Saw Your Post, Don't Worry (Friday Night Love) (explanation)

Good Morning, my Darling,

Well, you know I don't usually post this early, so it must be important, and it is. I just saw your post, of Tristan Kang. Wow! That is a very direct message from you, at least it sure seems to be. All I can say for now is no worries. I have to leave in a couple minutes to drive out to my sister Sophie's place to take her shopping, but I will write more as soon as I can, maybe later this afternoon.

I asked if it was too weird for you, and if it is, I won't write it. But I will try to explain more fully later on. In any case, please don't worry and have a great afternoon.

You know I love you and everything is good.  xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo  :):)

10:45pm : Good Evening, my Darling. I am still getting situated at Pearl's, so I will write more at the usual time, but I just wanted to check in to say hi and see how your day was. Mine was busy, mostly with my sister. One nice thing - really great actually - is that she isn't in the convalescent hospital anymore. She lived there for the last five years, but recently her social worker found her a spot in a private assisted living facility, and it's a house! These small facilities are simply converted houses, and so Sophie now lives in a very nice house with five other clients (i.e. patients). Two ladies run the place, do all the cooking, everything. So it is quiet and clean, and even though her convalescent hospital was a nice place (as those places go), it was still a hospital environment, and so this is a night-and-day difference, really fantastic. It's also closer to me, in Burbank, which is next to Glendale but this new place is about 5 miles closer and right off the freeway.

I took her shopping, then got home at 2pm and just relaxed, cause it was hot out.

I hope your day was good. I will write more once I get situated here, but I won't write any weird stories tonight, so don't worry. I do wanna say a few things about all of that, though, so I will when I come back. Nothing heavy, so again, don't worry.

Back in a few at the usual time. I Love You.  xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo  :):)

Midnight : Okay, I am back. I just wanted to address your post from this morning. I know it wasn't your own words, and that you were just trying to convey how those stories make you feel, but the message basically said that (I paraphrase) "it sucks when lousy memories ruin good music" and that it "caused the person (the poster) anxiety". Because I had asked you to tell me if my stories were bothering you, or were too weird, I took that post to mean that you don't like the stories about what happened to me, and that, possibly, they cause you anxiety.

I don't know if you read a lot of my back-catalogue blogs in the Myspace days, but I am guessing you did, because all I have written in the past couple days are just two or three very short pieces about hypnotic states and a helicopter crash. Weird, to be sure, but taken all by themselves, hardly enough to cause such a strong reaction on your part. I deliberately talked around the subjects rather then address them directly for that very reason, so as not to cause a reaction.

You have obviously seen the list of books I have on FB, so you know I am an avid researcher of (for want of a better term) "alternative" theories on subjects such as 9/11, the Kennedy assassination, et al. So you have known from the get-go what some of my interests are. Elizabeth, I have a lot of interests. Music, obviously, is and has always been one of my main interests. Film too, and photography. I like regular stuff, regular life (though specific to my tastes), and my range of interests is as big as life has to offer.

But when I was 33, I discovered that my life was not as normal as I thought it was. And that is something I have to live with, every day.

I have no one to discuss it with, not even my family members. My parents were my best friends, but they are gone. What happened to me is a taboo subject. No one will talk about it; consequently, I have to just talk about it - or think about it - to myself.

That is not easy, after 22 years.

What happened to me was not on the news. It was never told to me, in the way an accident victim might me told in the hospital what has happened to him.

It was simply done away with, through technological means I have tried to describe, and then I was left to pick up the pieces, and to simply suck it up when I finally remembered what happened to me.

I have had no recourse whatsoever.

If you were to talk to, say, the parents of a missing child, or someone related to an unsolved cold-case murder, you would discover that the search for truth never ends for such people, unless they are fortunate enough to uncover that truth, and thus to find closure.

I won't go on and on any further tonight, except to say that it's not easy.

I can offer an analogy, and it's not the best analogy, but it describes the general feeling of weirdness that is attached to a series of very real violent crimes that were perpetrated against me, and also in one one incident my Mom and Dad, in 1989. Please remember that the weirdness stems from some of the people involved, and from the technology used, and from the amnesia factor. And people focus on that. But what is important to keep in mind is the violence. I was a victim of severe violence in September 1989, to the point where, when I really consider it, it's amazing that I lived through it. And had I suffered through that violence in a "normal" context, I'd have been on the news, and had therapy, and had my story told, and I suppose I'd be right where I am today, more or less, except that I'd have had some form of closure, to allow me a return to some level of normality.  But what happened to me was anything but normal, and what was substituted for closure was induced amnesia, and so the Weirdness Factor is what takes precedent, and thus, it scares the heck out of everybody I know who even has an inkling of what happened, and the truth is that most of my friends, and my sister Vickie and brother Chris, know much more than they will ever say. I hate to use the term "cowards", but it applies in many instances, for the people I know.

My own family would rather walk away instead of talk about it. And my friends have convinced themselves that it was "just a dream", and that is because they participated, and thus want no part of the truth.

So all I have is myself. And I will keep it to myself, at least here at the blog. I have written FOIA requests from time to time, but they (surprise, surprise) never turn up anything.

Anyway, here is my analogy : Imagine one day that you woke up and realised you'd been to the Moon. I don't mean that you dreamed it, or hallucinated it, or imagined it, but that you knew it. And you knew other people knew it, too, because they'd been with you. But it was a weird experience, and it scared them, and they didn't want to talk about it. Then imagine that you yourself only remembered it years after the fact, and not in it's entirety.

And yet, you knew it had happened.

You would wonder why you went there, how you went there, what happened there, and what it all meant. And you would be so curious that it would become part of your life. And you would want to tell somebody, to talk about it.

So that's all I wanted to say, and don't worry, because I understand entirely your point of view on the subject. I won't bring it up again here at the blog. I just wanted to explain my side, is all.

Thanks for reading, and you know I Love You. I'll go back to regular blogs; everything is good.

For now, Sweet Dreams and I will see you in the morning.  xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo  :):)