features per se.
The robe he visualized for the occasion was a light, very breathable unbleached linen, with a few essential talismans silkscreened onto it. Underneath that he would be wearing a pair of black silk panties that Kali had hand-sewn to his exact specifications, which included enormous provision for his massive cock, and a nude-colored chemise, also silk with a modest amount of black lace trim.
The contrast of his smooth high cheekbones and his smooth, supple almost wiry build, long straight shining black hair and his extremely well-endowed loins was usually jaw-dropping to most females who eventually joined the soft parade of admirers who became worshipers in more ways than one.
Although he was disinclined to permit measurement of his viande, it was clearly well over a foot in length, about the same circumference as his wrist and uncircumcised. Even in his workplace, he had become subject of whispered rumors, urbanlegendary tall-tales and great speculation even among the men with whom he worked…it was as if everywhere he went, there was someone who knew someone who knew him in the biblical sense….
When he was younger, he had struggled with developing the off-handed and simple acceptance of his biological inheritance that he now possessed. He exuded a humble self-confidence that is clearly lacking in most people that made him respectfully approachable. Almost everyone seemed to possess a desire to befriend him, although he admittedly stuck to a doctrine of Love Many and Trust Few…(and always paddle your own canoe).
“Goo Goo G’Joob…I am the Walrus…AND the Carpenter….” he mused as he stood before the mirror.
Among other coincidences of alignment of time and space, it was also the anniversary of the publishing of Finnegan’s Wake.
“The time has come…
to talk of many things:
of shoes…and ships…and sealing-wax…
of cabbages…and kings…
and why the sea is boiling hot…
and whether pigs have wings.”
“…and I have a powerful hunger for seafood.”
The Home for Wayward Souls and The Talking Monkeys: Food for Thought, Food for Spirit, Food for Body and Soul
The Home for Wayward Souls and The Talking Monkeys: Food for Thought, Food for Spirit, Food for Body and Soul
Kali stepped back and surveyed the table she had set. Sushi, Sashimi, Hijiki and Sunomono salads, fresh kiwi, limes, lemons, mango, and pineapple as well as Miso and Shark Fin soups were arranged around platters of grilled Mahi, Tuna, Lobster, Cobia and Wahoo. A bucket of steamed blue mussels, clams and oysters were surrounded by several dozen half-shell clams and oysters. Unagi, uni-ikura don and uni-uzura occupied the rest of the available space not taken by bottled water, hot and cold sake, and a bottle of reposado Tequila…although there would not be a lot of alcohol consumed, a little taste of this or that seemed to help clear the palate and aid the digestion.
There would not be a great deal of gluttony either, regardless of the sumptuous presentation. The raw items sat on little beds of ice, and everything left over would either be eaten on Saturday afternoon before the show, or after. Visitors and guests were so commonplace at their home that almost nothing ever remained long enough to spoil.
To Kali, this was not just food…it would be fuel. The table was set so as to place a sort of alter at its head, as if Elijah, Buddha, Krishna, Vishnu, Ganesh, Changó and the Orichás and Guerreros of Lukumi, and several other prophets, spirits, messengers and gods of every known Pagan and Wicken practice, plus their namesakes, Kali and Ashtar would all be coming to dinner as well. Cohibas and rum rounded out the rest of the venue, placed on the altar for later offering and consumption.
A mirror was placed behind the altar, with a single lit candle in front of it.
Tonight would be a summonsing of power and advice from those best suited to offer it.
Lord Krishna displays his Vishvarupa (Universal Form) to Arjuna on the battlefield of Kurukshetra. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
English: Picture of Hindu Goddess Kali. This photograph was taken during Kali Puja at Naihati, a town in West Bengal, India. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
THFWS & TTM’s: The Magic Theater is not for Everyone
The Magic Theater is not for Everyone
Merle was the first to arrive. Although it was not uncommon for him to let himself in, Kali made it a special point to greet him at the door. Although Kali and Ashtar were legally married, they all considered the union between Merle and Kali to be a marriage as well. He was not just the other man in her life…they had been deeply in love for as long as the three of them had known each other, and she very much wanted to greet him at the door as a wife does to her husband.
She was dressed in the sheerest and lightest material she owned, a sort of harem-pajama set that included bells for her wrists and toes. The filmy material clung to her voluptuous figure in some places, like her nipples, and made them hard, like they were trying to push through the outfit; clung to her belly and accented her navel and billowed in the most provocative way before burying itself deeply into the crevice of the entrance to the temple of the holy of holies…even the fabric seemed to worship her body. Merle was no exception.
The smile on his face convinced her that her wardrobe choice was correct, and the passion that sparked between them as their lips met was electric. As their bodies pressed together during their lingering embrace in the doorway, they felt a wave of passionate desire wash over them…it had been weeks since they had seen each other, and the extended momentary contact had left them collectively gasping, wet, and hard.
This was exactly the way to begin the evening…an embrace, a kiss and that longing expression of desire to start to build the fires of passion that would engulf the three of them tonight…the more that they wanted to surrender to the tempest of eroticism that their bodies promised, the sweeter the pangs of anticipation they felt as they ever so slowly gazed into each other’s eyes as they gently withdrew, smiling in the knowledge of what was to become even more intense as the evening progressed, leading, teasing, and beguiling them into the ecstatic crescendo that avowed itself, both sexually and spiritually to explode within them when it finally could no longer be postponed.
“I missed you so much…I always do…” she suddenly blurted out as they stood touching only their fingertips together.
“…and if it was not so sweet to miss you the way I do when I am away, just so we can feel like this when we meet again, I might covet what you and Ash enjoy on a daily basis…but what we have would not be possible in the everyday world…you and he have the comfort of stability, support and consistency…for us, each day together is a holiday of celebration of the present moment…and of ourselves.”
“And I must be the luckiest woman in the world to love and know you both.”
“Madame, it would give me the utmost pleasure to do everything in my power to convince you that you are right.”
They both began to laugh as Ash pulled into the driveway.
Ash’s face beamed in a way that no ordinary husband could, given the fact that his wife and his best friend are also passionate lovers. He took great pleasure in knowing that in granting Kali and Merle his blessings and support, he gave them something that can only be given out of the greatest sort of love any person can know…to bequeath another something that is already theirs to begin with, even if they don’t know it until it is proffered….
It seemed to take a thousand forevers for Ash to carry his guitar up the driveway to the house, and as he entered, he put the guitar down to embrace Kali. Once he kissed her, the three of them stood together hugging, with Kali in the middle, a position in which she was exquisitely comfortable…and adept.
“I need a three-minute shower and a change of clothes if I am going to be any kind of company this evening. I’d like to slip into something more comfortable, and I can’t imagine anything more comfortable than you my dear, but for the time being, I’ll have to settle for something befitting the occasion…something…auspiciously sexy?…hmmm….”
“How about something that comes off easily?” Kali volunteered.
“I know just the thing”, he quipped.
In less than five minutes, he returned, freshly showered, wrapped in a Hawaiian-print beach towel.
There is something mystically supernatural in the connection between seafood and sex and the very oceans themselves. Mere fresh water does not impart the galvanic charge, the ion potential that is to be exploited from that Strega brew conjured in the provocative saline diluvium of the seas so as to be vividly swept away by a flood of passions that are evoked by the taste and aroma itself. Seafood tastes like sex because sex tastes (and smells) like Life.
For just a moment, the three of them stood there, just staring and smelling the banquet, before Kali broke the silence.
“But wait! ….There’s more! I took the liberty of turning and setting the vaporizer…Merle, if you would be so good as to do the honors…as a prelude to the prelude….”
“But of course, Madame Weasel” replied Merle in a very thick, phony faux Français as he pulled back his thick, coarse straight black hair into a pony tail and produced a vial of concentrated THC from a hidden pocket in his robe. “I feel sorry for any family that does not have a resident Chemist to keep them properly supplied with the finer things in life.”
“For which we are eternally grateful, Monsieur H’Ouiselle.” quipped Ash in an even worse accent.
“The benefits derived from ingesting Cannabis Sativa, Indica or any of the associated derivatives, extracts and elixirs containing trans delta-nine tetrahydrocannabinol by the method known as vaporization is immense. Eliminating the need for combustion to administer potent concentrations of its psychoactive properties has decided health benefits as well…and this trio of pranksters literally thrive on the stuff…”
“Oh yeah, Hello, It’s Me, Raul, again, your narrator for the evening…I hope you enjoyed some of my previous appearances and performances as the Talking Cuban Tree Frog…Needless to say, I wouldn’t have missed this evening for all the flies in the Everglades…but wherever are my manners?”
“Please allow me to introduce Sharma and Sobe, my companions who will be acting as ushers for the impending guests who may start arriving any time now. Although they appear to be a matched pair of male and female lizards, they are (within a certain variety of Reality) very old souls who were summonsed here a long time ago, who just fell in love with the surroundings and decided to stay…who knows how long? How long is a piece of string? They have no use for Man’s preoccupation for measuring something that He himself made up which does not really exist at all…do not be offended if they do not speak…they prefer to rely on The Knowing, and hope that they may help you experience it for yourselves.”
(Camera simultaneously pulls back and zooms out slowly from the extreme close-up of Raul, headset, script et al, to reveal two beautifully incarnated Iguanas gracefully choreographed into an almost continual soixante-neuf ballet of mutual pursuit, who suddenly stop to look toward the camera long enough to wave like British Aristocrats before suddenly nodding and crouching in unison twice before re-commencing their pas de deux on the massive trunk of the banyan tree that overlooked the spacious front and rear windows of the house.)
(Raul continues…) “Some of you may be offended that a respected Botanist/Research Pharmacist, a Cleric and their mutual Concubine are ingesting a substance currently illegal in the State of Florida…for any purpose, even Scientific or Spiritual Research or Worship, but that’s just the way they roll, and to quote Ash ‘If you can’t take a joke, them go fuck yourself…if you can’t find anyone to do it for you…’ but it is now time to resume observation of our subjects for tonight’s episode of Galactic Geographic.”
(Raul now turns his attention back to the interior of the house as the camera dollies and zooms back in through the window.)
English: Tetrahydrocannabinol; THC; Marinol-aka mary jane. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
3D rendering of the THC molecule (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
English: Chemical Kali (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
English: “Album of popular prints mounted on cloth pages. Colour lithograph, lettered, inscribed and numbered 27. Kali, draped with a necklace of skulls, stands on Shiva. The surrounding landscape is littered with body parts. The figures of Brahma, Vishnu and another are seen observing the scene from within the clouds. See 2003,1022,0.53 for a depiction of Tara standing on Shiva from the same series.” (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The Home for WaywardSouls: Illumination…warning Adult content. Strong Sexual themes and images…much too good for children.
Illumination
Ash, Kali and Merle enjoyed the meal like bees going from flower to flower, stopping here and there to sip, to sample, to taste, to empower themselves, define and refine their vibrations, and prepare for tonight’s venture. They were careful not to turn their backs to the Orichás and Los Guerreros especially, but although they walked around most of the table, they did not walk behind the alter set at the head of the table nor in front of the mirror.
They enjoyed feeding each other little bits and bites of this and that in various combinations, sharing the tastes, textures and aromas, sometimes by fork, by spoon, by chopstick, by hand…or by mouth. They touched each other provocatively as they ate, and even licked each other’s fingers, faces, and necks as any of them found themselves inclined to do.
As they finished their sake, Merle produced what he had previously called The Knowledge of Good and Evil, which he had put into three black capsules of five hundred micrograms each, plus a buffer that helped facilitate safe transport via non-isotonic concentration gradients across the cell membrane.
Merle had the most amazing insights into visualizing molecules that induced particular changes as well as steady states in the bio-molecular substrates of the neurochemistry of the brain. Even he did not claim to know the sources of his inspiration. He said he would close his eyes, and eventually he would feel an awareness of how each portion of the molecule would function. (He did not discuss this gift with his employers, of course.)
First Kali, then Ash, and finally he opened their mouths like supplicants taking the Sacrament for Communion as he popped a cap into each of their mouths, raising his sake as if toasting everyone, he said “The Knowledge of Good and Evil is too pretentious and long a name to call this. From now on, we shall call it ‘Kali’….”
Ash and Kali stood there with the black caps on their tongues in their open mouths for a second, smiled at Merle and drank the sake to wash down the drug in unison with Merle.
“…Merle…”
“Not now my friends…see what I have seen, and you will understand…trust me, I’m not likely to change my mind about it…at least just for now.”
“Ok.”
Kali was the first to disrobe, pulling just two strings that allowed her garment to fall to the floor, as she stepped out of her sandals. Ash released the tucked ends of the beach towel.
Only Merle remained clothed. He stood there, motionless save for the expressions that passed over his face like local weather cells in Florida. As the expressions changed from neutral, to nearly pensive, to shy, to mischievous, to provocative there was a visible change in demeanor as well as he went from androgynously male to androgynously female to amorphously ambiguous, a curious sort of glow emanated from within Merle’s aura that gave him the appearance of translucence.
“Now keep in mind, that they just dropped the drug, and I haven’t had any of it at all myself…hey, it’s me, Raul,” he whispered.
“…Well…Somebody has to provide unbiased witness to this event…it’s my journalistic duty…and besides, curiosity is not the exclusive domain of Felines you know, and as for mortality, well the reason humans think cats have nine lives is because the Satisfaction of Curiosity gives them a buoyant sort of protection that exists so strongly for them that it becomes real. Apache warriors undergo a ritual that imparts a metaphysical armor that becomes real…I’ve seen Merle administer it to several people before here…and it ends with them walking across a bed of fire…but not me…‘Froglegs’ is not how I wish to be remembered…but I have to know, and I have also to bear witness to such events, after all…inquiring minds want to know, and as a Doctor of Journalism, I am compelled…but watch this:…”
Merle stood facing Ash and Kali in what is often called anatomical position as he slowly raised his hands, palms up, thumbs out as he drew the tips of his thumbs to their respective index fingertips as he first inhaled through his nose, then slowly exhaled through slightly pursed lips. He sighed deeply, and proceeded to loosen his long black flowing hair, shaking his head as a horse shaking its mane. His hands now resembled the beatific, imploring or welcoming hands of several statues of Christ around the world. He then pulled the robe over his head to reveal the chemise and panties. He went from coy to unabashed in less time than it takes to tell.
First he looked them both deeply in the eyes, then lowered his gaze, adding “This is the only place I feel comfortable doing this, and I thank you so much for not only understanding this, but also for appreciating it on a level that enhances the experience…just for a little smile…But tonight is not a fashion show…goodbye drag…for now.
Merle then launches into an English accent he uses whenever he quotes Lewis Carroll or Monty Python:
“Tis Time, my friends,
He said at last,
to speak of many things.
Of ships and shoes and sealing wax,
of cabbages and Kings.
And why the sea is boiling hot
or whether Pigs have wings…”.
With that, the lingerie was gone, and Merle stood before them naked. Six feet, seven inches of red-bronzed Apache flesh sculpture. The word statuesque would never seem the same to Ash and Kali without thinking first of Merle.
(“Just exquisitely a little past too much” thought Kali knowingly.)
Kali approached him first, and Ash followed, as the two men sandwiched her as Kali envisioned being Shish Kabobed; skewered between the two great loves of her life, slowly roasting over the flames of the fires of Passion and Lust, the hot coals sizzled scintillatingly as her juices drip onto the fire.
Kali’s face only comes up to Merle’s heart chakra, which she kisses as she slowly rubs Merle’s nipples, rolling them between her thumbs and forefingers. She then begins to bend over as she drags her tongue downward over his skin until she is nuzzling the peninsular magnificence of Merle’s thick, growing, rising cock. As it swells, the tip of the head begins to peek out past the foreskin, as if trying to look around the corner before venturing out.
Ash kneels behind her as he slathers her puanani with his tongue, spreading the wetness everywhere as Kali moans with a kind of resonance that is felt by both men.
All three of them are now just starting to feel the effects of the drug as their passions and metabolisms begin to skyrocket.
Kali abruptly spins around, bent completely over as she lifts herself at the hips by doing calf-raises in short, staccato beats. As she does so, she faces Ash, her face lightly perfumed by Merle’s pheromones as she deeply kisses Ash, savoring the aromas and flavors she has imparted to his face.
As she does so, she grasps first his shoulders, then his waist as she encourages Ash to stand up. As he does she impales first her mouth, then her throat upon Ashe’s spear. Merle is already standing and fully erect in more ways than one as he first slaps his viande against her buttocks before beginning to slowly rub, spread, and prod her labia gently, yet insistently as she mentally prepares to be stretched beyond her normal limits to accommodate pleasure.
Ash and Merle now find themselves staring into each other’s faces. It has never been uncomfortable for them in this circumstance, and although neither homophobic nor bisexual per se, they were quite at ease with their circumstance. (They rarely ever discussed “…that one night, when they were in college together….”)
Merle then pulled Kali down with him onto a thick rug that covered the wooden floor in front of the unlit flagstone fireplace, laid down upon his back with Kali spread-eagled over his face while Ash penetrated her from behind while she slathered Merle’s sex with her tongue.
They then turned around so Kali could ride Merle, cowgirl-style which took some considerable finesse despite the fact that they had been intimate with each other for years now. But once pinioned on his member, she began to move up and down until almost three-quarters of his length was inside her. Now it was his turn to move his hips as Ash slowly began to press his rigid prick against her anus, then slowly remove it and start again, gently dilating her sphincter as she began to moan wickedly as she gyrated her hips on Merle’s phallus.
The effects of the drug were fully upon them, although Merle said they were nowhere near the peak. Amber, gold, and neon-green seemed to envelop everything they saw, which seemed to glow from within. The music that was playing seemed unrecognizable except when a particular phrase or lyric seemed to jump out of the cacophony of the Gestalt of all the sounds that they found themselves suddenly noticing…
A symphony of airplane noise, fluorescent light transformers, refrigeration and air conditioning compressors, faraway dogs serenading unknown listeners, their own stomachs, several mosquitoes trying to hide in the kitchen under the table, every bird, every lizard, every cat, every frog, the expressway several miles away in the distance, every fly, moth, or caterpillar, a dripping faucet somewhere in the distance, the rustling of the leaves outside, each other’s breathing, as well as their own, in addition to a sound none of them could identify…a soft chorus of voices that seemed to lead the harmonization of all of the combined sounds into an orchestration of noise that suddenly sounded harmonious, as if it all was directed by some divine conductor.
They heard it, they sensed it, they knew it even before any of them acknowledged it. It also sounded like there was a drumbeat somewhere off in the distance… “Dirty Business” from a Jerry Garcia solo album suddenly came to the forefront.
Kali also seemed to be going into a trance of some kind. She spoke in a deeper, more summonsing voice that suddenly cried out the names of heretofore unmentioned deities from the earliest beginnings of Man. When she opened her mouth to speak, the sounds of other voices, as if trapped inside her were also trying to be heard, to get out. One of the voices was definitely speaking backwards. Although an absolutely alarming occurrence, the three of them remained intently enraptured, curious to find out what was next.
Kali’s body was repeatedly wracked by orgasm, again, and again, causing her to cry out wickedly as she began to laugh uncontrollably in short fits before lapsing into momentary silence.
Next, the room seemed to shake as if an earthquake was occurring, as if the house would split, the beams and rafters began to moan in an orgasmic chorus of impending chaos…except that Ash noticed that none of the glasses of sake were shaking, and that the chandelier was not moving or swaying. A clarion call of giant horns sounding like the cries of whales underwater (or perhaps Gabriel’s Trumpet) seemed to drown out everything until one of them spoke softly, in a whisper that they all heard equally clearly.
As frenzied as their sex had been only moments before, they now began to notice figures that stepped out from the wooden paneling of the living room, only to retreat back moments later. A flash of light here, a darkening of the atmosphere that seemed to stream from one point to another, gather strength, and stream off again to another point. Knotholes that became eyes, or vaginas that winked back.
