Adonis Diaries

Posts Tagged ‘Rose

Trip to Nashville.  April 1, 2020

Note: I opened a special category on my blog “Travel/Excursion” to collect all my trips and adventure stories.

I learned that a young couple of my acquaintances at the university were leaving to Kentucky and would drive through Tennessee.

I had just graduated with PhD in industrial/Ergonomics engineering in 199,1 after 6 long grueling years of toil. I worked 4 part-time jobs within the university confine to pay tuition and make ends meet, in addition of a half-time student assistant in my last 2 years.

You know, I obey to regulations, even if most foreign students work outside and have much better pay.

I had an open invitation from my ex-girlfriend in Nashville. She once got pissed off of me and transferred her job from Oklahoma City to Nashville, along with her two kids. (No, the matter was Not of any cheating stories: just a nervous laugh in a funny situation. Told that encounter in my post on Rose)

I asked the couple to give me ride in their tiny VW Beetle. They dropped me in Nashville where Rose lived.

(I wrote about this trip in “An inch taller than her country women“, reminiscing about the women I got this lucky of befriending. A hard working and resilient divorced woman) .

I guess that I spent about three weeks in Nashville but I never had the opportunity to tour “Graceland“, even though Shannon, the daughter of Rose, worked there for pocket money.

I guess that I could not afford the $40 entrance fees.

I tried applying for a position in that period of acute recession during Bush Senior Presidency that lasted until he lost the renewal of his tenure to Clinton. Yes, I also endured this deep unemployment period in San Francisco.

I applied to Nissan plant at Smyrna? and other positions.

There is not much to see in Nashville and I was not in the touring mood since Rose was working hard to make ends meet and I was feverishly applying for jobs.

I recall that I paid a visit to this “famous” record company of Hall of Fames of country singers and gold records . I didn’t care much, but just for curiosity reason.

I even experimented with selling books for a multilevel scheme company.

Rose reluctantly let me use her brand new Japanese car. I don’t drive other people cars, but I was dead broke. The company allocated me a neighborhood to sell the “book of the week” that was to be promoted…

The deal is that you don’t miss a house or a business office in the area allocated to you and you tour the streets clockwise to close the loop.

You leave the customers the book of the week for three days for their perusal. You come back the next week to retrieve the book or sell it to the client.

We had to be at the warehouse at six in the morning, followed by a military style pep talk and then we are trained to memorize definite phrases to eliminate hesitations and how to close deals.

At six in the evening we had to learn the accounting procedures for our business and stay way after eight or even nine.

Supposedly, a few of our role models who were poor in math learned to add and subtract, to harangue, and to get rich.

I lost money in the final analysis because a few books could not be accounted for.

I think this “company” made money by charging the high priced of “displaced” or non retrieved books , when it didn’t cost it a fraction. Maybe they got these books for free just to spread them around.

I once got a traffic ticket for over speeding in Rose’s new Nissan car; it is impossible to know whether you are speeding in these smooth driving cars.  I never paid the traffic tickets.

The woman graduate student, Sara, picked me up on her way back to Oklahoma in her tiny beige VW.

I don’t recall that I spoke a word on that return trip. Sara didn’t attempt to talk either. I guess we both were Not in the mood of sharing our disappointment or frustration.

Sara reluctantly let me sleep overnight when we arrived in Norman: I had no place to sleep since I had vacated my rented apartment

Two days later, Fakhry (a close Lebanese friend whose parents worked in Africa and was married to an American) lent me $100 for the Greyhound bus fare to San Francisco.

I was to attend the American Human Factors annual convention.

It was an excuse to let go of Norman town, a “boring hole” and start afresh, though I had no acquaintances in San Francisco.

I figured that sleeping two nights at the hotel with my advisor might open up new opportunities for survival.

Mon cher Ado/Rachelle. Part 24

Georges Bejani shared a post on FB

Avec Rarfoura, notre grand-mère, il y avait, ma chère Rachelle , sa fille Rose  (mere de Rachelle), jeune fille célibataire , et belle , et intelligente , et fougueuse, qui s’est occupé de moi quand j’ai débarqué à Beit-chabab, en 1952 à l’âge de deux ans .


