Entry XLIII--Gestalt

Seems like most of the battle is won with this whole squeezing a cult into a Haight Ashbury railroad flat--rooms have finally been settled on.
COULD HAVE THIS BE CONCLUSION OF PREVIOUS SCENE

Think it worked out as best it could, as far as all possible combinations of roomies, about as compatible as it gets.

Anna and Dita...both young professionals, one a nurse, the other a physicist.

Simon and Doc...both on the quiet side, both doctors, one of traditional medicine, the other of theoretical physics and applied nanotechnology...

Eliza and Gina...there may be something more going on there than just mere roomies...but that's their story to write.

And last but certainly not least, Ben and Palmer. Both are gregarious and generally outgoing. Frankly Palmer could bunk with anyone--or with no one, which probably would be preferable, given his raw kinetic, sometimes manic energy bursts. Still, if he's going to live in the same room with anyone, it may as well be Ben, who spends more time in his computer lab than he does here--or anywhere else.


Up late watching a DVD a reader sent me; it's about the connections between the religious right and the assassination of RFK. Fascinating stuff; I wasn't aware of this aspect of the conspiracy. Sure I knew all along that Sirhan cat was some kind of patsy (how did he kill RFK when he was in front of him, yet the fatal shots came from RFK's rear?), but I never knew his handlers included those who dallied in religion.

Hmmm...gets me to wondering if I can find a connection between this crowd and Pleasant...

Now that I'm in a relationship and live with 9 other people, it's hard to find time to indulge in conspiracies, let alone obsess over them.

Just when I get to a particular juicy part in this doc, Gina enters the room, shattering my solitude.

Annoyed at first, but that's because I'm still not completely over the fact that I no longer live alone, even after all this time. It's moments like this that I feel a stab of annoyance that Ms. Cabal thrust this whole cult living situation upon me.

Not that I'm insensitive to Gina's presence and what she wants--on the contrary, I'm too damn attuned to it; she wants to talk, while I want to watch the rest of this doc.

But I'm making it a point not to be so self-centered and impatient and to transcend my hermit-like ways...and besides, it's on a disc that can be watched anytime.

Getting to know Gina and listening to what she has to say is more important right now.

"Sorry to bother you, Darwin. I was just wondering if you had a few minutes to talk"

Instantly make her feel at ease: "I've got more than a few minutes. You've got me until I pass out--so just don't bore me. What's up?"

She looks away--and the fact that the words don't come easy to her makes me sense that this is important, so perk up my ears a notch.

"This is so weird...I mean if you would have told me something like this would have happened just a month ago...I would have told you you were out of your goddamn mind."

Since I'm not sure what's she's talking about yet, all I can do is nod and keep listening.

"I mean...you know how most women will have some kind of lesbian experience once in their life, like when they were in college...?"

Actually I don't know, but again, nod like I do

""Yeah, well, I never had one in my life before...before tonight."

Involuntarily swallow hard but really hope she didn't notice.

"Eliza seduced me...I don't know how she did it, but there I was in bed with her, doing things I've never done before and having things done to me my husband--or any of my boyfriends before that--never did before."

Erotic images flood my mind, try my best to filter them out and just listen to Gina.

Though it's hardly necessary, her voice lowers as she delivers her next confession: "And I've got to tell you Darwin...and this is the hardest thing for me to believe--it was the best sex I've ever had."

Double gulp; sure she saw at least one of them, but she's too polite to acknowledge it.

"I never knew oral sex could be that fantastic. It's like she knew me, sexually I mean, in a way a man never could. Or at least any man I've slept with so far."

She laughs at her own admission, making me feel comfortable enough to join her.

There's a pause and I feel confident enough at this point to ask, "So what's the problem? Sounds pretty good from everything you're saying."

"I know, doesn't it? The only thing is, sure, I gave up the Christian lifestyle my husband wanted me and the kids to live, but was I supposed to go this far in the opposite direction and become a lesbian?"

"I don't think one encounter makes you a card-carrying lesbian, Gina."

"I know, Darwin, I know, it's just that I'm all confused now. Here am I, dancing nude for men four nights a week and now I'm having sex with women--or at least one woman."

"Yeah, so? You still haven't pointed out the part that makes you bad on any level."

"Ah, Darwin, smart as you are, you just don't get it. You don't have kids, it'd different with kids. Everything I do ends up being a reflection back onto them."

