Always ethereal, always eclectic, I write as the mood strikes, when there intrigue reveals itself. Usually that means something controversial or adventure of some sort.

I've tried really hard to be unprovocative, but have as yet been unsuccessful.

Saturday, 10 July 1971

It was warm and safe. Kind of wet.

I don't remember much of the experience. I was in Milwaukee at the time. I know I was safe, and everywhere I turned, there was this kind of mushy barrier. Food was pretty good, although it was mixed with a good deal of oxygen. I found it a bit difficult to communicate back then- kicking seemed to achieve the best results. And everything I heard sounded kind of muffled and hollow.

This was the only picture I could find of me at the time. You have to look real close though to see me. Not sure yet who the other two people are in the picture.
Little did I expect the trauma I was about to receive...