I don’t know if I will ever be able to express the joy I feel when I crawl up on my bed in the back of the van, prop myself up against the headboard, and put my computer on my lap. It’s similar to the joy I felt when I would ride my Harley down the highway or when I take my mountain bike down a tree covered trail in the mountains. There is something in my soul that is eased, there’s an itch that I didn’t know I had being scratched. I am beyond fortunate to experience this, to have had the ways and means to build such a van and to have taken many trips in it over the last 5 years.
It has come at a price though, like most everything does. We trade one thing for another, even the rich have to do this. There’s too many avenues and possibilities out there to have them all. For the Harley I traded my humility, for the mountain bike I traded my safety, and for the van I traded security. I traded my marriage for selfishness, I traded my soul for drugs, I traded friends for woman and woman for other woman. Everything has come at a cost, as it should, there are few things in life that are truly free.
And I’m ok with that, I am no longer the man who wants one of everything, the man who wants his cake and to eat it too. The trades I made up until I was 40 or so have always been painful to someone, either myself or whoever I was involved with at that time. But this last trade, the van for security, no one was hurt with that one. My fear likes to tell me I made the wrong choice, that buying a home would have been the safest move. But what is safety in this case but a false feeling for a future that has not happened.
No home, no money, no woman, no bike, no nothing could compare the happiness and joy I feel while in this van. I’m sure my friend who is constantly making pilgrimages in foreign lands feels the same about his quests. I am so fortunate to have this moment in and of itself. To be so connected to what is happening, not thinking of anything, just being with what I have right now. It is rare when I get to be so connected, so one-pointed. My thoughts are like a pool game, I break the balls, they all scatter and then I spend the rest of the time trying to put them all down. Yet not always is it so chaotic, sometimes my mind just obsesses on one or two things for hours and sometimes days on end. But right now, this is not the case. I am fortunate to be so centered right now.
I’m presently in Culver City, parked out in front of my oldest friend’s house. I knew Blythe before Sergio, so I must have been 10 or 11 when we met, whatever age you are in the 6th grade. On all my trips down here or passing through I stop and see her and her family, her husband Dean and their son Jake. When I stay down here, I sleep in the van in front of their house, and they let me shower and feed me at times. I am very fortunate to have such a wonderful friend in my life, not everyone in this world has someone as close to them as I am to Blythe. Granted she drags ass anytime we are supposed to go anywhere and can talk a glass eye to sleep, but I love her in spite of all that and would lay down in the street for her.
Delaiah is on her way here, coming from Echo Park, which is near Downtown LA. She’ll meet me here; we will talk with Blythe and then venture to eat somewhere. She will want Tito’s; I will probably get Johnnie’s. There are some foods you grew up on that you just have to have no matter the cost to your gut. After we eat, we will drive around looking for something to do, maybe find a mall or go see a movie. I am very fortunate to have this time with Delaiah, not everyone has the opportunity to see their child at a whims notice. Granted this was planned, I could still take the 3-hour drive south to see her anytime I wish to.
This trip was planned, planned around going to Jumbo’s Clown Room tomorrow night. My smart, talented, lovely daughter likes to hang out at this fine establishment. It’s a bikini bar, the woman wear very little in the way of a bikini, more like sexy unmentionables. She could pick way worse places to spend her time, places like her mother and I frequented in our early 20’s. The woman that dance here have taken Delaiah in as their own and I am grateful for that. Not everyone is as fortunate to have people accepting and befriending them.
Tomorrow Delaiah will wake late and do homework for most of the day. I will wake early and ride some if the weather permits, it’s supposed to rain all weekend and into Monday. If it is raining, I am planning on going to a museum for a few hours, there’s something soothing about the quiet of a museum and how all the art speaks so loudly. I could spend infinite hours walking through art museums, to see what people can create is inspiring and humbling. I am fortunate to be able to walk around a museum and see all the art. Not everyone is this free, nor has the ability to do so.
But for now, I will wait for my daughter, drink water, light incense and enjoy my time in the back of the van.
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Well Delaiah showed and it went as I suspected it would. We spent time talking with Blythe and playing with Rusty the pit-bull. Blythe is sick so I kept a good distance from her, being the germaphobe I am. Although Delaiah, not having a care in the world of getting sick, she stood not 3 feet away, breathing in all those germs as I sat there mentally telling her to step away. It didn’t work in case you were wondering. Dean and Jake showed up a short spell after our catching up and we talked with them for a while too. I love visiting them, their family life is comical, Jake being a phenom skater at age 12 and Blythe and Dean acting like an old married couple.
