I’ve been staring at the pages in my notebook and it seems like there’s a group, a collective, who believe there’s life elsewhere in the universe, which I guess there probably is? Somehwere or another. After a bit of research a few things are becoming a bit clearer…
So, Zeus in Greek mythology is another name for Jupiter in Roman mythology.
Zeus seduced a priestess of Hera, whose name was ‘io’.
‘io’ is also the name of one of Jupiter’s moons – the fiery moon the notes keep banging on about – seems to be important.
From the sentence ‘life began eslewhere in the universe’ maybe these people think it began up near Jupiter… Anyone heard of a group who believes in anything like this and uses this symbol? Check out my last post, £100 still going begging…
I’ve been rummaging through my boxes of stuff from the cottage and I found an exercise book that’s freaking me out a bit – the symbol from my tattoo features in it and seems to be part of some weird belief, check this out:
WTF?? Look, the symbol’s there all printed out in the last picture. Have I joined some weird group while I was away? I admit I’m susceptible to these things – I’ve been sucked in to weird shit before (long story). But now I’m afraid it might be something to do with my memory loss. I’m getting a little freaked out wondering what I’ve got myself involved in.
I really need to know what’s going on, so please help if you can. I’ll even dig into my gran’s inheritance and give you 100 quid if you can tell me what this symbol on my tattoo and in my notebook is:
– is it part of some kind of belief? Some spiritual thing? The first person to email me jameshill83@gmail.coma satisfying answer gets the cash.
(If you’re not sure what I’m on about you can follow what’s been going on below).
I made it back up to Wretham and the cottage had been ransacked – no laptop, no ipod, no phone, no wallet. Great. The police are on the case, but there were no signs of forced entry so I guess I must have left it unlocked. Maybe I was already in a state of confusion. Who knows. Being back there didn’t jog any memories either. I give up.
It hasn’t helped telling the gang back home about all this either, they’re almost more freaked out than I am. They keep blasting me with questions I can’t answer and I’m just lying awake at night with thoughts and what if’s and I hope I didn’ts…
I shouldn’t be all negative though – I found some notebooks full of stuff about the novel I was writing. It seems to be about a guy who tries to write his own future – as he thinks up each chapter of the novel he forces himself to act it out in reality. Bit difficult to explain but I really like the sound of it, thank god. Will write more about it when am not so tired…
Been trying to sort out my flat – was trawling through a mound of post from while I was away, and found a letter with a receipt for the cottage I stayed in! It’s in a village called Wretham in Norfolk. I called the number on it and got through to the woman who owns the place, tried to avoid her questions a bit as didn’t feel like telling her the whole story. Am gonna nab Jon’s car so I can go back up as soon as I can, to collect all my stuff and see if it jogs any memories.
Jeez, nothing’s ever straightforward. When I was washing this morning I found a tattoo on my back, got flatmate Matt to take a pic – look here:
Now this might not be so weird for most people, but ever since fainting after a blood test aged about 9 I’ve had a total aversion to needles, which means I’ve always hated the idea of getting a tattoo.
What the hell?? Why would I suddenly do this? Someone must’ve got me into it, so I’m wondering who on earth I met while I was away.
Just can’t get to grips with what’s happening. I feel like there must be some explanation. Some cure. Am so freaked out I’ve been doing some research of my own. All sorts of weird shit can cause amnesia – can be something obvious like a bang on the head, or something stupid like eating bad shellfish: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amnesic_shellfish_poisoning
Also found this, looks like there’s a hope I might get stuff back…
If a skill is forgotten, a person with retrograde amnesia can relearn it – they can also remember events by having their memories ‘jogged’ – as there is nothing wrong with the coding or storing of their memories (as there is in someone with anterograde amnesia).
So maybe it’s not TOTAL doom and gloom. Fingers crossed.
Jon arrived to find me in a right mess. He calmed me down and checked us into a pub for the night. I reported everything to the police and went to hospital. They did tons of tests (felt a bit like a lab rat) and finally diagnosed me with retrograde amnesia. And that was it. I’d lost a chunk of my life. I unleashed a barrage of expletives on the poor nurse (didn’t mean to, was just in shock), and she said that even though there was no cure, familiar things could, possibly, jog my memory. I’m going to have more tests back in London, but that’s all they could say for now. There was nothing for it so Jon just drove me all the way back home.
So this is why I’m writing – I want to know if anyone’s met me over the last few months. Where have I been staying? What’ve I been doing? If you’re reading this can you forward it on to anyone you know in Norfolk, or the rest of the UK for that matter. I’m pretty sure my plan months ago had been to poke about as much of the countryside as possible.
So, I walked and walked, and finally arrived at a car park where there were loads of people in a right flap. A man had been videoing his kid playing when they’d noticed a car rolling backwards down a slope before dropping right off the cliff. Watching the film I was horrified to see it was my new pride and joy coming to a sticky end. Look watch this…
The guy was really nice. He told me we were in Norfolk and that it was April. APRIL for &*(£$%#* sake! I’d lost three months of my life. I was in a total daze. It was like a white fog wrapped around my mind. I had no idea what to do, so the guy lent me his phone and told me to call someone. With my mum living on the other side of the world I called my oldest mate Jon, and thank god he said he’d come and get me.
I bought my fantasy car – an old MG, and made plans to set off. The last thing I remember is taking my mate Phil for a spin in Richmond park and freezing our butts off on a bl**dy cold morning in January. And then, presumably, I set off for my few months’ break…
Only something went horribly wrong.
The next thing I knew I was wandering around in a field. I had no idea where I was, or why I was there. I could tell by the temperature and the scenery that it wasn’t January anymore and I certainly wasn’t in Richmond, or even London. I had no money, no mobile, nothing, apart from my car keys. But no sign of the car. I have to admit I was scared. Shit scared in fact.
Right, now I’ve had time to calm down, slightly, I suppose I should give some details, in case it jogs your memory, or my memory.
So, where did it all begin…
Life was getting a bit out of control – I’d got in with a weird crowd and there were so many late night sessions, clubs, gigs, I was struggling to hold down a job I didn’t give a toss about. I wasn’t writing songs, I hadn’t even begun to think about writing a book. No self control. Not a sausage. Not an effing chorizo. Nada.
I’d been thinking about taking some time out, so I decided to use the money my gran left me to do something worthwhile, instead of dancing it away on a Thai beach (v e r y tempting). Bless her, she didn’t have much but she was pretty generous in her will.
I planned to leave London and try writing this novel I kept saying I had inside me. The countryside seemed like the safest bet – nothing full on can happen there right? Hah. Wrong as it turns out.
My name’s James Hill, I finished college a few years ago and have always wanted to be a writer, so I set off on a tour round England to do exactly that.
That’s what I do know, what I don’t know is what happened while I was away.
I have no idea what the hell I’ve been doing for the last 3 months. It’s all gone. No memory at all. It’s a bit scary and I’m still trying to make sense of it now.
I need help. I need to get in touch with anyone who’s met me over the last 3 months since I left London – do you know me? Does anyone you know, know me? You never know.
Dunno what to say. Or how to say it. Need to get it all down to try n make sense of everything. Or.. I dunno, maybe it’s not worth it. Don’t really know how to explain. Or where to begin. Oh godhfdjajfkl;a
