My Italian Picture Frames. I had dinner with a friend from my childhood which was spent in Italy, 1971-1975. She very graciously flew in to this town to see me and she is the most spectacularly wonderful sweet supportive, wonderful friend to me. It has been many decades and though she suffers from depression, she is completely forthcoming and a great, I'm mean to the point that I'm embarrassed, listener.
We talked in her hotel room for quite a while. It was great for me, but I kind of hate to be so forthcoming. I mean, I don't need a fall guy - girl. She super. I'm just thrilled to see her and it was nice to see a picture of her Dad, too, I hardly remember his face, in detail, but he is still completely bald and tall and thin as I remember. I hope so much that she has a better time taking care of her family. Her Mom is not doing well and I just can't quite believe it, my friend said she was waiting for her Mom to pass, which I'm just unable to quite get, though I know it's hard. I mean, I am giving everything I've got that I don't lose my parents, who, without them, I would certainly be homeless or dead or whatever by now. I really adore both my parents. After my initial mental and physical crash in LA, after a couple of years or so of struggle I flew home to live with my Mom, who wasn't quite sure how to handle me, but she did well. I mean I was just so disoriented. Then I came up to my Dad's and it's been all really hard too. But I count on them. I understand that somehow I can go on without them if it comes to it, but why would I want to???? I am just glad they are both in their own way, at near 80 years of age, very well functioning. I really love that they have been there for me and really, it's like, been hard. you know? Anyway, we then had dinner in an Italian restaurant, which by some miracle, exists in this town. I think it's even here by people from Naples, which is where we lived, In the same neighborhood called Parco Azzuro. I had calamari, which was good, and she had a marvelous looking chicken parmesan. They do so much good food, huge portions. Anyway, it's right around the corner from her hotel so it's just great that she's here and we could do that. I'm still having voices and visions. I thought I wasn't going to be able to meet her at all, voices kept telling me that she was not going to come that it was all a lie. Stuff like that. I mean, I just get tortured like that all the time. And forces that want me to be jealous of other people who somehow know my history and what I love and they want me to believe that they are taking it away from me for themselves. I mean, sure that is somehow how the truth, but I'm glad to be home here and I'm waiting for the return of my things. In my life I have filed two police reports and I expect them to give me a result I can understand. I mean, there are points of no return in life. By this I mean that I have been pushed so far that my life will not be what I wanted it to be ever, and I invested in cameras and a bicycle, which were stolen. I just had each one specially and I enjoy them and as I have to go on in life, anyway, I look forward to the return of those things. It's not therapeutic to think that will never happen. I mean, I'm tired of letting go, and no one can say I haven't done that. But a police report should matter. And those things I own are important to me. Oddly today my Dad brought home what looked like my Canon Optura that my ex-husband had given me after our divorce. I can't tell if it's the same one, I kind of don't think so. I don't know what it means. I mean, I should not have had to throw it out in the first place. I remember the only thing I was able to film on it, here after it was given to me, was a tropical storm. I don't even know if it was properly recorded. I remember doing that though. It was different. I remember really loving that camera. My ex-husband is good at choosing cameras. It was a nice one, with nice kind of filters, I remember one that kind of solarized things, made beautiful colors and things. Anyway, I don't know what it means, this camera, the battery charger doesn't work and the battery doesn't fit in the battery place, The camera was hot and sticky and kind of just trashed generally, and the case is not the same, the clips are different that close it.. I don't understand this reappearance of this camera in my life, and the fact that it is not the same somehow. And though I would love to play with it again, I'm like, well, you know, I'll just have to wait. I'm kind of dreading that it is some kind of horrible plan, like I'm scared that my ex-in-laws and their terrible habit of offering a brother as a replacement for a lost husband, is somehow looming. I mean, really, I have been highly interfered with since my initial separation, then the divorce, and I'm like really, I gave my best and I have to go on here. I can't be expected to start over again, with anyone. I mean, really, it is like entirely torture for me. Like I can feel someone's tongue licking me between the legs and I can see it, but i'm fully clothed and sitting in my Grandmother's dining room chair. This sensation has been going on for days and I have screamed for it to stop as I hate it, but it hasn't stopped. I mean, I made it clear that I'm not going to have sex again or a boyfriend again to these persistent spirits. I mean, really, I have been raped beyond belief and accused beyond all reason and regard for facts. I have been absolutely tortured about what is a wedding anyway, all that. I mean it's so awful I don't really want to describe it. I have been absolutely tortured and I can't take the continuing revelations of horrible truth and plans. I just want to see my friends and family. And I would like to take a trip to the beach, stuff like that. I have in mind a possible trip to India or Kathmandu or Japan or somewhere, places I kind of love. I mean, I would love to stay in the Hotel Excelsior in Kathmandu, room 315, where I stayed with my ex-husband when this illness started really showing up. I remember the lemon grove next to the hotel, and I took a picture of my ex-husband recording the air from a window there at the end of the hall. I just think that that would be nice to see again. I don't know why. I mean it's expensive to get there, and I don't really know what I want out of it. I just thought it was lovely there when we were there. India I have never been to, I understand it's kind of hard for visitors, so I don't know what I'm thinking of beyond I just love the photographs I have seen of it. The music. I mean I love thinking of those things. But getting back to the present moment, I'm just thinking to get through my day and night without assault, it's hard. I hope I see my brother tomorrow. I like that he's doing well. I mean, I don't know what he's doing at all or what his plans in life are, but it's been nice running to the store for chocolate or pens or colas, potato chips when he asks. I'm just glad he asks me. Otherwise we never talk much really. He rarely comes out of his room. I don't know. I don't know what to expect out of life or anything really, I'm just afraid to kind of get in my brother's way in life. That kind of thing.
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