San Fran-Days 3 and 4

Well, seems I lost two days in SF, and that should be a good thing if you are having a good time while on the road, and enjoying the company and adventures along the way.

Went back to my old hunting ground, North Beach, and wandered around remembering the delicious memories from times past. Ate at L’Osteria on Columbus after spending  an hour at City Lights, reading quick passages in books which intrigued me.

It is one of the best collections of Intelligencia’s creations, in SF. There should be such a bookstore in every city over 500 people in the US. Food for Mind Expansion, extraordinaire.

The Trieste was not full and P and I sat outside enjoying our coffee, discussing past events and people we shared our lives with when we both lived there, when it was our center of the universe.

We also decided it was the first place we would choose to live in if the time came to relocate again. 

It is one of those places where you remember you met someone there.

I remember my one block walk down the hill from my house on Kearney, in the mornings, and the steep walk back up, in the evenings, after spending time with friends and about to be friends, discussing our daily adventures and intrigues.

Gossip, political activism, relationships and creations being written and tables, all melt together in a cacophony of immeasurable, personal satisfaction and expansion.

It is just one of those places that create the atmosphere for communication and social expansions. Walking into another cafe, yesterday morning, almost everyone was sitting working on laptops, It was as if no one wanted to communicate and there was little interaction among the occupants.

It was a dead zone for social interaction. The Trieste demands eye contact, and creates that atmosphere that allows you to talk to the stranger at the next table. It has something special; so rare among Wi-Fi cafes, now.

After returning to the house, Dawn arrived and entertained us with her latest artistic creations which are going on the Internet today for sale. We sat talking and sharing earth’s mind-expanding bounties, and by1am, I drifted off to bed smiling about how lucky I am to have such friends and places to remember when I return to my place  above the Puget Sound.

Tonight, there will be another adventure downtown, with friends and foods, and when I arrive at SFO, smiling, there will be memories to write about again, on the 2 hour flight home,

Revertially Bowing to Adventures and Adventurers: Day 2-San Fran

Copyright2010 by Danise Codekas

One of the great joys about traveling is you never know what is going to happen next,
even if you plan on a the next moment taking place. Realistically, this could be my last breath, and I try to keep balance in my life by repeating that thought, to myself ,whenever I am afraid to take action, or if something comes along of such an unusual nature, and I hesitate to appreciate its power, to possibly rip me out of my habitual activities; the ones which we all follow, in somnolence, which,i f stopped, can lead us into a new dimension, paradigm or relationship, or get us killed.

Spent most of the day writing, talking, eating, and cogitating. If I don’t write every day, my gyroscope gets a little wobbly and something begins knocking against my brain, which is usually another part of the story which needs to be released into the cosmos. As I get closer to the end of my life, my life speeds up in order to experience as much of life as it can before heading into other worlds. I can sit for hours thinking, as all of us do from time to time. Writers’ tendency to find the explanation for their feeling or experience, sometimes takes decades, before the explanation and realization arises, as to what actually changed them and why they chose the path they did at the time.

Luckily, the understanding, of how it all fits, into their world, and affects the outer worlds, of their existence, occurs in a split second of clarity, and in my experience, the realization and understanding involves a  sentence or word, which encompasses the totality, of whatever it was I was trying to figure out. I tend to believe that most people are incredulous when the truth reveals itself, and it is always overshadowed by one of the simple laws of the universe. I had a few of those moments today.

One of the joys of spending time with friends is the reflections of self, that are mirrored back during conversations. You get to experience the truth about yourself and also see how far away from crazy you are  located, or, how close to madness, you were before the reflections appeared in the mirror. Friends do that for one another, usually without realizing their importance to you. It is nice to let them know you value them, and today I bought my friend a new tea pot, as thanks, for her reflections. Now, I know a tea pot is not a big offering for such a gift, however, my friend and I have spent many tea pots of time together, discussing our lives and dreams, throughout the decades of our friendship.

We have shared friends with one another. I gave her my best friend, Cyndy , when I moved out of San Francisco. She was there while Cyndy was dying, a year I would choose to forget forever.

When I gave the eulogy, to a few hundred of Cyndy's friends and family, realizing how the connections would grow across time and space, I never imagined 15-20 years later, I would meet John, tonight at dinner, who knew Cyndy, because of another simple introduction between friends,  once again proving the theroy --Three Degrees of Separation .  My friend, in turn, has introduced me to her friends, which prove to be interesting, insightful and adventurous, in one way or another. A girl needs adventure, a writer needs the insights of others, and my life needs to be interesting, in order to continue on paths, which can be lonely, challenging and introspective.