True; not a lot I can say, never having had kids, but gonna try anyway:

"Maybe I haven't had any kids, but that doesn't stop me from knowing that a lot of kids end up disappointing their parents--and sometimes the parents disappoint the kids, and sometimes it's a case where no one should have been disappointed in the first place."

She mulls over for a moment, but I'm not finished

"If you can't reconcile your dancing and sleeping with Eliza with the fact you have three kids back in Modesto, then stop dancing and get another job, a regular job, and stop sleeping with Eliza. It's all in your hands."

Can almost see the sense of calm that overcomes her and that makes me feel worth something for a minute there.

"That's very good, Darwin. You're right. It's up to me. So I'll just keep thinking about it and see what I have to do. There's just so much to consider; I mean, what if NAME and I get divorced? Who gets custody of the kids?


"Eliza told me some pretty wild stories, when we took breathers from the sex and shared pillow talk. Did you know she used to date this overweight porn star named Denise Obese?"

Ludicrous name cracks me up; it's good to share a laugh late in the night with a new roomie.

Being unemployed, often times I'm the only one at home during the day. Not that every one works during the day; in fact, most of us don't, but it seems like most of the Wheelers like to get out and about, even Cassandra, though she likes to stay as close to her canvas as often as possible.

My hermit habits are hard to break.

But on this day, someone's home--someone in the room that Anna and Dita share, not sure which one it is. Probably Anna, because Dita already has a steady job and I'm not quite sure where Anna stood on the employment line; it's going to take some time for me to get used to everyone's individual situation.

But someone is definitely in there--check that; make that two someones.

But it's not a conversation I hear, but rather the grunts and groans and mouthings and moans of sexual activity.

Does Anna have some boyfriend back in Belmont that followed her out here?

Suddenly feel real self conscious and ashamed that I'm standing by the door listening. If someone walked in, they'd catch me in the act, since the door opens right out in the hallway.

Still, the dark side in me keeps my ear there a moment longer; long enough to recognize the female voice as indeed Anna's, there's not a hint of an accent present in those soft coos.

But the male's is lost to me, kind of guttural. Palmer? It's kind of creepy trying to imagine what your male roomates would sound like while fucking, so am not going to stay a minute longer trying to determine whose voice it is, this is bordering on NSA eavesdropping duration here.

Slide my feet against the wood floor so as to avoid detection, gliding back into my bedroom and slipping under cover. Though I'm not tired, there's nothing else I have to do or want to do, so I'll wait till I hear the dude leave...

Until then, I'll just lay here, face under the covers, thinking about all that's gone on since everybody moved in.

Too early for any definitive assessment, but it seems to be working out so far, no one's killed a roommate, in this case being a literal roommate, not just sharing the whole flat, but the same sleeping space.

Won't even bother questioning where this is going, cause Ms. Cabal already knows I'm wondering that and she'll tell me in her good time. Sure she's just waiting to see how it's going to work out with 10 mice stuck in one cage together before she makes any wider proposals.

Drift off to sleep...

Never did find out if that guy in Anna's bedroom left because it's Cassandra who wakes me up after I was out for gawd knows how long.

FIRST ROUNDTABLE SCENE
And now for something completely different...

Assisted by Gina, who works nights so she has her days free and Doc, who is always free being retired, they help me assemble the wooden table Ms. Cabal sent over per my request.

That's the good thing about associating with one of the richest women on the planet--anything I want, I can get.

Provided it serves her 'higher purpose', that is. If I wanted to jetset across the globe partying and gambling from nation to nation, doubt highly she'd go for that, but when I told her why I wanted this table, she had it sent immediately.

She offered to have the delivery people assemble it, but I thought it would have more meaning if Wheelers put it together with our own hands.

At least, the three of us. But that's enough really, all ten of us in here would be a joke.

Both Gina and Doc are much more practical people than I; Gina from being a mother of three and Doc from his years handling delicate instruments and patients' lives in his hands, and therefore let them handle the bulk of the work and the duo have the round table assembled in no time.

It's all about delegation.

Now that it's built, we have to figure out exactly where to locate it.

"Let's mark the edges of it with tape so we can remember where to also, we need to bring in 10 chairs from here and see if they--and we--all fit in comfortably."

Mindless manual labor is the type I can contribute to, and make up for having let the two of them assemble the table by bringing in the lion's share of the chairs.

