Malibu and the Art of Isa Maintenance

By Isa Moore

This book is about the mystical magical power spots in the mountains above Malibu.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Isa Moore
• Release date: Dec 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311302564

Book preview

MALIBU and the

ART of ISA MAINTENANCE

By

Isa Moore

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 by Isa Moore

All Rights Reserved.

Chapter 1

The year is approximately 1984; I’m working as an electrician at Universal Studios and looking for a hermitage in Pacific Palisades a small town not far from the Pacific Ocean. I liked the spiritual meetings in that area, it was close enough to the sea to have good air quality. My job entailed commercial and industrial construction, and was very physically demanding. I loved it They pay me good money, to work-out all day. At age forty-three I looked around thirty two, and had just shed a seven-year learning experience called a relationship. What did I learn? If it don’t work in the first year, don’t try to fix it, just get the fuck out. Of course I didn’t accept that lesson till the seventh year.

In this era I had mental contact with my Guru, when you take his picture; there’s no image captured, you just get a shot of whatever’s behind him, yeah! that one. He kept nudging me with: Malibu

It’s too far from the studios! The drive from Pacific Palisades would be ten miles shorter. I’d been resisting his subjection for about a year. All right! I’ll look at the Malibu ads. They were in the same paper as was sold in the Palisades. The Surfside News and Bingo! one ad literally amplifies to the size of a license-plate. All right, I’ll call the number, and check it out. I buzz the number the next day, a woman’s voice answered: We’ve already had two calls, but we’re still taking applications. Whenever someone says application, I have always had a tendency to think they’re stupid; after all it was just a room I was renting, not the third floor of an office building. Oh, What do I care, I don’t really want Malibu anyway! So I make arrangements to meet them at their residence at six PM the next day. It’s a house on Point Dume, which just happens to be at the highest point in that area, awarding them a spectacular view of the ocean at the front of the house, and an excellent view of the mountains at its North Eastern end.

I was looking at a typical 3 bedroom redwood home, with a wide thick sycamore tree stretching its many leaved arms over the south east corner, with a half-moon driveway swerving round gently to an average six paneled dark wood door. In the very front of the property adjourning the street stood a tall but not exceptionally thick hedge of oleander bushes, bushes hell! They were practically trees. I parked on the street thinking: These folks might not be home yet, don’t want to get in their way from day one, or there may not be a day two, this looks like a nice location. I walked up to the front door and rang the bell. Hmm.. this appears to be a fairly old place, maybe the bell doesn’t work. I knocked on the door; it was very solid. Probably best to knock on the panel. Nope! No response. Maybe they already rented it, and decided to go to the movies or some-m. It was then that an object caught my eye just inside the small but fastidious dining room through its French windows. At first I thought it was a painting, but instead, it was a life size color photo framed as if it was a painting. The eyes of the girl in the picture gazed down at me with a look of dismissal. Hmm.. I can create mental contact with anyone whose picture I see clearly, and have time to concentrate on. I wonder why she seems to have disdain for me? I think I’ll tap in and see why she’s having so much tude, I haven’t even met her yet; or maybe she’s not in this realm. That thought lingered in a hazy pocket of my consciousness, regardless of it I continued to stare at the picture; the eyes turned from dismissal to an intense forbiddance, I could almost hear the words Get the hell out of here! I just kept my eyes focused on hers, and absorbed the negative energy coming from them, while releasing it through the top of my head and out of my heart chakra. This went on for around six minutes till she seemed to be feeling better, and looked at me with a look of pensive approval. Good now when I meet her in the future it won’t be an unpleasant experience for either of us. I hung out for a half hour; then had a thought: Maybe it’s tomorrow that I’m supposed to meet them here. No, I’m sure it was today, I wrote the facts down on this paper. Then my critical mind kicked in: You know you could have wrote down the wrong day!........ Ok, so I’ll come back tomorrow, and we’ll see how that works out. After work the next day, I did just that. They were home and expecting me. A tall woman around fifty seven with neck length thinning angel-hair and clear blue eyes answered, then beckoned me in, and showed me the room, which sported an excellent overview of the area, with the Santa Monica bay in the distance. It has its own entrance, and the bathroom and shower are directly across the hall. As we walked back out towards the living room she sat down on one of the couches and stretched out as she asked me. What do you do?"

I’m an AC electrician for the movie studios. I work out of local forty.

My husband Bob worked at MGM as a staff writer a few years ago. We’re retired now. I started at MGM, I’m working at Universal right now. I went on to tell her what it was like at Universal, as I was doing so, I noticed her body language was very open, which is an indication of trust. Thinking: You know I think they’re going to rent me the dwelling. I looked over at the picture of the blond girl in the dining room. That’s my daughter Marci, she was killed. I wasn’t going to say a word about the subject, even though the girl in the picture was vibing me. You’ve got my vote, now you’ll have to meet with my husband Bob. In fairly short order Bob was entering the room and shaking my hand. If you got Marcella’s approval, you’ve likely to have mine. His hand was large and thick like a guy who’d done heavy labor for much of his life. I found myself saying: I like you. There was something very warm and genuine about him. Marcella said: How soon can you move in?

Tomorrow or the day after, I just have to assemble my gear, and bring it over. Bob says: You don’t have a whole hell of a lot of stuff to store in the garage?"

"No I tend to travel light, a couple of boxes of personal items, and a full size back-pack. I’m an ex-Marine, and I’ve never gotten out of the habit of being prepared to get up and go, especially after our last earthquake. I can give you the first month’s rent right now if you like. Marcella: Sure, we can take that now. There you go; five hundred fifty dollars.

No it’s only four fifty.

ER… the paper said five fif…

That was just to keep the riff-raff away.

Oh…. Ok here’s four fifty. I was grateful that she turned and wrote out a receipt on the edge of the rustic looking piano just inside the spacious entrance to the living room. I was glad I didn’t have to ask for one; that would have been awkward. As she was writing: We had a lawyer who wanted to rent it, but he insisted we make space in the garage for his car. Bob: There’s no way Marcella’s guna move all that stuff of hers for anybody."

Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow, gotta get back and get to sleep. I’m doing construction tomorrow.

I put in a typical day of lifting bending and grunting; then went to my residence in Sylmar; a guest house in the rear of a standard tract home on a huge lot, with a mechanics shop behind it resembling a junk yard. It was time to move adjacent the ocean. I put the two boxes in the back of my new Nissan strippy pickup truck along with my pack, and headed out to Point Dume Malibu. It was around seven when I arrived, before I left the previous day they gave me the key to my private entrance door, so I just brought my stuff in through that way, and started to get ready to take a shower. I had my soap; towel and a terry cloth robe on when I realized that their bedroom door was directly opposite to mine, and they were standing in front of it, having an argument. If I open this door now, I’ll be invading their privacy. I waited around six minutes, which seemed like forever. Ok, If I’m gunna get thrown out of here, I might just as well get it over with now, cause if I’m going to have to tip toe around these people from day one; I don’t want to be here! First I put on my pants and then the robe back on; then opened the door. They were standing there arguing with big smiles on their faces, then turned gave me an even bigger smile; then turned back to enjoying their argument. I just walked into the bathroom, made double sure the dead bolt on the door was locked, and took a shower thinking: They looked like they were having a great time, I wonder if they did that just confuse me? Naaah… You’re not important enough to them to put on an act