Sometimes Life can be hard!

Have you ever woke up, not feeling like yourself?

Wasup? Darshan with Baba Barry

Well my dear friends, it has come to my attention that there are some individuals in the group, who have questions or don't much about Parkinson's Disease, and would like to remedy that situation. The wise women on the Coordinating Committee, suggested I write a blog, so as to answer the questions you might have about PD, keep y'all up to date on what's going on with me and my life, plus this gives me a chance to write, which I enjoy. Included on this blog our some old poems, some not so old poems, some political ravings, and a piece of fiction I started writing when I worked at Community Resources for Independence (CRI).

Read, enjoy, and ask me what's ever on your mind, and I'll do my best in responding.

I thought I would start out with a bit of a primer on Parkinson's Disease.

What causes Parkinson's disease?

Parkinson's disease is caused by the loss of brain cells that produce a chemical called dopamine, resulting in low levels of the chemical in the brain. Dopamine is a chemical messenger, or neurotransmitter, involved in passing messages within the brain and from the brain to the muscles. The part of the brain affected is called the substantia nigra, which co-ordinates movement.

The level of dopamine in the brain is linked with the levels of other chemicals, including one called acetylcholine. Low levels of dopamine and changes in other chemicals, including acetylcholine, cause the symptoms of Parkinson's disease.

Why do people get Parkinson's disease?

No one knows why some people get Parkinsonease, but genetic factors seem to have a role. People who have a parent or a brother or sister with the condition are twice as likely to get it. In a small number of people with Parkinson's, the disease is inherited.

Certain chemicals in the environment that might be harmful to the brain, called neurotoxins, have been linked to Parkinson's disease. It's possible that people who are exposed to more of these neurotoxins are more likely to develop the condition. Doctors need to do more research on possible environmental risk factors for Parkinson's disease. It is my humble opinion that this is the reason I have PD!

Symptoms

The symptoms of Parkinson's disease often start on one side of the body first and then affect both sides. The main symptoms are as follows.

• Shaking (muscle tremor). This is one of the first symptoms in three-quarters of people, and affects most people with Parkinson's disease. It often starts in the hand with circular movements in the thumb and forefinger. It can affect your arms, legs, and sometimes your head and jaw. The tremor is most obvious when you are at rest, and reduced when you are moving or sleeping.
• Stiffness (rigidity). This makes your limbs feel difficult to move.
• Slowness. Slow movement or an inability to move are common in people with Parkinson's disease. Walking may start with a hesitant step, followed by a shuffle without swinging the arms.

As different muscles become affected, symptoms that can develop include:

• problems with posture and balance - people with Parkinson's disease may fall backwards and have difficulty turning or getting out of a chair
• speech changes - speech may become soft or unvaried
• loss of facial expression - less smiling and frowning, slow blinking
• small handwriting
• problems with swallowing

Other symptoms that can develop are not related to movement. These can include:

• depression - around half of people with Parkinson's disease develop mild to moderate depression
• bowel and bladder problems - constipation is common and there may be a frequent need to urinate
• impotence
• sleep problems
• tiredness

First Question to surface: Am I dying from PD?, Do people die from PD?, What exactly is my medical state of being? Good questions, let's move right through all the crap and get to the heart of the matter.

We're sll dying, but do people die from PD? I have heard people have died, and Parkinson's was given as the cause of death.To be more to the point, I believe that people with PD usually die from a side effect of the disease, then from the disease itself. For example: a person might have choked to death, which could happen to a person with PD, because it becomes more difficult to swallow and choking happens much more often if you happen to have PD. To say PD is the reason for a person's death is rather ambiguous, and tells you very little. There are so many maladies that manifest along with the PD, it can make your head spin. Just taking the the amount of medication I do, every day of my life, has a tremendous effect on my entire being. So, as far as I can tell I am not dying from Parkinson's Disease, although it has had a pround impact on my day-to-day life!

Currently, my life is well, status quo. It seems that over the past year the progression of this progressive, degenerating disease, has accelerated. Falling is much more frequent although my days are pretty good, I move alright, although I am pretty much in my manual wheelchair a large part of the day. I don't get out as often as I used to. I choose to stay at home for a number of reasons: 1. I get fatigued much sooner then I did a few years ago. 2. My speech is so soft and so inarticulate most of the day, it's just easier to not have to communicate with anyone. 3. I no longer have a car, and even if I did, i just don't feel that comfortable driving.

Generally, nights are much more difficult. My body is in the "off"`stage more often then on, which means my body does not want to move, I get rigid, and basically uncomfortable. Going to bed has become a bit of an ordeal, seeing as how I cannot move at night, the wheelchair is downstairs, and the bedside urnal is at times difficult to manage. So, we have moved on the the "Condom Catheter", which allows me to sleep through the night without worrying about having to urinate (to much information?). I am not as yet totally proficient in putting the condom part on, so my wonderful partner has taken on yet another care giving activity that she had not planned on.

