Sunday, February 1, 1981

Resistance. I make up little things to distract me. Read the
newspaper. Look for something to eat in the kitchen. Why am I
resisting calling people about the party next Saturday? I have an
interesting idea. Introduce some of the people I have known for many
years and say something about them. It could be quite amusing. But I
avoid making the calls that will bring people here. I begin to feel
the difficulty of communicating with people. Something. Its like many
times in the past. There is something I want to do, but have enormous
resistance to getting going. I anticipate how uncomfortable it will be
talking with some people, and that stops me from calling anyone. So
why not just call those that are easiest? I think ahead to how hard it
will be to have something to do with people at the party. One side of
me says to just stop calling people. Let those who I've called not
come, or get here and then go home.  A crazy idea. Last night, just
before falling off to sleep, two voices were calling my name. They
were like elves with very strange voices. They kept calling my name. I
am also putting off doing certain work. REsisting lots of things that
would make things better for me. More money. Get a bigger place. But I
don't do the things needed to bring it about. Reading about the war in
El Salvador. Having science fiction like fantasies of having an alien
ally with enormous power capable of stopping all the fighting. I am
their earth representative. I threaten to make demon- strations of the
enormous power available, if they don't stop fighting.  There I am in
the corridors of power negotiating with followers of the adversaries.
This is an old fantasy of mine. Stopping crime, wars, fights, trouble
anywhere with my all powerful friends from the stars. More fantasies
about Judy. She has promised to call me back twice this week and
didn't. Why not send her an its-all-over-between-us letter, and a copy
of my notes, and a message about how she can get future issues by
subscription.  Something like that. It always comes out better in my
fantasies. Everything comes out better in my fantasies. But then in
those fantasies I do more to bring them about than I put into real
life. I am mostly fearless, always clever, ever able to do the next
best thing to cause something to happen in my favor. But then I never
have to worry about pesky other realities. Everybody does my orders
perfectly. I always know exactly what everyone should do. For example,
in my fantasy about Judy, she is quite taken with my letter, really
nothing more than an ingenious ploy to get her attention, and falls in
love with me. And wants to be with me more. And so it works out just
fine for me and her. But really she has all these other things pulling
at her and I'm not attractive enough to push them out of her life. So
I think of more clever ideas.  This has happened in the past. Once
when she did not want to have anything to do with me, and was quite
disturbed about my wanting to sleep with her, I managed to reverse the
situation by sending her a poem something like this: Roses are red,
Violets are blue, Even if you won't, I still love you' And things have
improved since.  She told me last week of having thought of sleeping
with me - mostly when I was in Europe. So maybe I should go away
again? I will call her right now and invite her to next week's party.

Tuesday, February 3, 1981

It seems like a depression. Difficult to get up. Slow to fall asleep.
I lie in bed resisting getting started. Thinking about all the work
that must be done.  Spending the time on sexual fantasies. Reading
Nietzsche's Beyond Good And Evil. It seems to be about what's wrong
with philosophers of the past and what philosophy might be like, or
how it might approach things in the future. Nothing's happening.
Boring.  Lotti asks me for some advice about her relationships last
night. Seems the men involved are always saying she wants to much from
them. She's smothering them. I tell her it is a common complaint from
men about women. Try some other relationships, spend some time with me
and the people I live with. I tell her she has too many expectations
of them and they can't stand the pressure. Judy called-me last night
to help her move some furniture. Then she wants to have lunch. I
suspect it is more like a bribe. She knows I like her and will do most
anything to get her attention. Its true.  She only has to ask.
Unfortunately, she doesn't ask enough. But recently I have noticed
something very interesting about her behavior. The first thing is a
certain quality in her voice. It is much softer and more open. The
second thing is what she tells me about her other relationships.
Namely, the difficulties. Her doubts about continuing the way it is
with Steven.  Almost like a panic about having to make a choice about
going somewhere with him if he leaves the area. And at times that she
wants to end it.  Myself I feel a little like a piece of cheese being
used by a cat to bait a mouse Not that she does this consciously, but
I am certainly not above using one of my relationships as a lever to
improve or move another. But on the other hand, one good one makes me
more secure in trying to start another. She could be doing this also.
But it is so slow. I want to blame her for this. But I look at myself
and see all the mistakes. Each one has slowed or crippled progress. So
I help her move this chair. We get it from Michael's house. He won't
help her. He doesn't want to go into her house.  Anybody but Steven
can help her pick it up - but not him! She is 3 very aggressive today.
