LOST INCENSE

My nonscence

I dated the BODHI TREE for awhile. Instead of a coffee shop. I slept on a plank of benches between bathroom breaks. There was free teas and pretend. What would it be like to be really new age? I read up on all the cults I might join. I had a friend whose girlfriend had just left him, to move in with god. BUT, in terms of purchases there was only incense that I ever bought. No books or tea or jewelry, until I the stumbled on Flower Essences. You might remember BACH. The literature said to treat the emotional body. I needed all of them according to the chart.

When I went to read the ingredients it was just water and alcohol. Not even one drop of actual flower material. What a rip off. I knew this couldn’t be right so I asked a man with a turban who worked there. I asked if they had a book. To make my own? And from what I could glean it was backwash vase water they were selling. I wanted all 38 of the essences AND all the incense I had not purchased. I made the conscious decision to steal them. To become a thief and specialize in new age shoplifting. My shrink had said dismissively once, that the way to heal an obsession was to do it until you are done doing it. He said it about ice cream.

Years later in Topanga Canyon eating vegan I found myself unfocused and distracted by incense. There was a little shop adjacent to the restaurant that was burning it. I wrote a check and after that I had a regular Friday night midnight date with this stick of incense and Joe Frank. It was airy and harmonic transcending it’s parts. It wasn’t Palo Santo I’m telling you.. I should have paid more attention. Because after applauding myself for making it to the top of Topanga to re-up (that’s drug lingo), it was gone. I couldn’t tell you the notes or the name of it. Something with planets maybe? Nine planets? Did it have the lightest touch of amber? I tried calling. Speaking to the manager. How about the person who does the ordering? It wasn’t floral or was it?

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Blood Moon

BloodMoon

I’m hiding right now. Almost soundless. Just finger tips clicking on keys. That neighbor that caught me doing the twirling dervish with incense was a real asshole last night. I heard him calling for his dog Mahina at 11. I ran out to help. 

I said I hope you can lift Mahina over the fence I’m not sure what part of the fence she breached. I proclaimed my love, you know I love your dog and would buy her from you. I mean if you ever need money…? 

YOU NEED A BETTER A FENCE. AND I DON’T WANT YOU’RE DOG HERE. AND DON’T BE BRINGING MAHINA TO YOUR HOUSE. I never do I said meekly. He stormed away dragging off her in a cloud of THC exclaiming SHE’S A MOTHER NOW!!!!!

I dunno if he one of those guys on INVESTIGATION DISCOVERY – FEAR THY NEIGHBOR. But I do remember hearing a baby crying last night.. Maybe he’s a father?

Around 1AM after she was hauled home, just a few hours later, I heard her pony hoofs on the stairs. She was back, my Mahina, the moon. Was the moon full I couldn’t tell the clouds. I put a towel out on the front door mat. I had given up my plans for a doggie slumber party. I had changed sheets. Blood is pouring out of Mahina she’s in heat maybe that’s why they let her out of her enclosure. Are the inmates all male?

It’s morning Mahina slept as close as she could to me on her now bloody towel. He’s calling her. She’s not budging. Meeschoo is under the house on a long teether. I usually take her off as soon as the cats are fed. BUT this time handsome needs to come and get her.

15 minutes pass. Meeschoo is barking. I keep thinking he’s coming to get her. Neither of us are budging. My window abuts the front door and stairs. We are Anne Frank and Helen Keller.

I wish there was an underground railroad for dogs here. I’ve thought of asking my friends who are taggers to make me a YOU CAN FEED YOUR PIG DOG stencil. Shame the island. Get in trouble. Go to jail. 

I just heard a low Mahina growl. She could dismantle that him if she wanted to. Is it wrong that I want her to kill him in my head? If she did there would be repercussions, the authorities would finally step in. FUCKERS. Everything I say ends in FUCKERS these days. 

It just occurred to me he could be playing chess. Maybe he’s waiting for me to move. I wish my headphones from Amazon had arrived. Why wouldn’t he entertain the thought of money? Like I wonder how much she would actually pay? The dog is practically dead. It can’t hunt anymore half blind and gored.  

I have a huge cow ear leather earmarked for her. But what if he comes up the stairs and she’s gnawing on it? Doesn’t he see we just love each other and want to be together? FUCKER. 

I hear hammers and wood in the distance. This A-frame house is a tower on stilts and we are just waiting for the scaffold to be finished. 