I hope that gives you all a better idea of Life with Barry. I must admit it does at times become overwhelming, and depressing. Most of you have know me for awhile, and a lot of you knew me when I had a spiritual practice. After many years in the perverbial desert, I found the right fit -- Judaism. It was the right time in my life, and I went for it. After a few years, the passion left, Buddhism took center stage, however, my health was getting worse, and I just could not focus on or maintain any practice. Why am I telling you thiis? Just to put it out I guess, regaining a daily practice; meditation, dharma study, would be a wonderful addition to my program.

What do i do with my day? Hang out on the computer, read books, occasionally watch a movie, I like going out for breakfast or lunch! I love a good game of chess, and on Monday's now, Annie Roberts comes over with her set of "bones" (Dominoes), and we proceed to play some very hot games. So, do not hesitate to write me a question, a comment, praise, criticism, and any suggestions.
And always remember 'If you don't have a sense of humor, it just ain't funny".

Namaste!

"

Poetry

Institution ain’t no solution

1978/79

I’m feeling sick,

I need to leave

Rosy plays with feces

As she clutches for my sleeve

Where the hell’s the key?

Lock the door

Blood trickles from Geoff’s ear

As he cracks his head against the floor

Archie’s breaking windows

Cutting up his wrist

Glen’s going stir crazy

So he lashes out with his fists

Hold that bastard down

Strap him to the bench

My visions getting foggy

I’m feeling nauseous from the stench

Do we know what they want

Can we give them what they need

Shall we modify their behavior

Or sit back and watch them bleed

Psychologist, psychiatrist,

Teachers and their aides

What function do they serve

besides that of janitors and maids

They wear institution clothes

Follow institution rules

They eat institution food

And become institution fools

So sleep my friend, no reason to arise

For the sun forsakes these wired windows

Bringing brightness to your eyes

Your body is trapped within these walls

Yet I know your soul soars free

So do your thing

Be the king

I hope you can pardon me

Fool in the garden

Or

Hotter then Blotter 78’

5/15/78

How incredibly confusing

and most certainly amusing

that my mind is always working

as the hand is always jerking

to reach that moment of release

to obtain some silence and some peace!

Confusion reigns supreme

as sewage burdens down the stream.

the halls are always cluttered,

what was it, it just muttered?

more rubbish I suppose

perhaps I'm better off with prose!

Clarity I scream

reality or a dream

is there choice or is it fate?

Am I too early or too late?

A confused and sorry state

It even hurts to masturbate!

Chant the Name and daily pray,

Say the yogi’s, it’s the way.

Lose your ego, gain salvation

release yourself of mental constipation,

for the mind is an illusion

which leads back to gross confusion!

Four days on the Rock

Preparation:

A few t-shirts, jacket, hats, toothbrush, lotion;

no books, no weed, no distractions, gonna go pure – wait a minute!

Let’s not forget my judgments, pre-conceptions and stereotypes.

That’s better, ready or not.

Registration:

Arrive at the ROCK mid-afternoon, check-in.

Staff sweet, friendly and helpful.

My own room, small but clean and adequate, very cool.

Checking out my new digs, beautiful scene, simple and yet perfect!

Judgments in good working order, teachers, fellow yogis – under control.

Day 1:

5:45 A.M.! ring bell for first sitting.

Yogis look like “night of the living dead” as they pass by en route to meditate.

The SILENCE is deafening! Sitting is not working,

what the fuck am I doing here?

The bell rings and we drag ourselves to breakfast,

no eye contact, no smiles, no coffee!

Time, plenty of bloody time. This is not going to work.

Day 2:

Restless, not sleeping; today is going to be better.

Eight strokes on the bell, felt good.

Sitting calmer, more focus, no talking suits me fine.

Walk to the meditation platform, lizards cover the earth and hawks the sky.

The sun smoothes the rough edges and the judgments start to fall away.

Day 3:

Felling right, like this! Sitting, drifting away, caught it and then away again.

Just watch, non attach, like this!

The voices are many and virtually non-stop and yet softer, less demanding, gentle.

Day 4:

Just the morning then back on the road, back home, back to the world.

Just four days on the ROCK! Perhaps next time I’ll go for ten!

Nightmare in Slow Motion

At my best,

I accept this challenge,

to live in the present,

experiencing each excruciating movement

as if I were a Zen Master, curious yet non-attached.

More often, I sit as a passive participant ,

observing my progressive, debilitating

nightmare in slow motion!

Reminders of who I once was,

as if alien starships striking at will.

All shield are down

and any resistance is futile!

Communication channels cease to function,

My arsenal of emotions remains –

anger, rage and fear.

Acceptance, tolerance, love and hope

fall victim to this ever expanding

black hole, this nightmare in slow motion.

I am a husband, a father, a brother, son, a friend, and soon to be Grandfather and I am loved!

But alas, the prison bars grow more visible.

So in the final analysis the question is –

am I the Zen Master or the inmate?

Light at the end of the tunnel – I think it’s the end ??

The prison bars swing open

and I am able to run not walk,

for I have been there and done that!

In the distance I can make out a light,

a second chance, a new beginning.