Kali seemed to be possessed of some spirit or spirits that spoke through her.
It was time to discover the source of the Majic that surrounded them everywhere.
Kali went to get a cauldron that she often used for scrying. She was still naked, flushed, and dripping when she returned with the vessel. She kept rainwater that she gathered from a hollow stump during the new moon at midnight. She used a hibachi grill to heat the contents to boiling as they gathered on the porch, naked and huddled in the near darkness. Ash produced three boat seat cushions to use to kneel around the boiling pot of water first to read the vapors, then the reflections as Kali began to question their visitors.
Ash found it difficult to concentrate at first because he kept staring at Kali’s swollen, distended vulva. Kali was distracted by the fact that it wouldn’t stop throbbing, and Merle couldn’t take his mind off the smell of Kali’s snatch, that still lingered on his face. A Wiccan sorceress, a brujo, and a shaman are still human. Time to cowboy up.
They had already decided earlier as to what they considered the primary purposes of this evening were to be. As much as they cherished the sex between them, tonight it was to be the vehicle they used to attempt to expand their consciousness sufficiently to make contact with the ancient ones to learn what they had to offer. Now it appeared that they had enticed the spirits that surrounded them. They still wanted to make meaningful useful contact to gain wisdom.
This “Knowledge…” that they had taken was more powerful than any drug they had ever tried before…and they had done just about all of them, between Merle’s pharmacological and botanical experiences, as well as his status as a shaman, which helped provide access to many things. “Kali” (the drug) was like psilocybin, peyote, LSD, and MDMA combined. It had physical body effects, including powerful stimulatory properties, it produced visions and interestingly enough, an extraordinary euphoria that gave the impression of insight, although they already knew better than to trust their current impressions completely until the next day, and they used the digital voice recorders on their phones for almost everything that transpired that evening. There was also a security camera that covered the entire back porch, just in case something visible appeared.
What no camera or recorder could document was the anticipated God Phenomenon that has previously only been experienced on a temporary basis by direct electrical stimulation of certain parts of the left parietal region of the brain. The unanticipated effects were proving to be far beyond their wildest anticipations.
They expected that the insights, revelations and self-awareness would probably occur during the later portions of their experiences this evening, much as it often does with psychedelic drugs in general.
As they stared at the boiling cauldron, Kali set a mixture of oil and alcohol that she poured onto the surface on fire, adding Dragon’s Blood and several other agents that produced various effects to aid in the process. They held hands in a circle around the fiery cauldron. They chanted, and nothing happened. They waited for a moment, and a very large Macaw (not a native to Florida, it should be noted) flew to the porch, landed on the deck about six feet away and waddled the remaining few feet to the middle of the circle. Just like that. It walked right up to the flames, turned around to Kali, and asked “What’cha doin’ Toots?”
They all laughed, including the bird, who repeated its question as it hopped onto Kali’s lap. “Boop-Oopa Doop…What’cha doin, Toots? As it cocked its head quizzically, shifting its weight from one foot to the other as it bobbed its head up and down.
Kali finally answered the rather persistent giant bird in an amused tone like she was talking to a small child, or like some pet owners do with their dogs and cats (or some spouse’s with their mates).
“We’re looking for a Spirit Guide, my friend.”
“Well why didn’t you say so in the first place?…Boop-Oopa Doop. What can I do for you?”
As stunned as they all were by the remark, they later noted to each other that at that moment they all experienced the so-called “God Effect” while talking with this avian anomaly…not because they believed the macaw to be God per se, but they somehow sensed that it might just be a messenger…and that they experienced a heretofore unknown feeling of the workings of the cosmos within themselves…it’s hard to explain. The Chinese say that to the man who has had the experience, no explanation is necessary, but to the man who has not had the experience, none will suffice. So it was for them that night.
“So you are our guide? Kali inquired as she stroked the feathers on the bird’s head, which it clearly enjoyed.
“No, but I have been sent as a sort of messenger/emissary to you three to give you some badly needed advice…Boop-Oppa-Doop.”
“What advice?” asked Merle.
The giant Amazon turned its head around like an owl (which is quite unusual for this breed) and looked Merle straight in the eye. “Listen carefully…you need more help…you need allies with whom you are quite literally willing to trust with your lives.” It then turned its attention to Ash: “You have a parish, and you have some valuable friends…it’s your decision as to whom you pick, but you and your most lovely wife must be at the center, like a nucleus, and Merle, your medicine man needs to be the North. He requires a female to be the South, and you need to choose a male and female East and West respectively. The four winds, the four seasons, the four elements, the four corners of the earth…it’s no coincident. You can figure it out…I hope you can figure it out, because you face real danger if you go much farther without their assistance…Boop-Oopa-Doop.”
“How do we find them? Kali inquired.
“Keep doing what you started…you’re on the right track, but you need one more ingredient…”
“Wait!” Kali blurted out. “What is your name?”
“Boop-Oopa-Doop…at your service… she did a very impressive full bow as she extended her right wing which she swept from left to right rather formally in front of her. “…but you can all call me Betty.” She leaned close to Kali and winked as she sniffed lightly… “Baby, you smell gooood! See you in the funny papers, Toots…I gotta go, but I still gotta give you one more thing before I leave so you can see properly…I’ll be Bach”, she quipped in a very poor Austrian accent.
With that Betty (Boop-Oopa-Doop) jumped down off Kali’s lap and jumped into the flames, producing an intense pure white light, like phosphorus, that temporarily blinded them.
As they stared into the neon-purple after effects of their blindness, what they all saw was Darcy, doing her “Bandaloop” dance.
One down, two more to go.
The Home for Wayward Souls: The East and the West.
The East and The West
Kali, Ash, and Merle were stunned. The choice of Darcy to be the South to Merle’s North was perfect. She was young, and playful, and her Bandaloop Dance seemed to possess some real power of some sort, and her effect on the chimps and bonobos at the Habitat was already legendary.
They were still at a loss to divine the identities of the East and the West an hour later, no matter what Kali tried. They were very much under the influence of the drug, but were starting to get hungry and thirsty, and decided to take a break for awhile, and truth be told, they still wanted to take up where they left off when the spirits came out to play. They even thought that perhaps if they resumed the show that the spirits might return, so they thought they would go back to the dining room to fuel up. They also were feeling like they needed to sit for a spell, so to speak, after kneeling for so long around the cauldron.
Ash sat down at the far end of the table, and Kali sat on his left. Merle sat opposite Kali, on Ash’s right. They noshed and sipped and mostly made small talk until Ash suddenly realized that the mirror they had placed behind the altar faced another mirror several feet behind his head, and it had created a series of reflections that extended back in both directions as far as he could see, producing an almost infinite cascade of increasingly smaller and smaller reflections of the same image, which he brought to Kali and Merle’s attentions, who were quick to point out that if they looked backward at the other mirror, they saw another series of the back of Ashe’s head as well, which he could not see, of course, but after he turned around to face the mirror behind him, when they looked back at the mirror behind the alter, what they saw couldn’t have shocked them more.
Instead of their faces reflected back at them, they instead saw the faces of Charles and Suki, but their reflection showed a curious series of concentric fractures around a bullet hole in the center of the mirror that was not present in their mirror. Charles and Suki had told Ash about the experiences with their mirror, and they had shared their experiences with other members of the parish. Charles and Suki believed they had created a portal for spirits to jump into their world, and had already had some very interesting encounters since the portal had been created. As stunned as the trio was, Kali was the first to regain her indomitable sense of humor and waved at the reflections of Charles and Suki, who waved back….
It was now obvious to everyone as to who would be West and East. They tried to call Charles and Suki, but got a beep-through on their call-waiting, which turned out to be them. As excited as they all were about their discovery, they agreed to table the more complicated subject of their roles as East and West until Saturday.
The rest of the evening was spent in the pursuit of joyful licentiousness and enlightened gratitude, making a great deal of Joyful Noises to anyone who cared to listen, but Raul, Sharma, and Sobe were not the only ones to be their witnesses….
THFWS: They Became What They Beheld… (More strong sexual themes and images)…Hey Kids: This is not for you…get the fuck out…
The Home for Wayward Souls and the Talking Monkeys
They Became What They Beheld… (More strong sexual themes and images…Hey Kids: This is not for you…get the fuck out…next time I will have to remember to put Vaseline on the doorknob)
“When they returned to the paneled living room, they noticed the eyes and the vaginas were already winking at them. One of the things they found most interesting was the congruency of their images and visions. They were all having the same simultaneous experience. This is an extremely rare occurrence in occult drug experimentation. Although I have witnessed some of the phenomena occurring here tonight, most of it seems to be a ‘group experience’ for Kali, Ash, and Merle…for a while, I thought it was just ‘mass hysteria’, but there is an intangible quality to all of this that intrigues my imagination and prompts me to continue my observations…oh what the fuck…who am I kidding?…as a journalist and reporter my objectivity flew out the window hours ago. I could (and have, in the past) watched them fuck for hours on end…my wife says it’s a sickness, and calls me a ‘peeping frog’…voyeurism is a relatively mild kink, all things considered, especially compared to these three acrobats…is there such a thing as a ‘sexual athlete’? If so, they belong in the Olympics…I mean….”
(Raul, our reporter for Galactic Geographic has really begun to babble…but interestingly enough, Sharma and Sobe the ushers, find themselves quite busy once again. Apparently new guests are starting to arrive en masse.)
Kali had once remarked that “Even if I could unhinge my jaw like a snake, I’d have to stop waxing my mustache just to hide the stretch marks…just to get it in my mouth.”…and don’t even fantasize about ‘deepthroat’” because sex with Merle necessitated extraordinary adaptive skills due to his sheer largesse. Fortunately, Merle had also developed preternatural intuition and empathic skills, which meant he was patient and gentle to a fault; in fact, he often had to be encouraged to become more vigorous before he would even approach giving it his all (which never happened). (Btw: Kali’s parents were Greek and Turkish, although collectively, most of the races got some representation in her gene pool, so Kali waxed “everything but my eyebrows and head.”
Her skin was exquisitely smooth and fine-pored and a caramel-mocha color that resembled porcelain, or a properly smoked meerschaum pipe that lightened and darkened with the high and low surfaces of her voluptuously oversculptured body.
Her flexibility and athleticism were well balanced by the fact that she also played several instruments, painted, sang beautifully and spoke more languages than she was inclined to admit. Ash and Merle both adored her and sometimes jokingly referred to her as their “home entertainment center”. Somewhere between a classical geisha and a “Renaissance Woman”; (if such a thing were actually recognized, she would be the archetype).
Kali’s favorite “cumpulsion” was DP. She got a great deal of practice at it, and because Ash and Merle were equally inventive, athletic and broad-minded, they became very good at it. Because of the height disparities, this usually necessitated Merle having to lie on his back. Kali would then straddle him, with her feet flat on the floor so as to squat onto Merle, since the distance from her knees to her hips was not sufficient to allow her to kneel, at least initially.
Ash and Kali especially enjoyed anal when Merle was home, because they had more conventional congress when he was away. Ash was quite amply endowed, but anal with Merle was “almost” out of the question (a discussion for another time and place), so their simultaneous coital congress usually followed the above paradigm more often than not. Even reverse cowgirl DP involved placing Ash’s buttocks in Merle’s face, which did little to enhance the experience for either of the men. (It’s not like they got much chance to get bored, all things considered.)
Depending on how long it had been since Kali and Merle had been intimate with each other, it would take an accordingly sufficient time for Kali to be able to accommodate Merle’s prodigious size, which eventually would result in Kali’s inner labia becoming enormously swollen and distended. Despite what many men may proclaim in public however, it was Kali’s experience that almost all the men with whom she kept company or entertained were most appreciative of her condition and it was an extreme turn-on (fortunately) for both Ash and Merle.
And so it was that by approximately three AM after Friday the Thirteenth of Eternity, they were once again conjoined, reveling, nay wallowing in rut when the Ancient Ones began to make their presence known again.
The wooden paneling now produced tongues and phalluses (how often do you see that word written in the plural?) in addition to the eyes and vaginas. The tongues and phalluses writhed as the ocular and vulvar manifestations continued to bat and flutter approvingly. So intense was their desire that although they noticed the occurrences, they were not especially distracted by them in the heat of the moment.
This time, when the trumpeting began, they did not stop, but rather redoubled the intensity of their ferocious conjugation. They became more vocal themselves as the shuddering, groaning, shrieking earthquake around them erupted…into stone cold silence. Talk about being conspicuous in its absence, the deathly quiet of the room actually gave them momentary pause in time to witness a neon blue-violet conquistador step out from the walls in absolute silence.
He and the horse were in full vestments and armor as they both surveyed the room. After a moment, he waved the go-ahead signal used since earliest military times to signal an advance. With that, as they proceeded through the room, they were followed by a multitude of figures of every description as the walls morphed into what resembled a Mayan Amphitheater where Sharma and Sobe were escorting these paranormal dignitaries to their seats.
Vendors appeared, dispensing all manner of exotic delicacies (most of which looked bizarre to the trio) as if they were “Red Hots.”
“Welcome my friends, to the show that never ends;
we’re so glad you could attend.
Step inside, step inside.”
When Kali shrieked in ecstasy, a maelstrom of voices emerged. As Merle groaned and bellowed it was as if an elephant was trumpeting while Ash growled like a grizzly bear in rut.
The audience began to clap and chant in tongues unknown to them, which they seemed to understand intuitively.
The drumming became louder as more and more percussion instruments were added to the mix. An orchestra of aliens played a symphony of obscure instruments that appeared to be conducted by Lord Krishna himself. Los Guerreros and all the Orichás were in attendance. Rati was costumed as a cheerleader performing on the floor of the amphitheater, doing handstands and backflips with no panties. Familiar, recognizable figures of historical religious note came and went. Lost Souls of every type and description flew, zapped and zigzagged hither and yon, sometimes zooming in close and personal, even fondling, stroking, sniffing and licking the trio. The amphitheater shook until it seemed it would crumble and collapse upon them all, but they did not stop. They seemed to possess superhuman strength and stamina as the frenzy reached its crescendo to the cheering of the assembled multitude.
They awoke at dawn to the sound of a rooster crowing to announce the arrival of the sun.
Charles, Suki, Darcy and Mark were also knocking on their door.
THFWS: The Four and the Three
The Four and the Three
Ash answered the door wearing the beach towel he had abandoned earlier the night before. Fortunately, it was too early for the light to hurt his eyes. He was cheerful and upbeat, but clearly exhausted.
“I was afraid we would be too early…should we come back later?” Darcy blurted out. “I was afraid we would wake you.”
“That’s OK…I had to get up to answer the door anyhow…” quipped Ash with a slight smirk and a chuckle. “No seriously…come on in. We really want to talk with the four of you…but how did you know?”
“Charles and Suki called about an hour ago” said Mark and Darcy almost in unison.
“Oh really?” Merle was now standing behind Ash dressed in his robe. Darcy’s eyes were wide and expressive, but since her gaze met Merle’s as she scanned upwards from the “tent” Merle had pitched under his robe, she suddenly blushed furiously.
Charles interjected “We saw the same thing you did, only in our mirror…the Bandaloop Dance…we had watched her do it a couple days ago, and both of us remarked how uplifting it was to see her do it…except in the vision, she was surrounded by chimps and bonobos and they were all doing this dance.”
“First, we saw you guys on the porch with the Macaw, but then, it was like the mirror zoomed in on the image of Darcy…we experienced the same kind of blindness…from the flash of light, and she faded in as our vision returned; then as it zoomed back out, we saw the whole image of Darcy, but without you three. There were hundreds of Chimps and Bonobos all around her dancing, following her every move like she was their Queen or something…it was quite moving, whatever the vision meant….”
“Boys! Boys! Wherever are your manners? Invite our guests inside, don’t keep them waiting in the doorway…Come inside…are you hungry? Would you like something to eat? We have so much to discuss…and figure out, but please do come in and make yourself comfortable.” Kali proclaimed in an exaggerated ante bellum Scarlet O’Hara sort of voice that dripped of Southern hospitality, Magnolia and Jasmine. She had gone to the bedroom and put on a colorful short sheer robe that clung to her curves like a formula one racer at Le Mans…it didn’t really hide much of anything, but Kali was neither shy nor modest in the least, and they were among friends…soon to be much closer friends.
Chairs were assembled around the dining room table. Kali fixed eggs and brought out bread to go with the fruit and fish. Coffee and tea were brewed, and everyone pitched in while they noshed and made small talk, mostly.
Once they got settled in and comfortable, they started to discuss their strategy. Ash was the first to speak.
“I’d be lying if I tried to tell you we really know what we are doing, or what to expect. You know we have been trying to make contact with The Ancient Ones, but we don’t even know what that really means. Since earliest times, they were regarded as gods or beings from another dimension.”
“They possess great power and have wisdom, insight and knowledge that we believe to be very valuable in our pursuit of our personal evolution. They all have different names, and various customs and rituals surround each of the cultures built around them, but there also is so much replication, or repetition and similarities in the way that they are summonsed, as well as differences in their ‘worshippers’ expectations of the results.”
“We are of the opinion that if we can find a way to cross over, or to attract them to us, that whatever ‘dimension’ or state of mind, or being upon which we meet, may well be shared by all the Ancient Ones…that there may be a common thread that allows us…well, Communion, if you will.”
Mark looked the most puzzled. “I’m not sure I understand….
“It’s like you can surf Melbourne, Coco Beach, Cape May…or Maui, but it’s still surfing…you have to know how to surf…it’s a technique.” Charles and Mark had been friends for years, and he had a very deferential, almost fatherly way of interacting with Mark. He put his hand on Mark’s shoulder as he spoke. “We are all attempting different ways to make contact.”
Merle took up the next part of the discussion.
“I have discovered a drug that not only possesses so-called “psychedelic” properties, but it also may enable a sort of bridge between Man and The Gods. I originally called it ‘The Knowledge of Good and Evil’…
“The Fruit of the Tree?…that got Adam and Eve kicked out of the garden?” interjected Mark.
“Well…that’s the Christian Bible version of it…there’s a bit more to it according to a number of biblical scholars, but…” Ash tried to interject, but Merle took over.
“I have decided to call it ‘Kali’…Chemical Kali…I guess for obvious reasons…otherwise, no one would know if we were referring to our Earth Mother, or the vehicle we use to try to contact her and her friends.”
Now it was Kali’s turn to interrupt.
“As flattered as I am…I’d like to suggest an alternate name…and an explanation for my motives. When I was born, I was christened ‘Calliope.’ It’s a Greek name…the Goddess of Epic Poetry…Homer’s muse…the source of inspiration for the Odyssey…they pronounced it ‘Kal Ee Oh Pee’ but at school, the kids called me ‘Ka Lie Oh Pee’, like on a carousel…I hated the name, and the sound of the instrument, so when I left home, I changed it legally to ‘Kali’ for ‘The Dark Mother’ and Wife of Shiva…so for the sake of avoiding confusion…how about if we call it ‘The Carousel’? I’ve already had my share of confusion regarding my name…people won’t know if your mean me, or the drug…I’m honored by your dedication and we are the only ones who really need to know the origin of the name…please?”
“Hey, why not just shorten ‘The Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil’…to just ‘The Fruit’? Our Kali is Kali…our very own ‘Dark Mother’…and a carousel goes around in circles, but never goes anywhere. One of the Zen Patriarchs once said that to even say the name of the Buddha was like pouring a bucket of shit on his head…I know I am very new to the group, but it’s just a thought…” Darcy suddenly got shy and blushed…”I mean…well….”
“Check out the big brain on Darcy!” quipped Mark as he winked and gave her buttocks an affectionate and familiar squeeze. “I agree”.
“Well thanks for the flowers, big guy… (an expression with which both of them were surprisingly comfortable, despite about six inches disparity between her height and Mark’s)…but I’d prefer to be known for my big heart.” She winked right back, and everyone agreed.
