| June 27 |
Lew and I spent this morning
reading in bed. He got up before I did, and a few moments later I
heard him playing a Chopin piece on his piano. Mischieviously,
I snuck up on him and took his picture. I couldn't help but think
of the voyeur massage client Lew told me about.
Aha! I thought, I've scooped you!
We had breakfast in Amador City then went shopping for tonight's picnic. Lew is now out mowing the lawn. I have done my laundry and hung it on the line, and am working out the medoldy and chords for "The Ballad of Hot Tub Springs" on Lew's piano. I worked out most of what I wanted, and then Lew helped me with a cord change and some bass harmony using a second inversion I hadn't thought of. His range of talents amazes me. In the evening, we went to Volcano to see Moon Over Buffalo, which was adequately mounted by the local Thespians. We brought the picnic fixin's we'd purchased earlier that morning and set out to claim a spot on the lawn of the natural amphitheatre. Lew's favorite spot was taken, but we found another near by. When Lew unfolded the blanket, dozens of earwigs shook loose from it, scampering away across the lawn to the dismay of our neighbors. It was an amazing and disgusting sight. We flicked stray earwigs off the blanket all evening. Lying in Lew's hot tub again that night we saw more shooting stars. The Mariposa lily I brought with me survived the trip quite well and has now completely unfolded. |
Lew at the piano |
| June 28 |
Lying in bed with Lew again, reading a book of wildflowers. I would
really like to blow him, but he doesn't seem responsive to
physical intimacy this visit. Well, that's not exactly true. We
are, after all, sleeping in the same bed together, and we hug
each other and touch in passing. But there seems no opening to
more fully sexual contact. Perhaps this is for the best - the
incompleteness theorem at work in a different way. "Letting go"
is what the Body Electric folks would say. There is something to
be said about enjoying someone physically while restraining yourself
sexually. Something to be said - but not much.
The field book says the Mariposa lily is more commonly known as the Sego lily. It's Utah's state flower. It also identifies the red-stalked flower Tom and I saw on the Whitney trail as the snow flower: "Once seen, never forgotten." My sky map and ephemera book lists no major meteor showers for the end of June. Nevertheless, they have been spectacular each night. We toured the abandoned Kennedy Gold Mine today. Despite a very hot sun, I enjoyed the tour. I was surprised to learn the mine was closed not because it was no longer productive, but because the nation needed the steel and manpower during World War II more than it needed the gold. When the war ended, the mine was so flooded that the effort to pump out the water would probably have cost more than could be recouped in the mined gold. The mechanical ore processing also sparked my imagination. What a din it must have created, day and night! And the miners lived, worked, ate, worshiped, and even died and were buried all within sight and sound of the works. Later that afternoon, we stopped off at Rancho Cicada. It was a pleasant day, and I lay out on the grass while Lew helped Mark place some rocks along the edge of the creek where the lawn would be expanded. At one point, Mark came by to say he'd seen a rattlesnake slithering across the lawn. Although I declined to take a look, it's something I will remember next time I'm here on a visit. At the end of the day, Lew had gone up to the car and I lagged behind. As I was walking up the hill to the parking lot, one of the Rancho's peacocks stepped out of the bushes in front of me. To my amazement and delight, he presented his full fan of feathers, strutting forward, then vibrating them so they shimmered. I was very impressed and quite flattered. Clearly, these peacocks know their clientele. That evening after dinner Lew suggested we go for a walk. It was past 10 PM and the waxing moon didn't seem to me to provide enough light for a walk along the highway, but we headed out that way anyway. We ended up at the Lion's Club picnic area, a quiet place somewhat sheltered from the intermittent traffic on the road. Did we come here to talk? To make love? To relax? If Lew has a purpose, I can't seem to coax it out of him. We talk for a bit and I put my arm around him, but there is little physical response from him. I begin to wonder. There was a fair amount of that this weekend - the opportunity for romance, my making an overture, and a minimal response from Lew. He never initiated anything. I wonder now if I am being a pest. At any rate, I guess this means the sexual dimension of our relationship is over. It feels odd. I must admit I still lust after him, but without an echoing response from him, there's no point in continuing. I remember asking a fellow teenager when I was in high school, "What's the point of loving someone who doesn't love you back?" I thought I was being very logical and wise. She answered, "Because sometimes that's all you get." Smart girl. When we get back to the house, we watch a "Bruno" porn tape and jack off together, side-by-side in his bed. Now, this may seem like a very intimate moment, but the truth is we are both pretty isolated in our fantasies. Mine is that I am actually with Lew, not just beside him. We both come at nearly the same moment, there is not much shared in the climax. It is, at best, a voyeuristic experience. I find Lew much more exciting than Bruno, but about as reachable. I guess the incompleteness theorem is a double-edged sword. A trip to Sacramento tomorrow completes my California adventures. Meet the tenant, wash the car, roll on home. |
|
| June 29 |
My California adventures are over.
Thank you, Bruce. You were the unexpected blessing this time.
|
|
| June 30 | ||
| July 1 | ||
| July 2 |
1. Mount Shasta, looking east as the sun rises 2. The view looking northwest from Mount Shasta 3. Mount Shasta, looking south |
|
| July 3 |
Bob at Weave the Rose |