For it takes a keen eye and some brain surgery,

to recognize the difference between a dead end

and a false start!

Suicide by any other Name

I should have known, not the end, merely a sharp turn.

The light went out, the darkness descends once again.

I stand confused, fatigued, depressed and alone, always alone!

My nightmare returns with a new intensity.

Each step I take feels like a walk through wet cement.

Breathing is shallow, labored, fragile, and it KNOWS.

RUN, RUN, I shout into the emptiness;

and then I get just how absurd it all is.

Run, I can hardly move!

If I were not nearly paralyzed with fear,

I could have laughed in its face.

Immobile, inactive, imprisoned, I stand silent and incoherent.

In a desperate and impulsive effort to dispel the nightmare;

To put it to rest, to extinguish the light, to be finished!

I awake in a fog, people are talking, I hear but cannot see.

I am disembodied, neither here nor there.

Back to oblivion, back to sleep, to rest, to dream.

When I once again awake, I am informed of my attempted suicide!

In the end, it matters not whether you win or lose,

but how you play the game,

we hold the light, we have the spark,

suicide by any other name.

In Praise of Life!

Praise to the waters falling from the skies

Praise to the beauty which brings a tear to the eyes

Praise to the Brother who so sweetly plays the saxophone

Praise to the magic hidden within the stone

Praise to remembering that the divine and I are one

Praise to the flowers which open to the sun

Praise to the wonder of our children being born

Praise to the glory of the blowing of the horn

Praise to Father Eagle, Mother Fox, Brother Bear

Praise to Sister Cat, Brother Elk, Sister Hare

Praise to those who thrive in water, fly the currents,

walk or crawl upon the land

Praise to the ring of love which is always on my hand

Praise to dreams at bedtime, or in the middle of the day

Praise to sleeping soundly, or rolling in the hay

Praise to the joy of reading books of facts or fancy,

of inspiration, books of peace

Praise to organic gardens, to conscious eating,

engageing in the feast

Praise to a healthy future, without pollution, hate or greed

Praise to the Great Turning, to future generations,

to planting of the seed

Praise to these feeling of connection, of gratitude, of awe

Praise to my body, whole, complete,

without blemish, without flaw

Praise to friends and family, to daughter, son and wife

Praise to Mother Gaia, to HaShem – to Love –to Life!

What is Love ?

Love is what remains

after it's been used for the umpteenth time,

Like an old rag, rinsed out, squeezed,

and still gets it clean.

Love is the long work,

the long haul,

Long after the spit and polish

no longer retains it's shine.

Love is present, regardless

of recognition or thank you.

Love is a lifetime,

no ego, no strings, no conditions.

Love is so easy when it's all good,

When the shit hits the fan,

Love is what stays the night,

like a lighthouse guides you to a safe port.

Love is only superficially

about physical attention, frivolity and joy

Love is what sticks, it is the glue

That can mend the broken shards of this world.

The on-going tales of Izzy Ben Trouble

The following on-going tales of Izzy Ben Trouble are completely fictious. I hope you enjoy them.

The on-going tales of Izzy Ben Trouble

PI

Chapter I

It was another overcast, rainy morning, could have been a blizzard outside. I rolled into the office about 8 a.m., which is generally, when I start my day. The aroma of rich, strong, organically grown joe hit my nostrils as soon as I entered. My partner, Anna Marie Advocate, had started a fresh pot just minutes before I rolled through the door. My name for the record is Izzy Ben Trouble (son of trouble).

As I was saying it was an overcast, cold, and rainy day in our fair city. I pulled up to my desk, hunkered over my rather ragged and aged PC, and began my daily routine. Checking email, checking appointments, egads! I had an appointment this very morning with the Mayor, in just 45 minutes. Was I ready to meet with him? Was I suitably attired? Did I even have an inkling of an idea as to what this meeting was about?

No time to think, time to act! I rolled to the mirror in the agency hallway and took a minute to examine myself. Brown slacks, linen long sleeve beige dress shirt, Jerry Garcia flamboyant necktie, brown slip-on loafers, and to top it off, my topper (a finely styled light brown fedora). Okay, I look fine, no I looked better then fine, I looked very cool. Now, what are we meeting about? Just be yourself, be kick back, be cool. No prob, I’ve been in these zapatas’ before.

At 9:00 a.m., sharp! The Mayor announces his presence at the front desk. I roll out to greet him, “Sam, how ya doin, good to see you”, Sam takes my hand in a strong, manly grip, “Izzy, it’s good to be seen”. We move back into our small office, Sam takes a seat and says “Izzy I’m glad we’re meeting, we have a big problem”, and I think to myself, 'what do you mean we kemosahbee’, but say instead, “how about giving me some additional details, Sam”, “Well it seems like we have a disgruntled employee, who has been with us now for”, he scratches his chin, “for about 15 years or so”. Sam continues, “Up until recently she has been a very hard working, cooperative employee, all of sudden she claims we have been taking more money out of her checks then we should have, for the past 15 years; well over $100,000 so far”. “Phew, 100 grand is a lot of bread” I mutter. Sam, gets up from his chair and paces our small digs, smiles to himself and says, “I’m putting this case in your very capable and competent hands Izzy, it’s your baby now”, and with that Sam strides out the door, waving as he exits, in a rather rapid fashion.