Ash took over the conversation again. “So far, we believe that to ‘cross over’ we need to enlist the four winds, the four seasons, the four cardinal points of the compass that correspond to the four directions in Indian medicine, the four corners of the earth (also your head)…Kali and I are in the Sacred Circle, and Merle will be The North, Darcy will be the South, Charles will be the East, and Suki the West…”
“…uh, excuse me, but there are seven of us here…where do I fit in?” Mark was understandably anxious about where the discussion seemed to be heading.
“…Mark…we haven’t sorted out all the details of this yet…you have been a very special part of our group for too long to just be set aside or ignored like an old shoe…whatever we learn from all this will be sha THFWS & TTM’s: And Now for Something Completely Different…
And Now for Something Completely Different…
So for the rest of the afternoon, they sat and talked and ate and wrote as they planned the next major event they knew would be coming. The actual day and hour was to be determined by astrological/solar/lunar calculations based on probabilities of likelihood of occurrences based on the synchronicities of several calendars upon which various spiritual practices were based.
There was more than a slight resemblance to coincidence between many of the sects, practices, and belief systems they had studied. Different phases of the moon or other planets could create alignment of particular forces, or entities. In the eventuality that the convergences of similar forces were in agreement as to type or nature…the predominant tone, or theme, if you will of what was desired or anticipated by each belief, if not the actual desired result, the better the chances for a particular day or night yielding a particular desired effect. They were in no hurry.
They did, however commit to spending the next season of weekends together in The Asylum, not as a place to commit the mentally and spiritually infirm, but rather a place where they sought Sanctuary and mutual support, comfort, and symbiosis. It would be a time of practicing practices.
They would be spending the next several weekends becoming acclimated to The Fruit, as well as each other. Refining the Practicing of Practices of spiritual, physical, and sexual pursuits designed to summons sacred sex, out-of-body altered states, epiphanies, decries, oracles, omens, realizations, portents, and prophesies. It would be a time of sharing and learning and experiencing, and refining their techniques. To become Practitioners of their appointed Arts.
An air of excitement infused all of them with the enthusiasm of religious zealots, despite the fact that they didn’t really know what they were doing, or how to achieve their goals, the exact direction they were going, or even which was the correct direction…all the while impatient to start.
They researched files and sites that led them to other sites, all connected to each other by a few common threads. Phone calls were made to any place that could speak any of the languages that they collectively spoke. It was Homecoming Week, The Senior Prom and Mardi Gras combined. The collective consciousnesses of a select group of individuals with a common purpose, and a sense of belonging to something even larger than the sum of the parts.
Musical groups, especially rock bands know that sense of belonging and common purpose. Military units deployed to foreign lands know that kind of camaraderie. Religious sects and communities like the Amish or Bush Mormons know a similar sense of community. Each of them possesses a set of requirements for membership, and a certain degree of secrecy surrounds the practices.
It was to be the Carnival. The next Bardo, leading to the Profound Dharma of Self-Liberation through the Intention of the Peaceful and Wrathful Ones…or Liberation through Hearing.
Ash did his Saturday show as planned; he took a nap while the others brain-stormed their way right up until it was time for the show. Ash was brilliant, and focused and foretold portents of great things to come.
Charles continued to work on the Feeder Project (aka: the Talking Monkeys) and finally began to envision Frederick at his console, miles away in another facility, monitoring calls for specific verbal references, or buzzwords to match to the designated pre-recorded messages designed to stall and further validate and qualify the target.
He found himself trying to find a way to transmit the meanings of his messages in a way that Mark and Darcy had led him to believe Frederick to be capable of understanding on an elemental level. Management did not know he even knew of Frederick, but taken on balance you could say they mutually agreed to an unstated ignorance to which they both espoused.
Mark had begun to talk a great deal with Charles about what happened when Man chose Reason over Instinct. A great deal of it centered upon conversations of the mind between Mark and Frederick. He admitted it sounded vague and was completely unscientific, but he said that he and Frederick shared a knowledge that was passed between them like a peace pipe…sometimes, there were images, and feelings. And Darcy had experienced the knowing with Frederick as well, both collectively and independently of Mark.
Mark planned to research certain messages for congruencies or definable or identifiable similarities or connecting threads to document these telepathic experiences without specifically disclosing his intentions to Management. It was not the kind of research the Center was looking to sponsor or divine, and he did not want to share the results with anyone other than Charles, and maybe Ash, who had become quite interested in “where the Ape stopped and the Man begun.”
Charles and Mark also began to collaborate on sonic and visual stimuli to enhance and guide their experiences with The Fruit. Charles had extensive experience with film, sound and video production, but he would be too busy with the ceremonies that were being envisioned to be conducting the orchestrated events. Instead, he would collaborate and choreograph with Mark to provide something to inspire and provoke without specifically knowing the intended results. Besides, Mark needed a focus to diffuse his attentions away from feeling unnecessary. Not jealous, just non-essential, or superfluous to the impending Ascension.
Darcy was beginning to take Frederick away from the Habitat more and more frequently, and for longer periods of time. Lilith enjoyed the solitude with Malkira and Frederick clearly enjoyed the company of other humans, even more than the company of other chimps or bonobos. He was different, and he knew it, expressing pride in being the only one if his kind, “The One and Only Bonanzee”…but he wanted identification and validation with someone or something other than himself, and Mark and Darcy were becoming more acutely aware of his isolation, not by his signing, but by this shared knowing they experienced.
Kali and Suki collaborated on working out the astrological balances of the group. They turned out to be an interesting mix of influences, but most importantly, they amplified and nullified each other in kind as needed to keep them on course and high-functioning, as well as nurturant.
Ash was Aries. Charismatic leader, performer. Front man and facilitator for all things interesting. Half the bivalent nucleus of the Sacred Circle, he is elemental yang.
Kali was Aquarius. A Liaison Between Parties, The Dark Mother. Protector of all Children. The Pornographic Priestess of Sacred Sex. She embodies the yin counterpoint of the Sacred Circle. She is the vessel, the mortar, and the crucible. Her name in Sanskrit is said to be the origin of the word Cunt in all of its most sacred and profane majesty.
Charles was Gemini. He could be many people, known by many names. He was a catalyst and a healer who loved broadly and deeply, but kept the darker side of his nature “Locked up in a cage in the basement…” to only be let out in dire emergencies, and who merely wished to “do good with impunity and without fear.” He was the unspoken protector of the group. He is the West.
Suki was Leo. The Lioness, protector of her pride. A medium for all sorts of Lost Souls with unfinished business on the other side. A witch, a bruja, a strega, sorceress, necromancer, teller of fortunes, a seer, an oracle and living altar of paganism. She is the East.
Mark was Libra. He was a champion of Justice, Balance, Fairness and compassion. Lover of animals and children, he makes friends easily, despite a touch of shyness that women find irresistible. No specific direction can be ascribed to him.
Darcy was Sagittarius. The Zen Archer. The proverbial sadder-but-wiser girl with a heart of gold and feet of clay, she is a lover and a giver to a fault. Quick to bed, but slow to Love, she is plagued by desires for things she does not yet know, as well as ones she knows all too well. More intelligent than she cares to acknowledge and wiser than she realizes, she can be powerful despite her “afflictions”. She is instinct and spontaneity. She is the South.
Merle was Capricorn, an alchemist and a Shaman, a conjuror of spells and states of mind, visions, and spell-binding weaver of dreams. The pole-star in their constellation. He is the pestle. He is the North.
They all spent the next week preparing and anticipating in their own ways for their individual and collective Initiation into the Ways of Majic.
red by everyone. Trust me…you do trust me, don’t you Mark?…Haven’t we always welcomed you into our home…and bed?” Kali looked into Mark’s eyes, and winked provocatively as she rubbed the inside of her right knee against his inner thigh, stroking it lightly.
Kali had him on that…he could never resist her charm and beauty. He and Kali had been intimate more than a few times. They both genuinely cared for each other, and it was no accident that Mark had not been in a serious relationship for several years, until he met Darcy.
He once told Kali he would “…walk straight into the gates of Hell for her”…be careful what you wish for, Mark.
THFWS & TTM’s: And Now for Something Completely Different…
And Now for Something Completely Different…
So for the rest of the afternoon, they sat and talked and ate and wrote as they planned the next major event they knew would be coming. The actual day and hour was to be determined by astrological/solar/lunar calculations based on probabilities of likelihood of occurrences based on the synchronicities of several calendars upon which various spiritual practices were based.
There was more than a slight resemblance to coincidence between many of the sects, practices, and belief systems they had studied. Different phases of the moon or other planets could create alignment of particular forces, or entities. In the eventuality that the convergences of similar forces were in agreement as to type or nature…the predominant tone, or theme, if you will of what was desired or anticipated by each belief, if not the actual desired result, the better the chances for a particular day or night yielding a particular desired effect. They were in no hurry.
They did, however commit to spending the next season of weekends together in The Asylum, not as a place to commit the mentally and spiritually infirm, but rather a place where they sought Sanctuary and mutual support, comfort, and symbiosis. It would be a time of practicing practices.
They would be spending the next several weekends becoming acclimated to The Fruit, as well as each other. Refining the Practicing of Practices of spiritual, physical, and sexual pursuits designed to summons sacred sex, out-of-body altered states, epiphanies, decries, oracles, omens, realizations, portents, and prophesies. It would be a time of sharing and learning and experiencing, and refining their techniques. To become Practitioners of their appointed Arts.
An air of excitement infused all of them with the enthusiasm of religious zealots, despite the fact that they didn’t really know what they were doing, or how to achieve their goals, the exact direction they were going, or even which was the correct direction…all the while impatient to start.
They researched files and sites that led them to other sites, all connected to each other by a few common threads. Phone calls were made to any place that could speak any of the languages that they collectively spoke. It was Homecoming Week, The Senior Prom and Mardi Gras combined. The collective consciousnesses of a select group of individuals with a common purpose, and a sense of belonging to something even larger than the sum of the parts.
Musical groups, especially rock bands know that sense of belonging and common purpose. Military units deployed to foreign lands know that kind of camaraderie. Religious sects and communities like the Amish or Bush Mormons know a similar sense of community. Each of them possesses a set of requirements for membership, and a certain degree of secrecy surrounds the practices.
It was to be the Carnival. The next Bardo, leading to the Profound Dharma of Self-Liberation through the Intention of the Peaceful and Wrathful Ones…or Liberation through Hearing.
Ash did his Saturday show as planned; he took a nap while the others brain-stormed their way right up until it was time for the show. Ash was brilliant, and focused and foretold portents of great things to come.
Charles continued to work on the Feeder Project (aka: the Talking Monkeys) and finally began to envision Frederick at his console, miles away in another facility, monitoring calls for specific verbal references, or buzzwords to match to the designated pre-recorded messages designed to stall and further validate and qualify the target.
He found himself trying to find a way to transmit the meanings of his messages in a way that Mark and Darcy had led him to believe Frederick to be capable of understanding on an elemental level. Management did not know he even knew of Frederick, but taken on balance you could say they mutually agreed to an unstated ignorance to which they both espoused.
Mark had begun to talk a great deal with Charles about what happened when Man chose Reason over Instinct. A great deal of it centered upon conversations of the mind between Mark and Frederick. He admitted it sounded vague and was completely unscientific, but he said that he and Frederick shared a knowledge that was passed between them like a peace pipe…sometimes, there were images, and feelings. And Darcy had experienced the knowing with Frederick as well, both collectively and independently of Mark.
Mark planned to research certain messages for congruencies or definable or identifiable similarities or connecting threads to document these telepathic experiences without specifically disclosing his intentions to Management. It was not the kind of research the Center was looking to sponsor or divine, and he did not want to share the results with anyone other than Charles, and maybe Ash, who had become quite interested in “where the Ape stopped and the Man begun.”
Charles and Mark also began to collaborate on sonic and visual stimuli to enhance and guide their experiences with The Fruit. Charles had extensive experience with film, sound and video production, but he would be too busy with the ceremonies that were being envisioned to be conducting the orchestrated events. Instead, he would collaborate and choreograph with Mark to provide something to inspire and provoke without specifically knowing the intended results. Besides, Mark needed a focus to diffuse his attentions away from feeling unnecessary. Not jealous, just non-essential, or superfluous to the impending Ascension.
Darcy was beginning to take Frederick away from the Habitat more and more frequently, and for longer periods of time. Lilith enjoyed the solitude with Malkira and Frederick clearly enjoyed the company of other humans, even more than the company of other chimps or bonobos. He was different, and he knew it, expressing pride in being the only one if his kind, “The One and Only Bonanzee”…but he wanted identification and validation with someone or something other than himself, and Mark and Darcy were becoming more acutely aware of his isolation, not by his signing, but by this shared knowing they experienced.
Kali and Suki collaborated on working out the astrological balances of the group. They turned out to be an interesting mix of influences, but most importantly, they amplified and nullified each other in kind as needed to keep them on course and high-functioning, as well as nurturant.
Ash was Aries. Charismatic leader, performer. Front man and facilitator for all things interesting. Half the bivalent nucleus of the Sacred Circle, he is elemental yang.
Kali was Aquarius. A Liaison Between Parties, The Dark Mother. Protector of all Children. The Pornographic Priestess of Sacred Sex. She embodies the yin counterpoint of the Sacred Circle. She is the vessel, the mortar, and the crucible. Her name in Sanskrit is said to be the origin of the word Cunt in all of its most sacred and profane majesty.
Charles was Gemini. He could be many people, known by many names. He was a catalyst and a healer who loved broadly and deeply, but kept the darker side of his nature “Locked up in a cage in the basement…” to only be let out in dire emergencies, and who merely wished to “do good with impunity and without fear.” He was the unspoken protector of the group. He is the West.
Suki was Leo. The Lioness, protector of her pride. A medium for all sorts of Lost Souls with unfinished business on the other side. A witch, a bruja, a strega, sorceress, necromancer, teller of fortunes, a seer, an oracle and living altar of paganism. She is the East.
Mark was Libra. He was a champion of Justice, Balance, Fairness and compassion. Lover of animals and children, he makes friends easily, despite a touch of shyness that women find irresistible. No specific direction can be ascribed to him.
Darcy was Sagittarius. The Zen Archer. The proverbial sadder-but-wiser girl with a heart of gold and feet of clay, she is a lover and a giver to a fault. Quick to bed, but slow to Love, she is plagued by desires for things she does not yet know, as well as ones she knows all too well. More intelligent than she cares to acknowledge and wiser than she realizes, she can be powerful despite her “afflictions”. She is instinct and spontaneity. She is the South.
Merle was Capricorn, an alchemist and a Shaman, a conjuror of spells and states of mind, visions, and spell-binding weaver of dreams. The pole-star in their constellation. He is the pestle. He is the North.
They all spent the next week preparing and anticipating in their own ways for their individual and collective Initiation into the Ways of Majic.
Begin to Beguine
Begin to Beguine
The next Friday night Mark, Darcy, Charles and Suki were back at the Sanctuary early to begin the preparations for that night. Kali and Merle were waiting for them. Merle capped up seven more doses of what he finally decided should be called The Knowledge. He decided to up the dose to seven hundred and fifty micrograms each. No reason to suspect any adverse reactions at that strength, especially since he had already tested it at twice that…one point five milligrams. He recalled that the afternoon he had met Darcy was the first time he had done that high a dose.
She had been on Merle’s radar ever since, and lately he found himself thinking about her more and more often the last few days. He and Mark had already had that conversation about how Mark felt about not only Darcy, but also about how he felt about Merle and Darcy.
All of them had been very close for years now, and there had been more than a few temporary liaisons that had come and gone, although most of them had been initially attracted to Merle.
Mark was not nearly as prolific as Merle when it came to female companionship, but everyone knew that it was partly due to the fact that Mark had been in love with Kali ever since the first time they had been intimate with each other.
Merle had his own room at the Sanctuary, as well as his own home, and had never lived with a woman. Mark had several “roommates” before, but none of them were especially thrilled with Mark’s relationship with Kali, and neither of them did anything to hide the fact.
Mark brought quite a few women into the group over the years, but they came and they went eventually, some sooner, some later. Darcy was the first woman to get it as far as how the members of the group fit into each other’s lives, in spite of the fact that she had not really been exposed to Polyamory as a lifestyle, with long-term relationships, or no jealousy that couldn’t be resolved.
Darcy had lived with several different men over the years, but never really felt in love with anyone before Mark. Her parents and all her peers had been involved in one dysfunctional relationship after another, following their hearts as innocently as children, but always ending tragically despite their best efforts to make it work. Darcy grew up not expecting too much from love until she met Mark.
Different paths had led them together, but as they became closer and more candid with each other, they found that each of them had something to give the other, just by being themselves, and allowing the other to act spontaneously with the good faith that they would find it in their hearts to give each other the benefit of the doubt when it did arise.
There is no roadmap for Polyamory, and anyone who claims to have The Answer to Much of Anything Worth Knowing should probably be given the same level of respect as a lightning rod salesman. Until you come to certain levels of understanding about yourself, you can only get so far before you reach some kind of an impasse. You have to be prepared to accept everything without flinching, without blinking or compromising.
Compromise is a slippery slope at best. As soon as you start to modify your behaviors, you have to question whether or not you are really compromising your ideals, if not your Self. Every day is a conscious choice. No one can make those choices for you. In a perfect world, there are no arguments because understanding is achieved in a place before words, even before ideas.
In a perfect world, we would all come and go freely, and trust in the fact that all things will unwind according to their nature, which cannot be denied. You have to let go of the illusion of control.
If you want to experience true understanding, go ask a dog about the moon.
Darcy once said “If you just let one day happen at a time, the future will take care of itself, one way or another. If you compromise yourself too much just to make it work, what you get when it does…if it does, won’t be what you really wanted anyway…and you can only lie to yourself for so long, no matter how well you lie to others. When I get to the end of my life at least I will know I was true to myself. I want to believe that I will get the opportunity to share that with someone who will appreciate me as much as I do them.”
They shared a slightly cynical fatalistic point of view that allowed them to love each other with a wild abandon that precluded worry about consequences that couldn’t be avoided.
Mark knew Darcy would be hot for Merle as soon as she met him, and accepted the inevitable with this amazing attitude that just fascinated Darcy even more. Initially, Mark was unsure if Darcy would be as understanding of his relationship with Kali as Darcy was about Mark’s acceptance of her attraction to Merle.
Darcy had been the first to get “restless leg syndrome” in all her previous relationships because she was never really in love with most of the men in her life before Mark. She had learned to not expect too much from Love early on in her life. Easy come, easy go even though she secretly knew that she longed for so much more…she just never quite knew what it was, she just knew how she wanted to feel….
Mark had to admit he did feel a bit of a pinch, maybe a wistful pang knowing that no one who ever had sex with Merle was ever quite the same. It was an experience that transcended his tremendous size, or even his skill as a lover. It was everything from his presence, his energy level, his guile-less confidence balanced by his tremendous humility…and his accessibility, balanced by his “Loving Detachment”.
Merle was also deeply in love with Kali, but understood that he received and fulfilled needs with Kali in being himself just as he was because the roles they played in each other’s lives suited both their natures.
Merle explained it like this: “There will always be times when you will be struck by loneliness and emptiness whether or not you are with someone else at the time. When you feel that angst, that pang, you have to lean into the feeling, and embrace it whether it feels like an arctic blast of air that will freeze your lungs, or a searing desert sirocco that seems to suck your breath away. It is your life calling attention to itself, to remind you just how precious each moment is.”
Without emptiness and longing, there would be neither need nor appreciation of the comfort and sanctuary of Completion.
Kali, Suki, and Darcy started early getting the food and drinks ready for the evening. Once they started the evening, none of them wanted to be either burdened or wanting for anything.
Ash arrived last, even though he ran the rehearsal early. Meanwhile, Merle, Charles, and Mark occupied themselves with furniture, pillows, blankets, candles, lights, music and all things magical, including The Knowledge.
