Part 4:
About two weeks after, I am up early another morning, not too early, and I am down and about preparing breakfast, having somewhat dressed up. I like to walk around in socks, and even sleep in them. As I am preparing breakfast, thinking to myself really, and therefore making a mess somewhat, I just kinda wonder, what I will do in the day. I don't have too many options, mainly because I don't like to go too far on my own, looking for something to do. I'm about to finish making the breakfast, when I hear a sharp knocking on my door. I look out, into the living room, and just kinda wonder, who it could be, with a puzzled look. I start to make my way to the door, and as I do, I hear the doorbell ring. I'm kinda surprised, as I was not aware, I had a doorbell. I reach the door, feeling more comfortable and open it fast but cautiously. There is a man, tall and yes, handsome, standing there, Italian, and he has sunglasses on, which he takes off almost immediately, as he turns to look at me. A moment ago, he was looking out, into the front, from a side direction, while high arm leaning, by the door. I stand back or move back really, and he enters, and I immediately somewhat recognize him, and then I do, and I kinda stare at him slightly, while actually looking stupefied. I look at him, and he knows I recognize him, and he then just looks at me, shoulders down. Its Joe Perry; he just walks in, takes a look at me from shoulders down, folds his mouth and then sharply says, "Yep, you'll do." He then looks up and around and says somewhat quizzically, "interesting", before turning around and walking out. As he is walking on the front porch, having put back on his sunglasses, he loudly says, "I'll be back tomorrow", and as he walks away, I shut the door behind him. I am stupefied, and am looking down somewhat, and I say to myself, "That was Joe Perry", in a loudly whispering voice, with a prolongation on the "was". I stand at the door for many moments or so, and decide to open the door again, just in time, to see a limo glide by at the front, before it slides away. I close the door again, and I fold my lips really frontwards, and say to myself, "Yep, that was Joe Perry." I go back into the Kitchen, to finish up preparing my breakfast, while thinking what the morrow, could possibly hold. I am not really excited really, but more interested, about what could possibly happen. I just cannot think up anything, about what the next day holds, and with time, somewhat begin to lose enthusiasm. I am done with breakfast and out, having dressed up in some black trousers and an equaling black coat. It's a Saturday again, and am just kinda happy to be out and about, in what I believe so far, is NY. I leave for the "Joy Club", as I know, something will probably happen to me, there. As I am making my way there, I happen to come across a movie poster for "Lakeview Terrace", posted by a glass door of some sort, that is covered, with other kinds of posters too. I don't like that, but the "Lakeview Terrace" poster, does catch my eye. I have always seen, Samuel L. Jackson, as kinda being really intelligent. He is, the kind of person, I would ask to solve a big problem, for me. In many ways, African-American men, do define what being a man in America, is all about. But even then, I guess, I am not too comfortable, with being a man today. It appears to me, the whole idea of being a man today, is really about being a hostage taker. For that's what men really do to each other. It's kinda of a situation, where one could be probably walking home, while thinking, and hear, a car come up by them, and they look towards it, and someone they know, a man, beckons to them, and asks them to get in. You're probably like, "I've got to get home", but the guy is like, "just for one minute, just one drink man." And you agree to it, and you end up in a bar, where the one drink, turns to a five hour drinking binge. That's what men do, they take you hostage, and won't let you go, until they decide to. The problem is, am not the kind of person, who takes other men hostage, I just feel, am kinda not really able, to do it. In that way, I don't really identify with men today, too much. Its kinda also why, I believe, you have many men out there, buying and believing in books with titles, such as "The training secrets of the Navy Seals." I get to the "Joy Club", and wander in, to kind of find it, somewhat empty. I like that too, and head off, to my favourite stool. Am kinda well dressed today I think, just in case, something happens. I even have leather shoes on, and feel confident about meeting, just about anyone today. Am seated there for fifteen minutes, the barman not having shown up, and hoping he will, so I can get a drink. But as I am seated there, one of the Italian guys, comes from the back of the bar, and upon seeing me, says to me, "Come", as he passes by. I kinda get up, and follow him slowly but surely, to the pick-up truck, outside waiting. We get in, he starts the engine, and off we go, quite assuredly. I'm hoping, not to work today really, but I know, it won't be anything I can't handle. That's why I'm kinda liking America so far, I am not being strained out, too much. We get to a kind of club, in another different part of town. Its different really, the most obvious difference being, the presence of many minorities. As we get out of the truck, it having reversed near to a door, next to the club, I look around me, and kind of think, "I don't like this place." Everybody, almost stops what they are doing, to watch us. I don't like that, not that it seems threatening, it just seems really backward to me. In such places, I don't like think, someone is going to rob me, I just kinda think, they are going to do something really dumb. We do get to the door, and the man asks me, to start loading some empty crates, onto the truck. He goes into the club. So, I'm loading the crates, and people are kinda watching me. As this goes on, I hear a voice say out, "Whats up bro?" I kinda know its directed, towards me, and I really don't know whether to ignore it, look at the source, or just keep working. I decide to look at the source, and another voice goes, "he's African". I kinda like that, because to me, it tells me that I am different, and probably won't be troubled. I keep on working, with fewer people looking on, and when am done, I wonder whether to go into the club, or get back into the truck. I decide on the latter, and simply sit in there, looking frontwards. Some people out there, are still looking at me, and I don't really know what to think anymore. So I look back at them, and then look somewhat out of range, now and then. The whole ordeal, kinda feels stupid to me, having somewhat dealt with it, back in Africa. With time, not too long to be uncomfortable, the man returns to the truck, looks at me, says "Ready?!!" to which I nod to in affirmation, and off we go again, to another place. We head off, and I kinda feel glad again, for as we go along, I somewhat remind myself, "I'm in America." We get to a house, which I look at with interest, as I don't really know what it is. It looks empty, but also looks somewhat occupied. I don't know what to think of it, but I like it, that's what I know. We get in there, into the front that is, with the truck, and the man gets out and loudly beckons to me, to come with him. He gets into the house before me, and when I follow him in, he is standing there, and tells me to go wait in there, pointing towards a room of some sort. The house is not furnished really, and there is some furniture, little by number, placed here and there. I go into the room, as I hear his footsteps fade away, and I walk in kind of cautiously. There is furniture there, arranged in an L, sofa sets, and a TV, at the corner, and behind one of the sofas, in this very white room, is a long bar counter, with a man, standing at the end, of one of its lengths. I walk in, having seen the man, but not really looked at him. As I walk in, and look at him, I am shockedly, taken aback, quite surprised infact, as I recognize the man, as being Robert DeNiro. It is shocking, to the fact, that I forget, am standing there really, and just dumbly stare. He, Robert DeNiro, has one of his feet, up on a metallic bar, connected to the bottom, of the bar counter, and he is busy concentrating, on balancing a dice, on his fingers. He is twirling it too, pretty fast, as I can see. There is a stool, towards the end of the bar counter, nearest to me, and I somewhat make for it. I stand near it, wondering why I did what I did, and it is then he takes the chance to look at me. He has a beard on him, and he kinda looks different that way. He half-turns towards me, and says, "What do you wanna do?" I say back, "I don't know", and he says, "There's always something to do." I fold my lips prominently, and he says, "You can turn on the TV" while looking me intently, "or You can pace