Chapter II

“My baby now, man I hate when I get rabbit punched”, I rolled to the doorway, where the hell was Anna Marie, “ANNA” I barked, but received no acknowledgement. Damn, I hope she’s not toking on the job, not that I have anything against California’s most lucrative cash crop, it just seems to cloud ones focus, and NOW was a time where the necessity to focus was called for.

As I sat pondering the nature of the universe and blocking the doorway oblivious to the issues at hand, I was abruptly brought back to the present as Anna Marie waltzed back into to our office, “what’s shakin Izz?”, “ain’t nothin shakin but the leaves in the trees, and they wouldn’t be shakin if there were no breeze”, I replied automatically. “I got sucker punched by Sam Spanish this morning” I said as Anna Marie sat down at her desk and picked up her phone. “Really”, she said absentmindedly. “Ya, one minute he was his usual congenial self and the next POW, he hits me with a real doozey” She replaces the phone back its cradle, “wow”, is all she can say. “Can you dig that?” I s aid, now regaining my focus as well as my irritation. “Man I hate when I get bitch slapped”, I angrily wined. “Hold on sailor” Anna Marie says her ire now aglow “let’s keep our tongues gender neutral”. “Sorry sugar, you know sometimes I just lose it, forgive me?”. “How could I ever be angry with you, you mass of molten mush”, Anna Marie comes over, sits on my lap and gives me a very sweet, very moist, and certainly more then a working relationship smooch.

That’s what I love about my job, the camaraderie, the team spirit, the desire to do a good job, not to mention the exqisite scenery!

Chapter III

♪Crusin down the highway feelin alright today, all got with me is my faith in Jesus to show me every step of the way, sticks can’t burn me, fire can’t turn me away from my rock n’ roll road, I’ve got a rainbow round my beautiful face and I’m living in a pot of gold♫; “truer words were never spoken or sung as the case may be”. “Driving is my passion, sweet Jesus I love it”. “Of course some of my friends are a wee bit hesitant to get in the passenger seat of my 1968 metallic blue convertible Chevy Malibu”. “This dream boat is a major cruise mobile”.

I’m on my way across town to check out this problem child of which Sam made reference to just moments ago in my office. “Let’s see, the address is, damn, I need to take more time writing down messages, 3115 High Times Ave., I think? Ms. Wanda Wonder”, Probably some little ole’ lady who gets a rush from pissing off the state. There it is, to my left surrounded by massive redwoods and an unmistakable smell of decay, an old dilapidated, yet at an earlier time in history, a very fine and respectable mansion. I pulled my Malibu into the driveway and put the brakes on. Getting out of any vehicle with your chariot in the back seat is a major pain in the rear, but as my Guru John Lennon said, “life is what happens when your busy making other plans”.

Let me let you cats in on the buzz about my chair, my quickie, my chariot if I you will. This little chair is very light, durable and as it’s name implies, Quick! It also looks very cool, which by now you’ve probably figured out, is a necessary criteria for anything associated with Izzy Ben Trouble. I proceeded to wheel to the front door, having a rather medieval look about it. Being unable to reach the doorbell or the large ornate knocker, I unsheathed my awesomely crafted rosewood walking stick; I like to refer to it as my whacking shillelagh, which I carried with me for largely sentimental reasons. It does have its practical applications however. With a singleness of purpose I stabilized myself and addressed the door with a very sound”knock, knock, knock”.

It seemed like a lifetime before a disheveled old guy sporting an old crumpled suit came to the door. “May I help you, Sir”, he mumbled barely audible, “Ya, I’m here to see Ms. Wonder, is she in”, I said rather irritably, “Are you expected”, “Expected, uh, ya, sure, of course I am”. “Then follow me if you will”. Man this dude was right out of an old Shirley Temple movie. My first challenge was getting up and over the step and into the entranceway. “Hey buddy, could you give me a hand”. He was not at all pleased by my pedestrian request, he rolled his tired and saggy eyes, heaved heavily and silently directed me around the side of the house, where I was able to enter the kitchen with no additional assistance. I was led though a labyrinth of rooms until he finally turned to me and said “I will tell the Lady of the House you are awaiting her presence”. With that he spun around and left me in a very musty yet comfortable room which if I had to guess, I would say was a library. Overstuffed chairs and piles of books; books on shelves, on tables, and stacked on the floor. Obviously, this Ms. Wonder had an appetite for literature. “Hmmm, let’s see, The Collective Unconscious, by Carl Jung, The Mystical Tree of Life, by Rabbi Zalman Schacter Shalomi, Tantric Sex and the joy the of becoming One, by Wanda Wonder, PhD. “Ya man, Tantric Sex, I’ve heard about that stuff”! Just then this absolutely gorgeous creature entered the library, “Mr. Trouble I presume”, extending her long alabaster white arm towards me. I took her hand and without thinking at all, lightly brushed her hand with my lips. “Charmed”, she said with the sweetest most innocent of smiles. “This can’t be the same doll that’s allegedly attempting to soak the City”, I muttered to myself, but to her I stuttered “ya, me too, I mean ah, what you just said, I think”. What happened to the Offay, the hepster? The cat who is never at a loss for excellent one-liners, who is, and I say this with all modesty, a babe magnet! How do I regain my footing?