I am here to see if San Francisco can be home again. Walking the streets tonight, enjoying the city, made me realize I have missed walking city streets. There is always something of interest, something that catches the eye, something that makes an impression. It is fodder for a writer, as are the mountains and wild animals that lay at my feet, in the Pacific Northwest. I love both. Which do I need now? Which environment will bring me to the next indicated thing in my life. That is what I am here to discover. My decision to change my life again is in process; where that leads me is still unknown, however, the quest is now in process, and eventually the answer will arise for me.

Every aspect of life feeds creativity in me. I will enjoy doing some more investigating into the charms of the city, tomorrow, when I visit the Asian Art Museum, with no plans for the rest of the day. That is the plan and plans change. It is 5:02 am and tomorrow is now today. 

I think planning is sometimes overrated by those who are afraid to leap, when the universe sends in a curve ball, or a person who is a little crazier than you and not afraid to break down a few doors, to find treasures. They do not care if there is no treasure. The only thing, that is important, is they tried to do it. The act of trying is just as important as breaking down the door, and finding possible surprises. Don’t pretend to be interested in life, then shirk from it, when someone offers you an opportunity, to create a little havoc in your life.

Plans are meant to be changed: they are only ideas, not reality. It does not become reality, until you are breaking into places, which you had not planned to enter, and realize you always were meant to be there. You don’t have the key to the door, but you are sure, that what lies beyond is more important, more exciting,  than what you planned on doing that day, and you never needed the key anyway.

I am tired from all the fun, today, filled with interesting conversations and the best chicken sambucca, cooked by my caring friend. We enjoyed it with one of her favorite people, who was thoroughly entertaining, erudite, and well-read,  and was never afraid to break into new sociological paradigms, where he was not invited, but once he got in, bringing others along with him, he knew they would enjoy the journey, once they realized they were holding the keys. All they had to do was realize anything is possible, even the improbable: a visionary and humble man, all wrapped up in energetic visualizations, who transformed the lives of thousands of people, without many of them realizing, he was and is a catalyst for change.

How many of us get to meet a creative visionary, who helped create an artistic, transformative paradigm, during their lifetime? He may not like this acknowledgement, since that humble, down-to-earth, sincerity is there too, however, he is not afraid to act, which shakes the world out of its somnolence. People like  him, take you to the edge of your reality, then jump over the edge, right along side you, knowing all along, that the ride through space has to happen before the next indicated thing arrives.

So, it was Black Friday in San Francisco, and to dishonor, of one of the most celebrated, dysfunctional days, inside the American Republic, I paid full price, $12.99, for the tea pot, at the local Divisidero, hardware store, a block from the Independent.

It was a simple act of social rebellion, to counter-balance those, so tied into the mass shopping hysteria, who are calling me a fool now for paying full price. To earn the full scoff, of those who shopped, I also waited until 7pm, so that any shopping conquerors, still wandering the streets, in “I got the best deal“ ego satisfaction, illusions, would be home, asking themselves why they wasted 5 hours of their lives, or maxed out credit cards, and like the good sheeple, they are, drove to malls, zombie-like, at 4:00 am, to stand in lines, in front of stores, mind-sucked by advertising moguls, so that transitory objects are beatified and bestowed sainthood by the masses.

I am waiting to see the announcement for the first Vomitorium, like ancient Rome's, to handle the expulsion of their shopping, over-indulgence psychoses.

So, I sit here while North Korea attacks South Korea, again. Afghanistan and Kashmir are being decimated, as cultures, by those who seek to control poppy production, and strategic, nuclear missile sites.

Another 20,000 children starved to death, China declared the US dollar valueless,US Congress is going to stop paying Federal Extended Unemployment Benefits, affecting 40 million, US citizens, which include their families, and the economy, of their cities and villages,  and many may have to live on the streets, in their cars, but not on the Capitol Mall, which is where they should go to, so they are seen and not forgotten by their Congressmen and the President‘s advisers.

And Monday night, I may have and adventure with friends,in the San Francisco night that  relieves some of the tension in our lives. We understand the insanity of the collusion of world super powers, the possibility of nuclear annihilation, the lack of coverage by mass media, in the past days, that a Chinese, missile-bearing ship, fired  a missile, along the Southern California coast, while cruising  by US waters. Yes, they fired a missile, to let us all know they can do it, and you didn’t know because we accepted their excuse, or else you were shopping.

I think I need coffee since it is 5:36am, and ready to begin the day I began writing about last night.

First Night - San Francisco

Well, the turkey has been consumed, the carcass was won by Hugh and Ka, who will prepare a wonderful turkey stew or maybe some turkey tetrazinni. Putting a 20lb turkey carcass in a garbage bag, they skipped out onto McAllister carrying the carcass, and a box of pumpkin pie, baked by the amazing Jody. P is in the kitchen with me at 1PM, with plunger in hand trying to unplug blocked kitchen sinks, jammed by 20lbs of turkey fat from the Thanksgiving Bacchanalia.My head has returned to normal after consuming 5 glasses of Tott's Brut, and we are preparing for another dinner party here tonight, with chicken sambucca on the menu.