up and down." I kinda don't know what to say, and somewhat decide to pace up and down, as I mostly automatically realize, that I will feel ridiculous watching TV, with Robert DeNiro, standing behind me. He goes back to his previous position, and I decide to somewhat pace up and down. I walk down the sideway I came up, not too fast, and when I get to the end of it, leading to the way out, not too many lengths really, I kinda turn back around, and then somewhat stand there still. I am looking kinda downwards, but also at Robert DeNiro, at the same time. I decide to walk up again, slowly, but silently. I tend to pace, when I think, but I kinda do it rapidly, and when I have something to think about. I get back almost, to my original position, and as I do and having stopped for a slight moment, Robert DeNiro, turns to me, and looking me intently in the eye, while walking to pick up his jacket, that lies on the sofa, next to him, says "Come with me", after having picked it up, and somewhat while passing me by. I wait a few moments, for him to go on, and then I follow in his footsteps, as we make for, the garage, that is also the entrance, I came by in. I get in there, as he is jumping into a vehicle, that is packed in there, and he shouts somewhat to me, "Get in". I do as he says, sit myself on the seat besides him, and look frontwards, as he turns to me, with an almost mocking smile and says, "Ready", and I turn towards him, and am about to say, "yes", when I notice, he has his seatbelt on. I jump slightly somewhat, in understanding, and quickly put on my seatbelt, as he turns on the vehicle, and begins to pull away. I have no idea, where we are going, but I'm kinda excited about it in all. He drives off, and I look around me, somewhat in recognition, really of the people, New Yorkers, but also of the changed scenery. Its becoming green, and I see more trees, and as we make our way, to our destination, I begin to look out in surprise, as I didn't think NY, was this green. After many moments of this, and I sitting silently really, and looking out of the window, we arrive at what appears to be a resort, and a private club, at the same time. I don't catch the name, and as we speed up, we almost quickly enough, get to the parking lot, and he almost immediately jumps out, and says, "Come with me." I get out also, waiting a moment to kind of straighten my clothes, push the vehicle door back into place, and begin to follow Robert DeNiro. He, has by this time, already picked up pace, and is ahead, distinctly, in front of me. "Come on" he shouts at me, as he somewhat turns, while walking away still. I pick up, I try to walk down the small staircase near me, as fast as possible, but find myself lagging him, as I get down to it. I therefore, decide to really pick up my pace, almost running towards to him, which I begin to do, in a stealth like manner, almost getting into a run, as I near him, at the club entry. He is standing there, looking around kind of surprised, and then begins to make his way to the club terrace, across the entry. I follow him this time swiftly, and as we get to another staircase, divided into intervals, but still short, two intervals, I make up my mind, to keep pace with him. As he goes down one side of the staircase, I go down the other with him. There is a bar, that separates us, and he is walking down pretty fast and comfortably, while I start to somewhat concentrate, on my balancing. We get down to the terrace itself, and he begins to walk with a wide walk, arms somewhat swinging, which makes me move, a bit further from his side, instinctively. We get to the tennis courts nearby, and to the stands nearby. I stand back and watch him a while, and then the tennis courts, as he climbs to a top level, of the stands. I follow suit, and sit myself, somewhere near him, and not too far. There are four women, playing tennis, a doubles game. We sit back, and begin to watch the game, I am enjoying it, as I am of the popular belief, that women are better than men, in tennis. The game proceeds well, when Robert DeNiro, turns somewhat to me and says, "Go ask them, if you can play." I am quite literally, taken aback, by what he says. I look at him surprised, almost shocked, like he would actually say something like that, to me. Many things, are running in my mind, as I ponder his statement. None of them really noteworthy, in hierarchy, but am first possibly thinking, four Women, then it crosses my mind that, I don't have the gear for this, and I end up quizzically looking at Robert DeNiro, silently asking, "why?!", he turns to me and says, "Come on, just go ask them, if you can play." I get up from where I am seated, and look somewhat, as if looking far, which I am, and slowly begin to descend, onto the court itself. As I get there, feeling nervous, I am not thinking too much about anything, but my mind does somewhat run back into memory lane, mostly, in a feelings manner. I get to the door of the court, and slightly look at Robert DeNiro, who is now seated back on his place, with his arms stretched out, on the upper seating, of the stand itself. He looks at me, almost mockingly I think, though I still believe, he will say something to the women, about my 'wanting', to play. I get in there, and look back at him quickly, before looking frontward again. I don't hear his voice at all, and stand there looking at the women, quit a bit, a little bit, shaken. Am not the kind of guy, who tries to act confident around women anymore, I mainly just look at them. And as some time passes, one of the women turns to me and says, from the other end of the court, "you wanna play?" I want to turn, and look at Robert DeNiro, one more time, but decide not too, as I say yes, and then begin to look for a place, to put down my coat. The court is clean, really clean, so I place it distinctively, to anybody out there, on the side of the court. The woman on my side of the court, but further up, decides to quit, and as she leaves, smilefully hands me, her racquet. I take it, and take my position. The game begins, for me atleast, as I can somewhat sense, they are just playing Tennis. The woman on my left up, hits the ball to my partner on my left, which I look at, as it comes by. She hits it back, to the woman, on my right up. She on the otherhand, returns it to my partner, who hits back again, to the woman who served. She then takes the opportunity, to hit to me, I wait and then aim, as I hit back the ball quite strongly, to her. It hits her, on her belly. I looked back shocked, at Robert DeNiro, who is by now sitting upright, and is shaking his head up and down vigorously, followed in suit, by his body, which is shaking too. He has an expression on his face, that somewhat says, "What the heck are you looking at me for?" I turn back quick, to look at the woman again, and shout to her, "I'm sorry". She looks back and says loudly, "its okay". The game, or event proceeds, with me hitting back placing-ly, the ball, back at any of my opponents. I am kind of beginning to sweat, as I know, I am messing up the rhythm, of the game. Within a time, not too considerable, the woman whom I hit, picks up the ball, and tells me, that they are somewhat done. I look at the other women, and they are turned, looking as if about, to start making their way out. I turn back to the stands, and look for the woman, who gave me her racquet. I proceed towards her, as she is seated nearby the gate, to the court, and get there and hand her, the racquet, which she takes with a somewhat smirking smile, on her face. I then turn back, and make my way to my coat, which I now pick up, and just somewhat appear to examine it, in a somewhat nonchalant manner. I am waiting really, for the women to leave, which they do, with a small goodbye from my opponent, on the right. I just shake my head at her, as she says so, and passes by. I turn around again from the court, to look at the stands, and see Robert DeNiro, getting up, and he strongly motions to me, while shouting, "Come", and walks away, with a vastly noticeable walk. He gets to a Tennis court, two away from the one I was in, and as I near him, having somewhat chased him by walking in lieu with him, he turns around from up the stands, and while walking down them, somewhat exclaims, "Get in there." I do as he says, quickly I think, and as I enter into the court, and as he does to, behind me, he says strongly, "on the other side." I go there, with a prominent walk, and stand facing him, before I decide to quickly place my coat, on the side of the court again. He walks over, to a machine that lies nearby, which I recognize, as a Tennis ball machine, as I have seen something like it, once or twice, in the movies. He I believe turns it on, and while looking at me, aims it at me. He asks me, to stand on one side of the court, the right, and properly aims, the machine, towards me. There are enough balls in it, and when I stand