Chapter IV

That smile was boring into my heart, my soul, my very essential being. To say that this vision of absolute perfection was putting a deep six on my otherwise uncommon ability to stay focused under the most trying circumstances, was though highly unlikely, true none the less. Wanda Wonder had taken the wind from my sails, my get-up-and-go got up and left, it’s a good thing I was sitting down, because if I were able to stand my knees would surely have buckled.

Get a grip Izz, focus! Why are you here? “You are Wanda Wonder, PhD., author, and an ex-employee of the Mayor’s office”, I said weakly. This ridiculous question elicited a bit of a chuckle, yet chuckle was much too mundane a word to describe Wanda’s reaction. It was far more subtle, it was in fact down right sexy. In fact every movement, every inanimate object which somehow or other came into play with Wanda, took on a sensual quality. She was at least in my star struck eyes, a 10+ on a scale of 10. This duchess was Fifth Avenue all the way.

So what’s $100,000 to the City, a drop in the bucket, granted it would require a fairly large bucket – obviously Sam had never met Ms. Wonder ‘in the flesh’ so to speak.

“I am all of the above”, her words seductively rolled across my idiotic like stare, and I slowly returned to the present. “Yes, well I’m investigating a claim by the Mayor’s office, regarding your alleged claim of being short changed”, I blurted out in a single breath. Wanda rose from where she had been sitting and slowly made her way towards me. All of a sudden I broke out in a cold sweat, which was not usual for me, I was known to always keep my composure, to keep my cool, however, this was a horse of an entirely different color. She stopped right in front of me and to my great astonishment and a touch of embarrassment; she produced a handkerchief from her very sheer and erotic sleeve and wiped my forehead, then my face, and the back of my neck. “My poor dear, you’re going to soak your very expensive and shall I be so bold as to say it, your very attractive attire”.

She had me at “My poor dear”.

Chapter V

Back at the office, my trustworthy and formidable partner, Anna Marie Advocate, was at the very moment equally distracted. A young stud who went by the moniker “Healing Hands” Henry, had walked through the door and immediately zeroed in on Anna. “Why is a beautiful dame like you not in the healing hands of Henry Humble right now?” Anna brushed off this inane and insulting remark, looked Henry straight on, and said “you’re barking up the wrong tree sailor”, to which Henry replied “I’ll mark every tree in the forest for you babe”.

Even though this guy was crude, rude and stewed, Anna Marie had to admit to herself that there was a certain primal animal like attraction. “Is there some business you’re here about”? Henry just stood there and had this “ya, I got business” kind of look. Anna Marie did not take her eyes off of Healing Hands Henry and thought to herself, “why not, he could be a bit of fun”, of course it would have to be discrete, Izzy could not find out. Anna Marie walked slowly around the desk that separated one from the other. Absentmindedly she unbuttoned the top button on her already revealing low cut blouse. “Why is it your called Healing Hands”?

Chapter VI

Wanda was now sitting on my lap and had a mouth lock on my face. Maybe she was bi-polar and she’s currently in her manic phase? I needed to regain the upper hand, I needed to be back in control, I needed to breathe! “Ms. Wonder, Wanda, please a bit of restraint”. I gradually disentangled myself from this woman that had a face like an angel, and the fury of a banshee. I wanted so much to be able to let myself go, to get lost in the fire, to let this extraordinary creature do with me what she will. But, then there was the JOB, pride, integrity and a commitment to what’s right!

“Ms. Wonder, please try and restrain those overwhelming, lustful impulses”, She was on me again with full force, tearing at my very expensive 100% linen shirt, unbuckling my . . . . . . . oh my dear LORD! I let myself disappear into the moment, I no longer could distinguish where I ended and Wanda began.

I awoke dazed & bewildered! What was most bizarre was that I was sitting in the passenger seat of my Chevy Malibu, my chair folded and tucked away in the back seat. Was this all a dream, had I actually met this mysterious Ms. Wanda Wonder? Or, what was becoming a much more possible explanation; I had just a taste more then I needed of that ’Humboldt Honey’, and had spent the better part of an afternoon doing things to myself I don’t even want to remember!

I straightened myself up as best I could, transferred to the driver’s seat and got the hell out of wherever I was, as quickly as was humanely possible.