I guess after you have been married for a while you can settle into arguing and letting it go, maybe it becomes a form of communication in some way. Maybe you are able to be as such because you know you are sticking with that person and you accept them and the arguing for what it is, the way you communicate at times. Maybe it’s not arguing at all, maybe it’s just communicating. I’ve always wanted to get to that point in a relationship, the point where you know no one is leaving and letting go of disagreements and arguments becomes easy. Maybe one day I will be fortunate enough to have this, to give and receive enough unconditional love to experience this.
The rain is light this morning and I’ve no desire to get out of bed. I’ve been up for 2 hours, writing and watching some videos, sipping coffee and contemplating on what to do today. Delaiah is a sleeper; she will not be up till 10 is my guess. She is slow to move around in the morning too, she will not be ready to do anything till around lunch time. Probably right at lunch time so I can take her somewhere to eat. She has impeccable timing for this. I am fortunate to be able to afford to take her out to eat.
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As I suspected it all happened the way I was figuring, except the rain eased up for a clearish day. The rain is good for So. Cal., it washes away all the smog and cleans the sidewalks and streets some. All the years I grew up down here it did not rain much, maybe when I was a wee lad, but in my teens to my 20’s not much rain at all.
After a slow morning for myself, filled with coffee, oatmeal and some writing I headed to Echo Park. I figured since it wasn’t going to rain, I could go ride my bike around downtown LA. Remarkably, the freeway was clear, as clear as it was on my way down here from SLO. No traffic in LA is a good day for sure, about as good as getting some rain. Especially when the 2 are combined, people around here turn into idiots when it rains and forget how to drive. As I got to Delaiah’s place she had texted, I replied to her my plan of riding and said she should come downstairs and say hello before I go.
After I got geared up she came downstairs, wearing some type of slipper, black sweatpants, a fuzzy wool pullover and her hair in a messy bun. She looked like the little girl I raised so many years ago, yet she had a look of a woman about her. This was her life, sharing a so-so apartment near downtown LA, waking late and making coffee, sitting at her desk or in her bed writing a paper for collage. I think back to when I was in my early 20’s and how I was in the world forming my life. She is doing a much better job then I, but that aside, she is grown now and being an adult. It's interesting to watch, to be a part of. I am very fortunate to be here to see this unfold for her, not everyone gets to watch their child grow up.
We said hello and goodbye with a kiss on her head and a hug. I rode down the street, crossed the freeway on a foot bridge and down a spiral ramp into Chinatown. All through downtown I rode, Flower, Broadway, Hill, 3rd, 9th and 10th. Through the jewelry district, the garment district, Olivera St., the Federal building and so on. Even with the rain from the previous day washing the concrete it was still dirty, permanent stains of lives that were lived and lost. Trash filled doorways, gutters, and alleys; the smell of urine emanated from most every corner I passed bye. People walked about with some intent, bums searched for cigarette butts and talked to themselves. Tents were set up in random spots, some taking over the entire width of the sidewalk in some spots. Downtown is gritty, dirty and full of life. I am beyond fortunate to live where I do and have what I have, not everyone gets to live in a paradise and have an abundance of food and clothing.
After the ride I caught a shower as Delaiah was still working on her paper. We left for food, some overpriced sandwiches, a bag of barbeque chips and two Cokes. We ate and talked and she asked how I was doing and the whatnots about my life. Normally she doesn’t ask many questions about my life when we have our phone conversations, she has so much going on. Being young and living a life filled with work, school, friends, and dating – it’s a lot to manage and needs to be processed. Me having lived a life I am used to it all the ups and downs and happenings. I also have worked at not getting attached to much, I’ve the wisdom of knowing everything is always changing. I am fortunate to know this, it lessens the shock and pain when comfort is removed.
We spent the rest of the day at her apartment, I took to napping in the van and she worked diligently on her paper. As night fell, she transitioned to showering and getting dressed for the night’s festivities as I sat around talking with her friends. I wore nothing special as she dawned a dress that looked more like a slip with knee high white patent leather boots – oh yay.
We got to the bikini bar, waited for a friend of hers and went in. The carpet was red, the walls covered in photos and posters of some sort. Truth is I was fixated on all the people. Delaiah had said it was going to be a slow night, it was not a slow night. The bright lights focused on the stage backlit the room and a sea of people stood shoulder to shoulder bumping into the backs of the people bellied up to the bar. It was packed. Between the seating at the stage, the people at the bar, and the people standing there might have been a foot of walking space. I found an unoccupied corner and proceeded to become a wall flower. Davey, Delaiah’s friend followed suit as Delaiah stood where she could and searched the crowd for the dancers she so dearly admires.
