Wednesday, January 17, 2001, early evening Its now 6:38pm and you haven't made that 6pm call you said you'd make when we talked earlier. But that's ok. I understand your story there at home. A bit of wine has altered slightly my state of mind so you might want to think of that as having influenced the words below. Who can say if it helps make them more true or more false... It was not a surprise to me today when you called to ask me to participate in your little lie to ST so he wouldn't know you were actually with Clint last night--instead of working on the script with me. You won't find me calling you a monster or horrible person for doing that. Its completely normal, and, to use your phrase, common, to do that. Anyway, you completely redeem yourself, in my eyes, by not continuing to pressure me to participate in the lie, or to threaten me, or to say you will have no more to do with me, if I don't do what you want. So, fundamentally, under this skin of a liar and cheat, beats the heart of a decent person. And I can't say how much I like that. It would be fair to say that I love that, that I love the person who can do that--even as you subject someone else to the eventual awfulness of your actions. Why is it that you can be such a good person, someone who admits to having the darkest elements of the human soul inside themselves, yet you don't cover me with them? Why is it that you confess all the faults, all the dirty secrets of a normal human life to me? Hey, are you in love with me or something? Yesterday you were going with Clint. Today you have decided to go with ST. Who will it be tomorrow? And the day after, you may well be with Clint, but longing to be back in ST's arms. One day you may find yourself in the middle of sex with one and feeling guilty about cheating on the other. Its going the way with you that it often goes with other people. You find yourself drawn to another and are able to rationalize each step you take in the direction that leads you to this kind of cheating and lying. But how is it that you never do this to me? How is it that I know the worst, and, really, the best in you? And you find yourself unable to show this side of yourself to ST or Clint? Why is that? If I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to have both of them, in every way possible, but somehow manipulating the situation so they think you are the only one they have. Now there's an interesting new idea! Sorry, but the wine allowed my sense of irony to completely escape the cell in which I've long securely imprisoned it. Ok, the truth is I know what it is inside you that leads you down this path. You want the security of love with these two men--but you also want to be sure that they are only looking at you. I want something similar to that with you and C. Unfortunately, for me, I'm not capable of managing that. You and C, however, partly by virtue of being interesting and attrative women, are able to do so. Oh, to have your qualities! But I digress. Let me say that it appears to me that you expend enough energy in the direction of deception as it would take to not be deceptive. There is a price to being honest, but the cost goes to zero when you do it. Deception has a low price in the moment, but you have to pay the bill, sometimes forever. Sometimes I think maybe you are too tired to pay the cost of being honest. What was that short essay you wrote me, while away for the holidays, about being honest? The wine, as you might imagine, confuses me and causes my writing to make no sense. But I will continue anyway... I look around and see that family and friends admire you and think well of you and love you, and yet... you are also deceiving them about yourself. What was it you said at one point in October? "I don't know what I'm doing." It turns out you don't have to know. The genes have been organized to take care of everything. It doesn't hurt to have a brain, as you do, but its not necessary. In your case it seems to be causing you some troubles as you also have a conscience. Hey, wouldn't it be great if sex and guilt weren't connected in the brain? In looking at the big picture of what motivates you, I'd have to say that you don't want to disappoint anyone. Your two guys, your family, your friends. But you know, I know everything, and I'm not disappointed. What makes you think they would be if they knew the kind of existential truth, about you, that I know? Do you really think that, if they had even a spark of decency in themselves, that they'd love you any less than I do if they knew this dark underworld you live in? Do you think that shedding this false skin would make you any more naked to them than you are to me? How can you be literally naked with ST or Clint and yet so hidden and covered to them in every other way? And you are really naked to me but don't show so much as an ankle or wrist! What a strange posture to live in. But, as I've said, its the wine, and you need pay no mind to anything you read here. To me, at times, you appear to be like a robot acting out your primitive program, but, at the same time, I see and hear the human in you kicking and screaming to free yourself from this primeaval swamp. You made a remark about wanting to go in a particular direction in your life, but somehow ending up headed in the opposite. The average person doesn't start out to build a life on lies. You don't mean to do that. And yet I think you must be mystified as to just how you got here from there. How did what must have started out as an authentic self, or the desire to be