Chapter VII

Almost broke the automatic door as I careened recklessly through the front doors of our agency, no hello’s, no what’s shakin, just needed the comfort and solitude of my own little sanctuary, my own …. “HERE HE IS”, “WHERE YA BEEN BABE”? “LOOKS LIKE YOU SLEPT IN YOUR CLOTHES, YUK, YUK”. My sanctuary which was so desperately needed at present for my very fragile mental health; had vanished, in it’s place were bodies, large, loud bodies, eating, drinking, and laughing. Not your normal kind of laugh, but rather loud, obnoxious, penetrating laughter.

“What’s wrong Izz, are you alright? Frankly you look like shit”. Anna Marie, my Anna Marie was standing right in front of my shaking, sweating, non-composed being, hands on hips, looking down at me with a bit of a smile turning to concern. “What are all these people doing in our office hon?”, I whispered. “It’s a celebration! For you dumb-ass”. “huh” was all I could utter. “You’ve been named PI of the Year, congratulations”, Anna Marie leaned over and in so doing gave me an all expansive view of Perfection, and laid a nice long wet one on me.

What I needed was a drink, a smoke, and somewhere to rest my head, and hopefully return to a world that made sense!.0

Chapter VIII

I managed to endure the celebration, the endless back slapping, the hugs, kisses, hand shakes; “Good work Izz, you’re the man”. Thanks Sam, I’ll try and live up to whatever it is I’m supposed to live up to”. “Jesus man, you look like you’ve been put through the proverbial ringer”, Sam said. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Sam”. “wouldn’t have anything to do with Wanda Wonder?”. Wanda Wonder, Wanda Wonder, I wish I knew. Sam grabs his coat and topper, “I’m history, talk to you on Monday, Izzy, get some rest, man you need it”. “Later dude, on the futha brotha, dig this buzzzzz my man – if it’s slick on the righteous I’ll book and check it out; ah hell with it, see you Monday Izz”. “Your one very strange cat, Sam, could be the Twinkie thing”.

Finally, the office was quiet and I could sort out my thoughts. I rolled to my desk, opened the bottom right drawer and removed a small silver flask, unscrewed the top and took a long slow draw. Typically this practice would be unacceptable in the workplace, but it’s my story, and we’ll hear no more about that! Ummm, that’s good, next to my passion for driving, my adoration of the opposite sex, and my intuitive need to do what’s right, is my romance with Jameson’s Irish Whiskey. The perfect world consist of a beautiful ride, a gorgeous dame, a bowl packed with some sweet black sticky stuff, and a tall snifter of Jameson’s over. The mystical Irish elixir was working it’s magic, I was starting to unwind, when my tele rang “Ben Trouble here”, I answered, “Izzy, could I see you for a moment?” “Be right in”.

I popped a breath mint and rolled out of my office and down the hall to the office of Ms. Shady Lane.

“Hey Shady”

“What’s shakin Izz”

“There ain’t nothing shakin . . . “ “What’s up Shady”

Shady was a woman in her early 60’s, in great shape, and was not afraid to show it. Standing up slowly so as to give me time to take in her magnificently sculpted body, wearing a long flowing
African styled dress, she moved around me and closed the door to her office. Sitting back down on the edge of her desk, revealing a portion of her long slender leg, Shady said “how long have we known each other Izz?”
“Ten years, give or take, I imagine”
“Ten years, where does the time go?” She casually lit a cigarello, “Izzy, I’ve always been straight with you, haven’t I?”
“I’ve always believed so” “what’s up Shady”
“I’m tired Izz, I want, I need a long break, I need to get out of Dodge. and well, I want you to accompany me”.
Damn, I was completed blind sided. What exactly did my boss have in mind? Pretty interesting life for a crip hmm? At least I felt in control, this conversation promised if nothing else, a very stimulating and provocative discussion. The Jameson’s was moving up through my legs, expanding across my chest and leaving me with a warm relaxed and confident demeanor. I leaned over Shady’s desk helping myself to one of her cigarello’s, in so-doing I kind of unintentionally brushed my hand over her long statuesque leg. Nothing was said, but neither did she remove or try to cover up that exposed, voluptuous appendage.

Chapter IX

Shady leaned over to give me a light, she gave me at no extra charge a splendid peak at her more then ample cleavage. “What da ya say Izz, interested”. Leaning back, nonchalantly wiping the perspiration from my brow, while at the same time desperately trying to maintain a calm, unruffled, and most importantly – a cool disposition –

“Listen Shady (clearing my throat)”, what did I think about her proposition! Cool was fading fast, panic was pulling out in front – another of my spiritual teachers, ‘Guru Garagekey’ (Guru G for short) had taught me that “COOL” was merely a state of mind – Guru G put it like this “You must be totally aware of what state your in – who knows, it might be Idaho, Texas or maybe even Mississippi! – Unfortunately, any of these three states mentioned will not bring you to ‘COOL’, as a matter of fact you might end up at the end of a rope”. Guru G paused to let the weight of that sink in and then he continued, “It is essential to center your being – quiet your mind – focus on your breath and remain unattached to the parade of thoughts which pass before your mind’s eye. No Blame, if you lose yourself, simply come back to your breath once you realize you were off somewhere other then NOW!