A more mixed-up collection of seats you never saw, but it'll serve our function. Main thing is, the table with all ten chairs will fit in the room.

"Looks good," Doc assesses. "Tight, but good."

"Yeah," I pretty much agree, "Okay, all this won't be staying in here, just wanted to see what it would look like in this room, and if it was going to work, which it seems like it will. Not that it matters much, as this is really the only room this table and all the chairs would fit in anyway."

"Are we going to have to take it apart again?" Gina whines.

"No," I assure her, "we actually ave a back storage area that we've never really filled up with anything. Neither I nor Cassandra had much when it was just the two of us living here. It's not all that big, but it should fit it in there until it's time."

"Until it's time for what?" Doc asks.

"Until it's time to use the table," I reply cryptically and intentionally.

Doc frowns, but accepts it for now.

Doc and I move the table to the back area, Gina returns the chairs. Form follows function.

NEW SCENE

Unsuccessfully rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as I stumble silently towards the kitchen. Thought it'd be empty at this hour o' the morn, but pick up the sounds of tow voices conversing...conversing rather intimately.

"Ooops, you got a little butter on your nose, honey, let me take care of that, Sweetpea..."

Must be Doc, not only the older voice, but his penchant for assigning nicknames to everyone of us--just as he is known as 'Doc'

One more step and I see too much...Doc licking a dab of butter off of--Anna's--nose.

Anna. And Doc. Any day now that's going to sink in.

And then it'll sync in...




FIRST ROUNDTABLE

Not sure what's making my stomach churn harder; Cassandra seated in front of her mirror applying makeup or that the first RoundTable meeting is about to commence...

Never thought it'd be this way with Cassandra, where I felt tense, edgy, frustrated, torn as to what to say to her. It used to be so easy to talk to her, back before we got serious.

Finally work up the nerve or whatever it takes to catch her eye in the mirror and ask, "You're not staying for our meeting?" Think my hurt came out in my words.

"What are you talking about? What meeting? I'm going out to have a drink with Keira, she works for the security firm I used to be at."

Hmm, she never mentioned Keira before. Never went out to have a drink with a friend before. Still, not about to stop her and make her attend the RoundTable. Don't have the stomach to dominate her any longer; and it doesn't seem proper with all these other people living here. It was fine before the cult, but not now.

Besides, not really sure how Cassandra would respond to it. She's decidedly different since our power exchange experience.

It's all Ms. Cabal's fault. And I know she heard that, and I don't care.

It's increasingly obvious Cassandra wants no part of the cult or our doings; she didn't even to bother to ask about the meeting. If she were truly interested, she'd have asked, I know her well enough to expect that.

But the last thing FireWheel needs is someone not dedicated to the cause; we're only as strong as our weakest link and all that rot. Seriously, she would just drag everyone else down. It's not like with Simon, he's genuinely interested in being part of establishing a new culture, it's just he's painfully shy in any social situation, regardless of his level of interest.

Change the subject to something more benign; also, to take my mind off the impending RoundTable debut: "How's your painting coming?"

"I'm not too thrilled with it--not even sure if I'll show it--I mean, try to sell it. But I've got a great new idea for a painting that I can't wait to start working on--in fact I thought I might start sketching ideas after I get back in. That is, if I'm not too tipsy," she giggles.

A lot going on there; most noticeably that she cut herself off rather abruptly there, which she usually doesn't do. She usually speaks so assuredly. I wonder what 'show it' means?

If she cares to tell me what that all means, reckon she will.

Cassandra smacks her lips together, as if to christen her newly painted lips, a sign that she is ready to roll.

In one move, she rises from her seat in front of the mirror, moves towards me, plants a kiss on my cheeks and saunters out the bedroom as she tells me, "Have fun with your thing..."

Hear the door close behind her seconds later. Always amazes me how she's able to get out the house so fast, I always fidget and fuss having to do this and that for what seems like a couple hours any time I try to venture outdoors. Maybe a reason I don't do it all that often.

It's just as well Cassandra's gone, she was only distracting me from concentrating on what I'd like to accomplish during the RoundTable session.

Though I shouldn't be so rigid about it, shouldn't have too many expectations. Let the experience come to me, as it were.

Clock strikes eight o'clock, the appointed hour I asked all Wheelers to gather in the living room.

Don't care for the 'punch in at the proper time on the clock' approach, but the only way it's going to work if everyone shows up at the same time and participates in this from the get-go.