there, the balls start coming, and he leaves the court, for the stands. I am now playing tennis, I believe, with a machine; that's somehow the way I see it. I decide to hit the ball as I know, sometimes, shooting over the court, but don't really panic too much. I do look up at the stands occasionally, but often, to see Robert DeNiro, looking not too pleased. I am trying my best, and practically aiming back, the balls, that come my way. I make some decent hits, but with time, begin to easily tire, easily. I feel my wrist ache, and even pain, and I begin to look at the stands, more often, than not. Robert DeNiro, is still seated on them, and though he still looks unpleased, I don't take it too seriously, as I do strongly believe, that women are better than men, in tennis. With time, Robert DeNiro gets up, in an exasperated manner, and just says out loud, "Lets go." I drop the racquet, that was on the court somewhat, and quickly walk up to my coat, and pick it up. I begin to follow him, swiftly, as he has already began, to make his way, back to the club entry, and as I believe, back to the vehicle. I follow him, but stay behind, as he quickly, walks back to the vehicle. I get there eventually soon, with my coat on, and sit silently in the car. He drives off, fast enough, after, turning any bend from the parking position, in an almost skidding manner. With time, we are back at the "Joy Club", and he justs stops the vehicle, pauses for a while looking downwards, towards the space between us, and I get out of it promptly. I do stand back, as I watch him almost speed off, from where I just got dropped off. I turn around, and slowly but looking a bit down, make my way back, into the club. The barman is there, as I enter the club, and he cheerfully greets me, "How you doin' kid?" That makes me feel good, and I sadly fold my mouth, and gesturingly, open my hands, and say, "fine." He looks at me a minute, and folds his lips, looks down on his side of the bar, and keeps working.
I am seated at the bar, looking around me, I have a coke can, that I am holding, as I peer towards, the other patrons in there. I do look at them, but while I can see they are white, what I mostly notice, is that they are working class. America, can be a puzzle for many, since it is often believed, that White men, are the cause of nearly every problem, in peoples lives. Still though, one realizes, that most people actually do like White men, somewhat big. Its like they know, you have to do something big, to piss off, a White man, and because of that, people actually do like them. I am seated there, sipping my coke, looking and even staring, at the many White men in there, without too much, of a fear. Some stare back disapprovingly, muscular guys, but I kinda believe, I would like have to, throw my coke can at them, to really piss them off. As I simply look around, the guys, or fellas, as I call them, show up, and make for the pool table. I decide to follow them there, within a short time, of their passing me. They somewhat greet me, as they pass me, and I light up, as I attempt to greet them back, just barely missing them. I go to the pool table, and stand somewhat nearby, as they look around for the rack, needed to put the balls, together. I have never found it easy, to make friends, with men. It's like, there are some rules of engagement, needed for this, and I somehow, have never picked up on them. I tend to know most men, when something distasteful happens, like if, I and another man, are trapped together in an elevator; later on, I am just able, to connect, and talk to the person. There is a cue near me, that I actually pick up, to hand to the fellas. They in return though, one of them, turns to ask me, if I want to play. Am kind of undecided about this, since I am not good, at pool really. It's a concentration game, something I find hard to do, preferring to focus instead. I know, I could probably win, the world darts championships, but I never truly envision, winning just about any pool game. They let me have the first shot, which I take the time, to put my efforts, into. I aim carefully, for I want to hit the white ball, straight in the middle. I aim, smack, the white ball begins to move, crack, the ball formation is destroyed. The two corners balls, and some near them, move away from the formation, leaving the rest intact. I look up at the guys, and they are down staring, at what just happened, with a flabbergasted look, that seems to say, "what the heck happened here?" I don't really know, what they are silently fretting about, as I just believe, the next player, should just play on, and continue. There is a small silence, which appears to me, to be a pause at first, but I then realize, is actually a silence. They all kinda turn to me at the same time, and my opponent says, "you will have to break again." I take the opportunity, to tell them, that am kinda exhausted, and I'll kinda play later on. I move aside, and sit nearby, as they play the game. I don't know, what to actually think, of the guys. They all look suave, and I just find myself thinking, they should be around women, all the time. I know I could never look like that, and while most men tend to think of women as opponents, I tend to think of them, as foes. Most men battle women, I kinda tend to fight with them, as I truly believe, they are out to embarrass me. Several games over, the guys, appear to be ready to leave, and I just kinda look down, as they do this. But as they leave, they ask me, if I want to come along. I look up happy I would say, and follow them out, to two ford pick-up trucks, which I am invited, to jump into, and I do, by sitting at the front seat, of one of them. We leave, driving off steadily fast, and soon enough, we arrive at Ralph Macchios home. We all get out, me apprehensively, as I kinda think, Ralph Macchio, never really wants to see me back, at his place. We get to the front door, the guys first, and I follow from behind. They go in, and as I get in, I can hear them having greeted Tina, Ralph and a few other girl buddies, seated, in the living space. I get in last, and shut the door behind me. I begin to make my way, down, the small steppings nearby, and then begin to move pretty slowly, looking at Tina, as she is on my side of view, while Ralph sits facing the wall, on the other side. There is a silence, almost intimidating I think, and I just keep walking slowly, looking at Tina, hoping for a quick hello. Ralph, is looking somewhat straight ahead, but I can see, his eyes, also somewhat see me, from the side. Nobody makes a move, and Tina simply stares at Ralph, and I take the opportunity, to walk towards the kitchen, really silently. I get there, at the entrance, and stand somewhat plainly, as I wonder whether to go into the kitchen itself, or join the guys, at their game. I quickly decide on the game, and stand near them, vertically, on one end of the game, with them being at the other end, on both sides. I am simply standing there, and I kinda feel everything, start to go really silent, and even dark. I can feel some stinging sensations, on my skin. This goes on for a short while, before I jump forward in, body first, top body, and kinda say to the guys, "let me see!" They kinda move aside, but I don't really see well into what they are doing, and I don't want to move, to the sides either. I stand there a while, and notice, that the guys, don't really like that, so I kind of immediately, back off. I turn around, as the others, in the living space, are back to talking with each other, and make my way, to a seat, single sofa, on my end, same as one on the other end, that Ralph is seated on. I sit on it. I sit silently, and kind of look down only, playing with my fingers, drumming one set, on top of the other, while actually moving both. I am seated there, not really listening to them, and as they talk on, one of the girls near me, turns and says, "where're you from?" I turn to look somewhat at her, and say, "Kenya". She kind of looks downwards, as if crestfallen, and says, "oh!" Whenever I say, I'm from Kenya, and someone says, "oh!", I almost tend to immediately think, Obama. We engage together, in what some might call, a tete-a -tete, small talk, serious, but still small talk, and at the end of it all, don't really think much of it. Tina gets up first, and her buds follow, as she tells Ralph, she will be back later on. They leave, and I look on, as they walk out. Ralph is still seated on his sofa, after they leave, and later, moments later, gets up, to walk to the Kitchen, while I simply look downwards ahead. He goes in, comes out again, after having been at the fridge, which I hear him open and shut, comes out again, does not say anything to the fellas, and passes me by, while saying, "Hey man, go get yourself a drink." I kind of look up towards him, from my almost slouching position, and kinda say, "okay!" He leaves me, goes upstairs, and