The party lasted until 1am, and P and I spent an hour laughing over conversations from the party. Ronnie and Trevor were preparing to brave Black Friday's shopping madness, seeking out the perfectly priced big-screen TV. They were planning on heading out at 10am this morning, however my bet is they are just getting in the car now at 130pm, in order to let the alcohol and tryptiphan hangovers subside.

Yesterday travels proved to be a perfect opportunity to work at 39,999 feet in the air, as my companions were all enjoying the Virgin America hospitality and minimal crowds at airports. The shuttles from SFO to Divisidero and McAlister usually run around 17.00. Yesterday, as things were so slow, my shuttle guy told me he would take me direct for 45.00. I said, no, 20 minutes later, after we waited for other possible passengers to choose his services, we departed, alone for my destination in the city. He was upset about the fact that there were no other riders.So I gave him an unusually large tip, since before he handed me my bag he said, "OK, beautiful lady, here you go".

Beth, who I met last night, proved to be the best massage therapist ever when she provided many of us with back, neck and head massages, during after-dinner laughter and coffee. The tie-in with people, understanding the three degrees of separation rule, was amazing as always, as those who I had not seen in 20/30 years, knew mutual friends of ours. A sterling nights,when a large group of people have common interests , loves and friends from years ago.

Conversations ran riot across topics. Michaelangelo, Sistine Chapel invasion by tourists who do not pay silent homage to its wonders, divorces, new and old loves, passions, politics, and dysfunctional family relationships, food, wine, and even a poem recitation by Beth, who is in a writer's group with P.

My next few days here will be filled with more dinner parties, visits to the Asian Art Museum at 1PM Saturday, alone, to stand in front of Buddha's and art from millennium past. We may go play pool, one afternoon, a shared interest with Jody, which we discovered last night during dinner.Since we both like Martini's, as does P, that perfect SF bar and pool room could  prove an amusing diversion, for a few hours.I am also planning on heading up Clement Street to visit my favorite Chinese Tea Store, where I can sit and sip samples if their incredible varieties, and purchase PUR tea, which I love so much, budgeting around 50.00 for tea pleasures at home.

I also discovered a line I can use now, to get men I like, steered over to my blog. When I gave Andy my card, last night, I told him to check out my blog site and he could read all about my sexual adventures. He laughed, when I burst out laughing, when his eyes widened after my comment. Men are such wonderful creatures, especially when they show an intelligent sense of humor.

So, the first night in San Francisco proved to be enjoyable and gastronomically satisfying. What better way to enjoy yourself, than sharing great food and champagne with new and old friends, intense conversations, laughter and poetry recitals. I also got to WOW them with one of my favorite alliterations, which I love to memorize, now, as I did as a high school senior in Speech class.

Tonight's dinner at P's, with John and other old/new friends is only a few hours away, and already I look forward to another wonderful San Francisco night. If any of you who know me, have some extra time to spend with me, supping coffee or having a glass of wine, want to meet for a few hours, call my cell or email me, and I'll be there. You have until Tuesday  at 6PM, when I fly out of SFO.

Throwing the Wedding Ring Away

             by Danise Codekas, copyright2010

“In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what has passed and the first of that which comes; so with present time.”

          Leonardo da Vinci

It was an unusual day. What started out to be a day of preparing for my visit to San Francisco, turned into a day of observation and remembering things about my past.

Shopping for a new dress and pants, turned into a two and half hour marathon in dressing rooms, aisles blocked by frustrated parents trying to soothe their tired children, and me asking a Spanish speaking couple if the mini-skirt I was holding was blue or black, which turned into a lovely foray, of 15 minutes, with them talking about Peru, where I would like to return to one day.  Laughing and talking with them made me feel really good, as they were so delightfully gracious in over-looking some of my faulty Castellan sentence structures.

After escaping the Nordstrom madness, I headed out to meet up with two friends of mine, at Anthony's for lunch. We usually meet up before the holidays, to catch up and delve into personal issues, as men and women do who have been friends for many years. The only problem was the icy roads and parking lot spaces whose divider lines were hidden under piles of snow and ice.

The sun came out for an hour, and Dierks Bentley had just finished singing, Draw Me A Map, when I finally gave up figuring out where the lines were supposed to be, slammed on the brakes so I could have some fun skidding on the ice, parked, and alighted smiling from the Subaru.

After lunch, I came home asking myself if I was crazy for having divested myself of all jewelry given to me by the men in my past. My two friends were wearing jewelry from past husbands, which pretty much could have bought 20 Subaru's, and probably installed Bose speakers in all of them.

Ok, the discussion started when I noticed friend#1's, square cut diamond ring. True, I hate platinum, it has to be yellow gold for me, however, looking at the 4 carat,square cut diamond, with the other 4 carats of supporting diamonds was an OMG moment, even though, mine would have been an emerald or sapphire, with the 8 carats supporting it.