Two minutes to eight and still sitting on the edge of the bed. Sitting too tightly; can feel the circulation cutting off in my thighs.

Push all thought from my mind allowing me to push myself up from the bed, out of the room and down the hallway towards the room that awaits transformation.

Pick up the buzz of conversation halfway down the hall, sounds pretty crowded, about as crowded as I've ever heard it, which is a good sign

In fact, the gang's all here--oh, except for--

"Hello Ben," Dita says.

He's right behind me. At 7:59.

"Not late for once, eh Chan?" I chide him

"Doesn't look like too much going on though, boss," Ben zings me back.

"Actually, you're just in time to help bring the table into the room."

"Table, what table?"

"Gina and Doc will be g;ad to show you...Gina...Doc...?"

Catch both their attention and they lead Ben back to the storage area

While they do that, I work on clearing out the room and telling the others to each grab a chair either from here in the living room, from their respective rooms, someone else's room, or even next door--whatever they're going to be most comfortable sitting in through this meeting, because distractions need to be minimized, if not outright eliminated.

When everyone has her/his chair, bunch them up in the hallway, giving Ben/Anna/Doc plenty of space to maneuver and they twist and turn the RoundTable to fit.

"I know it's going to fit," I turn back to the hallway to assure the others, some wearing etched skepticism, "I was here in this room when it was originally put in, so I know it's going to fit."

For some reason, three people trying to properly situation the RoubdTable in the room is a lot more problematic than two people trying to do it, but after considerable consternation, they manage to place the RoundTable in a spot that allows for the placement of all ten--make that all nine--chairs.

Another advantage to Cassandra's absence is that it provides us with a bit more breathing space--and air in general, which is probably at a premium, or will be once we get rolling.

Uh oh. This is what I feared. People looking to me for some kind of guidance as to what to do next--and I will provide some, but not as far as to tell them where to sit

Answer them with a sweeping gesture, "Anywhere you like"

Though my mind's racing on several different tracks simultaneously, still free one track to observe the coupling going on; Anna and Doc sit next to each other, as do Eliza and Gina, a sign both couples are still hitting it off.

Ben and Palmer enjoy shooting the shit since they moved in so they naturally sit together, debating vehemently which is the best of the Fiji Islands, Viti Levu or Vanua Levu.

That leaves only Dita Simon and I. If I'm picking up on this right, and I usually am, she actually seems interested in the geek. Is it possible?

Course, he's having none of it, looking my way like a stray puppy. Wanna help the lad out, but also don't want to deny Dita her shot at seducing the virginal professor. But he's standing in such a way as to cut her off from sitting near him; Dita's only option would be to go around Simon and I and sit on the other side of me to sit in what would be the only remaining chair

Find a quick solution by merely moving 'down' one chair, allowing Simon to sit next to me, yet Dita can slip in next to him, which she does eagerly, flashing me a wink in the process.

So she is interested. Interesting.

Also interesting that it didn't take long for intimate relationships to develop. Frankly, they may have developed faster than I would care for, but then it's not about me controlling our progress. It's about us progressing.

Still, this was all my idea, so I have to introduce the concept. Once all are situated, I begin,

"Hello. First, thanks for all being here at the chosen hour--especially you Ben."

Ben gets a round of faux applause from his fellow Wheelers and he clasps his hands together, shaking them beside each of his ears in response.

"I had the option of introducing the concept of the RoundTable at which we are all now seated at one of our usual meetings, but I thought it'd have more impact if we all just experienced it together as I visualized it.

"The essential purpose of the RoundTable is to render us all equal, no one member is above another, not even I, and the circle we all sit at is a fitting continuation of our Wheel symbol."

"Where's Cassandra? Doesn't she want to be equal?" Gina asks. Eliza gives Gina a look like she shouldn't be so direct.

"She had to go out--a very rich European client wanted to take one last look at some of her paintings before he flew out of San Francisco. This was her last chance to make a big score."

I lied. I lied for Cassandra because I'm too embarrassed to tell the rest of the cult that she doesn't want to be a part of our reindeer games.

But I'm not going to lie forever about this. Eventually Cassandra's feelings and rational thoughts about being a part of FireWheel are going to be confronted.

But now is not that time.

"So we'll just have to continue on as we would if any one of you couldn't make it. The FireWheel will always keep rolling, and you can jump back on any time you like."