En remplacement de ma mère restée en Guinée , j’ai eu droit à deux femmes merveilleuse .
Aujourd’hui , et tout au long de ma vie , j’ai gardé d’elles un doux souvenir .

Elles m’ ont comblé de leur affection sans que jamais je n’eus à souffrir d’une peine enfantine…
Que de beaux souvenirs !

Le soir , avant de m’endormir , Farfoura me fredonnait de belles berceuses de sa voix chevrotante.
Pour le reste , tante Rose m’accordait toute son attention .

Je ne me souviens pas d’avoir été une seule fois réprimé par l’une ou l’autre de ces douceurs que la vie m’a offertes …

Ma grand-mère qui prenait de l’âge s’adonnait au travail dans la mesure de ses moyens , tandis que ma tante Rose, elle volait avec fougue à sa tâche , tenant le taureau par les cornes .

Quand , vers la fin de sa vie , je lui rendais visite, j’étais triste de voir ma tante infirme assise sur son canapé , devant la fenêtre à regarder les passants qui lui adressaient le bonjour amical .

Elle avait cependant gardé son beau sourire , ce sourire clair et pur que j’ai connu bien des années auparavant …

Louise Amour by Christian Bobin, (July 13, 2009)

Louise concocts perfume and merchandize them in the latest marketing techniques.  I read books on mystics and saints and rephrase their wise pronouncements; as a baby of seven I used to write words with my fingers on mother’s cheeks and she would guess them all.  Louise liked the sentence “Perfume of rose garnishes the roots of life” and wanted it to describe her new release of rose perfume “Madonna”; the bottle is in the form of the Virgin Mary holding baby Jesus. Louise said “I wanted to recreate this genre of perfume that grandmothers carried in their youth.  I want everyone to dream that the sky is close at hand”. I paid a visit to Louise intending to tell her that I refuse the blasphemous idea of borrowing my sentences.

Louise enters all smiles diffusing in golden concentric circles; the first wave spluttered and refreshed my face; the second wave asserted that Louise was here solely for me; this second wave of smiles announced the visit of the conqueror and opened the barriers.  Louise brown eyes were flames emanating of an oval pale face; a slight dimple over of left lips was her signature. Louise had long black hair gave the urge of contemplating her nudity framed by her soft hair. She was flowing with kindness and I felt as noble as an angel standing by God. Louise was the worst pain that could have affected me and the sole remedy. She was the only person that existed for me in this world.  I was going to re-learn writing and starts living.

Louise voice rushed like a golden bee in the alveolus of my crane; the slow buzzing saturated my thoughts and erased the vulgar impatience in this world.  I was no longer a theologian; I was no longer seeking God; no longer the retarded son of his parents; I was the servitor of Louise and the adulating listener.

I was once in total focus on the beauty of a wild field of flowers; Louise noticed that I had forgotten her for a couple of minutes and she expressed her wrath for not being the center of my attention.

I visited with Louise a rose garden.  The caretaker of the garden was an old women; she told me: “Theology is useless. Each rose is a holy book. You are here in the most beautiful library in the world. A rose never open her heart except before dying. I would have been more beautiful if I had a daughter to comb her hair.  Perfume is the soul stolen from flowers.  We should be using perfume for the terminally ill and the jobless.”

Introspection: Rose (Addendum #8)

An Inch Taller Than Her Country Girls (Dec. 2002)

I love, respect and admire Rose. I will cherish her for the rest of my life.

She loved me, helped me unconditionally ,and worried for me.

This said, I apologize for my candid story, but it has to be candid for my own benefit. The story started in Norman, Oklahoma, in 1988.

Rose was short but boasted to be taller than most Filipinas.

She took pride to have a lighter skin than most Filipinas.

Apparently, she was part Chinese, from her father’s side. Her mother was tall, huge and large, a pretty contrast to Rose.

Rose married a giant of an American in the Philippine and divorced him when they settled in the USA.

Rose had a smart girl, Shannon, and a boy, Jason, who grew to be big.  Both kids are of large stature and well-behaved.

Rose worked awfully hard at many jobs to make ends meet.