To become one with COOL – to think COOL – to be COOL, become Hawaii, California, or Washington, these are COOL states”. “Be Here Now, Get here Later – who cares, NO BLAME!”

Guru G, what a guy!

“Izzy, Izzy, hello anybody home”, Shady gently slapped my face “Izz, Jesus, it’s not if I’m asking you to marry me for god sakes”. Shady stood up, pulled her dress down and seated herself behind her desk. “thanks for dropping in Izzy, we’ll talk later”

“ah c’mon Shady, ya kinda took me by surprise, and well I kinda fell into an altered state, one minute I was here, the next I was sitting with Guru G”

Shady was also a one-time disciple of the G-man, and at the mention of his name got this far away look and said in a husky whisper “Guru G, what a guy”. Years ago when the two of us were both following the G-man, kissing his feet, serving him tea and laughing at all of his jokes, the gossip among his faithful was that Shady was doing more then his feet, but then those were the days my friend, we thought they would never end, and you know the rest of that one.

“Those were some good times, huh Izz”?

“They were indeed Shady”, “so tell me about this get-away, its becoming more appealing the more I think about it”.

Chapter X

Man, I was ready to call it a day, pack it in, blow this popsicle stand, make like a banana and split, and it was only 3 p.m. Back at my PC, surfing the web, when the tele rang; “Ben-Trouble here, how may I assist you”,

“Mr. Ben-Trouble, my name is Russell Rivers the IV and I believe I am in need of some assistance”.

“Well Mr. Rivers, you called the right number, what seems to be the problem”, I said propping my feet on my very expensive, highly polished oak antique roll-top desk”

“Yes, that’s actually a bit complicated to explain over the phone, and we don’t know who might be ease-dropping on this conversation, doooo we Mr. Trouble?”

“Ben-Trouble”, I corrected him.

“Yes of course, do forgive me”

“The thing is Mr. Rivers (Rivers, Russell Rivers – Russian Rivers, somehow I did not think Rivers would find this little word play at all as humorous, as interesting as I did in the moment), um, ah, I need something to go on, so as to decide weather or not I want to take your case, if you catch my drift, if you can get down with it, if . . . ”

“Right you are, perfectly reasonable, and all that rut; what say we meet at some public establishment preferably where they might have something resembling a real pint of beer, where we can discuss this in person”, Rivers replied with the slightest trace of what sounded to me like one of those pompous, wimpy, aristocratic, British accents.

“Let’s take a look at the ole’ calendar”, I started to say,

but he quickly responded, “Mr. Ben-Trouble, I am in somewhat of a rather sticky wicket you see! I would prefer as soon as possible, like maybe, today? Holy Mother of God, I said to myself, sticky bloody wicket indeed thought I.

“Right, ok- -ayyyyy”, I peeked at my time piece, “what about 5-ish, at the Rose, know where that is?”

“Yes, yes, that’s grand, thanks much mate, ta”, River replied in what now could only be described as thick cockney accent, like some bloke fresh from the Liverpool docks.

What’s the dang deal here, I muttered in a somewhat frustrated and tired whine.

I buzzed the front desk, “helloooo babyyyyy” I bellowed into the receiver.

“what’s the good word Izz”, came the sweet voice of our office manager, Erma Rozales, “Erma, might you happen to know the whereabouts of the woman who supposedly works with me”, I said with just the slightest hint of irritation.

“you know Anna Marie, could be anywhere”, Erma said with a laugh. “I’ll see if I can track her down”.

“Has anyone ever told you how absolutely delicious you are Erma” I said as I hung up the receiver.

As I was getting myself organized before leaving for the day as well as preparing for my rather spontaneous, queer and urgent meeting with Russian Rivers (don’t worry, it’s just between the two us), the illusive, hyper and passionate Anna Marie Advocate appeared beside my desk. At that moment I was crouched down in my chair looking for a pen I had dropped on the floor, my eyes scanned the floor, left to right, until BAM! There were these gorgeous pair of legs blocking any further view of the floor to my right. My eyes followed those sumptuous legs upwards, taking in every inch of this orgasmic feast for the eyes. Upwards to the hem of the white leather mini-skirt which barely reached to the top of those exquisite perfectly tanned thighs. Upwards following those sensuous curves, past the petit flat stomach, and then to be completely overwhelmed by the grandeur of the more then ample chest, “What’s shakin boss”? Anna Marie said seductively.

“You tart, how do you get away with dressing like that for work”, I managed to get out in a rather breathy voice.

Anna Marie laughed heatedly and said “hell Izz, would you have it any other way”?

I smiled, licked my lips and proclaimed “not a chance sugar, not a chance”.

Chapter XI

Finally rolled out of the office, time was just about 4:30 p.m., 30 minutes until I met with Mr. Russell Rivers IV, was I ready? No bloody way! I needed something to bring me back to Terra Firma, something to ground me, something like hmm, like the GONGE, a spleef, a dube, a reefer! I pulled my baby over to the curb, put on the break and pulled my stash out of the glove compartment. Whipped out a paper, some bud my mini grinder, and in less time then you can say MARIJUANA, I had a skunky smelling, sweet tasting J – ready to be fired up.

