Archive for Ash

THFWS & TTM’s: The Magic Theater is not for Everyone

Posted in Conjured Up Next, Drug Experience, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Fun, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Liason Between Parties, Long Form, Love, Memoires of a Post-Neo Dharma Bum, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Novel, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Sex, Sexual Action/Adventure, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Talking Monkeys, The Wisdom, What You Have Conjured Up, Zen with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on September 15, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

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-ak...

English: Tetrahydrocannabinol; THC; Marinol-aka mary jane. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

3D rendering of the THC molecule

3D rendering of the THC molecule (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

English: Chemical Kali

English: Chemical Kali (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

English: "Album of popular prints mounted...

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 Talking Monkeys and The Home for Wayward Souls: The ArchAngels

Posted in Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Fun, Long Form, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Novel, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Talking Monkeys with tags , , , , , , , , on July 27, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

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 and The Home for Wayward Souls: The Willing Suspension of Disbelief

Posted in Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Fun, Long Form, Love, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Philosophical Sexuality, Philosophical Sexuality, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sexual Action/Adventure, Share The Love, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Talking Monkeys with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 15, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

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.

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