Pulling my hat over my eyes. Keeping it away from me. Not watching how
she is driving. Talking loud and in spurts. She wants to fight. Its
good she doesn't have much experience being aggressive. Lots of
problems with the job as its ending in a few months. Doesn't know
what's going to happen to her relationship with Steven. He may just go
away. She really wants to fight with him to see if he can take it.
Will he run away?  Will he turn tail and become a wimp? Will it freak
him out? Will he still want her after its over? Stay tuned. I suggest
rewriting her resume. I volunteer to help. But I've got to be off for
downtown and my luncheon date with Susan. She's interested in my notes
and me after a two hour conversation about FH and related things. It
doesn't go. She thinks I perceive things too differently from her. Oh
well. A bit of rejection. Some chocolate. A chocolate-chip cookie.
Suddenly everything is much better.  Evening. More calls for next
Saturday's party. I have called many people. A lot who I would
normally pass over because of anxieties. A question. Do I manage to
call them because the anxiety is being held down, or because the
problem is being overcome? Is it being done from feeling or from
compulsion and/or an idea of what should be done? Am I guided by
desire or craziness?  How do people manage to convince themselves
something is happening in their life when they live alone? Stuck
again. I think about writing something then see it as propaganda,
dogma, a personal party line, my own ideas, with no connection to the
facts. How to say this. Nonsense. Most of what I say.  Its hard to
separate the real feeling from the past echo still reverberating
around inside me. Its mostly stuff that just spills out, like a
garbage can being tipped over. And the shit inside' Sometimes a
valuable thing gets thrown out. But who would notice or even want to
look? The Garbage Can School of Personal Development. Get rid of all
your garbage.  Two consecutive weekends. $500.

Saturday, February 7, 1981

Depression again. I don't want to get up. Curl up. Suck my thumb.
Masturbate.  Afraid of being seen by Dana. Not really. An old anxiety.
Something from a long time ago. Finally I'm up but still feeling in a
daze. Go to work. The post office and bank. Lots of money in the mail
today. I feel better about that. Some bills will get paid. I hang
around the office but don't get anything done. Judy calls. She will be
here at 3 for me to help with her new resume. And so we work on that.
She has lots of resistance to my suggestions about how to do it. I
take a break, make a sandwich, and she reads my most recent notes.
Those just before today. She makes the most positive analysis of
anyone who has read them. m ey cover the present, sometimes digress to
the past and how it influences the present, and ideas for the future,
she says. It has lots of interesting, creative metaphors. There are
lessons every now and then.  INteresting insights about you and the
world. Some good generalizations. But the lessons and conclusions are
not preachy or propoganda. There is stream of conscious- ness and also
monitoring of events. It is something where you really want to turn
the next page to learn what happens next, she says. One also learns
little things about life. I am very pleased at what she says. If you
say anything more positive about it, I'll ask you to marry me, I say
to her. She thinks it would be of interest to people of all ages. But
she also suggests that her view may be clouded by knowing me. Why not
give it to someone you know to read, I suggest. At first I think maybe
it should be presented as a novel, fiction. But no, just as someone's
memoirs. She will do this for me. We go back to her resume. My heart
is not in it. I wrestle her to the bed.  Bite her back, spank her,
grab her by the neck, growl like a bear, and then lie beside her. She
spanks and pounds me. We hold each other and talk. I like her a lot
and want her. I feel neurotic and fucked up when around you, she says.
Its hard for me to let go. But she likes holding me. It is very
pleasant. How far I get with her surprises me. It goes very easy. Its
much farther than ever before. Maybe next time we will do more, I say.
Time to go. She asks me why I push so hard to develop my
relationships. She does not mean this in a negative way, but that I
keep trying no matter what, and others don't. Perhaps I need it more.
It seems like a very necessary thing to be healthy. But I learned
something very important from this time with her.  That's its possible
to develop my relationship more with someone by paying attention to
how comfortable things are. Other times I would have pushed on her and
not realized it until too late. This time I was aware and sensitive to
what was possible with her.  She knows about her resistance. We talked
about her relationship with Steven and how she often wished someone
were there to say you are doing this and you are doing that.  It can
be done when people live together and talk to each other and do things
together.  And pay attention to each other. Dana, Simone, and I do
this. Just then she calls from LA and says how she misses us here. I
have missed her a lot this last week. I've never been so aware of how
important contact with women is as this last week. Most everything has
not gone well for me. Depressions, not getting up, tired, and being
something or other. It is the next day and its all forgotten. We had a
big party lad night. 60-70 people came. As many as 30+ at one time. A
beautiful redhead named Suzanne, who played the harp and did psychic
readings. She was very lively. Kissed me as she left. Deborah's old
roommate. She gets invited again' She was interested in FH for a
while. She read some of my notes. Peter was the first to arrive.