I had never seen it before and she was wearing it on her engagement ring finger. It was from ex-husband #2. Friend#2, had on her diamond wedding ring from ex-husband #3, and it's facets were making rainbows, inside my Ouzo glass, it was so sparkly.

I had on my size 8, Renaissance design, amethyst, ruby, tourmaline, and sapphire ring, which I bought myself, for Christmas, last year, in 22K brushed Venetian gold. So, ok, they win the sparkle contest, however mine won the design and power ring contest. I had to confess, to them, I never had an engagement ring.

I have a tendency to usually say what is on my mind, which is a good thing when ordering ouzo. I prefer Ouzo Barbayanni from Lesvos, however, Ouzo Kefi or Matis, will do. In this case, I asked them both how could they wear rings from 2 men who caused them so much pain. Of course, they came back with the fact they had earned the right to wear them.

I could never do that since remembering the sadness of the past would be tied to the jewelry. They said, I was crazy to have thrown my wedding rings away, as I could have sold them. That wasn't the point, for me. It was a matter of getting to a place in my life where there was no more anger, bitterness, or thoughts of vengeance. I had become happy and whole again.

One ring is at the bottom of the Ganges, and the other, is at the bottom of the Bering Sea. Just one of those moments in time, when you suddenly don't feel anything except the need to release the past and finally let go of all those things that caused pain and tears. I had a new life, was on exciting adventures, and my heart was whole again.

It took a few years, for each arm-stretching fling, out, across those two bodies of water, to occur, however, I felt like I do, whenever I can get a whole row of skips, when skipping a stone across the top of the water. Exhilaration of accomplishment.

None of the jewelry I own is from men, I have been with in the past. Precious pieces from the female hierarchy in my family, all treasured, as are the lovely pieces from nieces and nephews, over the years. There is nothing in my home that came from a past relationship, since I could never stand to look at something "we" had purchased together, and thereby be plunged into a past that is past. Am I crazy? I don't think so.

My memories of those men are mixed with good and bad, and, in the end, that is all I will take with me, anyway. When I travel to San Francisco, Thanksgiving Day, there are streets I shall walk there, and in Berkeley, where I will remember men I have lived with in the past.

Our houses and apartments are still there, occupied by the new ones, who are happy in them, I hope. I never stayed in them, for long, after the end of a relationship. They also held ghosts from the past, and, sometimes, I think, to have stayed would have brought more unhappiness, in moments of memory, resurrected without request.

Driving home, I remembered an argument I had with an old boyfriend, in a grocery store in San Francisco, which began while I was reaching for stalks of fresh, purple asparagus. He blurted out that he had spent the night with his old girlfriend, when he was supposed to be in the grad library, studying for a French exam.

"Voulez-vous ce soir avec des asperges agneau?", I asked him, then threw purple asparagus stalks at him, as he walked away. (Do you want asparagus with the lamb tonight?). I went home, grilled the lamb and asparagus and shared it with my neighbor who had me laughing, at the end of the night, recounting what things she had thrown at her old boyfriend, in San Diego. I never threw another thing at a man, after that. I might have to eat them someday.

We all have things that we hold onto when we end relationships. Usually, it is the fear of becoming involved again and hopefully that only lasts a few years, until we can let go of the past, and see what is right in front of us, smiling and ready to enjoy life with us, anew. We will always make mistakes in these relationships, however, if you are with the right person, they are allowed, and forgiven, before you both fall asleep in one another's arms.

Someday, I will fall asleep in some powerful, warm man's arms, who I pissed off earlier that day. I'll smile knowing I will have to return the favor, of his forgiveness, maybe the next day. However, when I look around at the mementos and gems we have accumulated and shared with one another, I will know they are our energies, unsullied, by men from my past who were not of his ilk, because he understands the power of the past, and how it can sometimes cloak what is before us, in present time.

“The future hasn't happened yet and the past is gone. So I think the only moment we have is right here and now, and I try to make the best of those moments, the moments that I'm in.”

   Annie Lennox

Enchanting and Surprising

“True love cannot be found where it does not exist, nor can it be denied where it does.” Torquato Tasso

Today has been spent surprised by visitations from family; and, research into my past, that resurrected itself, without warning.

So I guess it was a great day. Always interesting when the past resurrects a topic or person who influenced your mind, and changed your life, as Michel Foucault did mine when I met him at Berkeley in 1980, in the main library, one afternoon. For the next few years, had the pleasure of getting to know him, talking about our travels, and how views and ideology can change, just being in a new location on the planet.

I also sat in on a few of his philosophy seminars in the Fall of  1983. He loved Berkeley, lived in SF, and probably would have spent more years at Berkeley, than in Paris, for a time,  had he not died from AIDS in 1984.

