“Inside the Life of a Shack-Dweller: Discover the Secrets Behind a Simple Existence”
Added on February 23, 2025 inASTROLOGY CARDS
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In the realm of romantic pursuits, have you ever found yourself tangled in a web of phone calls with someone who feels both elusive and enticing? Welcome to my latest chapter in this rather peculiar saga, where communication abounds, yet real-life interaction seems to dance just out of reach. In “Chapter Three – ‘I Live In A Shack,’” we dive into the whirlwind of conversations with a character who’s anything but straightforward. Picture brooding clouds of mysterious Pisces energy, mixed with the peculiarities of life that come when you’re left wondering—what’s the story behind the words? How is it that he’s managing to keep my interest while simultaneously keeping me at arm’s length?
With every friendly chat reminiscent of a half-hour therapy session—a kind of Valium for the heart—I’m left questioning if this connection is real or just a figment of my imagination. Join me as I unravel this delightful conundrum, complete with quirky encounters and unexpected camaraderie, finding humor and profundity in an unlikely relationship. Oh, and just wait until you hear about the shack! Curious yet? Buckle up, because you’re in for a ride that’s anything but ordinary. LEARN MORE
Chapter Three – “I Live In A Shack”
Catch up here – Shack Man
Shack starts calling me and it just drives me crazy. He literally drives me up a wall. He remains in hot HOT pursuit and I eventually imagine that he may be but it is still very hard to tell. He’s anything but direct. It is his Pisces Mars again. If you have two fishes swimming in opposite directions, then you tell me what they’re up to.
He calls me two or three times a week and he talks to me. He talks to me at length. A half hour here, an hour there. Some conversations were two hours long and more, but he never asks to see me so what the hell?
Weeks pass and I don’t mean one or two. I mean five, six or seven weeks pass and I just don’t get it. In fact it may have been eight or ten or twelve weeks because the whole thing was surreal. This is one hell of an interview process he’s got, you know?
I keep talking to him. One reason is that all my mates have paired off. Kay is with the Taurus for example. The universe is assisting Shack. Helping him hold my attention. I can’t put my finger on it, but I don’t seem to have the motivation to look elsewhere. For a man I mean. There is something dreamy about this guy and I have a sense of contentment even though I’ve no tangible explanation for this.
I had completely forgotten what he looked like. Honestly I don’t think I noticed in the first place. I was looking for adventure and unusual or potent experience and not very concerned with the container. Besides that, the night we met I was decidedly not interested in him so I never assimilated anything about his appearance.
This should not have mattered but in this case it did because all I had was his voice on the phone with motive, non-specific. It may have helped if I could attach it to an image. There were times I got off the phone and could not even really recall the conversation. It occurred to me that talking to him is a bit like taking a Valium. You feel good and don’t care why.
This went on and on and on. He calls and he calls and he calls and he asks a lot of questions. Do you ever run, Elsa? What’s your middle name? Why did you move to this city? Do you like the city? Do you miss your home?
He asks if I’m seeing anyone, seriously. I’m not, but this doesn’t prompt him to invite me anywhere, so why is he asking? Damned if I know. He’s obviously interested and obviously not. When he hangs up for the twentieth time without making a date, I’m sure I will never hear from him again. This is when it strikes me that it this happened, it would make me sad. It would be a distinct loss.
We had invested a lot of time. He was calling and I was talking. He was listening and asking me for nothing. I’d grown fond of him. I was fond of this guy who says he lives in a shack in the mountains and whatever else he told me because I couldn’t remember. It was his Valium effect again. After awhile, you just relax. Submit. Drift off. In between fighting tooth and nail, I was being seduced, with Uranus and Neptune transiting my ascendant.
“I live in a shack.”
“Huh?”
“A shack. I live in a shack.”
I laugh. “That’s funny, what kind of shack?”
“Well, it’s pretty shack-y. In fact, it’s really shack-y”
“You really live in a shack?” I asked.
“Yes I do.”
“Okay.”
What difference does that make anyway? It’s not like I am going there, you know? A month going on two had passed without an invitation and so the whole thing is nothing but a vague concept that may or may not be real but I liked talking to him and tried to remember why I did not like him when I met him in the bar. I was trying to nail down just one little fact but had trouble getting a fix on it. On anything I mean. After this much conversation, I came to understand, when he wasn’t talking in the bar, it was because he was listening. Hard to hate a guy for that, right?
So what was it? Was it because he was blowing on my leg? I do think he was blowing on my leg, but most inexplicably this no longer bothers me. Quite the opposite. Now I’m amused. I think it’s better if he was than if he wasn’t but don’t ask me why, okay? I’m also amused with the fact that I want to know everything while I’m simultaneously pleased that all these realities allude me. It’s a real live puzzle that’s why.
He tells me he has been up late. Way late. Very late. He makes a point of telling me this all the time. I don’t ask why, but it’s not because I don’t wonder. It’s because I don’t ask people probing questions. I prefer to let someone reveal what they choose to, when they choose to. I don’t know if this is good or bad, right or wrong, but I do know that it is a fundamental part of my personality.
Does he want me to ask? I don’t know. I don’t have clue one what he’s up to but after many weeks I decide to investigate slightly.
I dial up Kay who is sleeping with Taurus and complaining about him. She’s a having a bit of trouble with his earthiness. They are sleeping together now and he tends to throw his leg over her which makes her nearly insane. Kay is as airy as people come and she does not like being pinned by his big leg. His leg is not that big, far as I could see. He was a tall and a wiry built man. But she feels as if she can’t breathe and says that it’s all she can do not to yell “GET OFF ME!”
I laugh, because it makes me think of the musician, Taj Mahal. He’s a Taurus, so I sing her one of his songs. “…Throw your big leg over me mama. I may not feel this good again…”
I think this it’s a lot funnier than she does, though. She’s in pain and I do sympathize with her but I feel for her man as well. I can just imagine this poor bastard. An earthy guy trying to have sex with a detached air balloon. Arrrgh!
“Hey! I’m sorry about the dense leg on your guy. Maybe you could get on top him, first. Less restriction for you and I bet he likes it. Anyway… I need a favor. Would you ask him if his friend lives in a shack?”
“He lives in a shack?”
“That’s what he says.”
“Wow, Elsa. I’ve never met anyone who lives in a shack.”
“Me neither. I think he may be retarded. I think I better find out. Maybe he doesn’t know a shack from a hole in the ground.”
She laughs. “That’d be kind of cool if he lives in a shack. Maybe you could live in a shack with him.”
“Why would I do that? Just be happy you’re getting laid. I may go to a shack if I thought I’d get laid, otherwise, forget about it.” I laugh.
“I’d rather live in a shack than be pinned under some guy’s leg.”
“I know. I know. I feel sorry for him though. I know how he feels.”
“Why does he have to touch me all the time?”
“I can’t explain that to you. He likes your skin. He likes to feel your skin with his.” I laugh. “He may not feel that good again, but I don’t want to talk about it. I sure wish someone had their leg flung over me. Would you ask about the shack thing for me? I’d be grateful. Next time you’re laying under that guy’s leg, would you find out if this one lives in a shack? May as well. You can’t get up and I need to know. I need to know if this guy is full of bunk or what.”
She says she will. “I’ll push his leg off me and then sit up in the bed and ask him about the shack. I have to sit up because if I lie there, he’ll just put his leg back.”
Laugh. “Sounds like Pavlov’s dog.”
“Yeah. And I don’t know how much longer I can stand it. He’s fun though. I like him a lot. Too bad he likes my skin so much. Damn it! It’s always something. This time it’s a leg.”
To be continued.
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