Staci Simpson, who helped paint me devil red last year for Steve Bradford's Playboy shoot, called Sunday to ask if I wanted to be body-painted for an underwater video. She was setting a Rumi poem to music for a 30-second art spot to air on commercial TV as an alternative to the usual consumer conditioning.

That sounded good to me, so despite a lack of sleep and a long sunrise bikeride to make it back home on time to be picked up by Carmel, I spent 7 hours this morning shaving and being covered with "clothing grade liquid latex"--we couldn't say "paint" because it would freak out the manager of the condo whose pool we'd be using for the shoot.

It was a hot day, a long drive. How ironic it would have been to suffer a heat stroke because of the healing mandalas which sheathed my skin in an impermeable layer.

The pool was packed, and as soon as we arrived all the children swam over to the side like curious turtles. The moment of truth came when we got in, fearing all the while that the latex would simply dissolve on contact. It didn't. We floated through a surface roiling with bubbles and smoke (dry ice which Garrett handled with a thick glove), released flowers underwater, dove and turned flips in the deep end, and ate sunwarmed babaganoush when all was done.