I go into the Kitchen, to get a drink. I come back to where I was seated, sit right back in, open the drink, and drink while glancing around me, before relaxing some more, and actually start, to look around me. Am kind of worn out, and as I sit there, I begin to ponder, whether I should head off home, or stay longer. One of the Italian guys playing the game, later on comes near me, and says, "Stick around, there will be a party later on." I sit up on the sofa, and somewhat flex my muscles, and even feel my bones stiffen, and decide that I will stay on, and see what happens, in the party. It is in the evening, about three hours later, and some small chat later, with some of the guys, over some barbecue ribs, the door to Ralphs house, opens again, and in comes Tina, her buds, and a host of friends. Am the kind of person, when I see a group walking together, somewhat stop, to look on. I look up, and immediately recognize Tina, but start to look behind her, disapprovingly. I see different types of people, I see some White women and somewhat slightly frown, I see some Asian guys, Korean, and feel kind of relaxed, and finally, in comes in, some persons. Its kind of hard, to box in, black skinned African people, especially, when you don't know, their origins. I look at them, and eventually begin to realize, they are not African, but actually Jamaicans. I am like thinking, pretty multicultural, nobody will notice me, thinking Ralph here really. They kind of head off, towards the Kitchen, and they all kind of greet, the Italian guys, who just say "hi" back, and kind of gesture greet me, all of them. I can feel some distaste, and am kind of thinking, of identifying, as Italian, but thoughts of Tina, come into my mind. I tend to have identity issues, as nobody, ever really believes, I am Kenyan. They all appear, to have their own beliefs, of what a Kenyan, looks like; and I don't fit their description. I get treated differently, sometimes as American, Nigerian and South African too. The party begins, or it appears to, as people get out drinks, small cups, and are generally talking with each other. Tina, soon comes over, to where the Italian guys and me, are kind of chillin. She stops over and says, "You guys want any drinks?", looking at just about everybody, and me finally. The guys, don't really say anything, and just make blank expressions, with their faces really. I look at her, and then shake my head, no. She kinda hits off, and the guys sit around, looking at everybody. I remain seated, facing the living space and wall, and with time, the guys get up, and join the partying. I am still somewhat seated, when Ralph comes on down, flips me by the shoulder, and asks me to join the party. I get up, ceremoniously, and begin to make my way, into the Kitchen, to join up with everybody else. I have never truly believed in parties, but I do somewhat believe, in getting drunk at one. I walk in, get me a drink, a beer, I hate beers, and begin to look around, for a place or group, to lodge myself into. I see the Korean guys, and am thinking, that's where I should be. They are kinda tall, and am not surprised about that, but I am surprised, that they kinda know, the Jamaican guys pretty well. I get up to them, and they are somewhat like, they don't really see me, but the Jamaican guys, see me pretty well. I head nod the Jamaican guys, from somewhat within, outside the group, and they kinda ignore me. Am not too disgusted with that, not because I simply view them as Jamaicans, but because I tend to rank African people, according to country size, with Nigeria at the top, and to me, Jamaica, is simply a small island. I listen in somewhat, and then decide to move on to, another group. It has an Italian guy, and some White women in it. The Italian guy, somewhat gestures at me, and I nod back obviously to him, in recognition. I get into the group latently, and one of the White women, asks me, where I'm from; and I say back, Kenya. She says, "oh!!" too, this one being of a more higher tone, which tells me, she does not truly believe, I am Kenyan. I don't really know, what to make, of White women. I tend to see them from two points only, and that kinda makes me believe, I know them quite well. On one point, I know that many men, don't really know, how to act, around white women. They tend to think, its all about personality, when I have discovered in reality, that White women, like men, who act out things. I tend to act out, and I therefore know, that White women, notice me. On the other point however, am kinda scared, of White women. Many out there, tend to be intimidated, by them, I get scared. White women are different from other women in that, they tend to fall in love differently; not gradually, as other women do. When you are around a White woman, and she looks on to you, with starry eyes, you know, that she has fallen, in love with you. The problem is though, that when a starry eyed White woman, falls in love with you, its really forever, even perhaps, into future lifetimes. You would have to do some really crazy shit, to get out of a relationship, with a starry eyed White woman. A rich elitist starry eyed French woman, would follow her ideal, into a small broken tacky house, inside rural Alabama. So, when Andrea, one of the White women in the group, makes a point, and somewhat touches my arm, I take it as a signal, to move on, as one can never truly know, what they will do, to make a White woman, starry eyed. Eventually as the evening wears off, I having mostly listened in, I stand near the game the guys often play, and look across to the Kitchen table. Standing by it, frontwards, is Tina, having gotten herself, a small ice cream cup, from the freezer. She is tearing it open, and I'm looking at her do it. I decide to somewhat, meander up to her, and I get there, as she is dipping a thin wooden spoonette, into it, and as she takes it to her mouth, sees me closing up, looking at her. She tastes it, while turning to look down. I arrive at the table, and look at her, as she swiftly somewhat removes, the spoon, from her mouth, and she looks at me staringly, with somewhat folded lips, and I say to her solemnly somewhat, "So, Tina", then seriously, "do you know Carla Gugino?" She seems a bit taken back, and looks at me with an expression, that shows this, I just look back at her. "Carla" she says, "Carla Gugino?" And I shake my head somewhat, while saying, "yeah". She again folds away back, and says to me inquisitively, "yeah, Why?", and I say, "Just askin' " And she kinda turns sideways, and folds her mouth as if thinking, and moves on. I don't really watch her go away, but I partially see her do it. I don't know, I sometimes think about Miss Gugino, and to me, she comes off as being not just stubborn, but really really stubborn. Carla to me, is the kind of woman, to bring out the man in me, the hostage taker in me, for I can see her and me, in a room, and I locking the door and saying to her, "You can't leave, until you agree with me." Am quite jaded, with relationship models, of this day. Some say, I am traditional in my views, but, I don't really think so. Relationships today to me, appear to be based on physical attraction; they are very situational in nature, and have the whole mystery of permission and forbidden-ness. Its like, the relationship models today, are out to destroy society somewhat, as superior and inferior, chase each other, all over. Am talking of a situation, where a boss and employee, are attracted to each other. Am more traditional, for I believe, relationships, should be based on chemical attraction, or what they call, good ol' chemistry. You walk into a party, there is a beautiful woman there, you don't approach her, but can ask about her. You simply stand around, talking to people, and occasionally, peep in her direction; once in a while, you look up unexpectedly, and she is peeping, in your direction. This goes on, not only for the duration of the night, but even long after that, as the both of you, simply peep each other out. Then one day, you happen to run into each other, and you let, good ol' chemistry, take over. Something along the lines of, "For the very first time", with Corin Nemec and Cheryl Pollak. It makes, for more intense relationships, the stuff of legends. I don't get the physical stuff. I see the Italian guys, begin to talk with each other, and upon looking concernedly, make my way up to them concernedly, and tell them, "Tell me, when you're going home." They look back and I hear some say, "yeah, okay." I go back slowly to the table, and some time later, one of the guys, beckons to me, and points thumbwise, towards the front door; they are leaving. I pick myself up, don't really look around, and head out to the lawn, and in a short time, we are all in the trucks, heading steadily fast, towards nearby, where I live, and I literally get dropped off there, before making my way, back home.