Multiple altars of a sort, with mirrors set to reflect into each other from various points of view were arranged in several different locations, including the patio, the living room, and each of the bedrooms, including Merle’s.
Charles and Mark had devised a series of mirrors and green and red argon lasers to visually approximate the Tree of Life from the Kabala. This had been their first project together. Charles tended to be a bit excessive when it came to details concerning an idea or a vision he might get, but the group was already used to his methods, and he generally took the attitude of “Fish, Cut Bait, or Swim” as regards his pursuits.
He was responsible for the visual and auditory support at THFWS, and he had earned himself a position of respect within the congregation, and as they were now also broadcasting, he had found ingenious ways to produce different presentations leading to the same effect on small screen as well as mass audiences, and all the TV feeds carried a seizure potential warning/disclaimer that was aired before the show began. (It was that good).
Charles was an artist in his own right, but never managed to acquire the wealth he needed to support his artistic pursuits, which virtually never managed to pay for themselves much beyond the cost of the production. He said he once figured that his accumulative hourly wages for his audio-visual multimedia projects came to about twenty-five cents per hour, but he loved the work of his art and worked as a telemarketer to pay the bills for him to live.
His Tree of Life had proven to be quite an undertaking, but once it was finished all agreed that it was more than worth the effort. It stood over twelve feet tall, but the vaulted ceiling in the living room was easily capable of accommodating it. Ash talked about moving it into the auditorium for services eventually, but Charles insisted it would be better to make another, even larger version for the services anyway. It seemed that the alignment of the beams and mirrors was very critical to work properly to give the desired effect.
They all stood around the tree as Charles began to demonstrate and explain what it represented while Merle handed out The Knowledge.
The Home for Wayward Souls: Charles Explains the Sephirot
Charles explains the Sephirot
“So how long before we start to notice any effects?” Charles asked Merle. “Is there anything we should anticipate, or be aware of?
Merle explained “It’s very subtle in some ways. Minimal body effects; you don’t get that nervous, almost feverish sensation initially like with acid, but you do get a definite exhilaration, a mild euphoria, and a kind of rush a bit like MDMA. No nausea, no dizziness or lightheadedness in either Kali or Ash’s experiences, as well as my own. Both men and women tend to experience a heightened sexuality, at least so far with a very limited number of subjects, all of whom are highly sexed to begin with.”
“Part of the reason we decided to call it the ‘Knowledge’ is because you will experience this state of mind…of Knowing…of understanding…everything. Whatever catches your attention will be perceived as how it relates to everything else…its purpose and place, if you will.”
“You start to really feel and sense on a very visceral level the interconnection between not just other people or objects, or actions, but you also start to feel the connections and importance and meanings of your own actions in a way that you never perceived before.”
“It is hard to describe in words, but as they say… ‘to the man who has had the experience, none is necessary and for the man who has not had the experience, no explanation will suffice…trust me Charles, you were born to love this…and it was born to be loved by you.”
“I hope so. I could really use a spiritual pick-me-up these days.” Charles remarked.
“You can be as analytical as you are inclined to be, but eventually you will understand that all this supersedes and supplants analysis.” Merle added.
“As you all well know, this ain’t my first rodeo, and I just want to know what to expect…and by the way, if I start to get too bogged down in the details and explanations, which is a definite possibility if I don’t finish before the real festivities begin, don’t hesitate to politely tell me to shut the fuck up, OK, everybody?”
They all agreed, and Charles began.
“Now keep in mind, most of what I have done is an approximation of a concept taken from the Kabbalah, and available on Wikipedia and similar internet sources, although I did speak with a couple rabbis that Suki knew since she was just a kid over in North Miami Beach. Her mom was fascinated by Kabbalah, so she was some help too.”
“This light-sculpture is meant to represent the Sephirot, or the Tree of Life.”
“The idea to keep in mind is that this is not an approximation of God, or even multiple Gods, but a roadmap of how Judaism sees as the path to their God, and it does point out a few principles that allow one to realize and manifest higher consciousness.”
The “Sefirot” literally means “counting”/”enumeration”, but other meanings of the root word include sefer (text), sippur (recounting a story), sappir (sapphire, brilliance, luminary), separ (boundary), and safra (scribe). The term Sefirah has many varied connotations.”
“The Sephirot are considered revelations from Arafat, the Father of Creation and they should not be understood as ten different “gods” but as ten different ways the one God reveals his Will through them.”
“Keter (The Divine Will) is listed as the first Sephirah, it is an intermediary above consciousness between God and the other, conscious Sephirot.”
“The head/beginning that is not known” is united above the Sephirot with the Ein Sof (Divine essence). It is not God who changes but our ability to perceive God that changes.”
“The Yosher-Upright version of the Sephirot as the Tree of Life is conceptualized by Ten Sephirot in three columns with twenty-two connecting paths that correspond to the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet.”
“The Right column represents the spiritual force of expansion. The Left represents its opposite, restriction. The Middle column is the balance and synthesis between these opposing tendencies.”
“The Divine principles are described through the soul of Man, with Binah (Understanding) and Malkuth (Kingship), Shechinah (Indwelling Divine Presence), encapsulating the Divine Feminine in Creation, the principle of receiving, nurturing and pregnant internalization…The Union of the Woman and the Man.”
“The Kabbalah relies heavily on the interconnections believed to exist between numbers, letters of the alphabet, and inherent meanings of each of these numbers and letters. One of the goals is Teshuva (Return to God) in preparation to reliving the acceptance of the Torah.”
“Each of these stages or paths is counted and meditated upon between the Counting of the Omer, to count the 49 days of personal spiritual development between the festivals of Passover and Shavuot.”
“I will be adding other representations of Mind/Body/Soul interconnections to this light sculpture, if you will, that will attempt to unite them into a sort of Universal Equation for Spirituality that explains and depicts the various factorials into a sort of Rosetta Stone of the Spirit. All of which will be incorporated as any of us learn to share our understandings with each other. This is just the beginning.”
“I also want to incorporate things like the Liberation Through Hearing During the Intermediate State, or Bardo Thodol, the Reticular Activation System, Reptilian Memory, the Medulla Oblongata, and Primal Experience into it as a way of facilitating and molding or setting an experience of Oneness, and connection with everything else.”
“This represents a concept of among other things, sentience.”
“The Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil could represent the fruit of the Tree of Life. This knowledge could be thought of as Buddha-Nature, implying that when man first ate from the Tree of Life or Knowledge, he became truly sentient. The missing link, so to speak is the crossover from ape to man by virtue of sentience.”
“What if God only intended to keep Mankind as a sort of pet monkey that somehow got into the cookie-jar of Sentience, and resulted in God making Man choose between Reason and Instinct, then ejecting Adam and Eve from the Garden?”
“Although Judaism stresses a monotheistic view of God, it should be noted that in at least one translation of the bible, God is quoted as saying “They think they are like Us…” after learning of Adam and Eve’s consumption of the ‘fruit’. From this are we to infer that there is in fact more than one God?”
“Otherwise, why is he so jealous? Of what? To whom is he speaking? How many other choices are there on the Menu? And what do we get with the other choices?”
“And about all that rivalry between God and Satan…keep in mind, Lucifer was not really a finite sort of being in ancient Judaism, and no mention of him at all exists before medieval times in the New Testament.”
“The War in Heaven between God and the fallen Archangels makes it sound like there was a time in Heaven before the war, even though Heaven is depicted as having ‘No Beginning, and no End. Is there a difference between Eternity and Infinity?”
“If Satan is “God’s Prosecutor”, would not the actions of the Serpent represent entrapment? And to what end? Doesn’t God already know what choices we are going to make? It’s a little like Schrodinger’s Cat in quantum mechanics…does he really know all, or doesn’t he?”
“Charles…” intoned Ash.
“Yes?” he answered.
“Please Shut the Fuck Up” (They all chimed in unison, as they surrounded him in a giant group-hug.)
“I think we can all agree that we are all on the same page of a new book.” said Ash.
“And this book will be written in understandings, rather than words.” Mark was often quiet, but when he did speak, it was worth it to listen.
Yosher Saphirot
THFWS: Sleight of Hand, Sleight of mind: WARNING! ADULT CONTENT/NOT FOR WORKPLACE!!!
Sleight of Hand, Sleight of Mind
(THIS WILL SURELY EARN ME AT LEAST A TIMESHARE FOR WATERFRONT PROPERTY ON THE LAKE OF FIRE)
(Meanwhile, in another part of town….)
(The following entries were recorded by Mark, acting as interpreter for Frederick. Without going into details to be covered at a later point about how it has been accomplished, Mark and Frederick have learned to use sign language as a tool to allow more complex communications between them in a way that does not fight certain limitations of language skills and cognition that hinder both Frederick’s as well as Mark’s abilities to communicate a sentience that passes between them.)
What Frederick has finally convinced Mark of is that Sentience and Intellect essentially operate independently of each other. Sentience is the ability to feel, perceive, and have self-awareness through emotional experiences. Some would define it additionally by adding references to tool-making (which primates already do) and manipulations of complex and abstract thought processes.
It is in fact Man’s presupposition of the validity of certain measurements of certain types of intelligence and language abilities which creates a built-in preoccupation of being linked to any presupposed level of consciousness or awareness that has crippled Man’s abilities to communicate without words.
Mark had begun to document this in a very occult fashion using his laptop as a video camera, but he admits that a great deal of what has been presented is completely subjective and interpretive. What is most intriguing is how Mark maintains that the most complex emotional and intuitive ideas that would appear to present the greatest challenge to verbal or written communication are easily transcended telepathically.
If all this sounds like mouthwash for pigs, suffice it to say at this point, that what has been observed is repeatable, and can be duplicated in ways that use controls and verification to support certain hypotheses. So there, for now, OK?
(Scene opens with long shot of entire Habitat, slowly dolly and zoom into living quarters for Malkira, Lilith, and Frederick. We see and hear the sounds and sights of Malkira and Lilith joyously copulating. Frederick, meanwhile is lying alone in his bed. His eyes are closed. He is on his back, and he is slowly and deliberately masturbating with his right hand as he uses his left to hold a stolen pair of Darcy’s panties to his nose as he delicately drags the material across his face. She and Mark neglected to notice that he had stolen them when they had parked to stop and fuck when they were returning from the Sanctuary.)
Frederick tries to explain his current predicament like this: (Voice over)
“My relationship with Darcy is complicated, to say the least. Other than my mother, Lilith, she is the only female of interest to me. She is a part of my earliest memories, and those memories are nurturant and loving, but there are none of the conflicts about sexual feelings for Darcy that I would have for Lilith. Even primates have certain social norms that are not easily violated or overlooked. As I have matured, so have my feelings for Darcy. I do not find myself especially attracted to other female chimps or bonobos, and the thought of sex with most of them feels unnatural somehow.”
“I have become aware of the fact that I am almost exclusively fixated on Darcy sexually, and I now know that she and Mark have discussed it openly and frankly. Mark and I have discussed it as well.”
“Chimps are monogamous, at least mostly, and predominately heterosexual, while Bonobos are much freer spirits, with a great deal more acceptable latitudes for behaviors amongst their tribes, but I am a not just a hybrid…I am aware of myself enough to know that there is already something within me that is different from either of my parents.”
“Even though almost all animals can communicate by non-verbal means, including telepathy, I can tell that there are some things neither Malkira nor Lilith understand. I can feel the difference when we communicate that they lack a certain level self-awareness that I do not entirely understand myself, and these differences make me feel even more isolated.”
“Coming from a heterogeneous cultural background that has socially ostracized me from contact with any peers does not help. I have no roadmap by which to guide myself, and feelings are not the kind of things that can be controlled at any rate. ”
“I have no intention of challenging Mark over Darcy, and she has not expressed any sexual interests in me, but I know the most delicious sort of thrill that passes over me when I am around her. All of her scents and musks and perfumes intoxicate me wildly. Her touch makes me shiver sometimes, and I have seen her notice it more than once…and she smiles and winks at me when she becomes aware of my excitement.”
“For now, I am simply so stupid drunk on Love for her that it is enough just to be in the same room with her, and I will do anything she asks cheerfully and immediately, just to please her and be praised by her. She is my ‘Aunt’ but she is also so much more.”
“Mark is somewhere between an Uncle and an older brother to me. I cannot hide my feelings, and they both seem to understand…and for now, I have no choice but to accept that how I feel is beyond all tribal boundaries for everyone involved…I know that, but my sexuality has come to the forefront of late to the point where I am overwhelmed by desire and frustration.”
“Masturbation is my only escape. Yesterday Darcy caught me with her old panties, but it turns out she had been watching me on the video cameras for some time and already knew about the whole thing. She just came in and caught me as I was cumming. She just walked in, came over to me, and stroked my head as she took away the beloved panties, only to replace them with newer, more fragrant ones. She just leaned over and winked at me as she did it, smacked her lips in an audible kiss and walked away.”
“I love her.”
John Collier – Lilith (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The Talking Monkeys: Who is this Child of God?
Who is this Child of God?
WARNING! HERESY, SACRILEGE, BLASPHEMY, SCIENCE, EVOLUTION AND A GENERALLY IRREVERENT TONE LIKELY TO OFFEND RELIGEOUS FUNDAMENTALISTS
According to Wikipedia:
Anthropogenesis, meaning the process or point of becoming human, is also called hominization.
Primates have advanced cognitive abilities: some make tools and use them to acquire food and for social displays; some have sophisticated hunting strategies requiring cooperation, influence and rank; they are status conscious, manipulative and capable of deception; they can recognize kin and conspecifics; and they can learn to use symbols and understand aspects of human language including some relational syntax and concepts of number and numerical sequence. Research in primate cognition explores problem solving, memory, social interaction, a theory of mind, and numerical, spatial, and abstract concepts.
The gorilla and chimpanzee diverged around the same time, about 4-6 million years ago, and either Sahelanthropus or Orrorin may be our last shared ancestor with them. The early bipedals eventually evolved into the australopithecines and later the genus Homo.
The earliest documented members of the genus Homo are Homo habilis which evolved around 2.3 million years ago; the earliest species for which there is positive evidence of use of stone tools.
The brains of these early hominins were about the same size as that of a chimpanzee. During the next million years a process of encephalization began, and with the arrival of Homo erectus in the fossil record, cranial capacity had doubled to 850 cm3.
It is believed that these species were the first to use fire and complex tools. According to theory, modern humans evolved in Africa possibly from Homo heidelbergensis, Homo rhodesiensis or Homo antecessor and migrated out of the continent some 50,000 to 100,000 years ago, replacing local populations of Homo erectus, Homo denisova, Homo floresiensis and Homo neanderthalensis.
Archaic Homo sapiens, the forerunner of anatomically modern humans, evolved between 400,000 and 250,000 years ago. Recent DNA evidence suggests that several haplotypes of Neanderthal origin are present among all non-African populations, and Neanderthals and other hominids, such as Denisova hominin may have contributed up to 6% of their genome to present-day humans, suggestive of a limited inter-breeding between these species.
Anatomically modern humans evolved from archaic Homo sapiens in the Middle Paleolithic, about 200,000 years ago. The transition to behavioral modernity with the development of symbolic culture, language, and specialized lithic technology happened around 50,000 years ago.
The possibility of linking humans with earlier apes by descent became clear only after 1859 with the publication of Charles Darwin‘s On the Origin of Species, in which he argued for the idea of the evolution of new species from earlier ones.
The first debates about the nature of human evolution arose between Thomas Huxley and Richard Owen. Huxley argued for human evolution from apes by illustrating many of the similarities and differences between humans and apes, and did so particularly in his 1863 book Evidence as to Man’s Place in Nature.
Many of Darwin’s early supporters did not initially agree that the origin of the mental capacities and the moral sensibilities of humans could be explained by natural selection.
Darwin applied the theory of evolution and sexual selection to humans when he published The Descent of Man in 1871.
Progress in DNA sequencing, specifically mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA) and then Y-chromosome DNA advanced the understanding of human origins.
By comparing mitochondrial DNA using 133 types of mtDNA, which is inherited only from the mother, geneticists have concluded that the last female common ancestor whose genetic marker is found in all modern humans, a female African progenitor dubbed Mitochondrial Eve, must have lived around 200,000 years ago.
Recent sequencing of Neanderthal and Denisovan genomes shows that some admixture occurred. Modern humans outside Africa have 2-4% Neanderthal alleles in their genome, and some Melanesians have an additional 4-6% of Denisovan alleles.
There was a coastal dispersal of modern humans from the Horn of Africa around 70,000 years ago. This group helped to populate Southeast Asia and Oceania, explaining the discovery of early human sites in these areas much earlier than those in the Levant.
Much of Human evolution is characterized by a number of morphological, developmental, physiological, and behavioral changes that have taken place since the split between the last common ancestor of humans and chimpanzees.
The human species developed a much larger brain than that of other primates – typically 1,330 cm3 in modern humans, over twice the size of that of a chimpanzee or gorilla. The pattern of encephalization started with Homo habilis, which at approximately 600 cm3 had a brain slightly larger than that of chimpanzees, and continued with Homo erectus (800–1,100 cm3), reaching a maximum in Neanderthals with an average size of (1,200–1,900 cm3), larger even than Homo sapiens.
The increase in volume over time has affected areas within the brain unequally – the temporal lobes, which contain centers for language processing, have increased disproportionately, as has the prefrontal cortex which has been related to complex decision-making and moderating social behavior.
The nature of interaction between early humans and these sister species has been a long standing source of controversy, the question being whether humans replaced these earlier species or whether they were in fact similar enough to interbreed, in which case these earlier populations may have contributed genetic material to modern humans.
Human DNA is approximately 98.4% identical to that of chimpanzees when comparing single nucleotide polymorphisms.
Around 50,000 BP modern human culture started to evolve more rapidly. The transition to behavioral modernity has been characterized as a Eurasian “Great Leap Forward”, or as the “Upper Palaeolithic Revolution”, because of the sudden appearance of distinctive signs of modern behavior in the archaeological record.
Several crucial questions are either raised or remain unanswered.
How is Man the Child f God if he is descended from Lower Primates unless they too are God’s Offspring?
Is not then Man the Son of Apes?…or at least a close cousin?
Are Sentience and Intelligence what make us Human?
Is that why Man chose Reason over Instinct?
Sentience is relative. What degree of sentience separates Man from Beast? Is there a cut-off point, or is it a continuum?
Is Man’s sentience the result of The Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil? Was it the Quantum Leap of evolution in primates? The “Great Leap Forward”, or “Upper Palaeolithic Revolution”?
In terms of the history of the Earth, Man’s existence is ephemeral, and fragile. His cognizance is by comparison as momentary and random as a bug hitting the windshield of a moving truck. Was Chaos all that was operant, or did Man get some outside help? (The Serpent?)
Why would a just and loving God begrudge, withhold, or forbid such knowledge from Man?
Without the Knowledge of Good and Evil, what was Man?
Sentient?
Blindly obedient?
Was Free Will possible in its absence?
According to the (Judeo-Christian) Bible, when he learned of Man’s transgression, God said: “They think they are as Us.”
To whom is God speaking in the plural?
Of what is God so jealous?
To what purpose was God’s Will served that Adam and Eve should be forever banished from The Garden?
Who Shall be the Child of Man?
Who Shall be the Child of Man?
The Seven stood or sat around the Sephirot as Charles explained the color-coding as well as the sequencing of the lights, according to the levels and pathways represented.
“Keep in mind that this is not so much an ‘object’ of worship, but rather a way of conceptualizing and directing your consciousness toward a higher, or more enlightened state of mind. This was not something of which the original practitioners of the Kabala were able to avail themselves, but I took few liberties in interpretation, and consulted several rabbis about the intent of the representation.”
“ I can speed up the sequencing until it looks like a continuous flow, and it can be set to accelerate based on the amount of alpha waves the brain of the designated controller produces. I am working on a mixer that will allow me to transmit the accumulated alpha signal from as many as eight subjects (It’s an eight-channel audio board), and it is possible to produce audio tones that will correspond to each of these levels and pathways.”