That seems to reassure most and fits the open-ended spirit of our endeavor. Didn't want any of them to think the success of this meeting--or gawd forbid, this cult--is dependent on Cassandra's involvement in and of itself or because she happens to be my girlfriend.

At least, I think she's my girlfriend.

But I digress...

"The RoundTable symbolizes our uniqueness; we're not just a bunch of people living together sitting around shooting the shit about how our weekends went.


"But at the same time we don't want to get all corny and pretentious and make this like some game of Dungeons & Dragons gone terribly wrong."

Some of us don't get that reference; if they want footnotes, they can approach me later--same goes for me if I want footnotes from any of them.

"Ultimately the RoundTable is where all of us can air cult business and concerns, out in the open, in front of everyone else, with everyone at the same level."

"Except those of us who are missing," Gina is quick to point out.

"Yep, and that's why it's important for every Wheeler to be at every RoundTable meeting, but if you miss one or two here or there, the rest of us will keep each other in the loop."

Pause to 'read the room' as it were; trying to gauge how comfortable each of us are with the RoundTable...

But not about to leave it solely up to my subjective impressions

As them all at once: "So how do you feel about this arrangement?"

Tribute to their general politeness; everyone looks across at everyone else, not wanting to step on the other.

"Well, somebody speak," I admonish, only half-kidding; time to get this show on the road.

"How long will the meetings last?" Ben asks, always concerned about time.

"As long--or as short as they need to last."

"How often will we have these meetings?" Eliza asks, maybe concerned with how much she'll have to share Gina with the others.

"As often as they're needed."

"Meaning?" Anna follows up.

"Meaning if any one of us want to call a RoundTable Meeting, then by all means, call a Meeting. Obviously, the more members you want to attend, then the more likely you'll have to schedule a meeting for the best day and time that the maximum amount of Wheelers can make it. The point of the RoundTable is for everyone to be at every meeting--but that's not humanly possible and not something I or anyone else is about to enforce, so let's all make the best effort to hold RoundTable sessions when we can all be here. We're only as strong as our weakest link, without getting too dramatic."

Anna shoots me a look, as if to suggest my girl, Cassandra is that 'weakest link'

Ignore it (and feel guilty about ignoring it) as I turn to Eliza, who gratefully asks, "How do we go about calling for a RoundTable meeting?"

That stumps me. "There is no formal method--"

"I was thinking we could use some sort of communal chalkboard in the kitchen or something--a way to leave messages," Palmer suggests innocuously enough.

"That's not bad, Palmer, anyone have access to a chalkboard?--funds are kind of tight."

Sure, all I have to do is make a call--or just have a thought, really--that we--I--want a chalkboard, and Ms. Cabal will have one delivered on a silk pillow by late afternoon.

But I don't want Ms. Cabal handing us everything--as I sure as hell don't want all these people becoming dependent on Ms. Cabal like that; for while she could provide for them, it's better to rely on our own resources, and from each of us, so we become even more integrated and enmeshed as a cult. Where the whole is greater than the sum of our parts. A true gestalt.

"So what is the topic for this RoundTable meeting?" Doc inquires.

"You just heard it--this was the RoundTable meeting with the purpose of introducing the RoundTable..."

Pause for a moment, no one says anything, and they seem to be waiting for me to continue. Decide the time is right to bring up the only topic I feared bringing up, but it's the most crucial thing I'll say today.

"But FireWheel isn't an monarchy--the RoundTable can only exist if you all want it. Do any of you not want it? Maybe there's something better I haven't thought of."

No one raises a hand in objection--but Dita raises a hand to question

"Azz long as ve're herr, kann I raize a subjekt? Dita asks

Without hesitation, I respond with a playful bow, "The Table is yours my dear..."

"I vass vondering iv ve kood haff zum kind ov kommunal dinnerz; at leest onze a veekp it vould kutt donn on kleening und kooking vorr zo mannee imdeevijuul meelz. Im addiizion, zuch kommunull meelz kood zerve tu bareeng uz klozer azz a kult."

"No problem, as long as you're cooking," I sanp back, drawing some laughs. Shoot a quick glance at Dita to make sure I didn't hurt her feelings. I didn't.

"Are we going to keep minutes or anything like that?" Ben asks

"No, this isn't the Moose Lodge. But you just gave me an idea--why not tape our meetings, at least audio? That way we'll have an archive of our meetings, a way to record and chart our progress as a communal group, as Dita put it."