About two weeks after, I am up early another morning, not too early, and I am down and about preparing breakfast, having somewhat dressed up. I like to walk around in socks, and even sleep in them. As I am preparing breakfast, thinking to myself really, and therefore making a mess somewhat, I just kinda wonder, what I will do in the day. I don't have too many options, mainly because I don't like to go too far on my own, looking for something to do. I'm about to finish making the breakfast, when I hear a sharp knocking on my door. I look out, into the living room, and just kinda wonder, who it could be, with a puzzled look. I start to make my way to the door, and as I do, I hear the doorbell ring. I'm kinda surprised, as I was not aware, I had a doorbell. I reach the door, feeling more comfortable and open it fast but cautiously. There is a man, tall and yes, handsome, standing there, Italian, and he has sunglasses on, which he takes off almost immediately, as he turns to look at me. A moment ago, he was looking out, into the front, from a side direction, while high arm leaning, by the door. I stand back or move back really, and he enters, and I immediately somewhat recognize him, and then I do, and I kinda stare at him slightly, while actually looking stupefied. I look at him, and he knows I recognize him, and he then just looks at me, shoulders down. Its Joe Perry; he just walks in, takes a look at me from shoulders down, folds his mouth and then sharply says, "Yep, you'll do." He then looks up and around and says somewhat quizzically, "interesting", before turning around and walking out. As he is walking on the front porch, having put back on his sunglasses, he loudly says, "I'll be back tomorrow", and as he walks away, I shut the door behind him. I am stupefied, and am looking down somewhat, and I say to myself, "That was Joe Perry", in a loudly whispering voice, with a prolongation on the "was". I stand at the door for many moments or so, and decide to open the door again, just in time, to see a limo glide by at the front, before it slides away. I close the door again, and I fold my lips really frontwards, and say to myself, "Yep, that was Joe Perry." I go back into the Kitchen, to finish up preparing my breakfast, while thinking what the morrow, could possibly hold. I am not really excited really, but more interested, about what could possibly happen. I just cannot think up anything, about what the next day holds, and with time, somewhat begin to lose enthusiasm. I am done with breakfast and out, having dressed up in some black trousers and an equaling black coat. It's a Saturday again, and am just kinda happy to be out and about, in what I believe so far, is NY. I leave for the "Joy Club", as I know, something will probably happen to me, there. As I am making my way there, I happen to come across a movie poster for "Lakeview Terrace", posted by a glass door of some sort, that is covered, with other kinds of posters too. I don't like that, but the "Lakeview Terrace" poster, does catch my eye. I have always seen, Samuel L. Jackson, as kinda being really intelligent. He is, the kind of person, I would ask to solve a big problem, for me. In many ways, African-American men, do define what being a man in America, is all about. But even then, I guess, I am not too comfortable, with being a man today. It appears to me, the whole idea of being a man today, is really about being a hostage taker. For that's what men really do to each other. It's kinda of a situation, where one could be probably walking home, while thinking, and hear, a car come up by them, and they look towards it, and someone they know, a man, beckons to them, and asks them to get in. You're probably like, "I've got to get home", but the guy is like, "just for one minute, just one drink man." And you agree to it, and you end up in a bar, where the one drink, turns to a five hour drinking binge. That's what men do, they take you hostage, and won't let you go, until they decide to. The problem is, am not the kind of person, who takes other men hostage, I just feel, am kinda not really able, to do it. In that way, I don't really identify with men today, too much. Its kinda also why, I believe, you have many men out there, buying and believing in books with titles, such as "The training secrets of the Navy Seals." I get to the "Joy Club", and wander in, to kind of find it, somewhat empty. I like that too, and head off, to my favourite stool. Am kinda well dressed today I think, just in case, something happens. I even have leather shoes on, and feel confident about meeting, just about anyone today. Am seated there for fifteen minutes, the barman not having shown up, and hoping he will, so I can get a drink. But as I am seated there, one of the Italian guys, comes from the back of the bar, and upon seeing me, says to me, "Come", as he passes by. I kinda get up, and follow him slowly but surely, to the pick-up truck, outside waiting. We get in, he starts the engine, and off we go, quite assuredly. I'm hoping, not to work today really, but I know, it won't be anything I can't handle. That's why I'm kinda liking America so far, I am not being strained out, too much. We get to a kind of club, in another different part of town. Its different really, the most obvious difference being, the presence of many minorities. As we get out of the truck, it having reversed near to a door, next to the club, I look around me, and kind of think, "I don't like this place." Everybody, almost stops what they are doing, to watch us. I don't like that, not that it seems threatening, it just seems really backward to me. In such places, I don't like think, someone is going to rob me, I just kinda think, they are going to do something really dumb. We do get to the door, and the man asks me, to start loading some empty crates, onto the truck. He goes into the club. So, I'm loading the crates, and people are kinda watching me. As this goes on, I hear a voice say out, "Whats up bro?" I kinda know its directed, towards me, and I really don't know whether to ignore it, look at the source, or just keep working. I decide to look at the source, and another voice goes, "he's African". I kinda like that, because to me, it tells me that I am different, and probably won't be troubled. I keep on working, with fewer people looking on, and when am done, I wonder whether to go into the club, or get back into the truck. I decide on the latter, and simply sit in there, looking frontwards. Some people out there, are still looking at me, and I don't really know what to think anymore. So I look back at them, and then look somewhat out of range, now and then. The whole ordeal, kinda feels stupid to me, having somewhat dealt with it, back in Africa. With time, not too long to be uncomfortable, the man returns to the truck, looks at me, says "Ready?!!" to which I nod to in affirmation, and off we go again, to another place. We head off, and I kinda feel glad again, for as we go along, I somewhat remind myself, "I'm in America." We get to a house, which I look at with interest, as I don't really know what it is. It looks empty, but also looks somewhat occupied. I don't know what to think of it, but I like it, that's what I know. We get in there, into the front that is, with the truck, and the man gets out and loudly beckons to me, to come with him. He gets into the house before me, and when I follow him in, he is standing there, and tells me to go wait in there, pointing towards a room of some sort. The house is not furnished really, and there is some furniture, little by number, placed here and there. I go into the room, as I hear his footsteps fade away, and I walk in kind of cautiously. There is furniture there, arranged in an L, sofa sets, and a TV, at the corner, and behind one of the sofas, in this very white room, is a long bar counter, with a man, standing at the end, of one of its lengths. I walk in, having seen the man, but not really looked at him. As I walk in, and look at him, I am shockedly, taken aback, quite surprised infact, as I recognize the man, as being Robert DeNiro. It is shocking, to the fact, that I forget, am standing there really, and just dumbly stare. He, Robert DeNiro, has one of his feet, up on a metallic bar, connected to the bottom, of the bar counter, and he is busy concentrating, on balancing a dice, on his fingers. He is twirling it too, pretty fast, as I can see. There is a stool, towards the end of the bar counter, nearest to me, and I somewhat make for it. I stand near it, wondering why I did what I did, and it is then he takes the chance to look at me. He has a beard on him, and he kinda looks different that way. He half-turns towards me, and says, "What do you wanna do?" I say back, "I don't know", and he says, "There's always something to do." I fold my lips prominently, and he says, "You can turn on the TV" while looking me intently, "or You can pace up