High Strangeness in an Ordinary Life.
Every story has a beginning. This is the beginning of this story, a truthful tall tale of an improbable life, a life in so many ways still quite ordinary. To that point, this is not an autobiography, but a light cast on parts of a life colored by high strangeness.
The following is not meant to be an autobiography. These true stories, however, are in sequence. It is my story told by my alter ego, Kent. I found it personally less upsetting to write a non-fiction book as fictional storytelling. Although I still experienced anxiety, nightmares, and short periods of unexplained illness during the writing of this account. The events herein happened; however, I did take some liberty in the dialogue. Although I remember the event, the place, the time, and the gist of each conversation, the exact words allude me. I never reported any of these events to any authority, but took them as a personal journey, navigating the bumpy and unwanted trip down the rabbit hole on my own.
At the time of writing this book, I am 73 years old and am no closer to having any understanding, nor have I found any meaning, profound, mundane, or delusional.