authentic, turn into the labyrintine false self that you are creating to show others? The human mind and conscience can adapt to what's happening to you at the moment because, in the long run, your potential children are more important than you being happy and living a good and decent life. And maybe I'm completely nuts, insane, for trying to do that. Maybe you are really on the right track to the future. After all, it doesn't look like my genes are going anywhere except that one accident of long ago. In any case, let me say again that your treatment of me absolutely, unequivocabally redeems you in my eyes. You are still a good and decent person. I still love you. Besides, the wine means you don't have to pay any attention to anything you read here. January 25, 2001 Thursday afternoon Not exactly Tuesday Afternoon by the Moody Blues, but that was another story--and a long time ago. Her name was Vienna B. It occurs to me that getting yourself pregnant has an unusual consequence. Namely, that this will test Clint to the max. You may eventually end it, but he will still be thinking that if he wants to be with you then he will have to consider the raising of another man's child. You have innoculated/vaccinated yourself against the weaker version of who he is. You could even say you've done that with me. But less than Clint. On the other hand, I've already helped a number of women raise their children. So I know what that's like. Here are some of my thoughts on why or why not to go ahead... Why not to have: 1) you don't want to have a child now 2) its not looking good with you and the father 3) your parents don't want you to make them grandparents now 4) you fear not being able to take care of a child 5) you are too young 6) you can't count on anybody to help you--not even Richard 7) radiation hazard from the airplane ride just days after conception Why to have: 1) you want to have a child now 2) things have been better with the father--they could get better 3) your parents want to be grandparents, etc 4) a child will force you to be more disciplined in your life 5) you aren't getting any younger 6) Richard said he'd help raise the child 7) you are very healthy right now While both sides are visible to me, the weight, more than 50%, falls to the side of not doing this. But I do not want to be in the position of having decided the future for someone. On the other hand, I've been in exactly this state with three women. One of whom later had a child with me. One never wanted to have anything to do with me ever again. The third is my long-time companion nearly 17 years after the event. Its that hidden engine of desire again. And nature doesn't care if you are happy in your life or timing or anything but that you pass some genes on into the future. On the other hand, you are still young and can do this again, several times, if you want. I asked you to write another ending to the script. It seems to me that, on thinking about your latest ending, that its still not decoupled from your personal situation. It reflects a possible present, even the nearby future. Finally, do I need point out the lack of words from you? You can't write a script without words. You have that little hand-sized notebook and a pen. Scribble some words on a sheet of that paper and send in to me by postal mail. Do something. And don't fool yourself into thinking you are writing with your emails to ST and Clint. You have no distance at the moment from either of them. You are, at the moment, seeing them as devil and savior. You know that, depending on which moment we observe in the last several months, that those roles are completely reversed for each of them. All of which says no distance, no insight, no interesting ideas beyond devil and savior. But most of all no distance. No story that is anything but a constant complaint or adoration society. And that is not the whole story. At the moment, each time we talk, ST is the devil. You are the poor helpless victim--which, incidentally, is what you tell me is how he sees himself in this whole story. You are his devil. Or, in one moment, on the phone, that he lusts for you. But you are now turned off to him. Now is the time for you to try and write that story--and its reversal. How does that happen? What are the sensations going through your mind and body? How do they make that sudden reversal? Really finally, I think... Tuesday evening you were enthusiastic about continuing the script project on Thursday evening. Today that enthusiasm was cut short to probably no more than two hours as you've also made other plans for most of the evening. My plan is to spend whatever time you have available. I've just erased a couple of sentences about how I am going to insist that none of that time be spent making ST into the devil of the moment. Then I realize its not possible for me to press you so hard in your current state. I can do no more than point out how your enthusiasm seems, yet again, your new resolve also, has waned so very quickly. But then I can't avoid pointing out the repetition of the scenario. I'm reminded of the time we were going to meet at the Rosebud Cafe. You got there and decided not to have dinner. Then, it turns out, you were scheduled to leave soon to meet ST to see Ben's newest movie, BOUNCE. You constantly went to your watch. And that was the end of that burst of enthusiasm. I find myself walking a dangerously sharp edge to avoid falling off to the side where this is a complaint from me. I mean it to show how you are so often disappointed in yourself, fall off