and down." I kinda don't know what to say, and somewhat decide to pace up and down, as I mostly automatically realize, that I will feel ridiculous watching TV, with Robert DeNiro, standing behind me. He goes back to his previous position, and I decide to somewhat pace up and down. I walk down the sideway I came up, not too fast, and when I get to the end of it, leading to the way out, not too many lengths really, I kinda turn back around, and then somewhat stand there still. I am looking kinda downwards, but also at Robert DeNiro, at the same time. I decide to walk up again, slowly, but silently. I tend to pace, when I think, but I kinda do it rapidly, and when I have something to think about. I get back almost, to my original position, and as I do and having stopped for a slight moment, Robert DeNiro, turns to me, and looking me intently in the eye, while walking to pick up his jacket, that lies on the sofa, next to him, says "Come with me", after having picked it up, and somewhat while passing me by. I wait a few moments, for him to go on, and then I follow in his footsteps, as we make for, the garage, that is also the entrance, I came by in. I get in there, as he is jumping into a vehicle, that is packed in there, and he shouts somewhat to me, "Get in". I do as he says, sit myself on the seat besides him, and look frontwards, as he turns to me, with an almost mocking smile and says, "Ready", and I turn towards him, and am about to say, "yes", when I notice, he has his seatbelt on. I jump slightly somewhat, in understanding, and quickly put on my seatbelt, as he turns on the vehicle, and begins to pull away. I have no idea, where we are going, but I'm kinda excited about it in all. He drives off, and I look around me, somewhat in recognition, really of the people, New Yorkers, but also of the changed scenery. Its becoming green, and I see more trees, and as we make our way, to our destination, I begin to look out in surprise, as I didn't think NY, was this green. After many moments of this, and I sitting silently really, and looking out of the window, we arrive at what appears to be a resort, and a private club, at the same time. I don't catch the name, and as we speed up, we almost quickly enough, get to the parking lot, and he almost immediately jumps out, and says, "Come with me." I get out also, waiting a moment to kind of straighten my clothes, push the vehicle door back into place, and begin to follow Robert DeNiro. He, has by this time, already picked up pace, and is ahead, distinctly, in front of me. "Come on" he shouts at me, as he somewhat turns, while walking away still. I pick up, I try to walk down the small staircase near me, as fast as possible, but find myself lagging him, as I get down to it. I therefore, decide to really pick up my pace, almost running towards to him, which I begin to do, in a stealth like manner, almost getting into a run, as I near him, at the club entry. He is standing there, looking around kind of surprised, and then begins to make his way to the club terrace, across the entry. I follow him this time swiftly, and as we get to another staircase, divided into intervals, but still short, two intervals, I make up my mind, to keep pace with him. As he goes down one side of the staircase, I go down the other with him. There is a bar, that separates us, and he is walking down pretty fast and comfortably, while I start to somewhat concentrate, on my balancing. We get down to the terrace itself, and he begins to walk with a wide walk, arms somewhat swinging, which makes me move, a bit further from his side, instinctively. We get to the tennis courts nearby, and to the stands nearby. I stand back and watch him a while, and then the tennis courts, as he climbs to a top level, of the stands. I follow suit, and sit myself, somewhere near him, and not too far. There are four women, playing tennis, a doubles game. We sit back, and begin to watch the game, I am enjoying it, as I am of the popular belief, that women are better than men, in tennis. The game proceeds well, when Robert DeNiro, turns somewhat to me and says, "Go ask them, if you can play." I am quite literally, taken aback, by what he says. I look at him surprised, almost shocked, like he would actually say something like that, to me. Many things, are running in my mind, as I ponder his statement. None of them really noteworthy, in hierarchy, but am first possibly thinking, four Women, then it crosses my mind that, I don't have the gear for this, and I end up quizzically looking at Robert DeNiro, silently asking, "why?!", he turns to me and says, "Come on, just go ask them, if you can play." I get up from where I am seated, and look somewhat, as if looking far, which I am, and slowly begin to descend, onto the court itself. As I get there, feeling nervous, I am not thinking too much about anything, but my mind does somewhat run back into memory lane, mostly, in a feelings manner. I get to the door of the court, and slightly look at Robert DeNiro, who is now seated back on his place, with his arms stretched out, on the upper seating, of the stand itself. He looks at me, almost mockingly I think, though I still believe, he will say something to the women, about my 'wanting', to play. I get in there, and look back at him quickly, before looking frontward again. I don't hear his voice at all, and stand there looking at the women, quit a bit, a little bit, shaken. Am not the kind of guy, who tries to act confident around women anymore, I mainly just look at them. And as some time passes, one of the women turns to me and says, from the other end of the court, "you wanna play?" I want to turn, and look at Robert DeNiro, one more time, but decide not too, as I say yes, and then begin to look for a place, to put down my coat. The court is clean, really clean, so I place it distinctively, to anybody out there, on the side of the court. The woman on my side of the court, but further up, decides to quit, and as she leaves, smilefully hands me, her racquet. I take it, and take my position. The game begins, for me atleast, as I can somewhat sense, they are just playing Tennis. The woman on my left up, hits the ball to my partner on my left, which I look at, as it comes by. She hits it back, to the woman, on my right up. She on the otherhand, returns it to my partner, who hits back again, to the woman who served. She then takes the opportunity, to hit to me, I wait and then aim, as I hit back the ball quite strongly, to her. It hits her, on her belly. I looked back shocked, at Robert DeNiro, who is by now sitting upright, and is shaking his head up and down vigorously, followed in suit, by his body, which is shaking too. He has an expression on his face, that somewhat says, "What the heck are you looking at me for?" I turn back quick, to look at the woman again, and shout to her, "I'm sorry". She looks back and says loudly, "its okay". The game, or event proceeds, with me hitting back placing-ly, the ball, back at any of my opponents. I am kind of beginning to sweat, as I know, I am messing up the rhythm, of the game. Within a time, not too considerable, the woman whom I hit, picks up the ball, and tells me, that they are somewhat done. I look at the other women, and they are turned, looking as if about, to start making their way out. I turn back to the stands, and look for the woman, who gave me her racquet. I proceed towards her, as she is seated nearby the gate, to the court, and get there and hand her, the racquet, which she takes with a somewhat smirking smile, on her face. I then turn back, and make my way to my coat, which I now pick up, and just somewhat appear to examine it, in a somewhat nonchalant manner. I am waiting really, for the women to leave, which they do, with a small goodbye from my opponent, on the right. I just shake my head at her, as she says so, and passes by. I turn around again from the court, to look at the stands, and see Robert DeNiro, getting up, and he strongly motions to me, while shouting, "Come", and walks away, with a vastly noticeable walk. He gets to a Tennis court, two away from the one I was in, and as I near him, having somewhat chased him by walking in lieu with him, he turns around from up the stands, and while walking down them, somewhat exclaims, "Get in there." I do as he says, quickly I think, and as I enter into the court, and as he does to, behind me, he says strongly, "on the other side." I go there, with a prominent walk, and stand facing him, before I decide to quickly place my coat, on the side of the court again. He walks over, to a machine that lies nearby, which I recognize, as a Tennis ball machine, as I have seen something like it, once or twice, in the movies. He I believe turns it on, and while looking at me, aims it at me. He asks me, to stand on one side of the court, the right, and properly aims, the machine, towards me. There are enough balls in it, and when I stand