Diary Of A Gay Psychic

In the very early 90’s I worked a job unloading trucks while I struggled to accept both my homosexuality and growing psychic ability. 

A chance encounter on the street leads to an awakening regarding how young I was when psychic ability first kicked in, and a mysterious figure at work vanishes which indirectly leads me to The Pussy Bags. 

Dealing with anxiety and depression has been part of my life for years, and I look back at a past relationship where they came into play and I learned to better control my psychic ability.

Being intuitive can provide opportunity for others to smack you down, if what you’ve picked up on challenges their closely held views. I cross paths with a deceased woman while my pants are around my ankles. 

Running afoul of the Homo-Detector. Getting called homophobic and carrot cake snatch-back. Selling roadside food in N.J. and the woman who refuses a mask. Men with big hands and sending energy from my car. 

Conflict in the produce dept. Getting ‘gay shamed’ at the philosophy group. Needing to write a hit novel because of SCARCITY. Yes, two spots at the base of the skull. Psychic input arrives at the Chicken and Waffle joint.