It seems so presumptuous of me to think George Lucas still wants me after 44 years of not seeing me. Almost a year ago, George said we should hang in there, but when you have the might of the US Military working against us, it’s hard to stay positive. I’m still clinging to the side of the cliff with my fingertips.
I have so much to tell you, George. Don’t give up on your fans either, George. There are a lot of people who truly love you. Don’t let the loudmouth haters make you believe otherwise. It’s a setup. Your recent ties were working against you because of me. I know that’s harder to believe than anything else I’ve said so far.
I think I wrote “Don’t Give Up on Us,” for you. I remember I wrote a poem just like it for the apparition of someone I couldn’t remember.
Did you know I wrote “If you could read my mind?” Gordon Lightfoot heard it and didn’t like it. I thought it was the best thing I’d ever written, so we wrote the last verse, That’s about how stupid I thought he was for not liking the song, and he gave me $50 and left, and called me a chump over his shoulder. Sweet guy, huh?
I think it was prophetic. When I wrote the first verse I cried for three days. My college roommates read it and didn’t get it, but were concerned for me.
Then I wrote the second verse and I cried for another three days, because how would any man love a ghost chained inside a wishing well inside a fortress?
And here we are, 44 years later, stuck in this song. I knew it when I wrote it. It is the best thing I’ve ever written.
If you could read my mind love
What a tale my thoughts could tell
Just like an old time movie
About a ghost from a wishing well
In a castle dark or a fortress strong
With chains upon my feet
You know that ghost is me
And I will never be set free
As long as I’m a ghost you can’t see
If I could read your mind love
What a tale your thoughts could tell
Just like a paperback novel
The kind the drugstore sells
When you reach the part where the heartaches come
The hero would be me
Heroes often fail
And you won’t read that book again
Because the ending’s just to hard to take
Make people see me, George.
George, Just so you know, I went and told Trump I would charge him with rape because he raped me in 1967; and he bragged to Billy Bush that he tried to rape me when I was giving him political advice. Sorry, I was angry; but that means he won’t help you. I won’t charge him if he does help you, but it would be dangerous of you to try.
The NSA knows every move you make so everything has to be public.
I’ll be in Isleton until 8/1