I remember when he lectured in Zellerback Hall and thousands crammed in, while police blocked off paths, pushed people off steps and away from walkways, until people started yelling and screaming to get to Wheeler Hall, where video screens transmitted the lecture, for another 1000 admirers and critics, of one of the world's greatest living, postmodernism philosophers.

Yes, it was a very good day, since I also had the pleasure of taking my brother and niece to one of my favorite Mexican Restaurants, where I enjoyed the Mexican Pizza, which is one of the great gifts brought to America, by the zany Ixtapa owners .

I also learned how to fill a kerosene heater with a bulb pump, removed a shattered light bulb from a rusted socket, in my antiquarian bathroom, and found out that you can store a 5 gallon kerosene can, safely, without blowing up the house. I also learned that possums do not like coleslaw. So all in all, a satisfying day. I also need to buy long-nosed pliers.

Working on my manuscript, I read Francois Lauruelle's article, The Truth According to Hermes: Theorems on the Secret and Communication, which led me back to Torquato Tasso, who was one of the greatest Renaissance poets, and almost became the king of poets, of Italy, had he not died a few months before the Pope was going to honor him.

I think the hardest thing about writing a book is the research, and not because the research is difficult. It is because, like today, while researching I meandered in many different directions, across the Internet, as I tried to work through another chapter on this book I am writing about men, which includes insights on ethics, relationships and mythology. So, the Internet playground seduced me away,propelled me into the past, and I ended back where I started, with a lot more packages of info to unload from my mind, then finally arrived, staring at the last period, of the last sentence in the manuscript, and wrote a few more pages.

Taking in all this information today will propel me into something new tomorrow or maybe next week, when I am at Berkeley again. Strolling around campus, which should be quiet, over the Thanksgiving break, memories will arise, and maybe the Bears Lair will be open, and I can sit and have glass of something, while I remember the first time I saw the Talking Heads (remember them?) playing in the square, while the old, blond, naked lady danced while the Japanese Tour Bus occupants watched and photographed her, and David Bryne and Chris Franz went crazy, taking us to the river and burning down the house.

I want to be somewhere warm tonight. Somewhere in a jungle, listening to the sounds of the crickets, yowls of large cats, and monkey yelps. Smelling the air that holds the scents of jungle flowers and soft, damp earth. Something erotic about the jungle at night. It felt that way sometimes, when I was in Kauai last January, lying on the grass, looking at the stars from atop a mountain above Kapaa.

I love the Amazon jungle outside of Quito, Ecuador and Iguaçu Falls, Argentine side. I remember the red dirt at Iguaçu and the dense, heaviness of the air, during the days. The mind slows and the senses sharpen when you are in a jungle. You are aware you are an animal, and there are more dangerous ones around you, watching you, that you never see.

You become aware of limitations, as a human, watching animals jump from vines to trees, and aware of snakes slithering around palm trunks,  50 feet in the air, and incredibly large insects, sitting on leaves which you don't notice until you are upon them, or they jump on the back of your shirt.

I would return to the friends' home, or hotel, in these places, and enjoy the outdoor, sun-warmed shower, sit on the patio, sipping large glasses of cool drinks, as my adrenaline normalized from being on alert walking through pristine, primordial splendor.

One day I would like to go with a man into the jungle and walk with him, like Eve did with Adam. Lay with him on a bed, white sheets, windows open, listening to those sounds which connect you to the earth and its powers. Your brain slows in the jungle, and your think differently, a cadence arises which pulses through your body unlike other places on earth. A slow, evanescent cadence which culminates in soft, sweet slumber.

I can taste the fresh guava juice and the papaya pieces, nibbled, on a porch ,in the Ecuadorian jungle, while a woman hummed to the sky, and remember watching a man and woman walk slowly toward me, past me, into the house, and the door closing to their bedroom. What mysteries did that night hold for them? Sweetness and love and passion, I hope. They were in their 80's and married a few weeks before we met in the jungle paradise. I think of the quote by Gibran, below, and realize how wonderfully the universe provides astonishing surprises and love for us all.

“It is wrong to think that love comes from long companionship and persevering courtship. Love is the offspring of spiritual affinity and unless that affinity is created in a moment, it will not be created for years or even generations”

I had a good today, filled with memories, teachings and wonderful food and conversations. I was creative, energized, kind and thoughtful to those who spent time with me. San Francisco, next week, will be unlike any trip I have taken there before. I do not know why I feel that, this morning, at 3am. Something is arising in my orbit about this trip, and like a walk through the jungle, I am aware it is hovering around me, cannot see it, yet know it is there.

Like Tasso's quote below, a piece of my soul that I never knew was missing, will be given to me and I can not tell you how. There are two things about life that I love. It is enchanting and surprising.

