• 2CONS.doc: This was an attempt the Brussels Nexus to make the ideas of the Other World more accessable to people. Eventually, it was published as part of the 3rd edition of the "Encyclopedia of World Problems and Human Potential"

• MAPCONS.MAP: This is the River of Conciousness chart.

The Party By Jon C. Jenkins

We were living in Brussels at the time. Maureen and I worked out at a neighbourhood gym call "Winners". The staff was helpful and the people working out were friendly. We were going at lunchtime and after a few months it we began to get to know some of the regulars. Winners also put on parties from time to time that we would go to.

Over the first year we were going to Winners I began to talk to a Belgian, Didier. He worked out at lunchtime and went to the parties. This went on for some months. He then asked us along with some others from the gym to come to a party at his house. The fitness instructor and his wife were among those who were asked to come. This seemed like a really nice idea. This would be the first private social event we had gone to in Belgium. The party was to begin at 8pm on a Saturday night.

Being a foreigner it is always difficult to know the appropriate protocol for going to parties. Do you come on time or do you come late. If you come late how late, 30 minutes, 1 hour or 3 hours? It is not clear. If the party begins at 8 p.m. is dinner going to be served or not? Do you bring a gift or not? How do you dress?

Like we have often done about these things, we guessed - we could have asked and we would have got some answers. We did ask and we did have some idea. We arrived at 8:30.

We rang the doorbell. We heard Didier coming down the stairs. The door open and obviously we were very early. He was gracious and invited us in. As we walked up the stairs I could hear music in the background - light jazz. I could smell beer and wine. At the top of the stairs a long corridor led between doors leading into rooms, a bedroom, a toilet, etc. A faint odour of cheese was present. The faint smell of soap intensifies, lingers and disappears. We chatted about what I don't remember. We passed the door to the kitchen. I glanced in; there were four people there. Two men in their mid twenties. They had black slacks and shoes, white dress shirts and black bow ties. The two women, both in their late 20’s had briefs on, you know, only panties. Didier introduced us.

I was determined to be sophisticated. I was cool. I didn't blink or stop or leer or anything. (You have to be a middle aged American male with a lower class background to understand how difficult this was.) I smiled and shook everyone's hand.

Didier led us into the living room. It was cleared of furniture. On the walls were film posters from the 50's and 60's. The jazz continued.

On the outside I was calm and urban. Inside my mind was buzzing - What was going on? What kind of party was this going to be? What was Maureen thinking? Why did I bring Maureen? I thought of Playboy and Penthouse. The red light district in Brussels is not that far away. What would we do if they offered drugs, or something worse? I tried to remember if Didier had done any other weird things. A hundred thought and a thousand questions went through my mind. Outside, I was chatting with Didier and Maureen. I was frightened, embarrassed, shocked, interested, aroused.

One of the women entered the room with a tray of glasses of white wine. Condensation ran down the glasses. Her skin was smooth. Her tan was dark without lines. She walked with grace and without embarrassment. She offered Maureen a glass. She offered me a glass and I took it. Didier took one. The girl walked slowly off.

Another couple came in, Didier's housemate and his girlfriend. They were grinning. It then came to me. This was a joke. This was Didier making all of us uncomfortable.

I lifted the glass to silently toast Didier and sipped the wine.

-- JonJenkins - 29 Apr 2007