into the whilrpool of your chaotic life, and then swim like a demon to reach a shore of discipline yet again. I don't know if I've managed to fall to that side of the knife, but find myself cut and bleeding from trying. And that's all the news for a bit as Cassady and I are off to Harvard Square in some minutes, I hope. Friday, January 26, 2001, 12:39am This writing is about yesterday where I am stimulated once again to come up with explanations for events. On Tuesday evening you were all fired up for a new beginning and said that finally, yet again, you were now all set to work on the script and do something. And you were all ready to go back to it again on Thursday. But Thursday turns out to be a long ways from Tuesday. So far, in fact, that you never arrived--even though its now Friday. My goodness, but this is an old story. And so I won't get bored with it, I'm going to tell you some of my thoughts and ideas from the last couple of days. First is all the movie scripts I've got planned. They will be written almost entirely from my notes. The first one will be titled: THE GIRL WHO COULDN'T DO ANYTHING Tagline: even when you can't do something, you still can't do anything Since I had this idea that you are not really pregnant, and its just a ruse to drive new behavior out of the characters around you (not unlike the six months of pregnancy that Simone faked for six months!), it seemed like this title: REALLY HOME ALONE Tagline: everybody thought she was pregnant, but it turned out to be one of those fancy electronic dolls I was going to title that one FAKE BABY, but who knows what it will eventually be called. It doesn't matter if the pregnancy is real or not. Either way its a new puzzle for me to solve. Yet another labyrinthe to find my way through. My readers will appreciate my story no matter what turns out to be true. Then there's the one about a bunch of guys who are collaborating to save a young woman from the devil (me): SAVE HER FROM THE DEVIL And surely in all this there is a script, a film, about someone desparate to save themselves from their current situation by writing an award winning film: SAVING PRINCESS DRACULA Ostensibly a horror story, it soon turns out to be a dark, existential comedy about a dream that repeats constantly, which the dreamer never quite reaches while each night falling into it yet again. But in real life the young female protaganist is financially success, married to the most wonderful man in the world, with two beautiful and intelligent children. She day she shudders at the prospect of night and falling asleep. How will she ever escape? She doesn't (in the dream). Her dream apartment slowly fills up with half finished scripts, old laptops and video cameras that get discarded as soon as the newest one becomes available. Eventually a documentary filmmaker finds her and decides to make a film about Obsessive- Compulsive Disorders--hoarding, in particular, using her as the primary example. But on to other thoughts... Are you beginning to feel that maybe you are going about this whole thing in the wrong way? Don't you feel a tad stoopid every now and then when this same series of steps happens over and over? Aren't you beginning to feel like an idiot for taking the same approach every few days or couple of weeks? Wouldn't you like to find a way out of that endless circle/cycle? ME TOO! So how we gonna do that? One way to break the chain would be to have nothing to do with each other ever again. That would work--certainly for this endless cycle. But it might not be what you want. Its certainly not what I want. We could try it for awhile. Lets agree we won't talk to each other, or email, or visit ever again. If it doesn't work out then we can change back to the way it was before. Or are you in favor of forever for awhile? Let me know. Or don't let me know--but not forever. Just awhile, at most. An alternative would be to not have contact for awhile but do that forever. If that doesn't work then we can go back to always being in contact for awhile. But only for awhile. Not awhile forever. Forever is never something you want to not try for awhile forever. Yeah, I could handle that. But probably only for awhile. Forever is much, much too long. Even awhile can be too long. What was that film: THE LONG KISS GOODBYE Gena Davis, I think, plus some standard bad guy. That film went on forever but only lasted awhile in the theaters. I was thinking we could meet somewhere and beat on each other with rolled up newspapers. We'd vidotape it, of course. The idea would be to try to turn the beating into a kind of story of the passage of our experience together. We would start out like that first day we met and initial impressions and try to symbolically represent, via the whacking each other, the sense of our impressions of the other. Then move on to other phases and things that happened. Later we could edit it and mix in text and sound. Another idea I had, again, videotaped, was for you to get inside a large double cloth bag. Then take off all your clothes. I'd do the same but stay outside the bag. An obvious next scene would be simulated sex. But please, let's not be so trite and obvious (which is not to say the idea should be completely abandoned). Surely there are many things two naked people could do together while one of them is stuck inside a large bag? Perhaps we could ask somebody with a lot of imagination for ideas. Maybe some of my readers will have suggestions. Another idea was to make a video titled: HOW TO PEE subtitled: (advice for men) For a long time