Aloha's End

Waiting for the next chapter? Visit www.zangarijournalism.com for insight into the writing of "Aloha's End." Visit the zblog by paging down zangarijournalism.com to the link. Subjects: Aloha's End, Autism, Brain Machines, 9-11, Zangari's 1998 Anthrax Attack, Political and Personal history. The (until now) unending autobiorgraphy and chronicals of Michael F. Zangari.

Aloha’s End
By Michael F. Zangari
© 2007 With All Rights Reserved

Chapter 37: Glitz and Steel Pagotas

True West rents a late model Miata sports car and glides it out of the parking lot. It’s a Conestoga. He’s got the canvas down. The wind blows on his hot face. The Honolulu skyline lies against the green soft mountains like a shawl on the shoulders. The architecture is glass and Asia, glitz and steel pagodas on barrels.
He detours down a crowded side street in China town and meter parks on a narrow street. He looks at the address written on the match book. He compares it to the shop mid block, gets out and goes in. A tiny bell rings as he opens and shuts the door. The young Chinese couple Stand behind the counter together in front of a bright tapestry of the Virgin Mary. Tara, the Buddhist goddess of compassion is on the far wall. She is beading fluorite.
The shop is full of beads; every color you can imagine hanging in threads down the walls. They are everywhere in wild tinctures and mixtures.. It is a tactile as a dense brail. The beads lump, roll and wave at him as he breaths.
True West watches her politely as she stirs the purple marbles in the black and pink enameled rice bowl with the painted fingernail of one hand. She carefully picks one, about the size of a cantaloupe seed and threads it with the rest. She pulls the fishing line through the line of balls.
The young Chinese man looks up at True West looking. “I am Tommy Young” he says. “And this is my wife Trisha.”
Trisha barely nods as she picks out another fluorite bead and strings it.
“Coo;” she says. “This once osscilates.”
“They are magnetic, aren’t they?”
“Yes” says Trisha. “Like hot little coals.”
She looks at him. Takes in the cowboy hat.
“I am aligning them as to polarity and vibration” she says. “Every bead in it’s place.”
Her husband looks at the cowboy hat, boots and shorts.
“You look like you need stringing.”
“Stringing up” he says. He is hung over.
Trisha knots the fishing line and bites it off.
“There” she says holding it up.
She slips into Chinese pigeon.
“You better, you buy it” she says.
True West can feel the magnetic as it swings in her hand stirring the air with a warm energy.
His heart pumps in his chest.
He reaches out to touch it.
“No” she says. “Don’t mess up the aura.”
True West stops.
“You take one string from the wall.”
True West looks around.
He walks over to the waterfall of fluorite on the rear wall and feels it pulse in front of him. He is drawn to the deeper magnetism. The size and shape of the bead resonates with his belly.
He picks the string of beads like he is picking up seaweed.
It dangles and drips in his hand.
“This is it” he says.
The purple marbles gleam in agreement. It’s sparkle time in the late afternoon light.
Mr. Young rolls them up in silk and puts them in a red silk bag.
“I also need some carnelian and yellow jade gumballs” he says.
“You’re in luck” says Mr. Young. “I just got back from China. I actually found some yellow jade balls.
”He goes into the case and pulls out one. He places it in True West’s hand. It rolls down his life line.
“So small the world” says Trisha.
“Yes” says True West.
“That one is two dollars.”