I stepped out of my apartment this morning, and the entire sky was orange. The sun was a red-orange hazy ball, with circles of various glowing colors around it, echoes of light. The air seemed weird, things around me were crisp and clear, visually. My car was covered with ashes. All morning, driving to work, I thought I was being presented with some sort of sign, some divine intervention, preparing me for the greatest epiphany of my lifetime. I got to work, and someone told me about the huge fire out in Alpine that made the sky all weird, houses were evacuated, yadda yadda yadda. Okay, no epiphany today. That�s fine, I don�t think I�m quite ready for yet ANOTHER one. Heh heh. I�m so selfish sometimes. What? People lost their homes? Damn, and here I thought it was a sign for ME. Fuckin� universe. Oh, how twisted thoughts can become when one loses touch with relative perspective.

Anyway, I�ve been thinking more about my entry from the other day, sub rosa. More about analyzing myself in situations with people, trying to pinpoint those moments where I open a gate to let honesty and kinkiness gush in, flow forth. Where usually, it is kept behind the dams of the mind, sometimes hoping for the sweetest little leak, the tiniest release for a world that hates to get wet. And that�s just it. I am accepting. I am that part of the world that bathes in the same juices that the rest of the world recoils from. Those essences and chambers of the mind, fantasy, thought, et cetera, that thrive and grow when paid attention to, but wither and die when ignored, taking a piece of their host with them.

I could go on and on listing the incidences of these occurrences, but I have books at home that are filled with such information. Occasionally, I�ll allude to one, but it�s just too overwhelming to assume I�ll get them all in. Seeing as they happen all the time, I�m sure I�ll have plenty to fill this online outlet with new ones as they occur, without having to resort to pulling from my self-documented past. I realize at this point, not knowing me or what the hell I�m talking about, how this could be ambiguous right now. So let me explain a bit.

People tell me things. People open up to me, strangers, coworkers, acquaintances, women in stores, men at the post office; anywhere I am, whatever I say, whatever I do. I�ve been told by strangers that I have this �disarming� quality. Something inviting in my countenance, something that is a mix of motherly love, sprite-like playfulness, and sage-like experience (these are words taken from various peoples comments over the past few years). And something about this combination assures people that I�m not going to scoff at their admissions. I�m not going to say, �Oh my God, you are such a fucking weirdo.� I�m going to understand. I�m going to relate.

I used to write down these �sudden bursts of honesty� in a daily journal. But it just got too trivial, and after several weeks, I had proven my theory to myself, so as not to need the written verification any longer. But here are some examples, so when I mention them in the future, you can recognize just how often this occurs:

A coworker came up to me, years ago, at the office. �I don�t know why, but I have to tell you, I slept with Tom.� Tom was another supervisor. Then this woman went on to tell me how she had it all planned out, they got a hotel room, their spouses couldn�t find out, nobody could know, but she just HAD to tell ME. I hardly knew this woman. We worked in the same company, different departments, that was about it. That was like the catalyst for an onslaught of random confessions. Women at grocery stores began to spill the beans on their messed-up domestic lives, their strange childhood experiences, their wishes to �experiment� with other women, and their attractions to me.

Now, the grocery store thing is an entity in and of itself. People approach me ALL THE TIME at grocery stores. I have NEVER gone into one and not been approached in some way. The other day, a woman came up to me and started telling me about another woman in the store, something about being in her way in one of the aisles and now that other woman was glaring at this one who was talking to me. I did not invite this conversation. I did nothing but smile at her while she was walking the opposite way in an aisle. How appropriate that I was shopping for vodka that evening. I said to her, �Wow. Sounds like drama. Want me to go kick her ass for you?�

She didn�t get my little joke, just kept talking, interrupting her own sentences to tell me how much she liked the smell of my perfume. I said, �I�m listening, but I�m going to continue to look at the shelf, I don�t know which vodka I�m getting yet.� She talked to me for a few minutes, then left me to my shopping. And it hardly phased me. Another time, I was contemplating the chip & dip aisle, and a man opened a bag of Tostitos and held it towards me. In a radio announcer�s voice, he said, �You MUST try these, they�re delicious, and only 1 gram of fat!� I looked around for a camera, thinking this was some kind of candid commercial, only to find nothing but this man, still standing before me, bag pointing my way. Things like that just happen. Constantly, consistently, and as a result of its frequency, I am no longer surprised by any type of encounter.

Don�t get me wrong, I like having this �quality�, it�s interesting to interact with so many people on a regular basis, and hardly having to initiate it. I�m almost cocky when it comes to my confidence in this odd ability of mine to draw information from people, to get utter strangers to reveal their darkest secrets, their faintest wishes. It definitely comes in handy in my line of work, interviewing people for potential jobs, that�s for sure. And it makes it very easy for me to meet people, to get to know them, and to create that comfortable sense that one gets with good friends, even if I don�t feel as close to them as they suddenly do to me.

I just wish I knew exactly what it was, if I can turn it off and on, or if I�m destined to be the receiver for so many givers who have no other outlets. But I�ll start to pay attention again, I�ll try to remember daily �encounters�. Maybe some common thread will reveal itself to me through more observation. I�ll take note of my innuendos, my tone, my inflection.

Because I really do believe that I�m using some telepathic ability that communicates the message, �C�mon, tell me. You know you want to�� We�ll see.

-Barbarella

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