JOURNAL

MY ONE AND ONLY FAITHFUL COMPANION SINCE 1976.  I STOPPED FEELING LONELY.

BEING MARRIED TO THE WORST PERSON WAS THE LONELIEST.  IT WAS HELL.  SOLITARY CONFINEMENT.  LIKE A TIME OUT WITH NO END IN SIGHT.  I NEVER FELT LONELY BEFORE.  IT TOOK ME 6 MORE YEARS 10 YEARS TOTAL TOGETHER TO THROW IN THE TOWEL AND REALIZE I NEVER LEFT HOME.  I MARRIED THE FAMILY.

TAKING CARE OF THE PARENTS AND SEEING THE EVIL STEP SISTERS FOR WHO THEY CHOOSE TO BE ALMOST KILLED MY SPIRIT AND BODY CRITICALLY WOUNDED MY MIND.  ALMOST.

DIVORCE IS A GOOD THING.  DO OVER.

1985 I STOPPED AT RAM METAPHYSICAL BOOKSTORE KITTY CORNER TO THE ROSICRUCIAN MUSEUM SAN JOSE.  I MET TERRY AN EXTREMELY TALL THIN AFRO MAN FRIEND OF THE OWNER FRANSCIOSE.  WE STARTED TALKING ABOUT JOURNALS.  I HAD IT WITH ME IN THE CAR AND LET HIM READ.  HE CHOSE JUNE 12, 1984 AND I'D WRITTEN THE DREAM I HAD OF A ZULU WARRIOR PICKING ME UP AND CARRYING ME ACROSS TO THE SUNNY SIDE OF THE STREET.  HE WAS AMAZED AND SAID IT WAS HIM.  I DON'T KNOW I TRIED TO WARN HIM ABOUT THE DANGEROUS ENERGY WORK HE WAS DOING.  HE DIDN'T LISTEN AND LAST I HEARD FROM FRANSCIOSE HE HAD AIDS AND WAS IN FRANCE.  I DON'T KNOW.