Jeddah, the best city in the world

Sorry i'm 5 days late posting, O ye faithful Readership. Part of the blame can be laid on the virtual shoulders of this website. Addictive and worse yet, no instructions needed. You've been warned.

i'd promised on Dec. 9 to write more about what i'm learning and feeling, and less about what i'm doing day-to-day. Hmmm. i guess it would be most enlightening to write about what has been obsessing me this past few months, and that is a guy here who i simply can't stop thinking about.

He comes into the lodge for a meal and without even looking in his direction i know it's him because i recognize so easily in my peripheral vision how much space he takes up, and how he walks. i wake up and i'm thinking about him. i go to sleep and i'm thinking about him. i've probably dreamt about him, but i have not been recording my dreams lately, mostly due i think to not having a light i can turn on without getting up from bed, and so it seems to me like i may not be dreaming about him, but i guess that's unlikely.

He's funny and does silly imitations. He comes into the Welcome Center making pigeon noises as he heads straight for the bowl of newly-arrived popcorn we've set out for customers to sample. He's constantly practicing his instrument -- oh, who am i kidding? (Anyone at Heartwood who may be reading this will have already recognized who i'm talking about.) He plays the friggin' BANJO ok?! -- and one evening when i came into the lodge after dinner, he saw me, his eyes lit up and he said with a big smile, "Hey Doug, i'm working on that song you wanted me to learn!" -- a long and in places complicated piece by Bach (although he almost consistently performs Celtic and bluegrass). Man, my heart just melt a little bit more that night.

i've given him 3 or 4 massages -- a couple of them more than 2 hours, and all of them purely professional, mind you; not even a hint of anything improper -- which were wonderful i think for both of us. But all i know is Swedish, and only a certain number of movements and techniques at that .. my repertoire is, in my eyes, kind of limited at the moment, and i think he may have gotten bored with my bodywork, as he hasn't agreed to any more appointments. And i miss giving him love in that form.

As you may have guessed, he's oriented more toward the ladies. Truth be told, there aren't any male-oriented males out here, or at least none that i'm aware of. And all of this has gotten me thinking more lately about how unfortunate it is that our society (all cultures, to one degree or another) put so much stock in labeling people, getting everyone to fit into their little boxes. i'm even more tired of the gay/straight/bi-/none-of-the-above options that are set before us, and while still as strongly attracted to men as i've ever been, am more fed up with my self-identification as a gay man.

i rented a French film from Netflix this week called Grand Ecole (2004; there's a nice summary of the film here, and a few stills from the movie of the hot [and nude] young Arab in the film here) and showed it last night to an audience of about 10. It's about six young people: 4 guys and 2 girls, 5 of whom are getting their MBA's at a prestigious French school. The sixth is a French Arab guy who has found work painting one of the school's buildings.

The Arab guy drops a can of paint from the top of his ladder, the foreman gets pissed off, and starts making racist comments about his abilities. Hey, where'd you learn to paint, in the Kasbah? One of the students is passing by with 2 of his buddies at the time, and stands up to the foreman in defense of the Arab, who is shocked at first and then impressed.

So the stage is set for the two of them to become involved, and when the physical attraction of the Arab toward the student becomes clear, the student gets upset (although he has already begun to wrestle with his attraction toward men). He asks the Arab, "how long have you been gay?" and the painter replies, This is not about being gay or straight. This is about what I feel for YOU.

What a beautiful thought.

After the movie, i watched some of the special features, which included the cast and director talking about the making of the film. One of the actresses read some of the director's philosophy about human relationships, about the force with which both political and religious elements attempt to curtail our desires, resulting in the fear we feel to act on so many of them. We are made to think and feel what those in power want us to think and to feel, until finally we cannot even be certain of what our true and authentic feelings really are.

i am not (mainly) interested in getting into my friend's pants: There is a big part of me wondering about the possibilities of expressing affection horizontally that does not involve going all the way. i envision holding this guy in my arms, and perhaps gently kissing the back of his neck, or intertwining my fingers in his and stroking a hand or an arm. But even something as simple and divinely ordained as this scenario would, i fear, be seen as too threatening to this, or to most, so-called straight guy(s).

Especially since seeing the film i have had an even stronger desire to be open with him in some perhaps limited way about what i'm feeling. We are friends on some level, and he has previously expressed [although not to me] a desire to want to be around and to learn things from an older man. But i'm recently paying attention to a perceived need to back off from the object of my desire. The tension between wanting to explore how our friendship might deepen is offset by my own fear of becoming a pest. Perhaps i'm being too harsh on myself; it's hard to tell.

On the nightstand
About to wrap up a book from the local library An Everyday History of Somewhere (1974, about which the author says): Being the true story of Indians, deer, homesteaders, potatoes, loggers, trees, fishermen, salmon, and other living things in the back woods of Northern California. Local history, and great fun to read.