“Suki, Mark and I have already started to learn to harmonize each other with it. It’s really quite exhilarating. The other equipment to do it with is still just a couple of circuit boards with no chassis or case to protect them, so I didn’t bring that along just yet…we only started that part of the presentation two nights ago…It was actually Mark’s concept, to make the process harmonizable…he has been a very valuable member of the team, in fact…anyone who has ever had the dubious pleasure of working with me knows I can be a bit of an autocrat, and I confess I treated him more like an assistant, but the Sephirot as you see it here today represents our combined work.”
“I can’t take all the credit for this…his concept of harmonizing and resonating it has been…well, pardon the pun…instrumental in our success.”
Charles beamed widely like a proud parent as he did one of those left-arm-only sideways hugs that overtly heterosexual men do when presented the opportunity to express bonding in a way that allowed other overtly heterosexual men to interpret in a non-sexual way. I was not necessary in this environment, but old habits die hard. A moment of protracted silence followed, broken suddenly by Darcy.
“How does everybody else feel about allowing Frederick to take the Wisdom with us at some point?…I talked to Merle about giving him a dose in captivity…a very low threshold dose of course, and in a secure and nurturant setting that would allow Mark and I to help guide him through it with no outside interference at first. Merle has even developed a tranquilizer to administer if he starts to show signs of psychosis or violence…”
“Oh?” Quipped Charles. “I’m surprised you didn’t make some up for us as well.”
“As a matter of fact I did…even before I took the first does. I rarely ever design a drug that does not allow for an antidote of some sort. I just assumed you knew me well enough to trust me on that…you are all family to me. I didn’t want to interject anything negative into tonight’s setting, but Darcy brought up a good point in the process.”
“I’ll bet she did…” intoned Mark.
Merle was a little unsure about whether he has sensing jealousy in Mark’s remark. He shot him a quizzical look and a slightly raised eyebrow that seemed to ask “Really? From you, Mark?”
Mark blushed slightly, and rolled his eyes, but his facial expression was one of acquiescence. He smiled a kind of smirky smile that seemed to say “Sorry…inappropriate attempt at humor…” as he raised his hands, palm up as he slightly bowed his head. No one else showed any sign of noticing the transaction.
Darcy continued “You are all aware of what we believe we have discovered in terms of telepathic communications between Mark, Frederick and myself. I think we can learn a great deal from him as well as vice-versa.”
“…and based on some things we learned about a week ago, we’re even more excited. It seems that since Man lost Instinct and Telepathy shortly after he gained sentience and began to rely exclusively on Speech, he also lost all Prehistoric accounts of his origin, unlike the great apes who have been able to access and share the story of their development and dispersal as well as the story of how Man eventually received ‘The Sacrament’ that gave them his ‘humanity’…the Story of the Ascension of Man.”
“The longer we have been able to communicate with Frederick, the less we need to rely on sign language to express abstract thoughts, ideas, and especially feelings.”
Mark interjected “We both believe that Frederick may have at least as much to teach us as we do him.”
They agree to continue to discuss it further, but were interrupted by the sudden opening of the front door, which they believed to be locked. It swung open widely, but gently, and Sobe and Sharma were clinging tenaciously to it.
The Guests were starting to arrive, and the Seven were becoming prepared to receive these ancient and venerated ones.
THFWS: This Thing called Love
This Thing called Love
Suki was the first of the Seven to get naked, having begun a very subtle striptease almost the moment she walked through the door of the Sanctuary, as was her usual and customary modus whenever possible.
Suki was usually the least vocal of the group, the most labile, and the first to action, be it play or work. She was the daughter of a Yugoslavian engineer and his Japanese wife, an archeologist. She spoke both languages fluently, but English was definitely her third tongue.
Because of the Asian influence, she frequently eschewed pronouns and most forms of the verb “to be”, but somehow her father’s influence tended to promote the use of engendered pronouns, although usually in inappropriate places and questionable choice of gender, resulting in phrases like “…you(r) pussy…he (is) very handsome…no?”
Her economy of words was balanced by her insightfulness, and she had a very abrupt way of embracing a “pure child” state among her closest friends, who were many. She was also the first to learn the “Bandaloop Dance” from Darcy.
She was of average stature, well-developed, lean and muscular, and had trained in gymnastics through college. She also had the most beautiful jade-green epicanthic eyes. Among Asian women, this is only known to happen less than once in a million births, and is supposed to foretell of great fortune and good luck. Her hair, though as black and glassy as obsidian had a very slight wave to it, and in the sunlight, showed chestnut highlights and dark red undertones.
Adages decrying East meeting West aside, apparently Eastern Europe paired nicely with the Far East. She had one brother who was a violinist, and she was a nurse practitioner. Her father came from a family of Eastern European warlocks, and her mother was a Japanese witch, Tsukimono-suji and she often referred to herself as “Nāsu Witchi”, (“nurse witch”).
She was often a catalyst for such occurrences; she showed no signs of modesty whatsoever, and seemed most comfortable in the nude or, as she said “nee-eck-kidt”. (like “Niet” in Russian).
The rest of the group was already beginning to disrobe during the various discussions and continued as the visions began to arrive silently, moving around the Seven like they were an art exhibit.
The experience was progressing nicely, as all of the members of the group had experimented with psychedelic and hallucinogenic drugs previously, and were quite comfortable with both the subtlety and intensity of the onset of effects.
The most remarkable fact was that they were all experiencing the same visions simultaneously. Usually group drug experiences are nonetheless solitary and personal as regards the visions the members may or may not experience. From the onset, it was proving to be of One Mind.
Both Suki and Kali helped encourage Darcy to feel comfortable in these surroundings. Darcy was not especially modest or shy, and had been to more than one swingers’ party, but this was fairly new ground for her nonetheless since these were all colleagues and friends gathered in a most unusual sort of experimental spiritual pursuit.
Darcy jokingly said her drugs of choice in the past were mostly limited to “weed, whites, and wine” which she sang like Willie Nelson (from “Willin’”) as she said it, but in fact, she’d had her share of whiskey and cocaine before rehab, college, and graduate school. She had made a quantum leap from her tidewater Virginia family of commercial fishermen and their wives, but she never lost touch with her roots, or her “country pride”.
The women were open, tactile and playfully inquisitive in their nakedness with each other. The men were somewhat characteristically slightly aloof and impersonal initially with each other. It always seemed they took the longest to loosen up and warm up to the experience.
Despite the fact that this was by no means some kind of swingers’ party, they all understood that they seemed to have the best results with spiritual visitors when sex was afoot. They all had noticed it on various levels in their own homes either straight, or perhaps under the influence of cannabis and/or moderate amounts of alcohol.
From time to time, they were all fond of playfully experimenting with enticing spirit visitations during their lovemaking. The phenomenon was such a strong influence upon them all that it was instrumental in formulating the name “The Home for Wayward Souls” in the first place.
We are talking about a multi-disciplinary group of educated, worldly, highly sexed aficionados of the Occult. The idea of a single-phased approach to their pursuits was viewed as arcane and narrow.
They each had dabbled in most of the known paths enough to appreciate the common threads without embracing the jingoism and solipsism of any particular group. It appeared that what was true for one was usually similarly true for another, given the cultural biases each of them interjected.
To them, spiritualism and spirituality provided inspiration that far transcended any one religion. What they sought was beyond religion.
Their main premise was that spirits do exist outside as well as inside the Living. It was their A Priori assumption. Everything else was yet to be decided on a case-by-case basis at the time of the experience.
And although they individually and collectively used some drugs as a chef would use condiments, it was only a means to an end as a source of insight and inspiration, and held little or no interest in and of themselves.
…And remember, all of this is being done under the auspices of a Registered Pharmacist who is also a botanist and a Shaman, who is assisted by an ordained cleric, a nurse practitioner, several witches, a necromancer/jack of all things worldly, and two clinical researchers.
What they sought was beyond drugs, beyond sex, beyond religion, beyond Reason, and most of all, beyond themselves, their egos, their possessions, and their collective knowledge. To belong to something larger than themselves, united in their pursuit of the Cunning Wisdom of Experience that would lead them to Rapture, Enlightenment, Peace, Understanding, Attainment, Connection and Oneness.
Pure Love.
THFWS: The Square Circle
The Square Circle
As the guests continued to drift in to Ash and Kali’s home in silence, Merle began to address the other Six about the theory of what they are trying to accomplish, how it relates to Indian Medicine and the significance of the lines neatly laid out on the polished wooden floor in tape, like marks to cue actors on a stage.
First, the outside perimeter is in the shape of a square, with the four corners matching the cardinal points of the compass. Merle is the North. Darcy is the South. Suki is the East. Charles is the West.
Additionally, a circle is centered within the square. Its outer edges touch the sides of the circle. This is the Universal Circle, to be occupied by Ash and Kali. Man and Woman. Yin and Yang. Proton and Neutron.
The combined shapes superimposed upon each other are often called The Square Circle, meant to represent a boxing ring to sportsmen, but for tonight’s purposes it would help envision the balances and multiplications of power and the ways of Majic.
Each of the four cardinal points faces each other inwardly to the circle. This represents the Medicine Wheel. Behind each of them is a large mirror on a floor stand, facing another mirror on the opposite corner creating a feedback of cascading images within the images allowing each member to see both forwards and backwards at the same time reflecting smaller and smaller images into each other. Ash and Kali are free to move within the circle and are often back to back, leaving Mark alone outside the boundaries.
For several minutes they stand naked before each other.
Merle looks at Darcy, whose attentions seem divided between Mark and him. Mark looks at Darcy, sees the longing in her eyes for Merle, and can only stare back at Darcy. Kali and Ash watch everyone, including Charles and Suki, who seemed to be absorbed in assessing the complex dynamic of the group, exchanging knowing looks. Finally, Merle speaks.
“Mark, we know both what you feel as well as what we already know between us. Your feelings for Darcy are new and the Crush of Love, that breathtaking feeling of falling without impact has infatuated the very best of every waking moment in your Here and Now. It is a beautiful and wondrous thing that inspires and empowers you.”
“The angst you feel right now is the conflict of acknowledging not only Darcy’s, but also your own perverse curiosity, as well as her desire to share her darkest secrets with you, to face your fears together. I have loved you like a brother for a few years now, and there is much we have shared together, including our mutual love for Kali. Through all of this, there has been no intrigue or subterfuge, only the sharing of truths, of wisdom, and power.”
“Emotion is power. Power attracts more power. Our pursuit of the Wisdom and Knowledge of the Ancient Ones requires tremendous power, and as the Sacred Fire within the Universal Circle, your energies can help us summons up and draw down their ideas, energies and assistance. Your proximity to Ash and Kali will help balance and channel you.”
“The exhilaration that Darcy, you and I will exchange provides us with an opportunity to surpass the commonplace, break down the barriers and limitations that weaken us only by default, by our acquiescence to the conventions of a captive society kept in place by the tyranny of fear, guilt, shame, superstition, and self-doubt. Please take your place in the center of the Universal Circle as the Sacred Fire.”
Mark was visibly intrigued by Merle’s words. As they watched, his face changed as he processed them for meaning. Looks of relief, amusement, recognition, and acknowledgement washed over his countenance like waves swelling over jagged rocks.
It was good to know that he held a place, an important and vital place in their mutual quest. It takes a very special kind of courage to embrace jealousy, insecurity, fear, and envy head-on and view it as a challenge for growth and personal development, rather than some dreaded obstacle to your uninterrupted dreams of unearned bliss. Everything has a price. Easy, singular puppy love is fragile and vulnerable to the inevitable challenges that in and of themselves can ward off entropy and boredom, and keep love fresh, alive and vital.
Every convention of civilization and societal norm is subject to healthy challenge; to be cracked open like a prized nut to learn what precious kernel of enlightenment can be extracted from its stony armor.
Merle continued. “Since early times, the South comes up to the North to bring sunshine and warmth to the cold North, but it cannot stay or else the North would become too warm. Because of this, we have seasons for all things. There is permanence in the cycles of impermanence, which give us balance according to each season.”
The activity and intensity of the visions that swirled, flashed, drifted and emerged has been increasing since the group began to form the circle. Numerous points of light begin to fly into the circle, bouncing off the mirrors as a glow begins to envelop the group like St. Elmo’s fire, while its eerie electric-blue luminance bathes everything it touches.
Soon they will be at the peak for the serum levels of the Knowledge.
Majic is afoot.
“Boop-Oopa-Doop! What’s up, Toots?”
As Betty flew in the front door, conventional reality flew out the bathroom window.
Square Circle Leonardo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
THFWS: The Quickening
THFWS: The Quickening
“Betty!” They all shouted in unison to acknowledge the arrival of the now legendary giant Macaw whose comings and goings as well as the portent of her words were well-known to everyone in the group.
“Boop-Oopa-Doop!…at your service fellow travelers…”
Although Betty had landed on top of the Sephirot, she bowed deeply, bending down on one knee and extending her wing, sweeping broadly from left to right as she bowed her head while she surveyed the room, seeming to make direct eye contact with everyone in the room simultaneously.
“Well, I for one am really looking forward to your show…you do realize that is why so many of the Ancient Ones are here, don’t you?…Don’t bother answering, by the way…it’s just a rhetorical question…hahaha.”
“…If Ash hasn’t already gotten you all up to speed on this, I think this would be a good time, don’t you, Ash?…don’t answer just yet…another rhetorical…hahaha.”
“…It looks like you kids have been doing your homework, but since this is really what you call mixed media, I get it that you’re improvising this as you go…so just try to ask yourself… ‘Now that I’ve got everybody’s attention…what do I want, and how do I help make sure I keep them coming back?’…???”
“…OK, now you can answer among yourselves…” Betty intoned, as she gestured with her wings.
Ash was the first to speak. “I guess I’m the designated showman, hopefully for good reason…I think we already get Betty’s point…Give ‘em a good fucking show…we’ve all had varying degrees of success with the process of attracting Energy, Majic, and Power…and I should think these Cunning and Wise Ones could be pretty jaded, but Betty does bring up another good point…What do we want? What is our goal…our purpose? Now that we’re all here…so what?”
“You mean other than being the only church in town…maybe any town, which embraces Sex, and Drugs, and Rock and Roll?” Charles had a way with words like a cleaver has with meat and bone.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Toots…Boop-Oopa-Doop!”
Merle sighed before taking a deep breath and spoke in a voice that sounded like he was playing a baritone sax. “I want Enlightenment and Understanding of the Ways of Power and Majic. I want to understand the nature of Life as well as Death and Rebirth…in my heart, so I can use it for good purpose, to help people.”
“What he said…to learn to help myself, so I can help others…” Darcy chimed in, then grew self-conscious, averting her eyes downward.
“To do what?” asked Betty.
“To seek communion with all others, so that we may see through their eyes.” was Suki’s answer.
“To what purpose, might I inquire?” Betty quizzed.
“In order to understand others, we first must understand ourselves, yet without connection we cannot see our oneness with everything…and besides, what’s wrong with curiosity for its own sake? Charles didn’t mean to sound defensive, so he softened his tone.”
“…To be aware of such an immense universe without contacting any other life, or other energies causes us to feel isolated and alone, even singular…ephemeral…lonely.” Charles realized he sounded vague and unfocused, and shrugged his shoulders slightly.
“Hahaha…You know I could fuck with you guys all night just to watch you squirm, but I will tell you the reason I asked those kinds of questions is because I want you to start to grasp that what you seek cannot be spoken in words…but it doesn’t mean you can’t learn it….Betty’s words trailed off, then she suddenly said…But hey, who wants to have some fun first?”
“I think that one of the reasons we share mutual self-interests with the Ancient Ones is that we can provide the vehicles…our bodies, our spirits, and still have plenty of room left over for a hitch-hiker or two, providing everyone is on the same page.” Ash volunteered, as he continued.
“The Ancient Ones are more than just ghosts, but no matter how much power they have, there are times when they desire to inhabit a physical form. I don’t have any idea why, but it seems to be a common theme throughout history. I want to know what that is.” Ash was beginning to see the connection and the purpose of Betty’s questions.
“Don’t give your brain a hernia trying to figure it out, Toots…’cause it won’t happen by thinking…not even the smartest person in the world can figure out what you need to know…that drug is a great first step, but you gotta learn to communicate in a language that has no words. You already have a great teacher within your sphere of influence, but he can’t help you until you give him the one thing he needs in order to help you.”
“And what is that?” asked Ash.
“Sentience. The Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. A quantum leap of consciousness.”
“Who?”
“You will recognize him when you are ready to accept him. He will become the Child of Man, and the father of a new race of sentients, in much the same way that Man received his sentience…not from God, but also not from Satan, by the way…that will be another story for another time, so don’t worry, you will know when you know what you need to know….”
“So…what’s next?” Merle quizzed Betty.
“Time to take your places…let the festivities begin…we don’t want to let our guests get restless, or bored. You’re on the right track, and they are willing to give you a few pointers, but don’t expect them to speak…if you touch the right resonances, they may take turns jumping inside you, so that you can allow them the chance to act out through you.”
“After that, they may leave a few traces behind, almost like a smell, or a taste…an awareness…a feeling of recognition without connection to any specifics…and of course, the quickening…just like a mother feels when she first becomes aware of the animation of the life growing within her. You will become inseminated with their spiritual seed…the seminal essence of existence itself.”
“When you receive it, you will notice that it was the most obvious quotient of everything around you, so prevalent that you’ve overlooked it for your entire life since you took your first breath, even though you knew it all along. Trust me, when your time comes, you will recognize it like your one true face.”
“Now for starters, how about if the North takes two paces south as the South comes north to face the North? Now Darcy, turn around so you and Merle are both facing south toward the mirror that stood behind you.”
“And the East goes to the West as the West takes two steps east. Now Suki, turn around to face the east and notice the reflections in both directions feeding back and forth between them ”
“Ash, Kali, and Mark, please face each other but stand apart far enough to not block the view of the North, South, East and West as they see themselves, as well as each other, both front and back simultaneously in the mirrors, as you rotate along the margins of the Universal Circle.”
“Now all of you try to send the images you see to each other as you receive their images. This will help you to understand three hundred sixty degree vision, both separately, as well as collectively as a common awareness.”
“As you do this, try not to blink your eyes or shift your gaze, in fact, do not move your eyes at all…learn to be able to focus your attention without moving them at all…like candle flame meditation, so be prepared…for the way the images will change to form new images.”
“…but don’t worry about getting lost, or not being able to find your way back…you’re going into this together, and you’ll find your way back together, even if you think you’re separated, because you’re always just right here where you are.”
“Be open to whatever moves you, be it thought, or impulse, image, or ideation. Let it well up within you to give you direction, inspiration, and energy.”
“Trust your Nature to attract the energies and ideas that will inspire you to fulfill your destiny, then allow their energies to act out through your bodies…I probably don’t need to mention this, but do keep in mind that social, societal, or religious norms have no bearing to the Cunning and Wise Ones.”
“If you feel the impulse or urge to do or experience something that you might have even been disinclined to do before, it is because you’ve picked up a rider, like a freight train might attract hobos…these hitch-hikers don’t need you to stop, or even slow down, because you don’t pick them, they pick you, although they tend to do it because of something they see or perceive in you that resonates within both of you.”
“Be prepared for the unexpected…and by the way, don’t worry…Sobe and Sharma are legendary in their expertise as Ushers, even bouncers, if needed. I hope you have realized by now that almost nothing is quite what it seems to be.”
“Now before you go and get completely dependent upon me to explain it all to you, which will just ruin it, I will beg your leave and wish you well. Boop-Oopa-Doop…Betty has left the building.”
“See ya in the funny papers, Toots!” said Kali.
Betty turned and called out to them. “Oh yeah, and don’t forget to fuck like there’s no tomorrow…because there isn’t…remember, kids…tomorrow never cums…hahaha! Boop-Oopa-Doop!”
