We met Alina in our second year at Alternative West High School.

Alina transferred in from the New School with a friend of ours from Junior High, Nick Ide.

The New School had been a private school similar to Alternative West that became bankrupt.

We first noticed Alina early on the second morning of the new fall semester, this was in 1975.

Alina was, perhaps, an epitome of many qualities we most respond to in physical appearances, we approached her cautiously, she seemed to be talking to someone.

We did not want to interrupt.

Alina sat in a large comfy chair with her legs drawn up, staring out the huge southern window of the loft where we held school meetings.

The loft window was at the rear of the carriage house our school rented.

The window overlooked a very long driveway that rose up to the road above that ran along a narrow ledge halfway down a tall hillside along the eastern edge of Denbeigh an Episcopalian estate our carraige house was part of.

Alina was alone, she appeared to be talking to herself in a trance.

We did not interrupt, we listened, carefully.

Alina was describing an approaching school bus, yet when we looked up there was no bus.

Alina described the bus entering the head of the driveway and progressing down the driveway recklessly racing over the speed bumps.

Alina described the bus halting between the branches of the driveway that lead to a mansion for Episcopal meetings and the carriage house rented by our school.

Alina described each person as they were getting off the bus in order, describing them by name, by their clothing, by what they were saying to each other, and by who they were speaking with.

Except Alina had not seen any of this yesterday, and it had not yet happened today.  How did Alina know all their names and wardrobes and interests and friends?

Alina had only been in our school a single day.

The school bus appeared, a bit late perhaps, and raced down the driveway, the driver, John, was a madman, he could be bribed to drive us anywhere for a bottle of liqour, and he could always be counted on to share most of that liqour with the rest of us along the way.

John skillfully drove our school bus like a Maserati in a Grand Prix race.

We abandoned Alina to race downstairs and out the front doors through the vestibule and met the bus as it screeched to a halt.

One by one, students emerged, each in order as Alina described, each dressed as Alina described, each engaged in lively talk with others, all as Alina described, right down to every word we could overhear.

We were amazed.

Alina was a precog!

Had Alina's phsyical appearance not been enough to compel us to court her, this was certainly an attractive bonus.

We began courting Alina that day.

We were already signed up to share a class with Alina, a sociology class that would last all day, every day, for several weeks, studying different communities in the field, exploring various neighborhoods in Philadelphia and then writing a report on a neighborhood of our choice.

We got to spend a lot of time with Alina this way, although we each chose different commuities to focus on.

We arranged a nice lunch with her one day in JFK Plaza at the foot of the Love statue facing City Hall.

It was a lunch with home-made wine, cheese, thick crusty bread, and apples.

We made a date to go with Alina to one of her Saturday art classes.

We were a long standing student of Art, having attended Saturday classes and summer high school classes at Moore College of Art.

Alina's lessons were in a small private house in Manayunk, a part of German Town with perhaps a dozen other students in a cramped living room.

Alina was as clearly in her element here as we had ever seen her, she seemed to be enjoying herself.

We were welcomed and were able to participate in class.

Over time, we would learn to trust each other enough to model for each other naked, taking turns drawng and modelling.

We were shy about discussing Alina's precognitive talent; we had been eavesdropping, it had been a private moment for her.  It might not be something she wanted to talk about.

Eventually, we would talk with her about her talent, but that would come much later.

For now, we were madly in love with Alina, gently courting her; we trusted she was falling in love with us as well.

We were both hippies into peace, pot, and micro-dots, although we had yet to learn Alina might be interested in LSD.

The day we discovered Alina was curious about LSD is another story...


We were deeply in love with Alina; we were courting her very cautiously, we sensed a timidness and had not yet learned what it might be about.

We followed hippy ideals, as did Alina, we each loved many people.

We shared many intimate moments together, yet rarely in each others arms.

We had not yet kissed or had sex when a spontaneous orgy arose one afternoon in our bedroom and Alina broke her cherry with our friend Roy, while we sampled the sexual favors of a lovely lass named Tracy.  Alina's best friend Clytie made love with our lover Monte.

It turned out not to be a very good orgy.

Two friends isolated themselves and never got involved, other than to watch.  Also, no one chose to switch partners later.

Good fun for most of us though.

At least we hope so; we never developed any sort of real relationship with Tracy, we can only hope she had a good time; we were too intently focused on Alina.

Another time we joined Monte and Alina in bed, it was clumsy, somewhat awkward, none of us got any sex, just a lot of loving and cuddling.

We loved Alina somewhat desperately, but we were not jealous.

We would not interfere with Alina's choices of people to love; we regarded her choices as her privilege to love anyone she liked and to enjoy being loved by them in any fashion they mutually agreed to.

We never did have sex with Alina, but that was not the most important part of our love or courtship anyway.

The important part was getting to know Alina and learning to trust each other, and that part went very well, until it was time for us to leave high school, while Alina still had a year or so to go.

But that is another story, a story that is more about oursevles than about Alina...

Before helping us to rob a bank, Alina would die; but those are yet two other stories...






Parts of this story currently blogged on Temple Illuminatus...

Alina, In the Beginning, Courtship
Alina toward the Middle, Before a New Begining, Intimacy
Alternative West, Learning to Channel
Alternative West, Sociology and Psychology
Alina, In the Middle, Suicide
Alina, Over The Hump, Bank Robbers
Alina, A New Beginning, Resurrection


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Comment by Grigori Rho Gharveyn on April 8, 2011 at 9:16pm

Thank you Lorne, we added new links at the end of each aprt to guide you itemporal order of events... not quite the order we wrote in...




Comment by Grigori Rho Gharveyn on March 31, 2011 at 11:34pm
Aye Hari, co-riders describe many of us very well...
Comment by Grigori Rho Gharveyn on March 29, 2011 at 12:56am

Hi Zoe, thank you!

Alina is our twin flame whom we also call Madrigal, a dragon form of her spirit we knew in our own dragon form as Gharveyn before coming to Earth...

Or so we choose to believe anyway...

We think these tales, our personal myths. will all be woven into a sort of auto-biography, beginning with our early childhood.

Early reviews seem favorable...

We cannot post our story as a document here, please look on our profile, on our wall, or whatever it is called here... We think we can post it as a file there ok...

Yes, we did it here:

A CHILD'S TALES, A Journey from Darkness Into Light




Comment by Grigori Rho Gharveyn on March 28, 2011 at 4:50pm

Oh aye, we have carefully studied the issues of how we present ourselves brother Ron,

Do you think we might engage in such an outstanding enterprise without deep contemplation?

We chose to speak this way because it reflects how we perceive ourselves far more accurately than any I or me can speak for us.

We chose to speak this way partly as an exercise in NLP, Neuro-Linguistic Programming, because we faced a sort of cultural war for our identities as we see them; English language and the cultures speaking English do not have any comfortable niches for people who are many, yet.

So partly we speak this way to resist the pressure of other people to define us like themselves, for we are not a single person and neither can we nor will we become one, until perhaps all people come together as one.

We are sorry if our ways upset you, we understand many people are upset by our ways of referring to ourselves; we try to make our peace with them as best we may.

How may we make peace with you brother Ron, while remaining authentic to ourselves?


Thank you for your compliments Ron, we hope you will sample more of our work.



Blessed be...



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