NEXT DAY

I pity the person who starts reading my diary starting at the top, they won't be able to make heads nor tails out of it.  In this case it won't matter; I can't either.  I gave up a long time ago trying to convince people this is not fiction.  I'm like the pilot who sees a UFO and refuses to report it because people will never view him the same.  There are supernaturals out there, God being the author of all things, and it appears a person has to fit some mold in order to catch their fancy, God excluded as He loves everyone.  I am still in bed and not wanting to get up.  When you get up, things start to happen; you are faced with decisions all day and obligations to meet.  When you lie in bed, the only decision you have to make is whether to turn over or not.  I did get up and call the operator on the phone to ask what day and date it was.  I swear, I had no clue.  I did get up around 10 A.M and showered and put on all fresh clothing.  I drove the car up to Anita Christine Restaurant in Montrose and had ham and eggs with black coffee.  I decided to quit drinking no matter how hard it was.  I needed a clear mind for the role I found myself in.  As I ate, I thought about how the place would burn down in a few months.  After all, I really lived back then and knew about it.  I thought about the space craft in the garage, and I suddenly did not want it there.  I did not need bizarre things, I need normal things.  Oh well, out of sight, out of mind; I had my Hudson to drive around in.   As it was a warm day and as it was a Saturday, I decided to buy some swimming trunks and go to Indian Springs where I had spent many pleasant hours as a lad.  Indian Springs was a magical place.  Right in the middle of Montrose and all the other end to end cities that went on and on for miles.  Verdugo Road turned East when it reach Honolulu, the main street of Montrose.  It went up a hill towards La Canada.  A small dirt road branched off of Verdugo and it would be easy to miss as the road began a steep descent into a small valley filled with Oaks.  The only way it could catch your attention was there was a big white plaster figure of an Indian's head.  Colored feathers and all.  From Verdugo, you had a side view of his head.  Then, there was a white plaster arch way right at the start of the road going down to the swimming pool and the picnic tables, and the squirrells eating nuts, and the smell of wood smoke, weenies cooking, a waft of chlorine from the pool, and, and girls, girls, girls.  Little boys digging in the dirt, some playing ball...parents setting the picnic tables and yelling at their kids.  Girls running a feigning a scream as boys chased her.  The loud splashes from the pool as someone did a belly flop.  The sounds of laughter.  It was crowded that day. Lots of girls meant lots of boys and that meant alot of hot rods.  Roadsters with gleaming chrome flat head Mercs with three carbureators.  Yes, this is what I need, no more of strange trips in strange machines,  I need to be here.  I will continue this later, I am going into the old rock bath house and change into my trunks.  Maybe I will get a 73 year old chick's attention.  (to be continued).