The Camino: One for my baby, and one for the road

Meanwhile, things grew stranger: 

I'm backlogged on posting.Time keeps moving faster. And just a lot of weirdness has permeated the air. My blog is now up and running on Blogger.
Blogger is very user friendly and easy to format. The blog program here combined with my Firefox browser, hindered me in many ways. The social networking classes and seminars I attended over the summer were united in one aspect: WordPress was by far the most recommended.

Let me put it this way: WordPress was rammed down my throat, but for what I'm doing, which is telling stories about me, I don't need much sophistication to blog . I need an EZ-in EZ-post venue. I'm not making any head way on full time work.

Listening to me bemoan the lack of good jobs, a Skype friend...suggested I become a janitor. Stunned at this idea, I recited from a movie trivia book: "Even when she playing a waif, everything about Audrey Hepburn breathed money." My friend threw his hands in the air and logged off.

I may not 'breathe' money, but I know I burn through it more quickly than most. Audrey didn't play a janitor and neither will I. But Audrey didn't have to consider the possibility that home is a refrigerator box under the 101 Freeway. I wonder at times, how it all was coming down to this.

So, its getting spooky around here...Armed robberies are way up in the hood. Why? Because we live in lousy economic times with no clear picture that its getting better. The dozen or so clubs in Hollywood close at 2AM when drunk, high or emotional patrons flood the streets and thieves are following the clubgoers. The crime index for Hollywood is triple digits higher than the city average.

And, just when I thought I was done with 'endings', the large apartment building behind me has been vacated entirely. Not only was my stalker gone, but the guy on the top floor who'd been there 20 years. That building, and almost all the others like it around the block, are under new ownership. They'e being gutted and remodeled.

I had recommeded to my ex reading Shirley MacLaine's The Camino. This was about her journey along the mystical magical pathway that crosses Spain. I was planning to see the actual Camino, as part of a journey to Madrid, but chose Milwaukee instead.

The Camino was due back to the Hollywood branch library soon, and my ex couldn't stand the book. However, I kind of liked it, but for some odd reason, well, the reason was to save time, I began skimming backward in my reading.
That's right, about halfway along the Camino, I jumped to the end and worked backwards. And: I felt a whole number of coincidentals seemingly fall in to place.

According to Shirley, before Atlantis, there was Lemuria, a land of harmony, united souls and collective bargaining...make that collective thinking. They used crystals for healing, and many other good things.
And then Atlantis evolved, I suppose, and united souls were now male and female, no longer connected and growing self centered. And ultimately that became the selfish ego that would cost the Atlanteans their advanced world.

Wasn't this also the plot of Forbidden Planet? Monsters from the Id.
And this all about change. Resistance to , resigning oneself to , embracing.
....and I continued my rationalizations. And in my bookbag I had an eclectic combination of titles:

The Camino by Shirley MacLaine, Ask Your Guides, by Sonia Choquette, Eckhart Tolle, and my spiral notebook.

Could the mysterious world of Lemuria which gave way to Atlantis, find its dependence upon crystal energies were causing a different reaction than historically had happened. These events migh destroy the culture of Atlantis, and it would take a thousand plus years to have found a synthetic replacement for crystal: once used- changed, subverted, altered.

What did it all mean? Did it mean anything?

Appearance So Deceptive

I suppose after 4 years of this nonsense called addiction, I'd be a little more savvy when it comes to 'reading' people. I must say my intuitive skills have sharpened, maybe because so many of us go through the same stuff at different times but eventually we all wind up there.
All of us who consider ourselves talented administrators have no longer been able to hit ourselves with precision. My remedy for my banged up arms?  Rest, water, Neosporin, Vitamin E oils and TLC.

Thus again, I found myself chattering away with a talented younger man down in Orange County. That alone should have stopped me. With few exceptions, and very few, I have not had much luck with OC hookups. Once more  that theory was proven as this 28 year old, who pursued me to no end merely wanted to fulfill some stupid wanking fantasy.
As is the case, he was deleted, unfriended and I sent him a letter. 'Don't take it so personal,' I'm told, but I'm not leaving without telling the person what they did wrong.
And for those of you reading this: Don't ever fake interest in someone just to get your rocks off. We can handle rejection but I for one don't do well with liars.