Hitched into town today, where i bumped into a friend who took me a coupla miles down the road to the used-bookstore in Redway. An hour later i found myself walking out with Sacred Contracts by Caroline Myss, and Talking with Angels (Gitta Mallasz, English translation 1988), the story of a Hungarian woman and 3 friends who for 17 months in the early 1940's were visited weekly by an angel who spoke to them every Friday afternoon. (The woman's friends were all Jewish, and eventually perished in the concentration camps.) A quotation at the start of part 1 reads Go your own way. Any other way is straying.

Mike Morone is the reason i bought Marathon: You can do it! (see 1/23), and since i'm painfully aware of how difficult it is for me to do things i want to do for myself by myself, i am forming a Marathon Club after the quarter begins Feb. 17. The book promises to get anyone ready for their first marathon with six months of preparation. Anyone out there want to come run the Redwoods Marathon with us this Sunday, Oct. 15?

tidbits
Got a couple nice shiatsu sessions recently from Phoenix, and one from one of the 3 Melissa's here, too. Getting a Swedish session after dinner tomorrow night from Nathan aka Said, a Sufi hottie here. Man talk about guys right up my alley: handsome and spiritually striving and just warmth and light to be around. Hmmmmmmm!

Taking care of a cat named Princess Sparklepuss for a bud who's on a well-deserved vay-kay in Hawai'i. Josh called the other day to say he's staying a fourth week and would i mind? Mind! How could i mind minding one of the most personable cats i've ever had the pleasure to mind? She's got Josh's little shack all to herself, poor thing, but i stop by every 3 or 5 days and spend a half-hour or 2 hours, depending. Tomorrow i'll take down one of my new books and some paper, do some leisure reading/writing, and chill with the coolest cat you never met in my lap. In spite of what you may think about the cat's name, Josh himself is not an effeminate man. But he does ooze yin. (Lotsa guys out here very in touch with their feminine sides: very cool.)

Recommended music, and what i'm listening to as i write this: Delhi 9, by Tosca. Thanks Nick Petrucci for burning this most excellent CD for me. Simon B. you'll be tickled to hear that by way of thanks i passed on your Maa Salaama mix for Nick to burn for himself.

i've started reading occasionally from his textbooks and handouts to a blind student here, hip dude from Sacramento named James. i'd started doing it just to give the dude a hand, but he offered to have me paid by the state Dept. of Vocational Rehab at $7/hour, and i said sure why not? Little extra income's always welcome, esp. out here where there aren't as many opportunities for it. i positively love reading aloud: Phoenix tolerated me reading "The Raven" to him the other night, and i selected readings to do at the last two Coffee Houses we've had here.

Another chance to make some cash seems to be heading my way as well: i've already sample-edited the first two pages of a shiatsu textbook one of the instructors wants to have published, and he was happy with my work. He should be returning from the break wanting to negotiate pay, and i've written an old friend who does writing and editing in Monterey to ask her advice about what to charge.

Helped get a sweat-lodge, Native American-style, to happen Feb. 1: Matthew (the shiatsu instructor) has been trained in the Lakota tradition, and was happy to share his knowledge with us about how to do it. Our last lodge in December didn't generate quite the heat that was expected, and me and that Banjo-Playing Dude hauled about 60 fresh rocks to replace the ones that had been used so often in the past. With assistance from Said and a gal named Cornelia (who i'll be training for the marathon with), B.P.D. built the fire, and then he tended it throughout our session which also involved removing the rocks with a pitchfork and bringing them to the door of the lodge when called to. About ten of us sweat. It's great: chanting, praying, singing (as much or as little as one wants), and i look forward to the next one.

On the work front, my new (since Dec.) boss at the Welcome Center, Loree, has given her notice ("just not having fun" is her public reason for quitting) and is leaving at the end of this month. Our Work/Study student quit (for the second time!) and has returned to Virginia, which is why, at the last minute, i was unable to attend the Cranio-Sacral intensive course that was offered 2/4-10: one person is simply inadequate for running the store.

(i did however get my first cranio-sacral session from one of the intensivists, a guy named Raven who used to work here. When he placed his hands on my feet at the beginning, the vibrations that i felt there were unbelievable; i'd almost call it a buzzing. And as i've said, he was just learning it! i'm definitely getting more of this stuff in my life.)

i'm definitely not interested in the manager position, even if the pay were more substantial. (As it is, the manager makes $100/month more than i do.) The job of ordering and dealing with suppliers and salespeople is more Babylon than i want to deal with, esp. in a rural idyll like this one. And staying where i am also means that i'm off the hook when it comes to management-level responsibilities, like attending interminable meetings and interviewing job applicants on your days off. i'll be sorry to see Loree go; we get along great, she has a warm and funny disposition, and is a joy to work with.

So you got all this way, you haven't dozed off yet, and you're still wondering what's up with the title? Well, it was just a little tease for Abdulkarim, who called again Feb. 3 and said, Hey! How come you never mention coming to Jeddah in your blog? There aren't many Jeddawis who love their hometown more than AK! Karimbo, i'll be there when and if Allah wills it! So i will work on the timing and getting a ticket, and you mention my return to the Desert Kingdom next time you're in the mosque, ok?! ;o)

Peace out, all. Next post: 3rd Tuesday of this month: Feb. 21.