With that, Betty made a gesture that pantomimed someone who had fingers snapping them, and she disappeared.
Imagine standing on the field in the middle of Sun Life Stadium during the Super Bowl (it doesn’t matter which one)…they say that the sound of the crowd cheering is so loud that it is almost impossible for even the center to hear the signals from the quarterback. This is the sound that fills their ears, even as they realize they can still hear their own breathing and heartbeat.
“Boop-Oopa-Doop Indeed!.”
THFWS All Together Now
THFWS All Together Now
Merle began to speak in soft, low tones. The sheer size of his chest resonated the bass in his voice in a way no smaller man could. The Apache tend to speak in a voice that reverberates further back in the mouth and throat, which further accentuated the deep sound of his voice.
“One of the other effects of The Knowledge is that for the twelve hours or so that you are under its effects your brain restores and renews all the conduction pathways to every experience you’ve ever known. It has to do with a center in the brain that functions like the table of contents in any computer database.”
“Every experience, and every thought you’ve ever had stays in your brain intact. The reason people forget most of these experiences is because they do not get reinforced by repetition…not the actual data, but the access to it, If you corrupt the table of contents of a computer’s data, it becomes inaccessible unless you can restore the table of contents.”
“People say Art imitates Life; but your brain is not like a computer…that is just backwards. The reason computers imitate the brain is due to the way our brains work, so we just naturally reflect the same structure in our machines.”
“One of the results of this is that you will learn to develop recall of all your present life experiences, and possibly eventually even previous life experiences. The goal is to recognize what it is that represents the essential enigma of your nature. Once you become aware of whatever built-in sabotage is present in your program, you can learn to balance the contradictory influences in a way that unifies and focuses your efforts and connects you to all life itself.”
“To accomplish this, I spliced in a molecule of a drug that is supposed to reduce the effects of Alzheimer’s disease. It hasn’t even made it to the level of investigational study. So far, it turns out to surpass any expectations that were anticipated. If the Department of Defense gets wind of it, no one but military personnel will ever get access to it. I have already produced enough of the hybrid drug for our use for about three hundred years. What the DOD does with it will not have to be our concern, at least for now.”
“In the meantime, our drug will connect you with the ability to perceive energy, ideas, and focused data that was not visible to you before. It has something to do with scan rates of perception, for lack of a better analogy. Velocity influences mass sufficiently to allow two real, solid objects to occupy the same space at the same time, like pouring sugar into a beaker filled with rocks, and then pouring water into the glass to occupy the remaining space, and then dissolving oxygen into the water. Different densities…you can anticipate that you’re going to see a lot of startling or unusual images and visionary revelations. If you are already familiar with LSD, Mescaline, Peyote, Psilocybin, MDMA, Yopo, Ayahuasca, El Changa, or similar psychoactive drugs, the whole experience will be much easier to process.”
“My own previous experiences had led me to believe that those visions were more like analogies…an insight, but not a true reality…The Knowledge has caused me to rethink those assumptions.”
“I believe that The Knowledge will allow us to actually develop a new level of sentience…to Cross Over. I’ve had the experience Betty referred to as ‘hitchhiking’…having a disembodied spirit jump into my physical body. Until I understood the process, I was as terrified as I was fascinated by the experience, and the traces they leave behind are strangely beautiful in a way I cannot find words to describe. The understanding they impart is priceless. You will know what I mean soon.”
Ash was the next to speak. The presence of the spirits was becoming more apparent and tangible by the minute. Images of familiar and unfamiliar entities drifted into each of their fields of view, and somehow they all believed they were seeing the same images in unison, a phenomenon that almost never has been reported in experimental drug use, but has been documented in certain religious experiences. Later conversations between the members affirmed their beliefs of the congruencies of their simultaneous group perceptions.
The group stood naked in their original positions, one mirror behind, one in front with Merle and Charles facing East and South respectively and Suki was also facing East just in front of Charles, so close she can feel his erect cock pressing between the mounds of her buttocks. Darcy stood in front of Merle, also facing South. She felt Merle’s firm member dangling from just above the small of her back to at least the bottom of her buttocks. She wondered to herself if his cock ever stood up, or even out at all. Most of the ‘big guys’ she knew in the past could get quite hard without ever achieving those two o’clock, almost straight up to their own belly erections. In this case, she hoped not, since range of motion would allow for more imaginative positionings, and he had such a distinctive upwards curve that she already knew that it would hit all the right spots,
“Try to connect with your polar opposite on the physical plane in whatever fashion appeals to you. Fix your stare onto the pupils of your partner via their reflection in the mirror facing you. Trust your instincts that your partner will accept the connection as you feel the energy welling up and flowing back and forth between you in an exchange like waves rolling between you.”
With that, Darcy leaned slowly forward until she was bent over far enough to touch the floor in front of her, never shifting her gaze as she continued to stare into the reflection of Merle’s pupils in the mirror. She slowly smiled enigmatically as Merle moved just enough to place his hands on both her hips.
After a few minutes, she was aware they were now touching in three places…as his member continued to engorge and stiffen, she could feel it raise enough to press against her mons, and she could feel its pulsations. Their heights matched very well for this kind of contact, and it turned her on incredibly because it was so rare that she found men that could reach her without standing on something. She was almost a half foot taller than Mark, and several inches taller than Hank, as well as most of the men she had dated.
She had been anticipating this moment with Merle since the first time they had met on the grounds outside the Sanctuary. She was so wet that the tip of Merle’s penis easily parted her labia as the foreskin began to slide backwards on the shaft as it welled up before turning back onto itself.
Just the girth of the head of it was starting to stretch her open so far that she felt more vulnerable than she could ever remember, Just as she was beginning to wonder if she could even fit him inside without suffering serious pain and possibly permanent trauma suddenly Merle just held himself there, not pushing any farther, just hovering. Darcy began to shift her weight just enough to produce an almost imperceptible undulation of her hips, just slightly grinding herself against the end of his shaft. As much as she wanted to feel herself skewered upon his flesh, there was a delicious pleasure just hanging in midair, aware of each other in the most intimate way, connected both by flesh and each other’s gaze.
Charles and Suki had followed their lead, but being much more accustomed to each other sexually they were already fully engaged and practicing a Tantric technique to maintain arousal without visible motion or perceptible thrusting. They had been swingers long before they came to embrace the Home for Wayward Souls, and they brought their own blend of sexuality to their encounters with other members of the group.
The sound system in Ash and Kali’s home was almost beyond imagination. Charles had installed it with Lothar’s help utilizing over ten thousand watts of power that allowed you to listen to music anywhere in the house, Free standing enclosures and built-in speakers filled the house with a mix of ambiences and resonant frequencies and harmonies that floated and flowed together in the most natural and uplifting way.
Also Charles and Mark had worked on a mix of sounds designed to not call attention to themself and still provide a mood and focus for their experience together. It was designed to not drown out or interfere with whatever else there was to be heard.
The visible presence of the spirits did not seem especially disarming in the setting they had provided, and occasionally they felt a touch, a caress, or a fondling as the strangely illuminated images floated and zipped around them. The sensation was electrifying.
As preoccupied as Mark was with Darcy and Merle’s coupling, Kali managed to arouse and distract Mark in a way few other women ever could. Ash and Kali had anticipated this, and mutually agreed it would allow Ash to focus on directing and channeling everyone.
As Mark and Kali stood facing each other, caressing and staring into each other’s eyes, a luminous form began to materialize in the center of the circle. It swirled and pulsated before them, but remained enigmatic and slightly unfocused, just teasingly familiar enough to be vaguely recognizable, but not quite identifiable.
The spirits were gathering around the group as they watched for the arrival of the mysterious image.
Crossing the Abyss
Crossing the Abyss
Darcy already knew she was the wild card in the hand the group had been dealt…not the weakest link, just the one least in tune with the methods of the rest. She had only begun meditation shortly after she met Mark, and Polyamory was a bit like learning a foreign language like French, Spanish…or even Yiddish. Depending on your locale, you probably have heard or even used words that were cognates of the tongue, so it’s not completely unfamiliar, but admittedly, it takes a lot of practice to reach the point where you naturally think with the mindset of one of its citizen-users.
And so it was that, in the midst of trying to stay attuned to the occurrences all around her, she couldn’t help noticing that Merle’s already breathtakingly generous portion of viande was getting even more firm and erect in the midst of trying to recognize or understand the apparition that was trying to materialize in front of them.
“It’s a little like trying to recite the words to the National Anthem while you’re getting your cooter spit-shined.”, she thought.
As she continued to stare into Merle’s eyes through the mirror image, she suddenly heard his voice inside her head, speaking to her softly although his mouth did not move and his expression never visibly changed.
“Relax…It’s not really as big as you think it is…don’t let your mind tell your body what it can or cannot do. I’m in no hurry, are you? We have all the time in the world. Think of this as a horseback ride to a desert oasis.”
“Yeah, except this time the horse is riding me…” she mused.
At that moment, Merle showed the slightest flicker of a smile…had he heard her?
“Yes.” She heard inside her head.
She felt her pelvic floor relax quite noticeably in the process.
“OOOOOOOOhhhhUmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!” she chanted inside her head in a silly moment of parody that actually dislodged a fragment of clarity for her, as she started into one of what she called an “Oh Fuck!” Moment…and she knew she was only getting started.
It was then she heard Merle’s belly-laugh in her head.
“I can help…” suddenly every speaker in the house was speaking to the group in a chorale whisper. “I can provide him with a voice, though you can’t recognize it, even though you know him well.”
Every speaker, every transducer had a distinct, separate voice; different timbre, different pitch, even different accent or regional dialect. There was the sound of an audible sigh, and if it is possible to hear a smile (as every sentient telemarketer will insist, you can), they did.
“I thought that might get your attention…it’s not the first time I’ve tried, but this was the first time you heard. Now before you all start shouting questions at me, try to understand that I can hear your thoughts just as well as you all can hear each other right now…in each other’s heads, of course. I think Merle and Darcy are starting to get the knack of it already.”
“I also thought I might caution you that it takes some control to not transmit every thought that comes into your head, or it will suddenly sound like a Tourette’s convention in here.”
“The trick is to think as if you are speaking, but don’t move your mouth or use your vocal cords. It’s probably best to start with the one with whom you’re paired. Ash can then attempt to speak to each of you separately, then as a group, and as you begin to hear and answer him, you can start to communicate among yourselves.”
“You don’t need to so much try to read each other’s minds as to simply listen to what you hear…and really…try to control your enthusiasm enough to remember your manners and not all start talking over each other.”
“Who are you?” They all shouted, then stopped to try to just think the question.
“Good. You guys are learning quickly…My name is Miyuki, but they call me Nakamichi.”
“The stereo?” Thought/asked Ash. “…My stereo?”
“Think of me as the spirit that resides inside your stereo….it’s easier that way…trust me, you’ll understand soon enough.”
“I have given voice to your most beloved music of your favorite composers and performers…and I can provide a voice for The Child of Man.”
“Who is this Child of Man?” asked Ash. Though his lips did not move, everyone heard him in his loud, clear voice. They were picking up the technique very quickly.
Miyuki answered “He is one who is known to all of you, but you have not yet seen his true face…his true nature. He can unite you with your ancestors and your primal origins…all the way back to when you mistakenly traded Instinct for Reason after you gained the Knowledge of the Difference between Good and Evil when you ate from the Tree of Life.”
“…you do know that the story is entirely symbolic, don’t you? I promise I will tell you the real story soon, if….”
“If what? Asked Darcy through her mind, knowing the rest of them would also hear her question as clearly as they all heard Miyuki.
“If He doesn’t tell you first…it was one of his favorite bedtime stories that his mother used to tell him when he was a baby. But more importantly, he can take you where you want to go and get you back again.”
“What do you mean?” inquired Charles.
“He can teach you how to Cross the Abyss.”
“What Abyss?” Suki wanted to try her new voice as well.
“The gulf between the physical and spirit worlds. The first step is to bridge the gap between the human and animal worlds. Most of them can go back and forth into and out of the spirit worlds as easily as crossing the street. The main problem that they have with humans has been that most of you are completely unable to communicate without words. The power you imagined to lie in words has so preoccupied you that you have lost your spirit voice.”
“Now that you can speak through your minds again, you are ready for him, and he has so much to teach you, He will be your spirit guide. He will teach you how to Cross the Abyss.”
“Oh my God!” exclaimed Darcy, who was the first to recognize the image that was taking shape before them.
It was Frederick. He was doing Darcy’s Bandaloop Dance. He loved to do it whenever he felt joy, and learned it very shortly after Darcy had come to care for him.
Soon the rest of the group recognized him as well.
He was wearing Darcy’s panties over his head, clearly enthralled by the feel of the delicate lace and Darcy’s own personal musk.
THFWS & TTM’s: TaDa!
WARNING! EXTREME SEXUAL CONTENT OF A VERY EXPLICIT AND UNCENSORED NATURE. ADULTS ONLY! REFERENCES TO DRUGS AND PAGAN SEXUAL PRACTICES. NOT FOR CHILDREN. DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT VIEWING THIS AT WORK (UNLESS YOU WORK IN THE SEX INDUSTRY). NOT INTENDED FOR ANYONE UNDER EIGHTEEN YEARS OF AGE, OR THE MENTALLY OR PHYSICALLY INFIRM, UNLESS YOUR DOCTOR HAS STATED THAT YOUR HEART IS HEALTHY ENOUGH FOR EXTREMELY ABBERANT SEX…THERE! I SAID IT…(AS IF THAT IS LIKELY TO STOP ANONE EXCEPT PRUDES AND THE GENERALLY FEARFUL)…
TaDa!
Given the preceding events, it is nonetheless at least interesting to ponder why a naked woman who is in the midst of getting publicly fucked by a sorcerer in front six other naked seekers of enlightenment, several of whom are also similarly engaged, would suddenly feel embarrassment, just because it was her panties that her charge was sniffing and fondling in the vision that had been conjured….
This was about as open-minded an audience as you will ever find anywhere, but there is a chasm wider than the Olduvai Gorge that separates human and all other animal forms of sexuality.
Keep in mind, all seven have taken a psychoactive drug so powerful that it has enabled them to have already experienced simultaneous visions and telepathic powers of communication…
(“How did Frederick get the panties in the first place…did Darcy give them to him…how else?”) Suki blurted (in her mind, which just happened to be in the transmit mode).
(“I’m sure there is a logical explanation…I hope…Is there one?”) questioned Charles.
(“I understand that it is only natural that Frederick is now of an age where his sexuality has come to the forefront…”) mused Ash.
(“I’m just glad it wasn’t one of mine.”) Merle breathed a sigh of relief.
(“What?!?!?) (Darcy had been heretofore unaware of Merle’s cross-dressing proclivities.)
(“Oh shit!) as Mark realized not only the incident where the panties were lost, but also how lucky they were that the lost undergarment had not been left in the company-owned Land Cruiser.
All in an instant.
Just as quickly, the entire group relived that afternoon with Mark and Darcy as they pieced together the details of how all this took place, right up to the point where Darcy recalled having replaced the original pair, which she now had unwittingly revealed to the rest of the group as well…including Mark, who had been previously unaware.
(“Well…they were dirty and old…OK…I was a little flattered in a rather perverse way…he obviously likes my…pheromones…that’s a vital factor in animal behaviors…I thought he would appreciate something…fresher…but with a replenished scent…”)
(“Lately, between the signing lessons and the unofficial telepathy exercises, we have become increasingly aware of Frederick’s crush on Darcy…it was inevitable. He’s reached that age, and he has no mate, like the other primates at the Habitat do…it’s strange and sad.”) Mark was quick to point out.
(“This is the point where all the previous Chimp experiments eventually hit a brick wall of sexual frustrations so severe that the subjects started attacking their trainers…we can’t afford to lose him that way…he’s the only one of his kind…he calls himself a Bonanzee, you know…) Darcy’s thoughts trailed off into silence.
As the group engaged themselves (as well as each other) in thought and speculation about how to get Frederick laid, it was impossible to ignore the fact that they were beginning to experience a sexual frenzy that some, less broad-minded, un-drugged individuals might find bizarre, given the juxtaposition of stimuli.
For some time now, Merle had been cautiously insistent in the pressure he applied to the stroking movements of his now rigid cock; a little further in and out each time, and with increasing tempo, moving little more than his hips in the process, as he grasped Darcy’s hips firmly.
By the point that he was able to finally squeeze first, the enormous corona, and then the thickened shaft where the foreskin slid back and piled up as it folded back upon itself, Darcy was beginning to experience an even further altered state that can only be described by such words as “Unghhh!…Mmmm!…Aaaaahhhhh! OOOOhhhh!, OOOOhhhh!, OOOhhhh!, (and my own personal favorite)…OOOOOOOOhhhhhhhh FFFFFFuck!!!
Darcy had never experienced childbirth, but previous descriptions by other more experienced women brought to mind the expression “Ring of Fire” as she felt the most exquisite, searing expansive sensation that felt like her throbbing Love Canal was being dredged to permit the Titanic clear passage.
Despite her tall stature, she was rather thin and quite petite. Although she had experienced the pleasures that only an oversized cock or dildo can induce on several previous occasions, her outer labia were small, although the inner folds tended to protrude past the outer margins, hinting at what she called her “Magic Hat” that seemed capable of swallowing up objects larger than itself. Tonight however, she felt as if Merle was trying to park a semi inside a phone booth, as the image of the Tardis leapt into her mind.
She was sopping wet by the time Merle began to thrust more forcefully and deeply as he plowed the furrow between her legs until there was no more room inside at all. As he pistoned his thick shaft in and out, small amounts of air forced themselves out of her pussy in a wet, audible squoosh with each stroke.
She was delirious and on the verge of hysteria as she heard a voice yelling (“That’s it!…Tear that pussy apart!…Knock the bottom out of that cunt!”) only to realize she was hearing the group, led by Mark, chanting inside their collective heads, as she was verbalizing the words like a pornographic cheerleader.
Rati had once again materialized in her outfit, sans panties, doing handsprings around the Square Circle and finishing by going through it to do a full split, covering Ash’s face under her sopping snatch.
Ash was on his back, and Kali was astride his hips, planted firmly on his gorgeous dong as Mark violated her ass in frenzied abandon as she joyously gyrated to meet the thrusts of both her lovers like some kind of synchronized clockworks of flesh.
Charles and Suki were almost indistinguishable from the gang of spirits that had materialized around them as they found themselves levitated, and slowly rotating and tumbling in air as every orifice and appendage was either filled or impaled upon every imaginable combination of couplings.
The walls of the living room had been transformed into a series of steps that resembled a Mayan temple on all sides, with the blackest, most star-filled sky above them, at least sixty feet above the floor. The steps were being used by an assembled multitude of beings, some recognizable, and others unfathomable, all chanting the same thing. From time to time, an enormous eyeball, or part of a face would obliterate the sky as if some giant was peering into one of those crystal snowscenes you see on tables during the holidays as the chanting continued. It was not one word, but it was one word, the same word, shouted in the language of each of the members of the audience, some of whom were also copulating with each other in the stands.
The Knowledge was translating every word perfectly to the Seven.
The word was FUCK!
Inside their collective heads, the roar of the crowd was deafening, although they could also clearly hear each other’s breathing and the squishing, squooshing and slapping sounds of sex. They were panting like dogs; grunting like elk in rut, drooling and slobbering, sometimes speaking in the unknown tongues of their audience. Sweat dripped profusely as if they were melting from the sheer heat of their sex, as the floor and walls disappeared and the earth opened up to swallow everything around them, as they plummeted toward what seemed to be the center of the earth.
As they came together, they had the sensation of being ejected from an erupting volcano of semen, sweat, and the saline gumbo of co-mingled fluids of copulation, as if being ejaculated from some monumental phallus, as they lost all consciousness.
They later attested to the fact that at that precise moment, they all believed they had experienced their individual and collective deaths en masse…
And it was Good…like the way it says in Genesis, at the end of each day of the creation.