More on the Simple Life

There are few things that will cause a Type A controlling obsessive perfectionist with a ridiculously high Stanford Binet number to almost kick a wall, door...my first choice would be to punch someone...something...but I can't type with a broken hand. Besides, I've just repaired my fucked up Internet Connection/IP conflict/which was one part faulty driver had to be uninstalled, another part antivirus program gone rabid, and a large part I created in my attempt to clear out old files.

Hey! At least I fuck up my own computers....I'd never lay a tweaked thumb upon someone else's PC. It was last about this time last year that I had a meltdown when my desktop melted down, and help came from my supposed 'arch-rival' in the Windy City.
Yes, ye olde Love Triangle...its creation and fuel driven by The Man we both were fighting over....which we weren't.  There's a reason soap operas were always set in the Midwest. One year later, my hard drive is hard as it can be, my Tech Angel I understand, has come west to pursue artistic endeavors....and that Big Ox we both weren't head over heels about....he's enjoying the alone time he so very much wanted I suppose. 
Well, maybe I was a bit light in my loafers. If he wanted to be alone....I live in Hollywood..I should get the Garbo dialogue....I would have gladly taken the younger boy (not by much was he younger either) out for a screening of 'Les Diaboliques'...the original: where the wife and the mistress combine forces and dispose of their ox 8 feet under. 

It was my most recent triangle that REALLY burned my bundt cake. I had one half of a couple (yes, the other half was clueless as to the amateur Chemist in his life. This was the start of my internet problems, and we couldn't coordinate a cam session...thus making Louis Pasteur IV a tad miffed. Which made me get really grumpy, and I remarked I'd rather have conversation with a clueless chump vs another performance as the Ham Who Slams...Shazzam!
My ill-fated cyber dartist replied...."I'm used to the fact that guys who use meth are just losers who can't do anything social but party."  (I have ordered a full length mirror with magnifier for this deluded soul to re-acquaint himself),
Not one to just end the call, I advised him that dismissing everyone based on a shared hobby/addiction/character flaw was harsh, that I value the friendships (and some of the clashes) I've found here and putting a negative label, just starts the old spin cycle of demonizing. Nope. Not buying today.
I apparently knocked some sense into him...although his next comment made me groan: "If you lived here, I'd date you!". I'm in love with the idea of love, but I like(in theory) for my men and I to disagree....vehemently....disliking each other immensely on sight....not knowing of course this is indeed true love.

How's that for supercalifuckedupthinkingespeciallysinceItoldyou? Yet, I think it's an key element of my charm.

Simple is Simpler said Slamming Simpson

I took a number of social networking and personal branding seminars during the spring. Personal branding....that's why I keep dragging this Topman name with me. There may be other tops...but a Top who Blogs as much as he bangs?
The key lesson in all these classes is that anyone who's blogging, Facebook friendly, tweeting or posting videos on You Tube, X Tube or TubeSteakTuba needs to be 'authentic'...meaning as honest as you can without sounding like you live in a Planter's Mixed Nuts can. And that means ease of operations. Word Press was a bit deluxe, and I'm a snob...being from pretentious Big D and living in Hollywood for ever. But I'm not a literary snob. Give me a good story, without rubbing my nose in how clever the author uses his writer's toolbox.

So, with that intro, expect to see concurrent posts from NKP for the time being.  And thanks for following me.

Drama Queens

Sure,, he could slam a full gram, but call him Percy and he'd burst into tears.

Or as it happened to me, I'd barely sipped my double margarita, when I noticed my dinner companion had guzzled his. The result: he got loud, belligerent, and brought up my long dead mother.

And I told him to shut the fuck up. 
Now highly offended, he marched out of the restaurant. I enjoyed my meal in peace.
Then, in getting in the car to drive home, I noticed my cell phone was gone.

Return of A Jedi or The Boy* Who Came Back

*by no means a 'boy' but grant me artistic (and marketing) license.

About 3 months ago, on a website far far away, I stumbled across the cam of a very cute looking guy, a few years younger than me....well, eighteen years younger if you must know.  Donning my wolf-in-worsted-wool-style I sent salutations, and asked him to join me on Oo-voo, or AIM, or ICQ...it didn't matter...he agreed. I'm not one for groveling...I mean... seducing attractive younger men in chat rooms with two hundred strangers eavesdropping really cramps my style.

