Dave Salvatore

Incense…It must have been the incense. I didn’t eat or drink anything so they couldn’t have fed me a drug, but the overpowering smell must be some sort of hallucinogen. The strong scent in the clothes and skin must have been enough to give me some kind of a contact high.

As I lay there in bed with my eyes closed, I went through the events of last evening…the hypnotic song in a song, following Marie through the club, the threesome and then the drug induced vision of the bleeding man and the woman with the red eyes.

Thank God I’m back in my room.  I don’t remember the New Orleans sun being that brutal.  When I walked out of the hotel earlier this morning, the sun nearly blinded me.  It was just as bad coming back to the hotel.  And my face feels like it has sunburn even though I couldn’t have been in the sun for more than 15 minutes all day.

After dropping my things on the bed, I went to the laptop and sat thinking of where to start.  I needed to eat but wanted information first.  I couldn’t spend much time on the computer until I ate.  I’ve been so hungry all day; it’s been hard to concentrate.  Even with 2 full meals and quite a few snacks throughout the day, it seems like I can’t satisfy the hunger I’m feeling.

What have I done? I can’t believe it. After sixteen years of marriage, the last ten spent as a traveling salesman, I have never been unfaithful to my wife. Never, that is, until last night.

The last twelve hours have been very strange and I’m not sure that I can trust my memory to tell me what is real and what is fantasy. I’m starting this journal to keep track of my thoughts until I can figure what, exactly, is going on.

It started last night in a New Orleans bar.

What you are about to read is real. I am writing this journal as a warning to others. I don’t know how long I will be able to keep recording these strange events that are happening to me, but someone needs to know what is happening.

What have I done? I can’t believe it. After sixteen years of marriage, the last ten spent as a traveling salesman, I have never been unfaithful to my wife. Never, that is, until last night.

The last twelve hours have been very strange and I’m not sure that I can trust my memory to tell me what is real and what is fantasy. I’m starting this journal to keep track of my thoughts until I can figure what, exactly, is going on.

It started last night in a New Orleans bar.

What you are about to read is real. I am writing this journal as a warning to others. I don’t know how long I will be able to keep recording these strange events that are happening to me, but someone needs to know what is happening.