The Ballad of Charles and Suki
The Ballad of Charles and Suki
No more than a handful of people claimed to know much of anything about Charles and Suki. There were several good reasons for that. They tended to be the wildest, and most generally bizarre, as well as the most private couple associated with either the Sanctuary, or The Home for Wayward Souls. They came to South Florida about eight years ago, but other details were pretty sketchy. No one was especially sure of how old they were, or what they did before they came into the congregation.
Charles’ parents were from Bulgaria and Yugoslavia originally, but came to the United States in the Nineteen Sixties after defecting from the Soviet Union and Communism. In the USSR, Charles’ father was officially recognized as one of the top paranormal researchers in the employ of the KGB…officially…but Charles had also alluded to the fact that Vladimir Vliynczykovitch was also reputedly the most powerful warlock in all of Europe. Charles’ mother did cutting-edge research in the early development of lasers for the government.
When they came to the US, they changed their family name to Vincent, and tried to assimilate into the culture and generally maintain a low profile. Of course, Vladimir was immediately debriefed and inducted into a laboratory facility that unofficially did research for the CIA. Charles’ mother, Svetlana retired from research to bring lasers and holography to the world of art, and became quite self-sufficient doing so.
Their home was filled with people from the world of the Paranormal, Espionage and Intelligence as well as every manner of Artist. The central theme of Eastern European Witchcraft was also always present, (if you knew what you were hearing and understood its true meaning) like an underground stream running through their home.
Suki’s father, Omar was a Yugoslav electronics engineer who worked as a graduate assistant and later as an intern responsible for technical support in Vladimir’s laboratory in the USSR. They became friends over the years, and although Vlad was older, they socialized a great deal outside work. They had defected together, escaping first to Japan during a scientific expedition, where Omar met Umai-ko-shi Shindo, the chief archeologist supervising the dig at a site that had interested Vlad because of spirits that were said to inhabit the area. Umai-ko-shi traveled to the United States with Omar and Vlad once they secured asylum.
Omar and Vlad had been practicing sorcery together for several years in the USSR. Omar became Vlad’s understudy, so the fact that Umai-ko-shi was a Tsukimono-suji, or White Witch brought together a series of forces and influences that culminated in the birth of her daughter Suki. Although Charles was sixteen years old when Suki was born, the four parents agreed that their children would wed one day. Arranged marriages were a throwback to their ancestors, and most of the children in the US rebelled against it, nevertheless….
They had grown up together in the USA, and the decidedly unorthodox lives of their parents had the effect of producing a bond between them, like cousins, and Charles was very protective of Suki as she grew up, although she was quite independent and very capable of defending herself. She nonetheless adored Charles as a hero of sorts, and although they went their own separate ways for a few years while attending college, they reunited at a family holiday and fell deeply and passionately in love with each other, and eventually married.
Suki, who had become a nurse-practitioner often called herself “Nāsu Witchi”, (“nurse-witch”) amongst her friends. She embodied the mystery and passions of both cultures freely. She was sometimes regarded as aggressive, or confrontational, which was partly due to her economy of words and sparse context and partly because she made absolutely no concessions to fear or guilt, and embodied a sort of Shamelessness in her pursuit of the “delicious delinquency of neoteny in (the) seduction of all things conventional, comfortable, or chaste”.
The fact that almost no one ever understood what she meant by that (partly owing to her rich arabesque of accents and nuances), also meant she tended to respond very strongly to anyone who did understand even a part of it, sufficient to provoke an intense tutorial of Tantric to those who deserved it.
She had about a half-dozen phrases she used as a litmus test for the uninitiated, but she had formulated that phrase shortly after she first became aware of her crush for Charles, who understood it so implicitly, that she affectionately called him her “(She-)Devil(’s) Advocate”.
It also meant that Charles understood that no matter how great her love for him, that she was her own woman, and no amount of devotion and dedication to her mate would prevent her from pursuing all of her interests.
Another favorite of hers was “(Perhaps, If) You(‘d) like, maybe we (can) make (some) crazy sex-fuck time together, OK?”
…And the door swung both ways. And it was good….
Because Charles always tried to encourage Suki to believe in her heart, that no matter what she did, he would always love and support her pursuit of any indulgence within their means unconditionally, and unequivocally and joyously.
For a very long while….
People usually say “…but over the years…things have a way of happening.” or words to that effect, but in truth, “things have a lot more ways of not happening…”
Years of childrearing, careers, and generalized ambition have a way of pushing Romance into the background. Unresolved resentments, bouts of poor health, surgeries, disappointments, fatigue and depression had produced the effect of alienation of affections.
If you spend years finding and receiving pleasure from one person, it is easy to understand why it is that when things go badly, that we also attach them to an unspoken resentment for the calamity of events that seem to well up around us, forever asking the question “What’s to keep them from doing it?”
They became isolated, and bitter like two old car batteries left unused on the floor of their garage, dissipated, no difference of potential left…no charge, no current flow…sulfurous, and caustic. Their comings and goings were of little consequence to each other, and they both generally despaired of life.
Charles had a nervous breakdown that lasted about four years. His work and his income suffered, but he kept his job and endured for no good reason in particular. He took high doses of four different anti-depressants that were having catastrophic effects on him physically and mentally. Suki rarely got out of bed, spent most of the night in a reclining chair watching TV, snoring and falling asleep while smoking, setting herself on fire, and stating that she was always tired and never got any rest. They both got fat. This is hell.
It is said that a true Buddhist would go straight into Hell to rescue a friend, but Charles and Suki were in two different versions of the same hell, unable to reach each other or rescue themselves…nonetheless…if you find yourself at the beach on the Lake of Fire…and say, several of you decide to go to a rave there…you might be amazed at the people you might meet.
There are, no doubt, any number of Buddhists who were meant to go to Hell for one reason or another, because of some Kharma that they couldn’t escape, because it was part of their program, a glitch, a flaw, a paradox…a ghost in the machine…a date to dance with the devil in the pale moonlight…a character flaw, perhaps, but if we are not so quick to judge others harshly for their faults, instead recognizing them and non-judgmentally encouraging them to face everything fearlessly and shamelessly, we can learn to recognize our own mistakes and errors of judgment or action which we can neither escape nor deny without grievous consequences.
And Charles was very lucky because despite it all, he had paid ahead a great deal of good and positive Kharma over the years, such that it just so happened that one of the other Lost Souls standing there at that rave on the Lake of Fire would help him lead himself out of the flames, and maybe even save herself in the process…at least eventually.
Charles and Suki Get it all Back
THFWS: Charles and Suki get it All Back
And so it came to pass that a very young telemarketer also in the employ of PharmaCorp. was re-assigned to a seat facing Charles at a time when it would be difficult to imagine him being less susceptible to feminine guiles at all, and yet, there she was. She worked in the cubicle that faced Charles’, and might have gone unnoticed if she hadn’t been so damn tall.
Even as Charles slouched into his office chair, he could still see her face peering around her monitor screen. He had never noticed her before, even though she had been with the company for over a year.
She was only about thirty-something, which those days seemed more like the new nineteen. She was very slender, petite and graceful in appearance, and much too pretty…it just hurt too much to even dream anymore…at least those days.
…But she wasn’t conceited, or full of herself, which still was not nearly as remarkable as was her sense of humor. She wasn’t just hilarious…she also found Charles to be the wittiest, and most clever rascal on the planet. Admittedly, Charles’ guard was down when humor, culture, intellect, or literature was involved. It never occurred to him initially, that there was any other kind of connection between them.
He just felt better when she was around.
Charles had long since given up on the idea of even imagining having sex with anyone who would consider fucking him. As a vital, virile male, he was already dead, but in serious denial of the fact, despite disturbing suspicions.
Then, she dropped the hankie, just to see if Charles would pick it up. She hinted at how there was something missing in her life without coming out and saying so…she let Charles figure that out on his own. She loved his million-dollar words and his generally chivalrous, but licentious nature.
She was very clever, although quite accustomed to being pursued by “the dirty boys”, but wasn’t used to being seduced with words, or gestures.
That’s one thing upon which Southern women with a high degree of native intelligence who were not born of privilege could rely…that they will feel unappreciated, underestimated and indentured to a life that had not been of their own choosing from the beginning and was already winding down into wistful resignation without ever knowing the feeling of being swept away by a tide of passion and infatuation by a worldly man of letters, of experience, and danger, who will speak to them with deference and respect, who will ask them their opinions and make them feel important and worth paying attention to for something other than sex and other household labor.
To Jennifer, Charles was the most dangerously intelligent and sophisticated man she had ever met, and he didn’t seem preoccupied by her looks or her figure, but rather focused his attentions on her mind and her feelings.
Charles had been celibate for so long that the only time it hurt at all was when he was reminded of it.
Jennifer made him feel interesting and attractive, and somehow desirable, but what was really captivating was how badly they both needed validation from their spouse’s, and how provocative it was to experience it from someone else.
She was not very sophisticated, and would have made a lousy poker-player, because her emotions would have betrayed her every time. Where Charles was very deferential and showed her kindness and respect, she wore her heart on her sleeve from the moment she arrived at work until they left. They made a very peculiar looking couple. She was tall, pretty, young and physically fit, and he was short, a bit overweight, and although he looked about fifteen years younger than he actually was, it was definitely a May-December work-spouse romance.
And although Charles had some concerns for what might have been regarded as impropriety, he quickly noticed that although most everyone in the building was aware of their infatuation, the effect was that he was treated with more respect than ever before by not only his co-workers, but his supervisors as well…and for good reason…once again, his sales figures were skyrocketing.
Telemarketers are a very superstitious lot, and for relatively good reason, because just like fishing, some days you are lucky, and other days you suck. Also, because of a practice called skill setting that is used in all computer-controlled dialers, there are any number of ways to stack the deck in favor of some, to the detriment of others.
Many extol the power of positive thinking, which can yield significant results, as long as you are not on the rolls of the Doomed, which is where about eighty percent of the sales staff is stuck at any given moment, but there is another intrinsic factor that for lack of a better term could be called Mojo.
In the fifties, white people called it Moxy because well…they were white, and they couldn’t entertain the idea of anything “too ethnic”, but where luck leaves off, a charmed existence is just getting warmed up. When you are too cool to even need to swagger, because you have nothing to prove, and everyone wants to be your friend, nothing can stop you. You are Majik.
Nothing threatens you, and you possess a generosity of spirit that encircles you in its protection. When you possess it, you may not even think about it, and unselfconsciousness may well be one of its earmarks, but when it is gone, it will be conspicuous in its absence, and you will seriously consider selling your soul to get it back.
Most call centers are hotbeds of infidelity, and one more torrid affair could go unnoticed in a place like PharmaCorp, but there was something almost innocent and touching about Charles and Jenny that just seemed to make people smile when they were seen together.
Charles used to “dress for success” when he first came to work, and was often mistaken for upper management by people who did not know him, but over the last eight years, he became increasingly disinterested in appearances, and referred to himself as “a walking clothesline” and eschewed any pretense of any kind as regards his wardrobe, and dressed more like a “parrot-head”, an expression for residents of the Florida Keys (also called “Conchs” by the residents themselves).
He replaced his traditional suit and tie with his own version of the three-piece, meaning a floral print shirt open in front, worn like a jacket over a tee shirt, and jeans or shorts, sneakers and sunglasses.
He drove a Toyota four-wheel-drive pickup truck that was over twenty-five years old, and had been extensively modified and upgraded. It was tall and loud, and very aggressive looking. It was covered with every imaginable amateur radio antenna you could imagine… (and yes, he could, and had talked with the space station on more than one occasion).
As colorful a character as he presented, his boyish charm and his big beautiful Willy could have gotten him an audience with anybody but the Pope, despite his frequently impoverished state through most of his life. It clearly gave him pleasure and energized him just to see how far outside his class he could get in either direction.
He was an almost iconic manifestation of those of his generation who were raised and sent to colleges and universities by working-class middle-class parents who could barely afford to send them in the first place who truly believed that once you got a degree, every manner of success could be yours if you were only willing to work hard enough.
He was also one of many who proved the paradigm wrong, although he also frequently learned how to live outside all class structure by his wits and creativity at the most unpredictable moments.
As a result, when he felt mojo flowing toward and through him, he instinctively would go with the flow.
Suki, on the other hand, could and frequently did have any man she desired whenever she wanted, but had never been in love before, except with Charles.
She was uninitiated to the intoxication of The Crush of Infatuation, except with Charles. She was more uncomfortable than she would admit when Charles first told her about his attraction for Jenny, but once she intercepted a text message that asked “Have I told you that I love you today?” She went into a high-speed tailspin.
Sex is one thing, but Love…Polyamory? That was not only out of the question…it was not even a question in the first place. ”How the fuck did this word suddenly spring out of nowhere without any warning? I never even heard anybody use it in a sentence before….”
She crashed and burned. She wept for days on end. She was inconsolable, and unreasonable. She read omens and meditated.
She felt defeated, despondent, and hopeless despite the fact that more than a year before, she had referred to her relationship with Charles as “Hopeless…it(’s just) gone, (and) that(’s) all there is (to it).”
Nothing is more seductive than forbidden or seemingly unattainable treasure. She became determined to discover how to regain Charles’ infatuation. She decided to learn how to get back something she thought she didn’t want until she realized how much somebody else wanted it.
She decided she wanted to learn to surf The Crush with Charles.
Sometimes, the ways of Majik and
Power seem inscrutable, and the paths all obscured or blocked unless you learn to see what has previously been occult; before you learn to see with eyes that were as if they had been closed all your life before that moment.
Suki just needed a little outside intervention that happened to come when she least expected it, doing something she would have thought to be unrelated, that despite all her efforts to the contrary had paid her admission to yet another stage of enlightenment that she did not know she was seeking.
Which was a very good thing because none of us have all the time, monkeys and typewriters we would need without a little random, chaotic good luck and Majik Kharma.
THFWS: The Ballad of Charles and Suki III
THFWS: The Ballad of Charles and Suki III
…Every dog has his day, and every Cat will play…
It might have all been different, but Fate is both a cruel Mistress and a benevolent lover, and Charles and Suki had unfinished business that might have gone unresolved, just to make peace, which would have been a tragedy of missed opportunities…however, some people are blessed by being given no quarter, and in the process Pain leads them to the highest pleasures much too good to be wasted on the weak of spirit, resolve, or courage.
Suki was the most leonine creature Charles had ever met. In fact, if she could have given herself a tongue bath, she would have been the most feline woman to ever live. She was regal, yet unpretentious. She took no amnesty from anyone, and was not inclined to give it. She was not cruel, but she was also not especially merciful…to her, everything had a consequence to it.
There was an unflinchingly sloe-eyed detachment in her demeanor that gave her a calculating, analytical appearance at first glance. She used it to cover her emotions, which boiled very near the surface at times…and she was ruled by her pride.
Of course, she was born in August, and the red highlights in her dark hair against her green eyes often disarmed less secure men and enchanted the boldest of them. She was a lioness at the very core of her nature, and fell in love with Charles because he was strong enough to stand up to her, smart enough not to try to tame her and wise enough to let her choose to be kept, as long as she believed the choice was hers.
She had lost that edge she had when they first met, and complacency, exhaustion and depression had taken over in its place. She resented the fact that Charles had found someone who worshipped his being and spirit long after Suki had become complacent and immune to Charles’ considerable charm and intellect…and this was part of the problem…Charles had not found her, she had found him….
Little did she know that everything that now consumed her every waking thought would merely be a warm-up, or preparation for the Main Event that would put everything back exactly where it was meant to be all along.
She had made desperate overtures to her husband that reeked of her insecurity and desperation, which sabotaged her every move. She hoped to capture his undivided attention even as he was being swept away by the infatuation of this new Crush that left her feeling vulnerable and threatened.
Charles on the other hand would have been ecstatic over the recently renewed vitality in his marriage if he was not forced to feel the barb, the hook that was always there in the form of Suki’s resentments and envy. She could have let the whole thing run its course, whatever that was. As much as Charles would have liked it to be different, he sensed that Jenny was not likely to remain a permanent fixture in his life, and governed his actions accordingly.
Until Suki had come into his life, Charles’ marriages had been consistently impermanent due to a failure to be able to maintain the Romance that he required to give him inspiration and purpose, as well as the energy to balance his side of the equation for her.
In fact, Charles had fallen in Love with Suki on a double date that he and his fiancée went on with a business associate of his while Suki was in town for a family reunion. They had jokingly referred to each other as “Kissing Cousins” over the years, and were like family to each other because f their parents’ friendship. She had seen many women come and go in Charles’ life and had a crush on him since she was about fourteen…and Charles was thirty…Suki knew all too well what it was like to be the other woman.
The truly great relationships in Charles’ life were with women he never married, and with whom neither he nor she took umbrage, but rather, leave…as in leave of absence…(in his heart, he left the light on, and the door unlocked).
And so it was that Charles never learned to despise those women the way his ex-wives had learned to despise him…and it was not in his nature to carry a grudge, even if he felt better when they were not around.
Suki could have been one of those women, and Charles had expected that there would come a time when she would need to leave him to learn those things he could not teach her, but as neither of them desired it to take place, so apathy and the commonplace displaced romance and adventure.
Little did she know that what would separate them temporarily would unite them in eternity.
Suki’s father had suffered a mild heart attack in Los Angeles, and she immediately flew out to her original home to care for him. It was just as well that she went when she did, because the tension between her and Charles seemed to hang in the very air they breathed, and this opportunity to take her leave would distract her from her desperation.
She had two very good friends who were married to each other, and several former casual lovers in the valley, and although the cocaine was not quite as good as what she and Charles had learned to avoid in Florida, it was as ubiquitous as Mickey Mouse, Coca-Cola, and Jesus Christ on the cross in L.A. and more or less free to a beautiful and exotic woman of mystery such as Suki.
The trick would be in being able to balance her responsibilities against her pleasures.
After about a week of tending to her dad almost night and day, she began to steal away once her father was asleep to spend her evenings with her friends, the Bickersons. They had been together longer than she and Charles had even known each other, although Suki and Christy had been best friends since childhood.
She was petite with a porcelain complexion and corn-silk hair. The had shared a few lovers over the years in a very safe plain-vanilla sort of way that earmarks many a ménage a trois, and there had been no direct sexual contact between Suki and Christy, although they both joked about the possibilities many times over the years.
Keith was tall, had shoulder-length curly brown hair and looked like a roadie for the Grateful Dead. He was the archetypical southern Californian, “ ‘fer sure”. He had a rich, deep broadcaster’s voice and a gentle, humorously infectious way about him, although he and Suki had never been even slightly attracted to each other, which was just as well.
They had picked her up at the airport when she flew into LAX and got her settled in before they took her to the hospital. There was something different about the way they acted this time however, but Suki couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was….
It certainly wasn’t how they acted toward each other, because they were always, first and foremost the Bickersons in that they lived up to the full irony of their name in a way that was tragically comical. They could argue about the color of the sky on a cloudless day, and it almost seemed to be the undercurrent that fueled their relationship despite the fact that they barely recognized the obvious, and did not seem to be as adversely affected by their ongoing adversarial discourse as was those around them.
Finally, late one night they told Suki of their intentions to pursue a threesome with her. Although it was fraught with a few accommodations that had to be made for their generally neurotic relationship, it started with Suki and Christy exploring each other while Keith watched for as long as he could stand it, which was to say, not for very long.
Keith was well endowed and Suki and Christy treated him like an animated sex toy until he was completely spent, only to return their attentions back to pleasuring each other. It had a galvanizing effect on the both of them.
Although Suki was as indifferent as she had always been toward Keith, he was suddenly mesmerized by her to the point that he actually called Charles late one night to apologize for having overlooked this incredibly captivating creature for so long, and that although she happened to be Charles’ wife, he felt compelled to remark to him what a lucky guy he was.
Later that night, he told Suki he thought he was falling in love with her.
