That's right, a guy whose parents must have also done LSD supplied by Sa'ant Samuel Celia, Jr., who lived downstairs from my old 4th Street, Wilmington apartment -- Sam a good personal friend of Jerry Garcia's who's bragged many times of supplying the Grateful Dead for years. And this son was named for the bus driver for the Dead -- and now at 21 years of age, is 6' 5" tall -- and stuck here with me until Monday when both of us are scheduled for release.
He's given me permission to write about his story, and his father is in town for a week (and Dad is DYING for someone to write HIS story), so I hope to get with Dad and son -- together.
Then, 1.5 days ago, a fine strappin' ex-Navy guy was checked in -- a man (sadly, he's straight), who served our country for eight years as a network security specialist ALL over the world, who has stories about dealing with pirates on the High Seas, and of lots of first-hand GORE, that gave him bad PTSD.
So I have no time nor patience to write much on this inadequate computer that is so outdated I can only check one of my email addresses and blog while constantly fighting errors. And I am shaken by my brother Mike's behaviors that I can't straighten out with him while I have NO PRIVACY of phone calls. And I have no idea what is happening with Jonathan Deputy and his having committed me after I filed Cyberstalking charges against him -- and I'm leaning toward a cessation of hostilities between him and me -- if he's interested in that -- and in my even dropping those charges, only if he is.
THESE things are what I have to look forward to next week.
I'd like to begin tackling them, but I can't really concentrate on anything here.
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