It was the Damndest Thing

Yes, it was the damndest thing. Really.

I will try to fit the experience into the frame of words provided by English, which is not going to be easy. So be patient, OK?

First of all, Heidi read my first two posts and told me – she was in the middle of relieving me in the coffee shop, her practiced hand under the table but her eyes gazing into mine – and she knew that she had me, as Lyndon Johnson said, I read, by the balls, although he meant it one way and she meant it two.

So I read your posts, she said, moving easily into the stream of energy between us, using words on top of her slow gentle movements under the table which made the ceramic cups in their saucers tremble and make a little noise like a rhythm section for her orchestrated strokes, I read your posts, she said, and I have a suggestion or two.

By that time, she owned me. That I am learning is human to the hilt. When a woman has you that way, well … she has you.

Yes? I said, feigning interest in her words, but aware mostly of tumescence, an ascending arc of excitement on the coldest winter day of the year.

Yes, she said, and I understand your struggles, coming from … here she laughed, turning her head aside, although why I don’t know, because it wasn’t funny to me – coming from another system, as you told me a few days ago—

I do, I said, not liking the distraction mandated by having to think instead of surfing the wave of increasing pleasure.

The word a human like me might use, she laughed again, we humans, you know, being small-headed as we are—

It is not a moral failure, I said. You can’t help being at this point in space-time, to which you have evolved, even you Heidi can grasp that—

OK, there, she said. Her hand paused and I reached for it without thinking, with my thrust. That’s what I wanted to say. It’s the tone, you know, the approach, that might put people off. It is what we humans might call… here she paused, and her hand moved to the top of the knob and went around and around and around as I tried to remain upright in my chair, breathing in a different rhythm, the automatic human system taking over from my top-level intentions … insufferable, she concluded, then thrust her hand rapidly up and down and, sensing what she was doing, which was quickly advancing me toward a moment I am learning to crave and savor, paused at the top again and held on for dear life while inside my fashionable faded jeans, my prick bobbed and weaved as if it had a mind of its own—which, I am learning, it seems to have.

Oh? I said. And why is that?

It’s better to approach other humans on a level field, Heidi said. Then they can respond, they can listen when you share your wisdom and suggest how the universe looks to a more superior being, one like you were, once, with a brain with so many folds and lobes—

The multiverse. Not the universe, Heidi. The multiverse. Although that too is inaccurate, but it’s better than thinking the brane or skein on which you live in the bulk is the only one there is.

Skein. I like that.

Good. That was not insufferable, then?

Well, a little, perhaps. But not so much. Anyway, listen—I have an idea for your next post… but lets wait until you can listen. OK? She smiled with cunning, knowing I believe the ways of the flesh.

I nodded, which was about all I could do, because my new friend, this woman of experience I was starting to think, resumed her stroke like a piston, hard but not too, and within minutes, the preface of my denims was stained for the moment a darker more intense color than the faded blue around it.

I slumped in my chair and closed my thighs as my organ diddled a few more times, then sank again into the pouch which contained it.

Good enough? she gave me her smile, which I was learning to like.

Uh-huh, said me, a spent-for-the-moment visitor from the stars.

She sipped her two-shot very foamy whole-milk latte, licked the foam from her lower lip, and said, OK then. I suggest that you contact or receive or transceive, whatever, the wisdom of the multiverse—better?

Yes.

In a more human way. In a way that humans might use, see, because humans are selfish, and self-interested, period, you know. We do think we are at the center of everything.

I am noticing that, I laughed. Even you.

Even me. Right. So say it as if you are sharing something we can understand.  Or want. Or might be able to adapt. You see what I mean?

Now, there’s an idea, I said, feigning enthusiastic zest, humoring her because she had “gotten me off” as some humans say. Do you understand what I mean by that phrase, you  humans who are reading this?

But her words must have percolated into my human brain, which I thought of, and still think of, like a shrunken head I saw on the internet, a human head but very teensy-weentsy, hung by its long hair which apparently does not shrink when they do what they do to the head to make it small. And that very night, as I sat in my bed, tired but not quite ready to sleep, I played relaxing music on my pad, which through its primitive buds  amplified itself into my human brain, and—listen, now—this is what surprised me.

I was not trying to do anything at all, don’t you see. I was only listening, and after a few songs—they went on automatically down a list, chosen for me by spotify, for which I was thinking, thank you, inanimate automated process, despite how much you fuck over musicians who are doomed to make a living some other way, thanks to you, and you wonder why they wait for your special bus on the Bay and rock it when it stops, trying to tip it the fuck over?

But I digress. By the third or fourth song, something had happened for which I was unprepared. I was in the space between my ears which felt like space itself, a vast blackness expanding until it filled the void, the void itself it was, it was like an open-ended emptiness of sorts, but somehow as the music played, I was out there in it, and of it, and it was endless, so it seemed, and the very framework of my mind, the parameters generated by my small human brain, shot to the heights and depths thereof, and I was aware of listening, but listening not only to music or even to the music, I was aware of listening to whatever was being said, far and away, here and there, everywhere, not as whispers but as clear communication, and when the song ended, for end it did, when the music stopped, and the blackness contracted to nothingness again, I knew I had done about as well as a human could to approximate what I tried to say yesterday about the signal in the noise. The noise had stopped, you see, there was noiselessness instead, and a bright silver signal shining in the dark.

Because I was so surprised, I did not try to grasp it. That I think is important for humans to understand. And in that moment, I was as human as I am likely to get. To grasp it would destroy it, bring it down, make it crash. The task I somehow knew was not to try to control it but to let it use or move me.  I had to ride it, I had to surf that silver signal, I mean, or let it do what it meant to do. If I seized it with my mind, with metaphorical grasping hands, it would melt through my fingers as they closed, going liquid and dripping onto the floor and making an unsightly little puddle.

So a human can hear it after all. That was a revelation about your primitive species. A human in some moments, as long as it neither tries, nor gets a-hold of the damn thing, nor exerts itself, but just sits back in the rocking chair of its soul as it were and lets it be, a twenty-first century human can hear it a little, and that’s a beginning. That’s what we meant to spawn, long ago, and ever since, when we taught Sumerians several important things, lost now in the rivers of time, but that’s OK. That’s OK Pat. Losing? I don’t mind. That’s the way they say it, which is funny, because obviously they do mind, a lot.

Damn it! See, that’s what happens, my human-like mind starts thinking of important things or trivial things, that part is irrelevant,. it’s thinking at all that takes me back to the nothing stream of automatic noise from inside the mind itself which most call daily life.  

So that was the damndest thing, because it was unexpected. I had not realized that humans could do that. So I was abashed. That was a new feeling. And I wanted to be back there, but that desire killed it, of course, that was it for one night, and I turned off the pad and went to sleep.

So that’s my post today. Tomorrow, I hope, if her schedule at kiosk and then the massage place allows for another meeting, and she hasn’t got a video to make, I will ask her how it felt, to her, was it insufferable or a little bit better?

And besides, while she tells me what she thinks, perhaps she will pleasure me once more, which the traces in my brain say I am sort of expecting every day now, the traces are etched so deeply now, the imprint goes so deep so quickly, so now that pleasure is what I want, off and on, on and off, over and over again, I want to get off a minimum of once and maybe two or three times, every damn day.

I guess that must be human too. Sex and thinking seem to be what humans excel at, although thinking? Not so much.