For Lilian and the Indigos - Above Top Secret

PART TWO
The date is April 23 1999. I have access to a nice laptop and I feel the need to write my
revisions and additions.
I spent most of 97 in Lodi looking at an oil tank on the other side of the 414 highway
when I was a live-in babysitter for my cousin Dale’s son, Mike. The lil’ bastard I served
is now 8 years old. He has taught me more about myself than anyone, and I now have
complete empathy for my parental units. The child is me – I was him. All these traumatic
lessons, instant tears... He forced me to be an authority, yet I feel 8 myself. He plays with
fire and his elders shun him; learning is getting burnt and he knows it, so he indulges the
elders’ authority trip and plays anyway...
His phases of growth are amazingly like mine, but he is learning even faster than I did
that adults ain't right in the head. He doesn't understand his daddy’s stress and his daddy
doesn't remember the newness of childhood. He is obsessed with toys and cartoons, a
refuge fantasy world; this harsh world forces him to retreat into his imagination. They are
creating this cocoon which protects the inner child as it secretly morphs into a little god.
Soon his sisters will tell him to "grow up" and he won't. Then one day he will be ancient
and nobody will know why. This kid has faith in me. When he asks if my spaceship is
built yet and I tell him it is going to be a few more years, he says it’s pretty special to
have me for an "uncle." Mikey knows his uncle will be famous but, as his daddy told
him, "worry about making yourself famous."
I spent most of ’98 working a series of McJobs and smoking pot. My friendship with L.
"Counting Water" has flourished and I feel he is the only man I can truly trust right now.
L has been here for me since this shit started. He never hesitated to kick down some herb
or munchies to me, and more importantly he taught me about Archeoastronomy,
geometry, earth grids and countless random shit from Salvia Divinorum to School of the
Americas. He is in the same boat I am in. Working on fringe stuff nobody else can
appreciate, occasionally meeting people who bring him another piece of the puzzle,
waiting for cartography software... When I told him I was the christ it wasn't a big deal
cuz we are from Ithaca... He thought it was neat that I am just like the character in his
Scorched Earth comics and found more validation in that than my actual prophecy. I truly
love this guy and I hope he doesn't feel like my star is shining too brightly next to his.
The fact we are friends should tell him we go WAY back. Like he said, I build the
spaceship, he makes the map. We started a mad scientists club and have felt the
knowledge pour down. We got some Pagans and chemists to round out the bunch.
Hopefully it will grow after I have some money to give.
I have stumbled upon the Dolores Cannon books, Conversations with Nostradamus, and I
now know for certain I am not insane. My inventions are in there, my artist’s police