there, the balls start coming, and he leaves the court, for the stands. I am now playing tennis, I believe, with a machine; that's somehow the way I see it. I decide to hit the ball as I know, sometimes, shooting over the court, but don't really panic too much. I do look up at the stands occasionally, but often, to see Robert DeNiro, looking not too pleased. I am trying my best, and practically aiming back, the balls, that come my way. I make some decent hits, but with time, begin to easily tire, easily. I feel my wrist ache, and even pain, and I begin to look at the stands, more often, than not. Robert DeNiro, is still seated on them, and though he still looks unpleased, I don't take it too seriously, as I do strongly believe, that women are better than men, in tennis. With time, Robert DeNiro gets up, in an exasperated manner, and just says out loud, "Lets go." I drop the racquet, that was on the court somewhat, and quickly walk up to my coat, and pick it up. I begin to follow him, swiftly, as he has already began, to make his way, back to the club entry, and as I believe, back to the vehicle. I follow him, but stay behind, as he quickly, walks back to the vehicle. I get there eventually soon, with my coat on, and sit silently in the car. He drives off, fast enough, after, turning any bend from the parking position, in an almost skidding manner. With time, we are back at the "Joy Club", and he justs stops the vehicle, pauses for a while looking downwards, towards the space between us, and I get out of it promptly. I do stand back, as I watch him almost speed off, from where I just got dropped off. I turn around, and slowly but looking a bit down, make my way back, into the club. The barman is there, as I enter the club, and he cheerfully greets me, "How you doin' kid?" That makes me feel good, and I sadly fold my mouth, and gesturingly, open my hands, and say, "fine." He looks at me a minute, and folds his lips, looks down on his side of the bar, and keeps working.
I am seated at the bar, looking around me, I have a coke can, that I am holding, as I peer towards, the other patrons in there. I do look at them, but while I can see they are white, what I mostly notice, is that they are working class. America, can be a puzzle for many, since it is often believed, that White men, are the cause of nearly every problem, in peoples lives. Still though, one realizes, that most people actually do like White men, somewhat big. Its like they know, you have to do something big, to piss off, a White man, and because of that, people actually do like them. I am seated there, sipping my coke, looking and even staring, at the many White men in there, without too much, of a fear. Some stare back disapprovingly, muscular guys, but I kinda believe, I would like have to, throw my coke can at them, to really piss them off. As I simply look around, the guys, or fellas, as I call them, show up, and make for the pool table. I decide to follow them there, within a short time, of their passing me. They somewhat greet me, as they pass me, and I light up, as I attempt to greet them back, just barely missing them. I go to the pool table, and stand somewhat nearby, as they look around for the rack, needed to put the balls, together. I have never found it easy, to make friends, with men. It's like, there are some rules of engagement, needed for this, and I somehow, have never picked up on them. I tend to know most men, when something distasteful happens, like if, I and another man, are trapped together in an elevator; later on, I am just able, to connect, and talk to the person. There is a cue near me, that I actually pick up, to hand to the fellas. They in return though, one of them, turns to ask me, if I want to play. Am kind of undecided about this, since I am not good, at pool really. It's a concentration game, something I find hard to do, preferring to focus instead. I know, I could probably win, the world darts championships, but I never truly envision, winning just about any pool game. They let me have the first shot, which I take the time, to put my efforts, into. I aim carefully, for I want to hit the white ball, straight in the middle. I aim, smack, the white ball begins to move, crack, the ball formation is destroyed. The two corners balls, and some near them, move away from the formation, leaving the rest intact. I look up at the guys, and they are down staring, at what just happened, with a flabbergasted look, that seems to say, "what the heck happened here?" I don't really know, what they are silently fretting about, as I just believe, the next player, should just play on, and continue. There is a small silence, which appears to me, to be a pause at first, but I then realize, is actually a silence. They all kinda turn to me at the same time, and my opponent says, "you will have to break again." I take the opportunity, to tell them, that am kinda exhausted, and I'll kinda play later on. I move aside, and sit nearby, as they play the game. I don't know, what to actually think, of the guys. They all look suave, and I just find myself thinking, they should be around women, all the time. I know I could never look like that, and while most men tend to think of women as opponents, I tend to think of them, as foes. Most men battle women, I kinda tend to fight with them, as I truly believe, they are out to embarrass me. Several games over, the guys, appear to be ready to leave, and I just kinda look down, as they do this. But as they leave, they ask me, if I want to come along. I look up happy I would say, and follow them out, to two ford pick-up trucks, which I am invited, to jump into, and I do, by sitting at the front seat, of one of them. We leave, driving off steadily fast, and soon enough, we arrive at Ralph Macchios home. We all get out, me apprehensively, as I kinda think, Ralph Macchio, never really wants to see me back, at his place. We get to the front door, the guys first, and I follow from behind. They go in, and as I get in, I can hear them having greeted Tina, Ralph and a few other girl buddies, seated, in the living space. I get in last, and shut the door behind me. I begin to make my way, down, the small steppings nearby, and then begin to move pretty slowly, looking at Tina, as she is on my side of view, while Ralph sits facing the wall, on the other side. There is a silence, almost intimidating I think, and I just keep walking slowly, looking at Tina, hoping for a quick hello. Ralph, is looking somewhat straight ahead, but I can see, his eyes, also somewhat see me, from the side. Nobody makes a move, and Tina simply stares at Ralph, and I take the opportunity, to walk towards the kitchen, really silently. I get there, at the entrance, and stand somewhat plainly, as I wonder whether to go into the kitchen itself, or join the guys, at their game. I quickly decide on the game, and stand near them, vertically, on one end of the game, with them being at the other end, on both sides. I am simply standing there, and I kinda feel everything, start to go really silent, and even dark. I can feel some stinging sensations, on my skin. This goes on for a short while, before I jump forward in, body first, top body, and kinda say to the guys, "let me see!" They kinda move aside, but I don't really see well into what they are doing, and I don't want to move, to the sides either. I stand there a while, and notice, that the guys, don't really like that, so I kind of immediately, back off. I turn around, as the others, in the living space, are back to talking with each other, and make my way, to a seat, single sofa, on my end, same as one on the other end, that Ralph is seated on. I sit on it. I sit silently, and kind of look down only, playing with my fingers, drumming one set, on top of the other, while actually moving both. I am seated there, not really listening to them, and as they talk on, one of the girls near me, turns and says, "where're you from?" I turn to look somewhat at her, and say, "Kenya". She kind of looks downwards, as if crestfallen, and says, "oh!" Whenever I say, I'm from Kenya, and someone says, "oh!", I almost tend to immediately think, Obama. We engage together, in what some might call, a tete-a -tete, small talk, serious, but still small talk, and at the end of it all, don't really think much of it. Tina gets up first, and her buds follow, as she tells Ralph, she will be back later on. They leave, and I look on, as they walk out. Ralph is still seated on his sofa, after they leave, and later, moments later, gets up, to walk to the Kitchen, while I simply look downwards ahead. He goes in, comes out again, after having been at the fridge, which I hear him open and shut, comes out again, does not say anything to the fellas, and passes me by, while saying, "Hey man, go get yourself a drink." I kind of look up towards him, from my almost slouching position, and kinda say, "okay!" He leaves me, goes upstairs, and