No one died. That seems to be the real drawback to the story. After coming back from Colombia trying to sell diamonds that were not sent back to me from my wife; my passport quickly went missing. I was unable in my position at the time to accuse anybody seeing as that is how I was getting myself in trouble in the first place. There was a Detective Waller that called me after I had the police come to my door twice and I told him the whole story as I knew it. Starting from when my Bluffview house key in my ranking for the keys went missing in Colombia nearly a year a half ago.
The police in this country think you must go out and score immediately after coming back from Colombia. Because you would have to be addicted of course to cocaine. There is no other explanation for someone in America to think you would be there. So, coming back there were the helicopters flying overhead that I have now realized is unusual for this area. The most alarming case being waking up just before falling asleep naked to throw on my shorts and pull out the white pockets to run out onto the terrace as a helicopter had its light shown into my bedroom flying just over the house.
Since then, there has been no attention payed to my missing passport even though I have called and left more messages to Detective Waller that I need that passport to get a new one. The drama began to lie in my affairs with Fran Phillips of Preston Hollow in Glen Lakes. She spent a lot of time with me giving me a bit of Americana that I desperately needed. I sold my books and made $14.75 at Half Priced Books and bought a ten-year anniversary magazine of the death of Robin Williams that caused Lucas DaSilva to react again. The same as he has done to my making of Milla de Oro Magazine on Lucidpress and coming back to the States to need and do jewelry again.
The plot is still there as I have found out recently my wife kept my purse in Colombia. She said there was blood on it from when I saved her in the locked room. And, because I didn’t have the sales receipt for the stones in the purse although they have their appraisal papers. Also, my wrist bands from all the hospitals I have been in over the years are no longer all in my purse. There are only a few remaining from most recently. Somehow three or four of the bracelets have disappeared. It seems that what ever has been after me over the last couple of years is now at a distance. Things are not disappearing left and right as the case had been. I am no longer holding myself responsible for my losses and there are those close to me, not necessarily my wife because she hasn’t forgiven me, that would agree my things did vanish.
Right now, I am looking for a place for my things, be it Ebay or Etsy. I’m thinking Etsy because they do sell things that have been previously owned. Ebay seems to not do that except for media and the Ebay stores seem to only resell dangerous stuff. There isn’t really a place to sell souvenirs. I am going to do my best with my Etsy store. Even though my things are souvenirs, I don’t think they are collectibles like on Ebay. It’s a shame I must do all the work, I was hoping there would be like a Coinstar but for physical items. I hardly want to take my old tennis shoes to St. Vincent’s because they represent my Bipolar diagnosis.
My diagnosis is the real turmoil right now, especially with my stage time at Opening Bell Coffee. Trying to open up to strangers to make $75 reading a poem on a board. Or just to read about my need for my wife to forgive me and take back the incessant misgivings she has told about me. Explaining that I am needing assistance leaves little room for me to have expectations. Writing this piece at Starbucks and not having the slightest idea as to what the cartoon will be for the twelfth edition, spiritual uplifting causes are at most my desire to love. That miracle I’m looking for on the Miracle Mile just might turn into a movie for the Inwood Theatre eventually and it will be Golden. That’s a long way from helicopters.