An overheated dildo..

Al Plummer colorI don’t know how I ended up with a double dong. It was huge and veined and AL absconded with it. He waved it pointedly in my face after revealing he had been driving around with it in his trunk. He was kind of a stalker. Claimed I inspired his best music. Which I never cared for. It was all about unicorns and knights. When he died I felt I had some hand in it.

PONY GIRL or CHALUPA SUPREME?

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I’ve been thinking a lot about Meesshooo and her name. Forget that I can’t even spell it. I’ve done her wrong. Making her all about me instead of the clipty-clop wondrous flying PONY girl. It’s anosmic. I mean how would I like to be called MEIN HOOF? First we went to the vet for her HOT SPOT. Then to the empty sequestered park for big dogs ONLY but they never came. I looked at the trees. The memorial placards. Just on the other side of the fence was a raucous party of toy circus dogs. With a gay dog named BUDDY driving the herds with his doggie penis nobody could stop sniffing. After a half hour I asked a lady with a small shivering Chihuahua Terrier, permission. If we might be invited over, would she mind? Or were we too big? We had a good long chat by the fence but she wouldn’t budge. Her dog had mental problems she explained. It came from a litter of 30.

Have you ever tried to ride a horse backwards? Side saddle?

 

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This is Bomba the baby duck. Similar to Meschoo our pup that I procured after falling in love with the neighbors 2 ducks. Who like the neighbors dog I fell in love with, then disappeared suddenly into a cage, onto a plate, back to the cousins where they came from? Mahina the moon dog became a pig dog and was withdrawn to a grown up life and I as predicted after reading up on the subject. Gored. I don’t know if it was the David Crosby lyrics. “Love the one you are with.” Or that insight that taking drugs was like taking out a loan on your life and Crosby would know because he didn’t just say no to credit cards.

I slept through Mahina yelping, but John heard her and made me aware that he had seen her. He’s taken to sleeping in a tent since Sheree was here. Not far from the neighbors property line. John has always enjoyed public squabbles and usually about the grass. I’m against it. HE’S FOR IT. But back to Mahina. He wouldn’t admit to the visual of her bad eye. From 2 yards away I could see red. The half eyeball bloodshot and missing. Maybe the neighbors would finally let me have her. The neighbors who were miraculously disappeared probably to church. It was a weekend morning. How creepy of me RIGHT? to maintain a working knowledge of their schedules?

This baby duck BOMBA, I’ve tried to forget about giving him up to the promise of inseminating other ducks, the harem. Although I am happy to remember him smartening up about John and chasing him around the yard. I should have insisted we keep him. John used the word mean, that he got mean. Bomba fit into the bath tub in his youth, which wasn’t the most efficient or sanitary method of caring for a duck. None of the other ducks would play with him. He was segregated from the 100 others naturally. I realize this has not been exactly linear, but this isn’t a coliseum arch.

A Hole In History

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Nothing reminds us more of Mother’s Day, and a woman’s role  –  as the hole in history then the life of the Staint Thais. 

A sensitive daughter. Orphaned by parents who died in tandem almost instantaneously. Fortunate to inherit money without the intercession of ancillary extended family. Or male foreign invaders. Her life was an exercise that the elders approved of, she never married and remained devoted to Christ and generosity. When pilgrims hiked past her estate they were invited to take shelter. If the poor were hungry she interceded. Unfortunately due to a failure in bookkeeping. She was suddenly without recompense and broke. The scriptures tell us she looked for secretarial work but lacked the strength and dexterity for cuneiform. She had become like all other women without money and an aversion to excessive housekeeping, job seeking and exposed. In those days the only fair wage was prostitution. 

When the Elder’s of Sketis learned of her transformation and courtesan ways they sent St John the Dwarf to fetch her. But he was rejected. His entry was barred. The Dwarf St John employed cunning and trickery, “Tell the mistress I have something precious for her.” Like what dickhead she might have wondered? But Thais had a weakness for shiny pearls and suspected the Elders might have a gift remembering the good in her. John the liar Dwarf was ushered in to see Thais and began weeping. “How can I not weep,” he asked, “when you have forsaken your Bridegroom, the Lord Jesus Christ, and are pleasing Satan by your deeds?” She accepted his offer, a sentence of 3 years hard labor. 15 days after her release she died. Now they call her Saint.