I go into the Kitchen, to get a drink. I come back to where I was seated, sit right back in, open the drink, and drink while glancing around me, before relaxing some more, and actually start, to look around me. Am kind of worn out, and as I sit there, I begin to ponder, whether I should head off home, or stay longer. One of the Italian guys playing the game, later on comes near me, and says, "Stick around, there will be a party later on." I sit up on the sofa, and somewhat flex my muscles, and even feel my bones stiffen, and decide that I will stay on, and see what happens, in the party. It is in the evening, about three hours later, and some small chat later, with some of the guys, over some barbecue ribs, the door to Ralphs house, opens again, and in comes Tina, her buds, and a host of friends. Am the kind of person, when I see a group walking together, somewhat stop, to look on. I look up, and immediately recognize Tina, but start to look behind her, disapprovingly. I see different types of people, I see some White women and somewhat slightly frown, I see some Asian guys, Korean, and feel kind of relaxed, and finally, in comes in, some persons. Its kind of hard, to box in, black skinned African people, especially, when you don't know, their origins. I look at them, and eventually begin to realize, they are not African, but actually Jamaicans. I am like thinking, pretty multicultural, nobody will notice me, thinking Ralph here really. They kind of head off, towards the Kitchen, and they all kind of greet, the Italian guys, who just say "hi" back, and kind of gesture greet me, all of them. I can feel some distaste, and am kind of thinking, of identifying, as Italian, but thoughts of Tina, come into my mind. I tend to have identity issues, as nobody, ever really believes, I am Kenyan. They all appear, to have their own beliefs, of what a Kenyan, looks like; and I don't fit their description. I get treated differently, sometimes as American, Nigerian and South African too. The party begins, or it appears to, as people get out drinks, small cups, and are generally talking with each other. Tina, soon comes over, to where the Italian guys and me, are kind of chillin. She stops over and says, "You guys want any drinks?", looking at just about everybody, and me finally. The guys, don't really say anything, and just make blank expressions, with their faces really. I look at her, and then shake my head, no. She kinda hits off, and the guys sit around, looking at everybody. I remain seated, facing the living space and wall, and with time, the guys get up, and join the partying. I am still somewhat seated, when Ralph comes on down, flips me by the shoulder, and asks me to join the party. I get up, ceremoniously, and begin to make my way, into the Kitchen, to join up with everybody else. I have never truly believed in parties, but I do somewhat believe, in getting drunk at one. I walk in, get me a drink, a beer, I hate beers, and begin to look around, for a place or group, to lodge myself into. I see the Korean guys, and am thinking, that's where I should be. They are kinda tall, and am not surprised about that, but I am surprised, that they kinda know, the Jamaican guys pretty well. I get up to them, and they are somewhat like, they don't really see me, but the Jamaican guys, see me pretty well. I head nod the Jamaican guys, from somewhat within, outside the group, and they kinda ignore me. Am not too disgusted with that, not because I simply view them as Jamaicans, but because I tend to rank African people, according to country size, with Nigeria at the top, and to me, Jamaica, is simply a small island. I listen in somewhat, and then decide to move on to, another group. It has an Italian guy, and some White women in it. The Italian guy, somewhat gestures at me, and I nod back obviously to him, in recognition. I get into the group latently, and one of the White women, asks me, where I'm from; and I say back, Kenya. She says, "oh!!" too, this one being of a more higher tone, which tells me, she does not truly believe, I am Kenyan. I don't really know, what to make, of White women. I tend to see them from two points only, and that kinda makes me believe, I know them quite well. On one point, I know that many men, don't really know, how to act, around white women. They tend to think, its all about personality, when I have discovered in reality, that White women, like men, who act out things. I tend to act out, and I therefore know, that White women, notice me. On the other point however, am kinda scared, of White women. Many out there, tend to be intimidated, by them, I get scared. White women are different from other women in that, they tend to fall in love differently; not gradually, as other women do. When you are around a White woman, and she looks on to you, with starry eyes, you know, that she has fallen, in love with you. The problem is though, that when a starry eyed White woman, falls in love with you, its really forever, even perhaps, into future lifetimes. You would have to do some really crazy shit, to get out of a relationship, with a starry eyed White woman. A rich elitist starry eyed French woman, would follow her ideal, into a small broken tacky house, inside rural Alabama. So, when Andrea, one of the White women in the group, makes a point, and somewhat touches my arm, I take it as a signal, to move on, as one can never truly know, what they will do, to make a White woman, starry eyed. Eventually as the evening wears off, I having mostly listened in, I stand near the game the guys often play, and look across to the Kitchen table. Standing by it, frontwards, is Tina, having gotten herself, a small ice cream cup, from the freezer. She is tearing it open, and I'm looking at her do it. I decide to somewhat, meander up to her, and I get there, as she is dipping a thin wooden spoonette, into it, and as she takes it to her mouth, sees me closing up, looking at her. She tastes it, while turning to look down. I arrive at the table, and look at her, as she swiftly somewhat removes, the spoon, from her mouth, and she looks at me staringly, with somewhat folded lips, and I say to her solemnly somewhat, "So, Tina", then seriously, "do you know Carla Gugino?" She seems a bit taken back, and looks at me with an expression, that shows this, I just look back at her. "Carla" she says, "Carla Gugino?" And I shake my head somewhat, while saying, "yeah". She again folds away back, and says to me inquisitively, "yeah, Why?", and I say, "Just askin' " And she kinda turns sideways, and folds her mouth as if thinking, and moves on. I don't really watch her go away, but I partially see her do it. I don't know, I sometimes think about Miss Gugino, and to me, she comes off as being not just stubborn, but really really stubborn. Carla to me, is the kind of woman, to bring out the man in me, the hostage taker in me, for I can see her and me, in a room, and I locking the door and saying to her, "You can't leave, until you agree with me." Am quite jaded, with relationship models, of this day. Some say, I am traditional in my views, but, I don't really think so. Relationships today to me, appear to be based on physical attraction; they are very situational in nature, and have the whole mystery of permission and forbidden-ness. Its like, the relationship models today, are out to destroy society somewhat, as superior and inferior, chase each other, all over. Am talking of a situation, where a boss and employee, are attracted to each other. Am more traditional, for I believe, relationships, should be based on chemical attraction, or what they call, good ol' chemistry. You walk into a party, there is a beautiful woman there, you don't approach her, but can ask about her. You simply stand around, talking to people, and occasionally, peep in her direction; once in a while, you look up unexpectedly, and she is peeping, in your direction. This goes on, not only for the duration of the night, but even long after that, as the both of you, simply peep each other out. Then one day, you happen to run into each other, and you let, good ol' chemistry, take over. Something along the lines of, "For the very first time", with Corin Nemec and Cheryl Pollak. It makes, for more intense relationships, the stuff of legends. I don't get the physical stuff. I see the Italian guys, begin to talk with each other, and upon looking concernedly, make my way up to them concernedly, and tell them, "Tell me, when you're going home." They look back and I hear some say, "yeah, okay." I go back slowly to the table, and some time later, one of the guys, beckons to me, and points thumbwise, towards the front door; they are leaving. I pick myself up, don't really look around, and head out to the lawn, and in a short time, we are all in the trucks, heading steadily fast, towards nearby, where I live, and I literally get dropped off there, before making my way, back home.