NO, I ONLY PLAY A WARLOCK ON CAM...oh gosh, we are on a cam, ahem.
Thank goodness I sensed this guy was knee deep in a tweak or I'd probably said, "Warlock? You confuse me with Carlos Estevez...aka Charlie Sheen. I am greater than that!"(I encountered CS in Vegas years ago, plastered, as we shared an elevator ride in the Golden Nugget Hotel). But it didn't matter, my new pal from the Midwest, had cast me as the leader of an all powerful organization intent on doing him no good. Being a man shaped by movies, I merged the Stepford Men's Association with those loveable old coots who shared the Dakota Apts with Rosemary and her baby-to-be...then realized it's no compliment being compared with Sidney Blackmer, Maurice Evans or even Ruth Gordon. I know my voice is a bit nasal but..really!

NOT SO FAST, FURIOUS OR FUNNY
I make light of this, but Andy, an otherwise intelligent, grounded guy was in bad straits. And there was no charming smile, no witty repartee, nothing I could do to calm his fears. I'd encountered this before...with guys of all shapes and sizesbut I usually could talk them out of their trees. And for the first time, I wondered if my on screen 'persona', which isn't too far from 'me' but certainly ratched up, was working against me. And, perhaps for the first time, I consciously saw what staying too long at the party could invite. We've all watched as someone who clearly needs to call it a night continues on. Sometimes we egg them on. (and sometimes, that totally fucked up person is playing us...meaning he's sober as a judge). Actions have consequences, lest we forget.

GONE IN 60 SECONDS
I managed to get Andy's email before he logged off and blocked me. I even took some time to research the macabre meanderings in his midwest village (thank God it wasn't Wisconsin). Time went by, and to my utmost pleasure, I got an email last week from him and we caught up. He's backed off chemistry class and opted for philosophy. He's far braver than I, but we expect that of subsequent generations. And I'm proud as any papa could be, not because of what I did, but what I didn't do.

The Blogger Who Came Back

(this is a re-post of a blog from a prior site. New readers to this blog can 'catch up' on the narrative and go back into the previous entries, now entirely included here..)

BROTHER CAN YOU SPARE A LINE?
It's after 2AM on the West Coast....or maybe it's later. California's economy...last to go into recession,always the very last to come out, is so very lousy I expect Daylight Savings Time has lost value.
I HAVE NOT RETURNED WITH TABLETS FROM CEDARS-SINAI...ERR MOUNT SINAI.
That's a Ten Commandments reference...not a pharmaceutical one. I enjoyed my sabbatical(though anyone can always find me a Skypeing). I didn't return with long grey hair and saffron robes or really any revelation. So much for Shangri-La.
I wasn't on top of Old Smokey nor on Top of the World, but I did have some mighty fine playtime on top of some mighty sexy men: and more than a few were actual human beings! (Make of that what you will)
I was outdoors, indoors, in a tent, incognito, and inflagrante delicto. And I even got to spout movie dialog.
ON TO THE BAD NEWS
While I've been interviewing, networking and brainstorming my entreprenuerial ass off, no jobs have manifested themselves. And, baffling, no roommate for my extra bedroom (see classifieds). And the weekend of Carmageddon, I learned what its like to be a hockey puck with Hollywood Boulevard as the rink, and a Silver Jeep Cherokee as the mighty stick who rammed in the side of my car, and sped away. I wasn't injured but my yellow car was.
So, as of now I seem to be about 5G's short. And I don't have either a Rhett Butler, Daddy Warbucks or reliable Ouija board to help me out.
SITUATION WANTED
Yes, I have a plan of action, sort of. I remember someone cautioning me about 'trading down', which is a matter of opinion. Living high on the hog is a bit pretentious in this decade. The best defense is still a good offense. But never have I felt so very much like the orphan I am.  I am not alone: everyone is feeling a python-like squeeze of tough times, uncertainty and apathy, and I understand that.
A BOWL OF DOLLY PARTON
She gave a terrific performance at the Hollywood Bowl, but also shared her thoughts on her life in some very frank words. She decided she was going to be rich, and she acknowledged that she'd often paid dearly for that choice. I look around at my own life, and realize that while not financially set, I made choices; make choices, and it would be easy to reflect and drive myself bonkers with regret. I have no regrets. We can't change our past, we don't know what tomorrow brings, but we can affect NOW.
JUST SAY NO? NO.
You think getting high (or getting sober) is the quick fix. No such luck.  Hell, my closest friends and I can't even admin ourselves correctly these days. And when partying becomes borng, you know that as addictive a personality you might have, that blaming the drugs is bogus, like blaming your problems today on your parents for not paying for ballet lessons at age 5(NO, not me!) or blaming Bozo the clown, and thus, all clowns for not showing up at the Chrysler dealer by Love Field in 1972(ok, that was me).
LIVING IS THE BEST REVENGE
My point? Look in the mirror. It begins and ends with you. No knight in shining armor, no golden ticket in a Wonka Bar. No waking up and having dead Bobby Ewing pop out of the shower. I have to figure it out, and damn it I will. I'm not going to be a victim.  I have to figure it out, however long it takes and at whatever price. I have to grow up. That really burns my creme brulee.
My grandmother would have nipped my whining in two shakes of a lamb's tail and kicked my narrow ass for good measure. "Always remember, you were born in the briar patch'. And with that, I'm heading to sleep and pick up where I left off in a few hours.