“Love is when he gives you a piece of your soul, that you never knew was missing.”Torquato Tasso quote

Want to Dance

Woke up this morning, dancing. The I-Pod kicked in around 8 and there was Journey belting out, Worlds Apart. Threw off the blankets and jumped into the living room and spent a half hour dancing through the house. Doing the thing I love, almost as much as being in bed, with an attentive lover, began remembrances of  nights spent dancing around the planet.

The I-Beam in SF was a fine dancing ground for doing whatever you felt like, in whatever form you chose, as music blared, lights voluted, whirled and helixed across ceilings and walls, and those too cool to dance, drank, smoked weed, tripped on whatever psychedelic happened to walk in the door, wandered around the sidelines, checking out the bodies writhing and moving to the sounds.

Many a night, around 10pm, I would head out of North Beach, to venture into the Haight, to meet friends who had found a place to dance the nights away. There was always someone willing to turn around and grab a new partner and the stage show, which included dancers who needed some exposure and didn't care who was watching, some good, some lacking that connection to all their body parts, and still willing to just get up there and dance because that is what moved them.

Friends who came to town from all around the world would eventually end up at the I-Beam, during their visits. A few did not want to go because they thought it was not cool enough, however, they eventually got into the energy within minutes of walking in the door. It was a huge place. Not as big as Studio 54, since it did not have the balconies, as did 54, plus 54 was about as mesmerizing one could find in New York, then. Everyone ended up there after 11pm, when I was staying in one of my favorite places on the planet.

I love to dance. I find that men who love to dance are men who also know their way around a woman's body, in a way, that men who don't dance, with passionate rhythm, freeze , at some point, in the explorations and touches which makes a woman want to dance on a bed.

Yes, it is a gross generalization, and I apologize to those men who were not dancers, yet entertained me, on those warm San Francisco nights. But, a man who dances is always a man who knows where to put hands, entwine his legs,  and savor the movements of  his lover's gambols and frolics across their cavorting, mindless, moon-framed tastings of one another.

I want to go dancing with a man who wants to know my body. A man who has that intense desire in his eyes, as he follows me across a floor and understands that sometimes, not to touch me, moves me closer to him, like a panther, stealthy, drawing closer, slowly to its prey, and when I am there, drawn by his swaths of sweat and laconic smiles, he knows the place and moment to touch me.

Is there a dance place in San Francisco, now, that has an energy which draws people away from walls, and their illusions of wanting to touch someone, onto the dance floor? I hope so, as I want to go dancing again while I am there over Thanksgiving. The people I am staying with don't go to those places, anymore. Maybe somewhere in the Mission, for a little salsa, or SOMA. I lived in South America and spent many a night in clubs in Mar del Plata, Lima, Quito and Rio. 2 years of my life learning the beats of hot, South American rhythms with a boyfriend named Luis.

Rock, tango, rumba, jazz, blues, country and Ride Sally Ride pulsed through those speakers, and voices, in those places, I danced at around the planet. One night in Madras, India, some friends took me to this jazz-rock club that was packed with about a two thousand people, and it was hot and sweaty, with beer bottles and filled scotch glasses lined 10 deep, across the 30 bars, scattered through the industrial, 4 story building, with Mercedes and scooters double parked, for blocks around. We danced until 4am and the next day, I was smiling, while napping on a flight to Bangalore. That is a dancing-girl's 4 star night, for sure.

One night in Rio, I was invited to head up into the hills, for a birthday party, for the aunt of the maid who cleaned my room for 5 weeks.

One morning she came into my room, and I was standing on the balcony, with my headphones and bathing suit on, dancing to Black Magic Woman. I don't know how long she watched me, but at one point, I turned and she was smiling. She pointed to my headphones and I re-played it for her, and within seconds she was laughing and moving around the room, dancing, too.

That weekend, she and her brother came to the hotel, and drove me up the steep, Rio hillside to their aunt's home.Until dawn, we ate, danced, drank Cuba Libres (rum and coke), as I tangoed and tangled with bodies who loved to dance. Tired, about 40 of us headed to the beach to eat breakfast and swim, then, lay under umbrellas, satiated, as the sun's warmth flooded our bodies, and someone started playing the guitar and lulled me with the songs of women, love, passion and long, lonely nights.

Dancing slow with a dark-haired man, that night, I felt the passion as heat rose from his hands and our bodies touching, as his hands slowly moved across my back and hips. Something about dancing slow, that moves two people into a sensual, erotic moment, that even as strangers, melt the barriers and a sexual desire ignites for a few minutes. Everyone knows it, we just don't talk about it much.

Feeling Alright and Joe Cocker is starting to wail in the living room right now, and I think I need to get in there with him and do some of that Calypso, Hawaiian hip movement thing that seems to work so well, as my hips and shoulders start moving while typing.

So, if you know a good place to dance in SF, over Thanksgiving, let me know the place, date and time. I'll be the one in dancing shoes, tight, black pants and a smile. Really, if you know a place, send me an email at danise@gmail.com. We don't have to meet; but I want to dance.