Mostly no, all men for the first 45 minutes. Suzanne was the first
woman. The next big surprise was Liebe. Absolutely gorgeous. I would
have tried to start something with her if she'd stayed longer. She
definitely gets invited again' I could not believe the difference from
when I last saw her. Then it was as a hippie/artist/farmer. Now she is
somewhat like a chic New York fashion model.  And so stylishly
dressed. Dana's sister came with a woman, Kathy, who I would have
swooned all over, if only she hadn't kept retreating from me. She was
very beautiful and soft looking. I was having fantasies of getting a
normal job, dressing normally, and asking her to marry me and have
children. The idea just overwhelmed me. She reminds me of Joan Hale.
The first woman I fell in love with after leaving Cody. She worked in
the bookkeeping department of a Washington DC department store. I
became ga-ga over her. But she wanted someone more normal. Or at least
someone who looked more normal. For awhile I managed to change my
appearance to try and attract her. It was a very uncomfortable thing
to do. I wanted to do whatever was necessary to get her, but it was
all such an act, or so it felt to me. I was not comfortable doing it.
I failed anyway. I think of her sometimes. A woman like Kathy
hypnotizes me into that time. And Jeannette, another surprise. She and
Gina came dressed as runk pockers. Dressed to kill. Some almost didn't
recognize them. She is not living with Vinnie. A few days ago she
seemed quite satisfied. But she's like that. She'll end a situation of
that sort very quickly for one reason or another. She said to me, you
were right. But I'm not sure exactly what I she meant. Was it about
things changing back and forth, or did I say something about what I
thought would happen with her and Vinnie? A phone call from someone
who left their sweater here last night. No matter, but she came,
kissed me, was her usual affectionate self, stayed for awhile, and
left. For parts unknown, or to be a bad girl like her old days? Or to
abuse herself. I don't know what it is with her at times. Such a lot
of life energy, and so much of it goes to self-destructive behavior. I
really don't know what to do when I hear about these things from her.
She seems totally honest about it to me, but as though she is a
helpless victim of it, like it is being done outside her control. I
worry that she will get herself pregnant again. I have the urge to be
very protective of her but helpless myself. What can be done?  Who but
her can do it? She is very good at resisting any efforts from me.
Sometimes I think maybe that pushes her the wrong way even more. She
reminds me of my sister. Complete self-confidence, l but in reality
like a baby at the controls of an airplane. Who wants to fly with
that? And why am I so attracted so much to someone like this? Could it
be so I am always the one who is in control at the times things are
bad for her? No, that's not quite it.  So I can be superior with a
fallen woman?  I danced, or tried with her, for a little while.
Certainly I envy the way she moves herself. A long phone conversation
with Linda. I tell her about the party and what happened with
different people. How I am feeling jealous of Dana and that he has
more success, by numbers, with women. He is more able to attract them
to him in the short term. I tell Linda about my feeling of confidence
about the women I like now. Her, Simone, Judy, Jeannette, Liebe. And
how everything could turn to shit in two days. At the moment I feel
positive about all of them. And they are positive about me.  Its like
an emotional roller-coaster. But I don't want it to continue like
this. How to get things more stable? Certainly if we all lived
together.  But now its a problem to get close to them when they just
knew of the others. Dana is making some sort of moves with Carol. Lois
seems to be responding to this by giving more of her attention to Joe.