Ben nods casually, "I can do that."

"Do you want to be the FireWheel archivist?" I ask Ben

"Sure, why not?" he agrees with an even more casual shrug of the shoulders.

"Wait, Darwin," Palmer protests, "is it up to you to appoint everyone--or anyone? What if I want to be the archivist?"

"Then do it with Ben, or keep your own archives. Anyone can do anything they want; you don't need my approval.

Normally I'd be ticked at Palmer, but he has a point, and I don't want to come across as a dictator, so better to let him challenge me.

"Same goes for you, Dita," I add, "if you want to start a communal meal, then start it, get everyone on the page to share your vision as it were. But you were right to raise the subject here at the RoundTable, this way everyone already knows about it."

"Except Cassandra," Anna adds bitterly. Obviously Anna resents my girl's absence. Wonder how many other Wheelers feel that way? Maybe I should just come out and ask who else feels that way.

"Except Cassandra," I repeat. "I'll be sure to tell her."
END OF SECTION








BEN GREETS ME ON STEPS, SCOPING OUT AREA FOR POTENTIAL CLOSED CIRCUIT TV SECURITY SYSTEM
One afternoon, venturing back home after a rare afternoon out. Would like to be one of those 'normal people' and say it was a prolonged case of cabin fever--some primordial need to be out and about among the people and the world at large--that drove me to the streets and sidewalks of the Upper Haight, but alas, 'twas mere necessity.

Completely ran out of food, and though we informally share most things at FireWheel, being a vegetarian my choices are limited; being a bit of a picky vegetarian only decreases the available options.

So hit up on the mostly organic, mainly vegetarian mini-market on Haight St. proper, picking up a couple things for Eliza while I was there, dodging a gaggle of pseudo-rastafarians in the process. She works from home a lot, but wasn't feeling well so didn't make her usual jaunt through the Haight, Castro and wherever else her 4x4 takes her.

Bit surprised to find Ben on the front porch, scoping out the scene as it were.

"Hey" I say.

He turns, surprised to find someone snuck up on him, obviously he had been concentrating so intently, he was oblivious to all else.

"Oh, hey Darwin. I was just seeing where would be the optimum location for a closed-circuit security camera."

"Really think that's necessary?"

"After what happened to you in Colorado, I'd think you'd deem it necessary before anyone else."

Merely shrug, but that doesn't seem good enough for Ben--and he comes straight with me: "Look, when it's just you, or you and your lady living here, whatever chances you wanna take, that's fine. But when you've got eight other people living here, it seems like your security concerns have to elevate just slightly."

Know he's being sarcastic, and it stings a bit, but hold back because his words are as valid as they are sardonic

"Let's discuss it at the next RoundTable--but I have no objections, Ben, just so you know. It's just I don't think anyone really knows or cares that I'm living here. I'm not on lecture circuit anymore. But the safety of everyone living here shouldn't be jeopardized in any way, you're right about that."

"Like you said, RoundTable," Ben concurs, "I'm just doing a preliminary assessment."

"Assess away," I encourage, stepping past him to get the groceries into the fridge before some of them start melting on others.

Walking down the narrow hallway towards the kitchen, try to shake the sense that a closed-circuit security camera would be a bad thing, a violation of I -don't-know-what, but since I can't really come up with any rational, or semi-rational reason for objecting, decide I won't be doing it anytime soon.

Laying on my bed, not sleeping, not even napping, but alternating my attention between watching Cassandra paint and staring up at the ceiling, thinking about nothing in particular and a thousand things all at once.

Since I don't have a job like the others, can spend all my spare time thinking about the cult...though there's not to much to think about, at least when it comes to worrying. Everything seems to be running smoothly; though how it's that much different than a group of people just living together here like in all these other flats in the Haight.

But there are always considerations...like for instance, do we want to stay here in a flat like this in the Haight? Already some have suggested we seek bigger digs out in the Sunset district. Living by the ocean would be quite the extreme after living downtown for so many years.

It's going to be the subject of an upcoming RoundTable Meeting. Only thing is, I'm waiting to hear from Ms. Cabal on the matter. We haven't spoken since everyone moved in here and the cult was founded, and I'm sure she would have something to say on teh subject of us moving.

Of course, she's already aware we're considering it by virtue of some Wheelers having thought--and then spoken on the matter.

The moment an idea is manifest in a given individual's consciousness, she is aware of that idea.

