Active flux
Assisting the concealed to slough their wrappings.
Assisting the living, but not yet active,
To acquire just habits.
Bob: God, please help those poor people whose car has broken down on the side of the road! Wind, get thee behind us! Please! Not always from the side or front! I'm clutching the steering wheel too tightly. My knuckles are white!
Nancy: I noticed smoke coming up from where the heater pipes touch the bed. I wanted Bob to stop right away, but he insisted on going for about five more minutes until he could get to a place where he could pull over more easily. So, I climbed back there into the heat and saw that one side of the pillows and sheets had been scorched by the heat from the engine. When Bob finally pulled off at a rest stop (the kind without facilities) we rolled up the bed totally messing up the beautiful installation Bob had created for me. We now had to drive with the heater vents exposed. We could feel heat blowing at us from behind. We thought about finding a place to camp outside of Vernon or Wichita Falls but it was too late to get through to a campground by phone and we decided to go on to Dallas.
I had fallen asleep but woke up when I felt Bob stopping the Van on the shoulder of the road. Red and blue lights were flashing causing that awful adrenaline rush through my once sleeping veins. "Shit! Now I know we're in Texas!" We didn't have any insurance and our plates are for the other van; the one that doesn't run; where we usually sleep. A taillight was out. Bob managed somehow to bs his way out of this one. We were so obviously tired that I guess the cop just felt sorry for us. It was a miracle that we had gotten so far in that old VW Bus that would have never passed a Texas inspection. Ken used to get me to dress in a sexy outfit to help get our cars passed. I'm never going to do that again. It probably wouldn't help us now with the cars we drive.
We arrived at Bob's parents at about 2:00 am. Bob's daughter, Rachel, was there. She had tried to stay up to see us come in but was now dead asleep, snoring in the way that only Rachel can. She and Bob's father tease each other about their snoring. They have a similar sense of humor. We slept restlessly on Bob's parents' hide-a-bed. Their air-conditioned condominium felt muggy to us Santa Feans. Today we rested and rested at the condominium. Bob called some of his friends but was never able to get a hold of Ric. We had lunch with Bob's parents at El Fenix where Bob ran into a friend of his from high school. Bob seems to know people everywhere we go. There's always old girlfriends or women he's had crushes on lurking around every corner. Bob's friend, Joe, was with his sister, on whom Bob probably had a crush some time or other.
Bob's mother liked the blonde streaks I put in my hair. She immediately thought of Holly Golightly from Breakfast at Tiffaney's! Bob's mom and I think very much alike. That's one of my all-time favorite movies. Bob's mom and dad saw Breakfast at Tiffaney's at the Majestic Theater when it first came out. They go so far as to be Henry Mancini fans. Bob's jazz musician brother, Lon, actually played with Mancini on the Rick Dees Show. Bob's mom also loves eclectic looks and feeds those tastes with bargains from the thrift stores. She is always admiring how I look, although I feel very self-conscious right now. The tension, the heat, and Dallas humidity is causing me to break out in great big zits. I'm having to wear more make-up than I really want to. However, a pimple doesn't seem to last long here. The blackheads come right to the surface and then start healing.
My hair was so nice and wavy before we left Dallas to move to Santa Fe. I had length to my hair to support the waves. Now, I have a shorter hair cut that is perfectly adapted to the dry Santa Fe weather. My hair has been so nice and straight. I could comb the curves toward my head at the bottom of my hair style while it was drying. Now the waves are back, curving my hair indiscriminately. My haircut no longer fits my hair.
Bob and I went out for Ethiopian food! Bob turned me on to the Queen of Sheba restaurant before we left two years ago. There's nothing like it in Santa Fe nor can I find any recipes for it at the public library. The people at the restaurant recognized us and seemed to have missed us. The women who work there are very beautiful and I sense that they appreciate my looks. Two women complimented me on my hair. I told them how much we missed them and their food. They joked about sending us Ethiopian care packages.
After we ate, Bob suggested that we walk around Deep Ellum. We walked by Club Dada where Bob has played so often in the past. There was a rock band playing and a cover charge so we didn't go in. The parking meters have digital readings on them now and there are many more police riding around on bicycles. It was exciting being in a big city again. Bob sort of freaked me out when he kept saying that he felt like a ghost. When I asked him about it, he said, "Remember when I used to say that I felt really old as an artist in Dallas? Now I've died and I'm walking the streets as a ghost." We walked on to Chumley's where we had our rather erotic "marriage" upstairs. I was still married to Ken and I was trying to stay married to him when Bob did his performance constructed from love poetry he had written to me leading up to him wearing a devil mask with lighted candles (which I made for him) and stripping me in front of an audience during the very same wedding service he will read for Ric and Wanda tomorrow night. That was a very difficult time for me which I would rather not recall.
Downstairs at Chumley's, Bob saw another old friend of his, Drew Phelps, who was playing there that night with another bass player. We watched as they played such a variety of bass duets and solos: from Bach to classical jazz to their own original pieces. Bob was practically on the edge of his chair listening particularly to Drew when he was playing. He told me some about their history together and how Drew's pieces seemed to contain his whole background in them. Drew was definitely a Southerner with a strong accent, although he looked a little like Mic Jagger. He performed a very sophisticated version of Amazing Grace. His bass solo was like a combination of Southern Gospel and Tibetan Buddhist chanting.
We left before they had finished so that Bob could try Ric again from a pay phone. Ric was home. He had just gotten back from getting married at the Salvation Army! This surprised us somewhat because Ric had paid us $250 to come to Dallas so that Bob could perform his wedding service. The Salvation Army wedding was done for the sake of some difficult in-laws while Bob's service was for their friends and Ric's parents who were accustomed to Ric's eccentricities.
We came home to a quiet and empty luxury condominium left by Bob's generous parents who even suggested that we sleep in their bed. Bob played with the controls of his parents' entertainment system displayed like an an altar in the center of an old English armoire with bookcases ranging on either side. Bob was naked and waiting for me when I had finished washing off my make-up and was ready for bed. God, how debauched I felt having sex with Bob on his parents' giant four-poster bed. We had to climb steps to mount this work of art and our pleasure was multiplied by mirrors reflecting us on the armoire across the room.