Speculation. I find myself with an odd feeling. One moment talking
with people, seeming to have some connection. The next walking down to
the other side of the party and feeling like I'm in some sort of
twilight zone. Completely disconnected. Lots of people making long
drawn out thanks yous for inviting them to this lovely party. Big
smiles, grins. Something artificial about it. Fake. It makes me a bit
uncomfortable when people carry on at such lengths. I get the feeling
its not genuine, that its forced. Its better with those who just put
on their coats and say goodbye. Or like Jeannette, hug and kiss me,
and then say goodbye. S ten shows up and returns my notes.  He wants
to read the second half. He says its very good. That its a good way
for me to come out with myself. His advice is to just write for
myself.  To not let the idea of getting published influence what I
write in any way.  I am pleased to hear this, but lately worry about
exactly this happening. I sit here and write this and say to myself -
there is a fight going on inside me to try to continue to write just
for myself, and to not let it be influenced by y fame and fortune
fantasies. Karyn comes just after Ron, about 1 in the morning. Its an
odd feeling with her. Would she stay if asked? Do I really want to
ask? It goes back and forth. She seems to linger. My imagination? But
this Kathy keeps coming back into my head.  Sexual fantasies. Fucking
with her. She is several months pregnant. From behind. The suburbs. I
almost can't believe this. Its like a flood. Washing over me. Trying
to consciously think of other things. But it comes back.  Out of my
control. Images of total passion. Always fucking. We are delerious.
But I recognize this. Anyone really out of my reach can generate these
fantasies. With Simone I don't have it. I have her. With Linda I have
the fantasies a little, but don't have her as much as Simone. After
yesterday with Judy I notice a drop in the intensity of my fantasies
about her. For awhile there was something with the redhead Suzanne,
but she seems totally fixated on things like dreams, fairy tales, and
psychic phenomenon.  Maybe it is paranoia but it seems she avoids me.
More paranoia that she kissed Dana with more affection when she left?
It seemed a little stiffer and forced with me. Could I be jealous?
Over a gorgeous woman with fantastic red hair and a very nice body?
Dana asks to read the notes. So he gets the first two Sunday pages.
Its my birthday. 36. Two times 36 is 72. Is my life half over? I don't
want to face it. But everyone in your family lives to be much older,
you say. That means you really have more time. Don't worry about it
you say? Why a feeling of panic? Why do I always think time is running
out. It happened the same even 10 years ago.  Ten years before that I
was waiting to be older so I could really do something with my life.
Here I am, and wishing it was twenty years ago, but knowing what I
know today. 50 why don't I know what I'll know in another 10 years?
Sometimes I think, yes, you know what you will know in ten years now.
The real problem is that you are not doing as much as you can imagine,
or as much as you want. So the answer to that is to just do all those
things in your imagination. Don't be so afraid. What, after all, do
you really have to *****. I can never remember, is it lose, or is it
loose? You know what I mean. It feels like I will break down and cry.
It comes a little ways out and then fades. This woman keeps jumping
back into my mind. Its like in the movies. Her face suddenly fills the
entire screen. She does not look directly at me. Always a little down,
or to one side. I tell her how beautiful she is. How attracted I am to
her. But she has another idea of what she wants in a man and withdraws
from me. At one point she moves around behind the kitchen table, which
is already pushed nearly against the wall. She seems to pick up
another cigarette each time I approach her. She is uncomfortable from
my attention. I imagine what sort of man she would like. There is one
like that here. He is reasonably well dressed. Very normal. Also very
dull and boring. But that's only to me. She would want someone with
those qualities. But probably not just this one. Dana asks me about
Ann and Elizabeth. He found them | both very seductive, especially
Elizabeth, who is the older. He thought that Ann, especially, was on
the prowl. Very sexual, like an animal. Last time I saw her she was
very subdued, squashed. Maybe she's trying to let some of this out.
She was certainly more lively this evening. Dana comments on my notes.
Interesting, he says. ! I found it interesting what you perceived
about the evening.  Where did that comment about me trying to start
something with Carol come from? Out of nowhere. Or so he says! But I
notice just a touch of his not liking what's been written. He is not
explicit, but there is the impression that he doesn't want it to be
seen that way. An awkward moment with Carol.  We are talking about
writing, creativity, thinking about writing for publication. Then on
to more personal things like what's happening with me and Simone and
Michael coming over for breakfast tomorrow. She wonders about the
problems. There are some parts to it. One is that Simone feels no
contradiction or problem being with me and Michael. She likes us both.
It makes sense. She feels good] But when she and Linda are with me it
is something else. If not, then she will manage ' to create something.
She knows enough about her past to suddenly discover enough wrong with
her in the present. She mentions how some people can make a decision
to not have this be a problem. To me this is nothing more than a
temporary fake, or resisting what is really going on, what the person
is really feeling.  She says that

Tuesday, February 10, 1981

So many things in the last few days - where to start? Just talked to
Sten about his going back to FH. On the surface he seems quite cool.
But there must be some kind of fight going on. Some internal pressure.