Meant for Me, Now

There seems to be little inspiration this morning at 1:32 am, as I wander through my mind trying to figure out what I want to write about in the blog. It could be I am tired, since I spent most of the day with my esthetician having wonderful, healing treatments done on my face and neck. It was time for a facial and some waxing,  and my skin needed a lift.

What I discovered about her is that she loves to read autobiographies. She does not like to read fiction, since it is not "real". She found out I was an author and began telling me about the books she was reading now. She also has a twin sister, born 7 minutes after her. Maybe that is why she likes to read only things that are "real". Having a twin, mirror image of yourself, facing you everyday for 25 years, would seem an unreal, type of reality, I guess. They wore identical clothing until they were both 14.

She never had anyone to compare herself against, during the formative years, as her constant companion was herself, in the physical form of her twin sister. I think it would be strange, as a child to look at your dopple-ganger and not realize, until older, there were differences of the mind and heart all along.

Surrender allows us to face the fear we face before it becomes a reality, says Iyanla Vanzant. This fear of not having anything to write about is gone now, since surrendering to my tired mind finds words and stories that I wondered about while lying in the spa, listening to soft sounds, as my skin was cleansed and rejuvenated.

There are times when we all need to turn off our brains, and for me, the physical manipulation of my body, seems to do the trick. Sex has the same effect, or it should, if it is incredibly great sex. And yes, it is important in a relationship, and for human connections, so don't kid yourself about it.

Wild, crazy jungle-monkey sex is also important and you never really know how someone is going to be in an intimate moment, until you actually are standing in front of one another naked and smiling. Sitting across a table and having illusions about sex, with the person across from you, are very dangerous illusions, unless you can act with a bit of bravado and courage and say, "Hey, I want you. Do you want me?". If they say," yes", ask the safe, healthy sex questions, and go try it. It might be better than the illusions you are both having, about one another, or it could prove to be less so, and therefore, you both know.

Am I getting bolder as I get older? Maybe, and maybe I should just ask that guy in San Francisco, next time we are sitting at a table, with one another, if it comes to be. Maybe he will ask me, however, I think he is scared of something, and it could be too risky emotionally for him since his wife left him for another man, so I am told by a friend, and his illusions about me are a safe fantasy world for him. That was 2 years ago, last time, we ate together. He could be married and with children by now. Just don't know, the way life moves so fast, through all our lives.

I am just rambling now, and it  has to do with time lost, words not spoken, and not being direct about what I want, and expecting him to make the first move. I learned that when I want something, it is absolutely wrong to blame someone else, for not getting it. So, I cannot expect him to do something, that I desired/desire to do, but was/am afraid to do, because I wanted/want him to ask me first.

It is so 4th grade of me, I know, and it is 2:40 am, in the Pacific NW. I really don't care what anybody thinks about me; well, I do, ok. I am aware of my desire to be intimate with him, and equally aware that sometimes a relationship is divinely ordained, and comes along, like he did, and neither of us are ready for it. (I think I need to go to the Yucatan and work off this lust/love thing, by climbing some Mayan pyramids).

There is a spiritual law, that says, you can only have what is for you to have. Nothing more than that will ever come to you, in this lifetime.

I arose from bed, to write the blog tonight, after laughing for 5 minutes, at Craig Ferguson's rabbit-puppet monologue, on his show tonight. Perhaps, what I need is some silliness and laughter. I have not had enough of that lately, and it would be nice to know someone nearby who could help me laugh at myself right now.

This guy, in SF, does that very well, with me, however he never communicated with me, again, after 2008. Maybe, he is afraid of me, or something I represent(red-head, single, female), or maybe, he just doesn't like me because I pushed him over the edge, of his comfort zone, and he had to re-structure his life after his divorce, re-build his business, and find out who he was, after being married for 17 years. I understood that much,about his anxiety and his need to distance himself from me,  however, I still wanted to be with him. My heart works on its own energy pattern, and emits emotions, feelings and depths. Feelings let me know I am alive and authentic. I felt alive around him.

I saw him as a blessing, however, I was not going to join with him in his suffering and fear. He needed to heal and find out what his new position was in the world, as a single man, again. He had a lot to get through, and, I know myself enough to know, how long a process it is, let alone, being able to recognize yourself after the mourning period has passed, and the fear, exhaustion and anger.

The thing about it, is that, there is order in the universe, and the order in which this relationship evolved, or dissolved, possibly, was all based on that universal principle or order. Nothing arrives, before its time comes, and until it is time for it to arrive, we move through the universe patiently, sharing unconditional love.

Is love that scary for us, nowadays? Our lives are so fast, so temporary, in many ways. We expect things, we buy,  to need repairs, and relationships/marriages have percentages hanging over them, that prove a failure percentage rate. I think a lot of statistical figures are urban myths, as unmarried, stable relationships are never reviewed or included in the stats.