I met her at a night club in Norman, a thirty minutes drive from Oklahoma City where she lived. She liked to dance a lot and wanted to dance with me. Rose had thick prescription glasses, like mine, and always wore pants.

She was stylish, spent at least a couple of hours on her make-up, and another hour for its removal before going to bed. Rose also sold cosmetics on the side, the sort of multilayered selling agent.

That night, she gave me a lift in her car to her apartment in the city. In her bedroom she stood on my feet and kissed me.She said: “You are thinking too much. If it was not obvious what I want, you would not be in my bedroom“.We shared a hot bath.

I was shocked at the sight of her hips, tremendously large, naked; her waist was uncharacteristically thin. She was plagued by nasty varicose from her knees down to her ankles.

Her varicose was a visual handicaps only, but no real bother in her active life, since she never complained or shown tiredness.

Rose consulted a cosmetic surgeon for her drooping right eyelid, in order to be pleasing to me, she said, though I never brought up any of her physical aspects. The consequences of the surgery were too dangerous and the physician did not recommend it.

Shortly after we met, she had to removed her appendix and she was terribly disappointed when I failed to visit her at the hospital: I had no car and public transportation were practically unavailable.

Rose once paid me an evening surprise visit at my lab in the basement of the engineering department. We were alone and kissed tenderly, at every corner of the room and in the corridors. I had completely forgotten about this event and what we did, but for her reminiscences about us. I certainly did not tell her that I had forgotten about these tender moments that she absolutely cherished.

Once, while making love, I slapped her behind one time too many. She looked at me in bewilderment. “Why are you doing that?” she said.

What could I say? That I watched a movie about behind slapping or a friend told me that women liked being slapped on their behind? I did not even apologize.

I am not hot in biology or anatomy, though I should have been an expert as a Human Factors graduate.  I know about G-points, but not on which side or how many. From a few of my experiences, it seems they are located on the left side of the vagina: The translation direction pointed that way.With Rose, the G-points may be distributed in a circumference.

Once her vagina grabs me, I am captured and made prisoner: no egress, no ingress or any kind of “gress”: She rotates slowly, steadily in a constant velocity.

One day, I was depressed on account of my uncertain future and difficulty with my PhD experiments and writing up this boring thesis, and Rose got worried. She said to me: “You are not enjoying our love-making. Is it me?” I lied and said: “It is because you don’t give me much freedom in my movement. I need to feel in control, now and then.” Rose let me do my way this one nigh, just to please me as usual.

There was a period Rose was angry with me, more like depressed.She then called me to make up. Fifteen minutes before her arrival, a male colleague and friend of mine came to visit. He stayed longer than usual and I told him that I am expecting someone. He was about to leave as Rose showed up.

Rose was furious and got even nasty and said: “What! You need a friend to mediate?

I had this nervous laugh that I did not mean at all, a laugh that could be interpreted as a mockery, for this ridiculous chain of circumstances. Rose ran out crying and did not stop. I could not reach her again.  She vanished.

A girl friend of Rose told me that she resigned from her job and moved to another State with her kids. Rose told me later that she could not suffer being that close to me and keep on living. No man would do a move that stupid! Would he?

After I graduated in May of 1991 with a PhD degree in Industrial Engineering, I mailed to her a long letter to Nashville, Tennessee. Women have this knack of seeing in a letter much more than what it is. Rose immediately flew back to me.

As soon as she entered my apartment, she unzipped my pants and gave me a blow job; her first with me. She is not the type to swallow sperms and went to the bathroom to spit it.  She said: “Gee, it kept growing and growing in my mouth.I did not know yours could have it that huge.“Then, I promised her to join her in Nashville soon.

A couple of acquaintances gave me a lift on their way to Kentucky.The guy was to stay at his folks for the summer and his girl friend was to pick me up on her return trip. The same night Rose took me out on a romantic tour.

A girl friend of hers accompanied us. Rose wanted her friend as a witness to what she thought would be a declaration of love. I had no intention of declaring anything. It might have crossed my mind to marry her for the purpose of obtaining a “Green Card”, but even a temporary commitment is a huge tribute to pay.