Thursday is the day. Maybe and maybe not. I was assaulted by Deanna
last night. Fortunately my size and strength were sufficient to
overcome her intensity. She still claims to be owed money. The police
came.  I don't feel competant to handle violence. The animal in me
really came out.  Had she been a little more vicious I might have done
more than get her out of my way. She threw water in my face and
refused to let me leave the office. The police told her to file a
court complaint. I was shaking and extremely agitated by it. Almost 24
hours later I am still shaking a bit from it. Hopefully it is over.
Yesterday started as a very good day. At the beginning Linda called,
about 7 in the morning. We meet at the Harvard Square bus station and
take the subway to her place. Our original intent was to have
breakfast. So we wait at her place for someone to show up with paints.
No show. The subway to South Station. Inside she suddenly is startled
by something, says, oh, I forgot something. Stops at a newstand for a
book of matches. She wants coffee and something to eat from the deli.
You have to have a muffin or something, she insists. I almost ask her
if she is my mother. No, I don't want anything, I say. Yes, you've got
to have something she insists. Ok, one of those pastries. Come into
the train with me, she insists again. Put her stuff on the seat, go to
the space between two cars. She turns around, back to me and says
don't look. She's doing something. Lights a match. It goes out.
Another. Turns around and presents me with a pastry and a candle - a
surprise birthday cake. She sings happy birthday' And then its
goodbye. This is a new typeface. These two balls came in the mail
yesterday. Certainly is smaller. ~. Here's the other one. Didn't have
it on right the first time. Seems to be a little difference. Now the
question of the one being in the right place - llllll, and now the
lllllll.  They are both the same. But there is no real exclamation
mark' I have to type it with a period, backspace, and the a single
quote. What a bother' The two type balls have to be cleaned. Walking
to the post office yesterday with a nagging sensation of having
forgotten something. Then it turned to the idea of am I doing enough.
Is there anything I'm leaving out, not thinking about. I have this
feeling of so many things to write about, but can't discipline myself
to do. And not only that but I feel a very strong urge to do so
lately. I have been getting some interesting impressions or pictures.
Its like a picture where you make a single brushstroke and it doesn't
mean much. But in time, with many strokes, a picture begins to appear.
It is not clear what the picture is yet, but only the sensation of one
appearing. Lots of things happening often leads me to new ideas and
explanations. New directions, new things to try. Simone has been
feeling this with all the people who are in love with her. Why can't
only one person love me, she asks. You must become an emotional
fascist and stop them from loving you, I say. Tell them to stop having
these feelings. Only one person should have them. But it doesn't work
that way. Who wants to have these feelings controlled by another
person? Mark, who still works at the Quarterway, calls and asks if she
has came back to me, or left ~ as he wants her to. I think he is in
love with her also. Dana also is getting a little agitated by the
situation. An outburst at her for saying he has more than a simple ~
friendship with her. But its obviously more than that. With all the
sexual things ~ l they do together, the intimate times we all spend
together' clearly indicate he has more of a relationship with her and
any of the women he sleeps with. Simone tells me an interesting fact
about Dana - that he has not had, until very recently, a relation-
ship with an unmarried, or unattached woman' They have all been with
someone else. This makes it emotionally safer for him. And if he
succeeds in pulling her away from who he is with, then it clearly
indicates how attached the woman is to him.  Simone is making more of
her veiled hints at monogamy, having children, the value of having one
good relationship versus many casual affairs, like Dana, she
frequently adds. And 3 Dana has botched another relationship. m e
redhead invited him over yesterday. She all but raped him. Jumped in
his lap, sung him love songs. She wants to fuck him, but is not, as
she thinks she is, able to be direct about it. There I go again, a
little bit of resentment creeping in. Perhaps its not evident in the
words just written, but I notice it, just a little in myself. Anyway,
she is probably too much for him. He prefers less intense, more
subdued women like Lois or Carol. He can be the one to dominate.
Simone and I are having sexual difficulties.  Its ok at the beginning,
but she soon gets very dry. The last two times have made my prick
almost raw. It smarts a little. She has a burning sensation also. mere
is this impression I have of her faking lots of little things, pushing
to hard, tightening up at unexpected times. I can't feel connected to
her. It gets better sometimes when I just stop everything and tell her
what's going on. I find myself unconsciously fucking but preoccupied
with something else in my head. This morning I ask her and she is
thinking about how big Joe's prick must be. She notices a change in
Michael's behavior. He is mare open with her, more loving. But at the
same time says that there can't be any sexual activity between them.
