If fame is simply the fortification of one's existence through others' awareness, then I am Mic Jagger as far as this apartment is concerned. In the past five years, compulsive gypsy that I am, rarely have I given myself time to really be in a space - to infuse it with my daily routines, my nitely rituals, my hours after waking of just lying bed and my hours before retiring of dancing barefoot on hard wood floors. But I feel that I lived a noteworthy enough life recently, that the walls of this abode cannot help but give me their attention. I like to think I'm their favorite.

Yes, now that I am famous, I recognize that this space which is fortifying my existence is more alive than I had previously imagined - not only conscious of my every breath, movement and thought, but responsive to it as well. So much so, that after three weeks into the Study in Domestication and the house sitting which has made such education possible, besides being now absolutely depressed with boredom from predictability, strange things have begun happening.

Now, I dance with ghouls in full make up at the Goth club on a weekly basis. I hitchhike Hollywood for rides to the health food store. I had to say how economical "my Toyota Prius" was and then promptly make out with a complete stranger in a suit and tie for an audition last week. When I say something is strange, take me seriously.

This space, in response to my listening, has become a place that whispers - sometimes yells. I come home to find locked second story windows agape, hear my name yelled as clear as day from the empty alley, smell incense burning, or find Zeus, the ordinary house cat, unable to blink or twitch an ear away from the front door as if something imperative and really tall were on the other side. I wonder if I hear something as well.

I'm listening.

Strange things have begun happening.

And I'm pretty sure they didn't happen before I got here. I admit that I feel a little concerned that the actual renter of this apartment, being a severely receptive soul, when back from the Caribbean, will undoubtedly sense the new energies that seem to follow said house-sitter around. I hope he doesn't mind.

So this is what happens when you stay still long enough for your karma to find you...

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