Many sexual exploits the last few weeks, which I cannot go into in the diaries. One recently involving the Moroccan girl was extraordinarily memorable. I will throw it into the future so as never to lose it in my library of recollections.

With this said, for the record of the time, I still feel lonely as hell in general, a deep sad loneliness inside of me. the kind that says ‘I don't care what kind of experiences you are having... if it isn't the purest deepest most connected magical thing ever, then forget about it.’ Longing to meet the one who owns my heart already. I wouldn’t trade these experiences for anything. Except for one thing. And that would be to meet HER. I'm a lucky guy and I know it. And I am filled with appreciation for how lucky I am to have these experiences. But I still cannot help but look into the eyes of every girl I meet everyday and wonder...

I fell asleep soon after this wild and spontaneous experience last night with the Moroccan girl lying next to me; I awoke to the craziest dream a few hours later. There was this girl praying to God; she was kneeling down in this giant white room. Soon I realized that it was actually me. But I was a girl. I was a Christian girl. And I was praying to the Christian God. on my knees. In deep prayer. God hovered out in front of and high above me.

In the next moment God whispered something to me about who he was. It was as if a curtain had been lifted. Many of them. and all of a sudden the white room I was in was no longer white. But instead, hundreds upon hundreds of little rooms, just like the one I was kneeling in, were appeared all around me. and hundreds and hundreds of other people on their knees praying to the same God. I saw all kinds of people below me, next to me, above me, and across from me. Everywhere, as far as I could see. it was like this giant three-dimensional labyrinth. And I was just one of thousands of people all looking toward the center. Toward this godlike light radiating out to all of us. everyone was praying at once, and in all these different languages.

Current Read: studying ancestry.com. trying to find my last 25%. trying to research where my father’s father’s family is from. I have them traced back six generations. Florida to Ohio to Indiana to Virginia to Iowa to Kentucky [in reverse order]. But still no mention of what country they originated from. I seriously had no idea that my American roots went so far back. And I certainly didn't know it was from such ... middle American states. mostly farmers. So one could say I'm 25% farmer. They were all born ‘at home’ and each wife had like six to eight children before they died at a rather young age. I think having all those kids at such young ages with no medical facilities took its tool on women back then. The research I find exciting and humbling. I just had no idea I was so American. So I really am, at least partly, a full on American in my blood. Searching the census reports is very cool. but I'm about as far back as I can go now, and cannot find any of the names of my great great grandfathers parents. So now I'm at a loss to know what to do next. No birth certificates because of the home births so they're just showing up on census reports here and there. and at the time census reports weren't asking for parent’s names. Tricky. The story has always been that they were from Ireland Scotland Wales or England. Depending on who you ask. So who knows. it would be nice to know though since I have the rest of my family traced back now. the great ‘who am I and how did I get to be who I am’ game.