I put flame to herb, took a long slow draw, held the smoke for just awhile and exhaled into a much more tolerable dimension. Ready for hit #2, when the cell chirped, can’t get away from responsibility! “Ben Trouble, here”, “Yo Man” came the reply. “Yo Man”, I echoed back, which was part of a ritual which my good buddy Gordoni Hungario, and I indulged in. Gordoni was a bit eccentric, but then who wasn’t? Gordoni, among his many talents and trades, sold gourmet cigars. This cat was always up for a good time and I anticipated that this phone call was just for such a purpose.
“What’s shakin Izz” Gordoni boomed on the other end, “My man, you got-a know what’s shakin”, I answered while taking another toke,

“Izz, I got a very interesting proposition for you”, “I’m all ears”

“OK, you sitting down”, we both cracked up, “do I have a choice”, I said through tears of laughter, trying to catch my breath and recover from my coughing fit. “Izz, why don’t you come over after work, bar-b-que, chess, scrabble, I hear tell there’s a woman who wants to meet your acquaintance”, “Wasn’t planning on bringing my acquaintance with me”, I said busting up again. This is generally the way many of our conversations went. “I’ll talk with the ole’ lady see what’s she’s up to, get back to you soon” I responded.

“Sweet, stay cool Izz”, “Cool my man, is a way of being”

The herb, the banter with Gordoni, and just the right CD! And presto, a new and refreshed Izzy. The CD, Hmm, here we are, Robert Kraft, one very cool and mellow cat, Café Society. Ya man, rock me. Now that I was in an optimum state, meeting with this Mr. Russell Rivers, did not float my boat. Need to call the bloke and set the terms; 1. We meet when it’s convenient for me, 2. After hour’s meetings do not work, 3. First meeting, ALWAYS occurs in my office, Anyway, I’m still involved in the investigation of a Ms. Wanda Wonder, which is more then enough for just about any normal Cat, not to mention an evening with Mr. Hungario and friends.

Chapter XII

Thanks Mr. Rivers, glad we understand each other, right I’m sure Ms. Vista will take care of all your concerns; ta, cheers”.
Boy I hope Vista is copacetic with my sending Rivers, her way. Vista, just Vista, no last name, is a very dear friend, and one very hot dish. She’s a journalist by trade, and now moonlighting as a PI. Guess I should let her know what to expect. I believe, ah yes, here it is! (phone ringing) “Hello, what can I do you for”, Vista said seductively, “What’s shakin, doll face”? “Izzy, honey, where you been hiding”? “Workin, babe, just working hard”. “Ah sweet lips, Vista’s got just what a hard working man needs”. “You’re a naughty girl, listen Vista, I just wanted to for-warn you about this guy, I kind of referred to you, he’s kind of a "Jeff”. “A Mr. Russian River”? “One and the same, he got to you pretty darn fast”. “Not to worry baby, I appreciate the referral, whatever the reason, anyhow, this could prove to be very interesting”. “You’re the best Vista, I promise to get together real soon”. “Always have time for you Izz”.

Chapter XIII

Now that Rivers boat was un-tethered, my agenda was open for the remainder of the day. A quick stop at my pad, a quick splash, a change of threads, and a refill for the bowl. Time to hit Gordino’s blow. He and his main squeeze Dell, had just purchased their new digs. A very cool abode it was and an excellent place to let it all hang, and explore your inner workings.

Pulled into the driveway with Rusted Root cranking from the CD. I was ready for whatever might present itself. Swinging my legs outward, I reached in the back seat to grab my locomotion, positioned myself and closed the door. Before I had entered the house I was sat upon by one very attractive doll, who was al ready somewhat bent. After a rather long wet smooch, I was able to catch my breath and only then did I realize the sweet thing on my lap was my dear friend Tammy Laeo. Which did make sense in that these long and sumptuous lip locks were an on-going treat between Tammy and myself. Y’all should try it, it’s a great way to start or for that matter end an evening.

Inside the pad, it took me awhile to locate the host of this blowout, Gordoni Hungario. "Excuse me, rolling through", quite a crowd, I said to no one in particular. " Gang Way, crip on the make", I bellowed, to which I received some very interesting stares. "Izz, my man", now we be getting down! It was of course none other then the hippest cat (next to yours truly), the funniest joe around these parts, the ultimate piperino, Gordoni Hungario. Gordoni scooped me up in his arms and gave me the Gordoni
special, a giant bear hug and a big, wet. sloppy honey cooler. "My dear Sir, I sputtered in mock humiliation, please be so kind as to put me back in my chair". Gordoni just laughed more robustly, put me down, and went hunting for another bottle of hooxh.

I have to admit that this joint had a great many fine looking dames. I made my way over to get something to wet my whistle. Was successful, looked up from my drink with a bit of a good buzz going, to my utter disbelief, standing right in front of me was the wickedly wonderful, Wanda Wonder!

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