Now I’ve full view of the room. 3 bar top tables sat at the opposite end of the room, maybe 30 feet from me and the wall I was holding up. The bar stretched from end to end on my left and the stage to my right. There was a wall of mirrors behind the stage and one lonely pole sat in the middle. There was the seating at the stage, a little shelf to set your drinks and dollar bills on and above that a little brass railing wrapped in twinkle lights. The stage was sunk in so when the dancers would do a floor routine and crawl by in an erotic way you were at eye level for all of it. All that was needed was the air to be filled with cigarette smoke to make it something of a Quentin Tarantino movie.
A dancer came out from a door next to the stage, right where I was standing, her name was Scarlett. She stood at about 6’ 2” with her red patent leather high heeled boots, long black hair, silky white skin, wearing a small red lingerie outfit of sorts. Delaiah saw her and lit up like one of the lights trained on the stage. They hugged, said something to one another and I was introduced. Scarlett had a beautiful smile and a loving hug to greet me. She reassured me that they watch out for Delaiah anytime she is there and I’ve nothing to worry about. I thanked her and then she was gone, caught in the flood of friends and regulars. Tonight is for her, it’s her birthday party.
We stood and watched Topaz dance, Delaiah got us drinks from the bar, mine being non-alcoholic of course and then Lux come out through the stage door. Lux was much shorter, say 5’ 9”, wearing a short skintight black dress over her dancing outfit. I got a smile, a handshake and little conversation from her. Lux is Delaiah’s favorite out of the 20 or so woman that work there. She had a nice smile and seemed fairly reserved and direct. You really can’t know much of a person with one brief hello, this is just what I saw in the 30 seconds of our introduction.
As the night went on we were able to get a couple chairs at the stage, we set our drinks down, I pulled a large wad of 1’s out of my pocket and Delaiah, her friend Taylor and I sat there throwing dollar bills at dancers. Never in a million years would I of ever imagined being here, doing this with my daughter. I could not of asked for a better evening, to be invited to meet her friends, to trust me enough to let me in on something most kids would not let their parents in on. To see her laugh and smile and be in her element, to see the happiness and joy on her face and in her heart. I am beyond fortunate that she shared this experience with me.
The clock was nearing 10 and that was my cue to go. I could of closed the place down with Delaiah like she did that evening, but I would have spent a lot more money. It’s rude to sit at the stage and not throw money for the dancer’s hard work. I will say though, I did feel a bit awkward tossing monies, not because Delaiah was there but that these types of activities are not my jam. I would of much rather sat at diner sipping coffee and eating pie while having a conversation with these woman, hear some of the stories they have from working at such an establishment on Hollywood Blvd. I’m sure they could go on for hours with some of the craziest storiesz.
I said goodbye to Delaiah, got 3 big hugs from her and headed out into the night. There was a line 30 people deep waiting to get in as I exited the door. The security guard checking ID’s, the parking lot full of wondering club goers. I J-walked across Hollywood, got in my van, and headed towards Blythe’s house. I am fortunate to be clean and to have not lost my mind in such a place, at one time I definitely would have.
I made it to Blythe’s, parked in front of her place, leveled the van, ate too many cookies, and went to sleep. I woke the next morning, got coffee’d up while doing some reading and writing and headed north. The drive back home was slow, kinda rainy, kinda not, I was in no hurry to make it back. Leaving home is not always the easiest for me. As much as I care not for the insanity of it, the money that it takes to live there and all the people, I do love it. I love seeing my daughter, I love the electricity the city has, I love seeing all the spots I grew up around. Life is so different there, it’s like I’m a needle in a haystack, it takes away some of the vacant feeling I have in me.
I would like to say I have never felt so grateful but that is not true, I have, many times in fact. I am clean today and have been for many years and those years have brought me many, many moments of gratitude. My spiritual practice has worked in a way that I never thought it would, it has brought me to equanimity. The culmination of both have taken me to a place of love and happiness from within, a gratitude for all my experiences, the easy ones, and the difficult ones.
It is not always like this, working with all this gratitude, life gets to happening and it is not always as sweet as one would like it to be. But to slow down and see all my happenings during the day, see them one by one, and not just the blur that they are most days. There are plenty of fortunate happenings within my days, so many I would probably lose track of them all. The fact that my fingers work well enough to type this, my brain works well enough to write this, the fact that my life has not yet ended. I am beyond grateful and fortunate to be here now.
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