Wham! Like a bullet through the brain, she recalled her feelings when she intercepted the e-mail in which Jenny had asked Charles if she had told him she loved him today…and she realized she had done nothing to provoke it any more than Charles had, and that it is never wrong for anyone to tell you that they love you.
It disquieted her enough to prompt her to call Charles at five AM to tell him about it. She was grateful that he understood, but uneasy that he was so supportive and encouraging about it. Did nothing effect jealousy in Charles? Why not? She knew he cared, even if he didn’t mind…but why not? Why would jealousy be the way you express to someone that you love them?
Little did she know that this was only the beginning of her enlightenment.
THFWS: The Ballad of Charles and Suki IV…Indeterminacy
THFWS: Charles and Suki IV Indeterminacy
…and now we begin again….
Christy and Keith had a house guest named Gerard Chineaux who had been away on business when Suki had arrived, so she had taken the guest bed, at least in theory, although she had usually only passed out for a few hours in their bed before returning back to her father’s house before six AM.
Gerard was in especially good spirits upon his return to southern California, and suggested he take them all out to dinner to celebrate. He was French, and his work visa had finally been approved. It had taken four days up in Sacramento and he was glad to be back.
Keith and Gerard had attended college together, several years ago, and although there was about fifteen years difference in age, they had become good friends, and had kept in touch over the years, even after he had returned to his homeland. Gerard had always been very good with money, and now he was preparing to set himself up in the United States.
Gerard was about five-nine or so, not especially tall or short, and wore his clothes very well. He had classic chiseled Gallic features, dark, thick straight hair and an engaging sense of humor. He was prone to flashes of mischief in his eyes, and although he spoke impeccably good English, he frequently used to “French it up” exaggerating all the stereotypical linguistics of his countrymen and even playing the part of the naïve tourist just to see how well he could pull some unsuspecting American’s legs…especially if they were pretty. The more helpless or guile-less he appeared, the more that women wanted to help him.
He was in excellent physical condition, and worked out several times a week, and was not muscle-bound, but lean and flexible with the moves of a feral cat.
It was good to be a Frenchman in L.A., especially if you had money, but then again, it’s always good to be a handsome Frenchman just about anywhere in the United States.
When this didn’t seem to captivate Suki’s attentions, he dropped the pretense and turned the charm up…way up…and this was rare for him, because he never really had to try at all to get what he wanted, and this was presenting itself as an intriguing challenge.
What he didn’t realize was that Suki was pulling his leg just to see how far he would go just to get into her pants. She was amused, and highly flattered because he was at least ten years her junior, although he was clear to casually mention more than once how much more European men appreciated mature women.
She was intrigued by his persistence and continued to play the seemingly oblivious Eastern-European/Asian dilettante…Mata Hari meets Tokyo Rose….
They were both playing with each other; he like she was a fine cello and she like he was a saxophone.
When they all got back to the apartment, Keith and Christy went into their bedroom to get a mirror and a blade long enough for Suki to suddenly turn to Gerard and suddenly say “OK monkey-boy…you want we make some crazy sex-fuck, yes?” With that, she slowly unzipped his fly and reached her hand into his silk boxers, never taking her eyes off his as she did.
It certainly appeared that he did want to…very much.
By the time she had produced his long, generous viande from his trousers, he was so erect that the head of his cock was shiny and had already extended itself from out of hiding beneath his foreskin, and every vein stood out as his prick twitched with each heartbeat. She kneeled before him and took him deep into her wet mouth and full, greedy lips.
She had almost all of him down her throat about the time that their hosts returned to the living room, prompting them to shed their clothes on the spot before even starting to chop the shale-like crystals and lay them out into long white rails on the mirror.
So they sat there in the living room, naked snorting coke and generally playing with each other, although the girls pretended to be more interested in each other, just because they knew it would provoke Keith and Gerard even more.
First, Christy and Suki started double-teaming one or the other of the two men orally, suddenly changing to the other without warning. They kissed each other deeply as they sucked and licked both the men.
Charles had always told Suki that whatever she did, he would always be standing there on her shoulder, encouraging her to embrace whatever adventure came her way. She thought about that right before Gerard entered her for the first time, and decided she ought to give him a good show….
Gerard’s cock was a little longer than Charles’, but not quite as thick, although it was definitely what she called “meaty” and though she most definitely preferred circumcised men, she had to admit that the sensation of his prodigious uncut member was extremely pleasurable, once she allowed herself to admit that she could feel the extra skin rolling and sliding back and forth inside her, most especially just as the corona passed her inner labia and the novelty of the feeling was rapidly bringing her to climax, which in itself was unusual, because she usually took a long time to cum with Charles.
The excitement she felt was exhilarating, and she was beginning to lose herself completely as she felt herself surrendering to the masterful fucking she was receiving. She usually took the lead, and loved to overwhelm a man even to the point of making him cum sooner than he intended, only to put his still throbbing dripping cock back into her mouth, just to prove she could get him hard again, but this time he was all over her and it was all she could do to keep up with his enthusiastic thrusting and stroking.
He had the roundest, hardest ass she had ever seen on a white man, and the way he worked his hips and pelvis was nothing short of obscenely sensuous as wave after wave of pleasure swept over her.
Then she opened her eyes, and realized how starstruck he looked as he gazed deeply into her soul. This was not something she had anticipated, or even wanted, but lost herself completely in as she felt both of them shuddering with wave after wave of orgasm while their bodies were simultaneously wracked with paroxysms of spasms, both of them crying out in ecstasy, sweating, grunting, and moaning as she felt his cock spewing a copious flood of semen deep into her hungry cunt, filling her until she would have sworn she could taste it, spilling out past his still-throbbing member and soaking her ass, the sheets and just about everything in sight.
She had intended to use a condom, and always did with strangers, but between the cocaine and the generally frenzied level of sexual excitement, she was secretly glad she had neglected to do so…she felt wickedly guilty as she wallowed in their flood of co-mingled fluids. Once she stopped hyperventilating, she went down on him again, savoring the taste of their human stew-broth and the taste they made together. They tasted like Sin, like Sex, like Seafood, and the steamy aroma was intoxicating.
She was in no hurry, and was thoroughly enjoying her repast when he turned his head down to her thoroughly violated and soaked pussy, as he began to lap at her like a dog. This seemed to excite both of them even more, and he was soon hard again. She could not remember the last time she and Charles had fucked like that.
She then rolled over slightly raising her wet, dripping ass as she gyrated provocatively for him. He immediately picked up on the cue, and straddled her as he prepared to try to gently dilate her anus with the head of his prick. She quickly began to thrust her buttocks into his gentle strokes as he began to thrust more forcefully.
“Fuck me hard…no hold back…make (it) hurt real good. I (am) dirty girl that needs punished badly…fuck and spank (my) ass ‘til I call you daddy and beg you (to) stop…but don’t…,I want you (to) make me scream like hostage. I am at (your) mercy. Make me pay for (my)sins, I am (your) whore.”
As it was happening, she could not believe the words that were coming from her mouth. It was as if she was possessed and it was Gerard that now possessed her completely. Somehow, the anonymity of the passions that overwhelmed her had taken her away to a place she was not going to be revisiting, and she felt safe in her surrender to this wicked, dirty fantasy.
She knew she couldn’t wait to tell Charles, but even if she left no detail unspoken, there was no way she could describe this escape, this surrender to which she was succumbing…at least not until she saw him face-to-face, and even then…could she? Would he understand the oblivion with which she had jumped into the volcano?
At least she did not have to worry about him witnessing her surrender. She was afraid he it might hurt him to see her so completely under the control of this handsome stranger whom she would undoubtedly not be seeing again, once she returned to south Florida.
Then again, it was Charles that had recommended that she experience the thrill of the infatuation of another person who made you feel worshipped, and wonderful. He had said that was his gift to her. How would he feel seeing his wife groveling before this Frenchman’s cock?
There is sanctuary in anonymity and it is much easier to lose yourself with someone who does not know you in the first place.
THFWS: The Ballad of Charles and Suki V: The Uroboros
THFWS: Charles and Suki V: The Uroboros
A few minutes after five AM Suki awoke with a start to the sound of the alarm on her phone. She had lost all track of time sometime before she lost consciousness, but it felt like five minutes sleep at best.
The next thing she noticed was that Gerard was already up, and was sitting beside her with a cup of fresh coffee and a croissant (courtesy of Seven-Eleven), smiling broadly like the cat that just ate the canary.
It was starting to come back to her now….
The sheets felt like moist Velcro as she tried to separate herself from them in order to attempt to sit up. She knew she only had about ten minutes before she had to be out the door to get back to her father’s house before he awoke. She also knew she was definitely not a morning person, but apparently Gerard was.
She knew what was making her feel so uneasy…she hadn’t experienced puppy love in a long time, and she was suddenly aware of just how long.
She thought about Charles, and then tried to not think about him…nothing was working…and Gerard was still sitting there looking starstruck and drunk with infatuation…and she also decided she was going to let herself feel good about this.
Gerard was too good to be true, so she figured as long as it was temporary, it was meant to be enjoyed. She wondered if he was really necessary for her to allow herself to feel so good about herself.
She was also aware of just how crusty and sticky she felt…It was time to go. Gerard kissed her for what seemed like half past forever until she finally had to pull herself away.
When Suki got into the car, she realized that due to the pounding and soaking her pussy and ass had received last night she was disinclined to put any panties on, and would be well advised to sit on a towel if she didn’t want to leave a slime trail on her dad’s new leather seats, but the towel was too rough, so she figured that she would just have to buy him a new chamois before he started driving again.
In the meantime, it felt strangely pleasurable to feel herself squirm and tingle every time she moved. She shivered, and laughed as she sang “That fresh-fucked feeling” to no one in particular. It also gave her time to reflect.
She suddenly realized that she enjoyed how conflicted she felt…it was all just a part of the dance. You have to go outside your comfort zone to experience something new and fresh.
As she contemplated what had been happening, it occurred to her that she didn’t have to either complicate this, or analyze it. What made perfect sense was to let everything happen the way it was meant.
She began to re-evaluate her reactions to Jennifer’s crush on Charles, and the effect it had on him…as well as how she felt about it, In retrospect, she had envied how Charles must have felt, and was sorry she had spoiled it for him on a certain level by not being more supportive and understanding, as he had always been with her.
She did not like complications or loose ends, yet somehow she realized that this thing with Gerard would resolve itself naturally, and die the kind of natural death to which long-distance relationships are subject.
She also realized that her love for Charles was not diminished by her surrender to Gerard’s charms or his extraordinary talents as a lover. She thought to herself that she had been afraid to acknowledge that on a moment-by-moment basis it was not necessary to place Charles on some kind of pedestal that required that he be the best or only experience she was allowed to enjoy.
There is a great deal to be said about the “home field advantage” both pro and con…familiarity is more likely to breed complacency long before it gives birth to contempt, or resentments. Given her choice, she was more likely to re-animate her marriage by surrender to passion than to boredom.
In truth, last night was the most amazing sex she had ever had with anyone, and she had enjoyed it with the full knowledge that Charles would always approve and encourage her to experience life to its fullest.
Nothing says that you have to be in love with whoever fucks you the best…if that didn’t bother Charles, why did she have so much trouble accepting it? As important as sex was in their lives, it was far from the most important element that they shared.
Charles was an amazing lover, and even now, she wished she could be with him…to know for certain that it had not spoiled their relationship. Although she already felt she knew Charles’ perspective and she mused that perhaps she needed to let him know that she finally understood.
Charles used to tell her that each of us deserves to experience life in a way that is unique to only us…something that is ours alone, that makes us feel special in a way that inspires us to share that essence, that sweetness if you will, with the rest of the universe.
The fact that we cannot describe the transcendent does not prevent us from expressing it by our actions. It means we have to believe in the power of everything that exists outside of words…the understanding…the common knowledge that passes between us…the fact that it is impossible to describe it just pushes and provokes us that much more to become a testament to our enlightenment as we receive it.
It felt wonderful to be adored and idolized by this stranger and to tap into the enthusiasm that he generated in her. It was impossible not to feel intoxicated by the lavishly heady indulgence of this crush that was empowering and flattering her. As independent as it made her feel, it nonetheless reinforced her love for Charles as well.
It was as if she suddenly realized that if her marriage could actually be enhanced by such an experience, that nothing could ever stop them.
It would be nine AM in Florida by the time she got to her father’s house, and she couldn’t wait to share last night’s adventures with her husband, and the fact that she could share them with him made her love him even more.
She also decided that she believed in Charles enough not to spare the details, or the truth of how delicious the whole crazy night had been. She also knew that words were not her strongest suit, but believed in the understanding that existed between them to communicate everything that ever mattered to her “…in the world before words”.
In her heart, she already knew….
THFWS: Charles and Suki VI
THFWS: Charles and Suki VI
After Suki got home, it took almost an hour to take care of her father’s medications and general supportive care, including his breakfast. Her father had always been an early riser. It seemed he would wake up well before seven AM for as long as she could remember. She had a piece of toast to go with her second cup of coffee for the day, which was usually about as close to breakfast as she ever got. She rarely ever ate before ten AM.
It was a little after ten Eastern Time when she finally called Charles. She was as disquieted as she was excited to tell him the news of her night before with Gerard.
“Shpilkes…” she mused out loud… (It often surprised her how these Yiddish words would come to her out of nowhere from her Eastern European heritage, usually when nothing in English quite did the trick.)
“That’s what it is…on pins and needles, anxious to share with Charles, but…still afraid to be too frank…he needs to know (that) it only increases (my) love for him…to know I (can) experience pure joy that (I) still take home to us…something we usually share together…I feel so empowered, so energized…so full of love…but not for Gerard; for myself, first of all, and I share everything with Charles…even if it ‘pinches’ him a little…I know I (can) make it up to him…to make him glad I did it.”
Years ago, they had been swingers…no affairs, no secrets, and nothing more than flirtatious affection with any outsiders. Those were the rules, because that’s all that they ever considered possible.
In the old days, she would have run from Gerard as if he was infected with the plague, but then again, everyone else had always ended suffering in comparison to Charles. Everyone else was just the spice, while Charles had been the whole meal.
Over the years, they had become complacent in their lovemaking to the point where it became almost nonexistent and not especially rewarding for either of them. They became jaded; they had lost their “spark”…”the Majik” was gone…at least until Jenny had entered Charles’ life. It sometimes seems that few things are quite as attractive to a woman as when she knows other women want it too.
Had Suki been willing to simply accept how honest Charles had been, or how demonstrative he had become towards her, she would have been able to see what a blessing Jennifer had been. Charles had gone from apathy to ecstasy almost overnight, and Suki had reaped the benefits.
He again had learned to see beauty and joy in his life, and it made her feel threatened that she had not been the one to be the source of so much enthusiasm. It didn’t help that Jenny was more than twenty years younger than Charles…even younger than Suki…old enough to have been his daughter. She feared that she could not compete against this girl who was so tall, so slender, and so beautiful.
Now she understood all too well, and already she knew, so did Charles.
Verbal eloquence was not Suki’s strong suit by any means, and she preferred to communicate by webcam, rather than the phone, so she rang him up and told him to go to the service they used.
Charles had become a great deal more intuitive about Suki’s feelings and emotions again, and seemed to sense that there was some sort of great revelation or occurrence that was forthcoming.
She had been quite frustrated since she arrived, due to the dysfunctional nature of the Bickersons’ relationship, and the sex play had been…well less than optimal to say the least, and she even had secretly resented that it seemed like Charles had to experience this crush over Jenny to get their lovemaking back on track, at least from her perspective.
Gerard was some kind of elixir or potion for her, and she was still intoxicated by it when she called. She knew it. She feared it would make Charles feel insecure, or hurt somehow, if he sensed her newly discovered joie de vivre was the result of her night with Gerard.
After the usual and perfunctory greetings, etc., Charles remarked that Suki looked tired and asked if she was getting enough rest, because she hadn’t slept well since she left.
She decide to just come out and say it, so she said she really hadn’t slept at all last night…and sheepishly grinned a little more than she intended. She saw Charles’ eyebrow rise quizzically, but he immediately smiled and gave her a wink.
“Oh? He paused, and shook his head in a very bemused manner. “Did you have a good time, at least? It was obvious that he was doing everything he could to encourage her to open up.
She hesitated just a bit, which let Charles know this might get a bit serious, and he realized he held his breath for a couple seconds waiting for her to speak. The longer she waited, the more anxious Charles could feel himself becoming, but he didn’t want to sound like he was giving her the third degree or putting words into her mouth, so he waited as she looked down and squirmed slightly (not a good sign).
“(I) got very high and fucked this guy named Gerard Chineaux last night…It was…quite a shock to realize…how wild I got…something went crazy in me…so, yes, you could say (I) had a really, really good time last night…maybe too good…I lost all inhibitions (not something Charles had been especially aware of Suki having in the first place)…(I) felt like a wild animal. I started it, even though he (had been) flirting with me all night over dinner with Christy and Keith….”
“So they were aware of it?” Charles asked.
“They joined in (at) first when we were cutting (the) blow, but we finally went into (his) room…he’s been staying with them (for) a couple months.”
“So how long will he be there? Where will you be sleeping? Charles did not want to sound intimidating, or encourage her to hold back, so he kept it light and non-judgmental.
“Probably with him…I think, I mean if he invites me. I think he (is) already in love with me…he looks at me with these brown puppy dog eyes…he’s just a kid…and (he) just stares like (he is) hypnotized. (Do) you think I should call (this) off before (it) get(s) out of hand?”
“Why? Charles inquired. “Does he please you?…are you having fun?…why not enjoy the adventure for as long as you are there?…you are coming back, right?
“Of course, my love…(I) can’t wait (to) see you again…I want (to) share this feeling with you…just like you tried (to) do with me after Jenny, only I was too jealous and insecure to understand…please be patient with me…are you mad?
“God no!…I just wish we could have shared it, but it wouldn’t have been the same thing…you needed this, and you certainly deserve it…you have my complete blessing and encouragement.”
“(Would) you want me to leave (the) web cam on tonight? Would that be something (that could) give you pleasure? (I) don’t want to have (any) secrets, but (I) don’t want (to) rub (it) in (your) face, either…”
“Full disclosure…no secrets…just promise you won’t hold back on my account…that would hurt my feelings. As long as he doesn’t mind…I don’t want to spoil it for you, especially at first, or make him feel self-conscious.”
“(He) doesn’t need to know…(I) am sure (I) can distract him enough (to) keep (his) mind on other things…maybe I(‘ll) ask later, but tonight (it) will be on all night on (the) dresser, with (the) screen turned off…if he notices, I(’ll) just tell him it’s a video I wanted to make and offer (him a) copy if he wants….”
“I’m so happy for you…I think we are turning a new corner…I can’t wait to see you again…Three more weeks is a long time, but then I have you all to myself. I love you with all my heart and soul, Suki.
Suki started to weep a little, which concerned Charles a bit until she finally said “Tears of joy for us, my dear…no worries…I love you for a thousand lifetimes…I am (a) very lucky girl.”
“Then I must be the luckiest man in the world…Goodnight, Suki. Call me this time tomorrow if you can…I’m really looking forward to seeing you perform tonight, so be sure to give us a good show.”
“I promise, my love; goodbye for now.”
As it turned out, things just kept getting better and better…for everyone, and each night seemed like a different, slightly improved version of the night before. Eventually, Suki told Gerard that Charles had been watching their lovemaking. Gerard mistakenly took that to mean that he was a cuckold.
Nothing could have been farther from the truth, but even Charles had to admit that it was longer than he cared to remember since he had seen Suki so enthralled and overwhelmed by her surrender to sex with this amazing stranger.
Charles was going to have some very large shoes to fill when Suki got home.
It was not long after Suki’s return that Charles introduced her to Ash, Kali, Merlin, and the Home for Wayward Souls, or the Sanctuary as everyone was beginning to call it, nearly seven years ago.
Little did either one of them realize that this was not the last that they would see of Gerard.
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