Teradži, Avgusto 27, 2008

I know that I am not the first person to say it but there is something perverse about fruit. In the same vein there is also something quite perverse about hippies. My first client of the day had actually tried to schedule time with me yesterday but could not. I was too busy dropping a friend off at prison while fantasizing about righteous and moral agriculturalists to take his call, and Elizabeth told him that a friend of mine had been in a minor car accident and needed my attention. Good enough as lies go but she could have just told him that I was unavailable that day and that my advertisement had been accident. In any case the client scheduled for today and when I saw him I knew that I was in for something a little bit different than average. He was an aging hippie and the sort that had moved on from rainbow colored hemp to cowboy boots and denim shirts with bolero ties. He spoke with that slow hippie accent that they all seem to have regardless of where they come from, and his overall build could best be described as lithe and firm but bonelike. His cologne consisted of various essential oils from the local apothecary and he made sure to let me know exactly which oils he was wearing and what cosmic (cosmic, not cosmetic) benefits they imparted. In other words he was the typical man for this area and like most men of his sort he began going on about feminine energies and masculine energies and how his energies were so very masculine and in need of a feminine counterpart. He went on to say that he could tell just from looking at me that I was just dripping with universal feminine energies and that this made me a very soft and gentle person, just the sort of soft and gentle person that his ripe and abundant masculine energies had been looking for all this time.

If you say so, hippie dude.

Once the initial pleasantries were finished with he stripped down to his man thong, a flattering black garment that left just enough to the imagination. He told me that it was hand-made and ordered from a special custom website. He said that all the undergarments he owned came from these particular tailors. He was very thrilled about his underwear. This meant that I had to pretend to be just as thrilled about his underwear as he was and so I spent a good ten minutes ooohing and aaahing over the seams and the cut as he strutted about atop his very long legs, sticking out his ass and waving it from side to side as though he were the sex worker and I was the ass-hungry client. There was not much in the way of masculine energies about him as far as I could tell though who am I to judge. What one person considers altogether feminine another may see as the ultimate expression of masculine liberation. I used to dig on theoretical gender philosophies quite a bit and so working for him was turning out to be quite enjoyable, from a theoretical standpoint at least.

Most of the session happened in the shower and most of the session seemed focused on hygeine. He washed me and I washed him and then I washed his hair. Afterward there was some fucking but he still seemed far more thrilled about being groomed, so I ran various care products through his coarse grey hair while we discussed the merits of Joseph Campbell and western interpretations of buddhism. I took the time to flex my own theological muscles a bit and gave him quite the good introduction speech to gnosticism before the conversation turned to the less high minded but no less interesting topic of where to find good local pizza. Perhaps the best part of the hour was when he asked me what I liked. I did not have a good answer just then and so I told him that I liked puppies. It was just meant to be a cute little joke but he took it like the eager client he was and started nuzzling up on me while whimpering and barking like a pup. I could not help but laugh and he seemed to enjoy the reaction. Some nuzzling and petting was had before it was time for him to go, at which point he made sure to let me know that he was not in the practice of objectifying women. It was not something that he did. I smiled and thanked him for his enlightened attitude, and after he left I counted out the cash he had paid me with.

The rest of the day was uninteresting and after my hours were up I went home. I was exhausted and in a vague funk but determined to do some cooking for Jonah and so we hit up the market before returning home with multiple selections of different meats and produce, all of which went into the most amazing dumpling stew I have yet produced. Chicken and beef and pork and shrimp all went in, along with heaps of cabbage and carrots and soft potato dumplings. The spices added so much color that I had to marvel at how beautiful it wound up looking and it was a definite and good end to an otherwise exhausting time at work. It is interesting: when it is just me all by my lonesome I do great at work and enjoy it quite a bit, but once I know there is someone waitiing for me at home I lose that enthusiasm and work becomes something more like a chore. I guess the reason for that should be obvious.