There is no hiding from her. There is just patience.

Patience I manifest by staring at the ceiling.

But can't shake the feeling someone or something is outside our door. Well, better be a someone and not a something. Cassandra is oblivious to it, enraptured in her brush work.

It's almost a supernatural or psychic pickup on my part, but it's not Ms. Cabal.

Only way to settle it is to go to the door--swing it wide open, to find Simon pacing in a fog.

That's not like him in the least--he's quiet as a church mouse and completely unassuming, but he's always purposeful; knows where he's going and when he needs to be there and what he's going to do when he gets there.

Still, play it cool so not to increase his anxiety: "Simon...what's up?"

"There's something I can't deal with and I need your help..."

"Sure buddy...anything, I'm here for you..."

"Is there somewhere we can go and talk...?" he asks.

Gesture back to my bedroom: "We can go in there, Cassandra's painting but she's in her own world, she won't even hear what we're talking about."

"No-no-no! I really need to discuss this in private."

"What about your room?"

"No, Doc's in there napping. He usually naps around this time of day, even Anna doesn't disturb him at this time of day."

"Every other room is pretty much open and subject to someone--anyone--walking in at any time. Except..."

"Yes?"

Two minutes later, we're in the bathroom with the door locked and the fan on, the noise providing additional cover."

"Okay Simon, what is it that requires the clandestine approach?"

"It's not something I'm comfortable speaking about...because I don't have a lot of experience speaking about it...I'm not sure if you noticed or not, but Dita Weiss has shown an interest--a romantic interest in me."

It's all I can do to hold a smile inside; I knew since that first Round Table meeting that Dita was interested in Simon's booty; it's just the way he puts it is so clinical, like he's analyzing how effective boron is as a dopant.

But have to offer him advice, something he can grab onto, something to guide him through these uncharted waters.

Ask flatly: "Never mind what she thinks--how do you feel about her?"

"I...like her."

Though it felt like Simon had to stick his hand down a deep dark well to extract that emotion, that feeling, can sense it was entirely genuine. He does indeed care for Dita. Or at the very least, he wants to boink her. Can't blame him for either choice. Or both, which is more likely the case.

"If you like her, then that's all that matters. She likes you, so you just have to let nature take its course."

Egad, sound like somebody's father in the 1950's. Where my pipe and tweed jacket?

And it's not good enough to boot: "That's just it, Darwin, I don't know how to let nature take its course--not when it comes to these sorts of things."

"Just let her know you like her and she'll lead--if that works for you."

"How do I let her know I like her?"

"You're even too shy for that, huh?"

Simon looks away, providing confirmation.

Don't speak, don't respond, wait for him to look back up and at me, then catch his eye and say: "Thing is, women--all women--or most women--even strong women--like to be pursued by the man. You have to show an interest in them--that you want them."

"How do I do that?"

Have to hold back another grin; here is one of the smartest men on the planet asking me for simple dating advice. Or pre-dating in this case.

"Since you live with her, it shouldn't be too hard Simon. But if you're shy, just talk about science, physics--your research--and she'll follow the lead, because she does like you and she knows how you are, and she'll make the extra effort to build a relationship between you two."

"You really think so?" Simon asks earnestly.

"I guarantee it buddy."

As much as its possible, Simon relaxes a tad and cracks a semblance of a half-smile.

But...doesn't take long for a whole new set of anxieties arises in Simon's forever ascending analytical mind, and it takes even less time for him to ask:

"When should I talk to her? Is there a day of the week or a time of day that you would think would be best to speak to her?"

"jesus, Simon, I don't know..."

Oh no, that's not good enough. He wants an answer.

"Fine. Thursday at 9 pm."

Completely made it up, but it works for Simon as he jots that down into his micro-computer he carries with him at all times, even to the bathroom. Wonder if he'll bring it bed with Dita if he gets that far?

But of course, that's not enough info for Simon to process; oh no, he's just begun:
"And what about--"

But I cut him off before I get steamrolled: "No Simon--we already agreed on a suitable topic for you to initiate discussion with Dita. And we've decided on a time/date to initiate said discussion."

Pause to take a breath and Simon seizes it to ask a question that I had even considered: "How do I know she'll be here Thursday at nine PM?"

Proud of how quickly I shoot back: "I'll make sure of it."

Great, something else to do.

END OF SCENE/END OF ENTRY?



DITA SEDUCING SIMON IS END OF GESTALT