Tamam Shud? or Shudn't

(this was originally posted on July 1, 2011, on another site as the Season Finale
Translation-I took a month off from blogging, and relaunched this blog on Blogger.

There was the Door to which I found no Key
There was the Veil through which I might not see
Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee There was-
and then no more of Thee and Me

Quatrains anyone? They’re divine with honey, I'm told. The above is a quatrain, and has nothing to do with Amtrak.
 

The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, from where the above quatrain appears, was translated by Edward FitzGerald. Had he been named Edmund FitzGerald, you would heard my screams all the way to Genesee Depot, WI.  It’s about 2AM there right now and Ten Chimneys must be dark and still, but the historic farmhouse and grounds are in order and ready for arriving guests: earthly or not. The house is a portal to somewhere or a inescapable vortex: trust me.

If you find yourself in the Milwaukee area and have a passion for historic homes, forgotten Broadway legends, and possess the slightest bit of childlike wonder....
...Ten Chimneys, the summer home of acting greats Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne, is a mystical Mecca for we metaphysical types. (If you are just 'regular folks' you won't notice anything unusual.)

I lost my heart to that enchanted farmhouse: and i tried giving my heart also to the person who took me there. He refused my ardent advances, stating he just wasn't into a romantic 'anything' with me.
Months later, I tried to explain how this could have been handled more diplomatically,  but I failed.  

I’ve broken my own heart only twice over someone else. I take the responsibility. The situations were exactly 30 years apart. I realized it was happening, and I couldn’t change the script, but I could change the ending. I had carried a torch for my high school boyfriend for almost 30 years. Now, I could eep mooning over Wisconsin's favorite son, or walk away and remain friends. I chose the latter.

Described once as ‘the most lavish single copy’ of The Rubaiyat,  due to the hand-crafted binding which took two years to complete. Published in 1860, the rather plain interior pages were bound in Moroccan leather, and embroidered with gold leaf, It was decorated with 1020 precious gems: amethysts, diamonds, ivories, rubies, olivine, pearls, topazes and turquoises (what no emeralds?). The front cover featured three peacocks: the back cover a type of lute and the inside back cover-- a skull.
This spectacular item was last sold at a March 1912 auction in London to an American bookseller, Gabriel Wells, for $2025 USD (equal to $57,000 in 2011) Sotheby's packed the book for shipping and arranged its transportation to New York and delivery it to Wells' office.

Today, of course, Mr. Wells copy would be worth much, much more. Assuming it survives intact(quite possibly), then found and successfully retrieved--from the floor of the Atlantic. This incredible and valuable artifact is but one among the millions of fragments of artifacts of the RMS TITANIC.

I’m not quite in the same sinking fast position as TITANIC, but I find I must have some money, so I am taking a break from blogging. Time to rededicate myself to avoid the financial and emotional iceberg I'm heading into. I thank all of you for your many kind emails and posts of support.

In what seems like a lifetime ago, my NKP profile had this cryptic quote:
"To become what you must, you must give up who you are."

 
Let's end with another Rubaiyat quatrain translated by FitzGerald: 

I sent my Soul through the Invisible
Some letter of that After-life to spell
And by and by my Soul returned to me,
And answer’d "I Myself am Heav’n and Hell
 

and here’s a song for you.
Peace.