An Outlandish Journey

But b efore I forget  Leaving Rock Dreams I entered the Twilight Zone of Covid quarantines and bans on travel. I holed up in a motel and then a trailer park next door to the Rockies with only tree planters and bears as neighbors. I continued receiving messages from "Mick Jagger" or his proxies, or people posing as Mick to defraud me of my pension.  I also got more sincere-sounding personal texts, inviting me to join his extended family Finally, in frustration, I gave up. I said "You don't understand-- I don't remember you. I can't pretend I do. I don't." After that, all messages stopped and for months there was an eerie silence. I had punctured the membrane that held our whole world in a soft embrace. I had exposed the truth about myself: that I was a zombie victim of childhood brainwashing. Not exactly crazy, just totally missing from the scene of my whole life. I had never understood a single word of a single song directed at me, or my mother. Not

My most outlandish journey begins in the spring of 2019.  I hadn't thought about Mick or the Rolling Stones in years. The last time I saw them perform was in Leipzig in June 2003, a few weeks before I ended up in Greece where I met Themis, with whom I've shared a life ever since. In the fall of 2003  I learned that Mick had fallen in love with L'Wren Scott, a tall American model and fashion designer. I decided it was time to abandon my fantasy of one day meeting and getting to the bottom of that peculiar chain of events that had brought me to his island in April of 1992, the 80th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. And a bunch of other mysteries in my wandering life. After Leipzig for the next 16 years I paid only passing attention to the Stones and Mick's slolo album Goddess in the Doorway which I listened to once or twice. I was beyond hearing messages in the lyrics whereas back in the mid 90s I had imagined some could even be about me: an indefensible notion t