I have a hard time with people who run around all day screaming Love this, Love That, and then, when someone tells you they love you, the value is depleted in your mind, since the word carries little intrinsic value, because of 21st century bastardization and misuse of it.

Many people are afraid to love, or speak the words, as if the words had the power, to mesmerize and enslave you for all time. What is it that you give up, when you tell someone you love them? I do not think anything is surrendered in speaking or writing those words. Many times, others are shocked by them, will attempt to dissuade you from speaking them, or run from the cadence of the energy they emit.

If you ever tell someone you love them, more than they love you, your usefulness as a human being, diminishes, with your arrogant dialectic, regarding amount, depth and true meaning of love.

Is telling someone you love them, more than they love you, true? Do you really know the depths of someone's soul? I consider it a waste of breath. Love cannot be measured, and there is no litmus test to figure out a quantifiable numerical equation, to measure the amount of love you feel about someone. If someone told you they loved you a little, would you feel less vulnerable, and more able to proceed into a relationship with them? Ask them out on a date? Lean across a table and kiss them?

No, because it is the words alone, that have the power to create, and that type of power, is an enigma of the heart, and it is sitting within sacred ground, in center of my Being.

I think what happened to me today, at the spa, as old skin was sloughed off, revealing the fresh, new skin underneath, is I entered a new state of authenticity. I saw my authentic self, in the mirror. In doing so, I became able to resonate, more intimately, and no longer afraid, of reaching out to the universe, tenderly, and asking for that which is meant for me, now.

Wonders of Travel

We wander for distraction, but we travel for fulfillment.  ~Hilaire Belloc

The holiday travel bug has hit. It is time to begin making plans to head to the far and not so far, as I think of friends and begin to make plans for the next 2 months. I enjoy travelling on Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's Day. For most travelers, they are somewhere already. My family all travel during those times, so our times together, to celebrate, occur at odd times across the holiday calendar.

This year, for Thanksgiving, my siblings, parent, and assorted nieces and nephews are gathering for the pies, turkey and various adult libations at my sister's horse ranch on the Olympic Peninsula, a few days before or after our holiday journeys (TBD). We will tell stories and make fun of one another, and since my niece's new boyfriend will be there, conduct the typical family inquisition, expected by any man, if he is wise, who dares to date any woman of the family.

My sister and I are both single, and I dread the day my love is forced to attend the first dinner party with my mother and sister. No, there is still no man in my life, as some of you should know, if you have read the blog, however, I am travelling again this holiday season, and you never know who will pop into your life while wandering around the earth.

I hope that Rachael's new beau understands the fact that she is going to Ireland to the National Stud School, for her master's in thoroughbred equine breeding. It is her plan and one that formulated a few years ago, when the family headed to Ireland to drink and visit horse breeding farms, across the verdant island.

Thanksgiving Day my siblings and mother will be scattered far and wide, across the continent, to ski resorts, Indian reservations and riding arenas. I head to San Francisco to spend a few needed days, of frivolity and flirtatious innuendo, at my dear friend, P's SF abode. We will eat, drink and be ravenous for the feast, of  each other's 2 years, of past experiences.

My suitcase will carry the requisite Alaska Smoked Salmon, who will enjoy the flight across the Pacific and over Mt. Rainier, and down through the wonders of Oregon and Northern California, discussing the amazement of Jerry Brown's election to re-govern that lovely state, once again. He was once my boss, when I worked for the California Public Broadcasting Commission, my last years at Berkeley.

Satellites where my thing then, and designing the new laws for satellite technology allowed me to meet new friends, and attend some wild Berkeley parties, attended by those promoting and designing the pathways and transponders for the new technologies, including meeting a sexy man named Carlos, who adored me for 2 nights, before he departed to the University of Seville. Ole!

Do you ever wonder what happened to those old lovers, of yours? Ever find out what happened to those who weren't but you wished they had been? I do. Lust, food, wine, dinner parties with strangers, coffee houses with friends,  and intriguing conversationalists,  crowd into my experiences, when I trip around the planet.

Travel is fulfilling and memorable,  if you stay in the present moment. I could have a great moment to remember, a new story to tell, or a new love who calls me, upon my return. I just never know, once the door is locked and I am sitting in the airport shuttle.

Since last trip to the City by the Bay was 2 years ago, to see you P, Ronnie, Trevor, Jodi, Tom, Dan, Ellen, Mark 1 and 2, Flip, Jimmy Eyes, John, Darryl, Crain, Margo, Dave, Ger and Pismo, Berkeley Savants 1-14, Dancing Harlots, Gamma Raze, and those who wish to remain anonymous, my hair has grown--a lot. So as not to shock you all, here I am, with long Titian locks. 

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts.  Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.  ~Mark Twain