God knows why, but that's what he says.  He has asked her to cancel
the birthday surprise party for me next Saturday and go out with him
instead. Aha! Forcing her to make decisions. Last night she admits to
wanting to do this. She is struggling over it. She has come up with
the idea to try and get Cheyenne to my party. Or even Otto' Or my
mother. A thought just now.  That Michael's idea for no sex with her
now might be turned around by him if they go back together. He
mentioned indirectly such a thing just recently to her. I don't-
remember exactly how, but he still has the wish to do it. I talk with
Sten about all these things and it agrees that things are heating up.
Same violence will be next he thinks. Not overtly, but Michael's
asking Simone to cancel my party is more the sort he means.  It is a
though Simone is feeling tossed between to poles and has to make a
decision to stick with one of them. Sometimes I get this feeling, but
it never lasts for long. A violent fantasy on the subway.  A young
black guy starts smoking next to me. A shotgun blast puts an end to
his face - and the cigarette.  Another new customer for my business
while stopping at TERC in Harvard Square. I begin to feel myself go
out of control with all the events of these days. Like being whirled
around by a tornado. A feeling of no place, no solid place to put my
feet. As though anything could happen. Yesterday I felt very good.
Thinking about my various relationships, and that something may
develop from them. Sunday afternoon with Judy. I gave in to the way
she wants to do her resume. We didn't wrestle on the bed. Only a short
chance to be a little perverse. I like to feel through a woman's pants
or dress to the edge of her underwear. Then to slip a finger just
under the edge of the underwear and run the finger all the way around
her leg. Very gently, to tickle her just a little. From this I can
tell how far I have to go. It's a very horny game for me. She let me
do it several times in the hallway. I try to be sensitive to the
places that cause the most sensation or excitement. Just now the
impression that this writing is being done to fill paper. The
typewriter is turned on and off. On and off, to decide if even to
write this. Turn it off and go do something else. Later. A thought
about writing more about last Saturday nights party. Or continue with
today.

Wednesday, February 11, 1981

Simone has just asked me for a pen. What color, I say. I don't care'
It is not a pleasant tone of voice. For the second night she has been
struggling with me. Tonite it is about whether or not people, other
than her, will sleep here, the place where both of us will be living,
or at the other person's place. She talks with Michael about it now.
She talks with everyone about it. Trying to raise support for her
position.  Last night we fought, but first about whether we would
share the same bedroom. It was the same. I want my cwn room. She wants
to have it with me. Its a fight that's happened at least 3 times
before. But its getting close to her moving here.  I tell her that
restrictions on my relationships with other people are not possible.
It is possible that someone I'm very close to may want to live with
us. She already has me and Dana. But she says Dana tells her he won't
sleep with her when I'm here.  This is | his problem. In the end she
may have to leave me and find someone else who will do ; what she
wants. She won't gaurantee how she'll act if anything happens in front
of | her. Last night in a bar in Brookline, five of us, me, Simone,
Dana, Donna, and Carol, talked about it. Donna said she couldn't do
anything like this. She leaves alone most of the time. She has a
boyfriend on the West Coast. She's the sort who prefers a little
distance. Carol wanted to talk about Disneyland, San Diego, and the
rest of her recent trip to California. She did not like the
seriousness of the talk. I She also felt left out and that the
spotlight was being taken away f m m her. But people are more inclined
to join in an interesting conversation rather than superficial
chatter. There is a lot of tension between us. She stills talks to
Michael on the phone. I don't know how to be more straight tf onward
with her. These little rules of hers are only to prevent situations
where her own difficulties come out. She knows she wants exactly the
same for herself. She wants a deeper relationship with Dana, and has
probably thought of Michael living with us. It is probably only their
difficulties that prevent it. If they could do it I'm sure she would
be quite agreeable.  None of the others want this though. Jeff told
her today that he wouldn't sleep with her again l if she moved in
here. She uses every little angle and trick to try and dislodge me
from my position. She is talking with Michael about marriage right
this very moment.  Trying to cover all the bases, just in case things
don't work out here. They won't l for just this reason. Imagining that
something might go wrong soon leads to the first tiny clue that,
indeed, something is going wrong. Maybe the first clue is not even in
| the right direction, but it is a clue' It can be interpreted in the
right direction.  Now they are arguing about who left who and under
what circumstances. Should I endure the pain now, get out of it and
start again, she asks him. Dana doesn't want her to marry Michael
because of his fucked up parts, again, I'm am overhearing more of
their phone conversation. You started going out with Linda one week
after we broke up, she throws at him. Will you sleep with me when
Richard's here? (more overhearing) But I have my own things.