I slept on the sofa that night and the following night. The third night she moved me into her bed for the duration of the visit. I tried applying for a position in that period of acute recession during Bush Senior Presidency.

I even experimented with selling books for a multilevel scheme company.

Rose reluctantly let me use her brand new Japanese car. I don’t drive other people cars, but I was dead broke. The company allocated me a neighborhood to sell the “book of the week” that was to be promoted…

The deal is that you don’t miss a house or a business office in the area and you tour the streets clockwise to close the loop. You leave the customers the book of the week for three days for their perusal You come back the next week to retrieve the book or sell it.

We had to be at the warehouse at six in the morning, followed by a military style pep talk and then we are trained to memorize definite phrases to eliminate hesitations and how to close deals.

At six in the evening we had to learn the accounting procedures for our business and stay way after eight or even nine.  Supposedly, a few of our role models who were poor in math learned to add and subtract, to harangue, and to get rich.  I lost money in the final analysis because a few books could not be accounted for.

Rose’s ex-husband was to drop by for a few days and I decided to execute my plan to attend a conference in San Francisco and to stay there applying for jobs afterwards.

The graduate woman student picked me up on her way back to Oklahoma in her tiny beige VW.  I vividly remember we didn’t say a word during the entire trip. She didn’t ask questions and I was very worried on what I should be doing next.  It would have been polite to inquire how was her stay and let her start a conversation. I am obviously not good at communicating or socializing.

A friend lent me $100 for the Greyhound bus fare. The trip to San Fran lasted almost 3 days and I spent my money on junk food.

This is a period I’m still not ready to face, much less to write about. Suffice to admit that I roomed with my adviser in the hotel, and that he woke me up to tell me that my snoring was loud.

After the convention was over, I was on the verge of joining the file of the homeless. I managed to be hired in a full-service retirement hotel, for room and board in exchange of 4 hours work a day. I accepted all the overtime I could get in all the various departments, until I was offered the job of assistant to the manager two weeks later.

Rose visited me and I reserved a room for her in the hotel. I managed to make love to her a couple of times only. She sarcastically complained to the manager: “Adonis kept showing me San Francisco; as if I cared.”

Rose moved to Palo Alto with her ex-husband, supposedly in separate rooms, so that she could be closer to her kids who were now studying in California.

We kept meeting in San Francisco, going to parks, holding hands, but not talking much. We did not attempt any king of love-making but we made up for a few furtive kisses.

I was dating another girl but I did not tell Rose. That is not the reason for not making love: I am basically faithful to my old flames. The truth is that she did not ask me explicitly, and I had resigned my position as assistant to the manager: I had lost a few of the perks and advantages that come with a title.

Rose remarried her ex-husband as of her last letter to me before I moved to Washington DC.

Nashville

 

I learned that a young couple of my acquaintances were leaving to Kentucky and would drive through Tennessee.  I had an open invitation from my ex-girlfriend in Nashville.  I asked the couple to give me ride in their tiny VW Beatle; they dropped me in Nashville where a girl friend of mine lived. (I wrote about this trip in “An inch taller than her country women”).  I guess that I spent about three weeks in Nashville but I never had the opportunity to tour “Graceland” even though Shanon, the daughter of Rose, worked there for pocket money. I guess that I could not afford the $40 entrance fees.  I once got a traffic ticket for over speeding in Rose’s new Nissan car; it is impossible to know whether you are speeding in these smooth driving cars.  I never paid the traffic tickets.  There is not much to see in Nashville and I was not in the touring mood since Rose was working hard to make ends meet and I was feverishly applying for jobs. I described in details the door-to door book selling experience in the mentioned piece “An inch taller…”

 

The woman graduate student, Sara, picked me up on her way back to Oklahoma in her tiny beige VW.  I don’t recall that I spoke a word on that return trip. Sara reluctantly let me sleep overnight.  Two days later, Fakhry (a close Lebanese friend whose parents worked in Africa and was married to an American) lent me $100 for the Greyhound bus fare to San Francisco; I was to attend the American Human Factors annual convention; it was an excuse to let go of Norman and start afresh.


adonis49

adonis49

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October 2020
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