Otis

K. Many of you don't know Otis. On top of that, you don't know My Otis.

You know how this 'Godstuff' is all kinda freakish and like, everyone's got their

own? I'm just sayin.

Otis is my friend. You can call Him 'voices' in a diagnosed bipolar coaster

woman's mind. You can call him my 'spirit guide'. You can call him anything you want.

But that's the point, isn't it? You call it.

I've been alive for over half the century. I've seen the 1st TV, moonwalk, and microwave.

I hid under school desks and went to Woodstock, which, BTW, was a trip.

You get so you notice things. You see a design. Things add up. You gain some kind of

strength from it. It may be dark and you have to rely on something you can't see.

Otis walked with me through growing up with a suicidal, emotionally vacant mother, an alcoholic father, abuse, a teen 'hidden' pregnancy, lotsa hippie thumb rides, infertility,

a 27 year marraige, a divorce.

Three day binges.

Otis stays with.

.