Compulsion today. Touching my fingers. It sounds strange, but is an
old habit. Michael says he's sleeping with two other women now, and
Simone | makes three, and that's too much to handle. I can't seem to
escape it. Its time to try something else to get out of this rut. You
know sex and love have been the same for me ever since I've gone out
with Skip. More Simone there. I can't keep my ears off the
conversation. Michael, you know we have the best sex together. You
don't want to come inside me because you don't want to totally let go.
I don't have great orgasm with Richard. I do with you. It turns out
that I have the best orgasms with Linda.  Do you remember the first
night that I met you and said that I wanted to fuck you?  You have the
same problem that we all have Michael. Its hard for you to feel loved.
If you cant feel loved by me then you won't feel loved by anybody. Its
my own fear. I don't know if Richard's going to hurt me. You're saying
no sex, because I can't handle it.  Why am I getting sexually excited
right now, he asks her. Its stupid all these people rejec- ting each
other because they are afraid of being rejected. I go to Simone while
she is on the phone and kiss her many times, very loudly. Michael says
he won't see her for a week. I go back and kiss her some more. Now
Michael won't see you for two weeks, I say. And then a third time. Not
for three weeks, you won't see her, I say. I close the door. She is
trying to rescue her relationship with him. Best to let them dig up
their graves and really see what's there. A compulsive day. My
fingers. Touching the four fingers with the thumb. Both hands at the
same time. Mathematical patterns.  Touch them in one direction, then
the other. Thumb on index finger, move it and touch the middle, and so
on. Other patterns. Start with the little finger and go the other way.
Do it one direction twice, then the other direction twice. Reverse it.
Reverse a combination of both these patterns. And so on with great and
increasing complexity until I have lost count, or my thoughts take me
away from it. My stepfather used to mimic me when he saw me do this.
It went on for awhile. Then I stopped doing it so overtly or often.
Don't remember when it started. Maybe about 14 or 15. It stopped after
some months. Still do it, but very carefully, when nobody is around.
Today, for instance. This thing with Simone. It causes lots of
anxiety. I get nervous.  Have some fights in my head about it. Start
this finger touching thing. Catch myself.  Scrapping my feet also. I
touch the toe and heel with every step. Always trying to touch the
same number of times with both feet. Its a compulsion to try and make
it the same number of times with both feet if I miss. Grandmother
always told me to stop dragging my feet. It usually went with the head
bent down, looking at the ground in front of me as I walked along.
What did I fret about then? I was only a little boy.  What do little
boys fret about? Would there be any friends around to play with? Would
I get an ice cream bar that night? Would I be able to watch something
on TV?  Or was I having fights with someone then? Did I fight with her
about what I could or couldn't do? I can't remember. For some ten
years it has been fighting with one woman or another. Or murderous
fantasies about offing someone. Sexual fantasies about some of the
girls I liked. Or what life would be like when I finally got out of
there and away from home. I remember running and shooting games in the
dark. I never wanted it to end. Someone always called me home. It was
total catharsis. Yelling and screaming and killing. Nothing was held
back. It went on to exhaustion. But then it went on still more. In the
third grade we played a running game. In the beginning one person I
was it in the middle of a big field. All the others were on one side
of the field. The object was to run to the other side without getting
caught or tagged by the person who was it. You were on that person's
side when he tagged you. Then everyone had to run again, to the other,
original, side. It went on till the people who were it had tagged
everyone. I played with the older kids, up to highschool.  Sometimes I
would be the last one caught. I was only 8 or 9. It made me like a
wild animal. I put the fear of death in me to keep going. It was
unbelieveably exciting. The twisting and turning | and dodging needed
to escape. Every sense became magnified. Balance and coordination were
not normal. Sometimes I would have the feeling of tearing myself apart
to move in a way that would allow me to escape being caught. This
image of the playing field and their relationship to the school
buildings is a vivid image in my mind. The tricks and fakes to get
away from a chaser gave me the chance to be creative. I would always
come up with same new move. In second grade I managed to keep a ball
away from all the other boys in my class.  They took turns chasing me.
I wasn't caught. Finally I threw the ball away.  It was clear they
wouldn't catch me. But then I ask, is this the way it really happened,
or only my desire rusting away at memories. There are same parts of it
I know to be imagination. But what parts? Simone asks if I really
wrote down her conversation with Michael. Now she reads it and makes
corrections to what I have written. Carol didn't go to Disneyland or
San Diego. Jeff said he wouldn't sleep with me here, Amory Street, not
that he wouldn't ever sleep with again. Maybe those are the only
corrections? She just reads now. Dana has gone out for the evening. He
doesn't tell Simone or me as he doesn't want it written about in these
notes. Then an idea' Why not call some of the possibilities and say is
Dana still there? This will tell me who it is or who it isn't. Simone
has to correct me on same other points about Michael. He says he will
see her 3 times next week. You have some weird perceptions, she says.
He didn't say he wouldn't see me for three weeks. In fact he said he
would marry me if things continued to go so well for us. Aha! Exactly
my prediction of same weeks ago. I remind her of this.  She has to
modify it further. No, he said he was open to the possibility, not to
marrying me. He wants to know if he can trust me. Can she I tolerate
not having sex with me' Michael asks? That would make you a lot more
acceptable to me. Simone tells me a clue about Dana. He says something
about walking down to the office with her if she wants to go there.
That means it must be the redhead' She's the only one in that
direction. But now the question is, who called who? He mentioned
having a date with her tomorrow.  Just now Simone says Michael asked
her to come over this evening, but you have to sleep on the couch, he
says. No thanks she says. Why not go out this Friday, Simone asks. No,
you weren't clear about what you wanted and I've asked someone else,
he says. Michael tells her he will see her at least once a month
forever, regardless of who she is with or married to. Just now another
idea. That rascal Dana, its about him. I think that if it were
arranged so

Friday the 13th, February 1981

I wake up this morning and Simone says to me, I wish I didn't love
you. Last night she said we could sleep in the same room whenever
guests, like her friend Luca from Italy, are staying here. Her little
mind is still at work trying to get what she wants. You haven't given
up, I say to her. There is a twinge of anxiety about continuing to
fight against this. What a drag. She accuses me of trying to find
things wrong with Michael. He finally confessed to having people over
to her house, after denying it twice. I have the same suspicision
about her car. The front door has a new dent. The registration has
been taken out of its envelope and something done with it. As though
the car had been in an accident and someone had to present this
information, either to another driver or the police. But on the other
hand he keeps asking her to trust him no matter what. I have the
paranoid idea that a court summons will appear for her some day
because the car was involved in an accident. She thinks its only my
jealousy. I think you doesn't pay enough attention to what's going on.
Have I seen it right? At the moment I am not aware of jealousy. On the
one hand I certainly say good riddance if she goes back to him. It
won't get any better. They are both swimming in poison. He won't
really expose himself, and she doesn't want to see what it means. They
are like little emotional time bombs. Each of these unadmitted and
unseen traps. I get furious at myself when the opportunity to really
show myself passes. Next time, I think to myself. But the same happens
again and again. A vulnerable feeling, jealousy, rejection, fear, pops
up in me and the opportunity to say how I feel is there, but
............... and then the chance is past. The feeling subsides. The
situation changes. The opportunity is lost. Enough of this. I just
can't say it right. Everything comes out of me so contrived. I have to
stop and think of each sentence. What is it today? Its a little bit
about the lack of money even though I've just deposited almost $1300
in a new personal account. Joe could make over $3000 today an] I kick
myself about not doing the work to get my seminar ready. Fantasies
about buying a blender, one of those tooth irrigating machines, and a
washing machine.  Imagining the house we will live in one day. A
dreamabout Adele and Cheyenne last night. Its a birthday party for me.
Ive are trying to arrange same chairs around a table. There aren't
enough. Its very crowded. There are ropes or strings hanging down from
the ceiling. Just then Adele and Cheyenne walk into view. I pretend
not to see them at first. Don't remember any more.  Yesterday was my
last day at Sturbridge. The first bus back went by without stopping. A
second bus rerouted to get me. No seats. I have to stand. It makes me
a little selfconscious. There appears to be a seat next to someone.
For a moment I wonder if its a child covered by a coat to keep warm. I
get warm and remove my coat. Then ask the person next to that seat if
I can sit there. Its only a coat and a bag. Standing was
uncomfortable. But it was a struggle for me to ask about the place. It
seems so stupid. I might have ended up standing all the way to Boston.
But some sort of strange fear of speaking up made me stand there for
some amount of time. All the while struggling inside myself about
asking for this seat. It seems crazy to have been so anxious about
such a simple situation. It seemed as though everyone was