I've been convinced that men make a big mistake by peeing standing up. The stream of fluid appears to be going in one direction. But its not. A veritable cloud of pee molecules are flying off in all directions. And they land outside their intended target and eventually add up to the point where they smell bad and some woman, the girlfriend, the wife, the roommate, has to get in there and wipe every surface around the toilet. I know this is a digression, but Adele liked to join me in the bathroom when I had to pee. She liked to grab onto the appropriate member and make bubbles in the toilet. And the other night, while out running, Cynthia asked me if I could write my initials in a big snowbank. Sure. So I walk up to it, whip out my writing instrument, and put down a big yellow, steaming R G Then I decided to add periods after each initial: R. G. Then Cynthia asked if I could draw a big heart and write: I LOVE CINDY inside the heart. Sure, I said, as soon as I've had a gallon or two of beer. Anyway, enough digression, as there are, no doubt, lots of short video ideas to be made. Its even possible that there are a couple more ideas lying around inside my head. Anything inside that head of yours? One more thing about your personal situation... The other day I was reading some writing of yours and noted that you saw yourself moving away from your social/cultural group. It seems to me that you have integrated youself even more deeply in the last few months whether that was your intention or not. Now you are pregnant from that group. You seem to be ending a relationship with one of that group and planning to return to another, former boyfriend. Then I had the idea that a your time spent with me is an attempt to escape from that group, yet get renewed in a way, then, like an addict, find yourself falling back into the very thing you want to escape from. If you ever were to manage a script that can be made into a Hollywood style movie, then you will have to leave that environment. Or would you want all those people to move to LA to keep you company? My sense of it is that you see this script, your hope for it, is an escape. But your addiction to the familiar comfort of this group prevents you from digging that tunnel out of your common prison. Do I have that right? Isn't that a goal? Then I think that maybe you should just get in your car and move to LA. But you'd be so lonely and contact with the familiar that you'd be easy prey in the sexual predator capital of the world. Forget that. You've thought of that, haven't you? So it would seem that I am also an addiction. A kind of experience drug that you want, and can't get along without. That clears your system of the other drug, your community, which then becomes the thing you need a fix of. Or is this a completely stupid idea? I do have the impression of you going back and forth like an addict. With me you have the chance of talk and ideas without any boundaries or borders. Nothing is off limits for you to say or hear. Then, before you disintegrate or explode, you run back to the safe, confining, compressing, encompassing world of your birth and childhood and growing up. I think: why are you doing that? But then I have to answer: why not. Perhaps we will just all have to get used to you doing that. Sunday, January 28, 2001 1:43am That was an interesting event today at the SomeDay Coffee House in Davis Square. It was the first time since September 15th that we have had a fight over which of two paths was the most artful. Which way should we go with a scene. And I have to say that no other day, except for today--maybe, stands out in my mind like that September Saturday. In retrospect, now that I know of your having met ST just the day before, and that you were going to a party that evening where he would likely appear again, your mood change at the appearance of David becomes much more meaningful. Your mood didn't change. You put on a face other than what you were that whole evening as we sat at ABP working on scenes for the script. I would say that evening you were unbound, unplugged. It was almost as though you had discovered something new in the world. And so you had. Someone to fall in love with you. That asshole you had been looking for. Your own, special, private asshole. David appeared and you suddenly became another person. You turned stone cold. That wasn't your real feeling. It was just an act for him. Is that right? (That was the first of the provocative questions you want me to ask.) I would guess that you went into that act in order for him to have nothing to pass on to the people you were to meet later that evening at a party. To which I was not invited. You would not want anything about your state of mind about me, or any of your behavior around me, to get back to this new man. Does that sound right? Was he at that party? Then there was no word for you for several days. Infrequent phone calls from work even. There is recollection of you mentioning this new person. Then there were the angry Friday phone calls. You would accept no arguments from me. In retrospect I can imagine that you were now in a position with this man where he would throw himself off a building for you. So any guff from me was just something you could do completely without. Do you remember that as part of your state of mind? A few days after that you were sexually engaged with him and there was no word from you for about two weeks. The paradise you thought yourself to had entered turned into the first of the frequent times that were more like hell on earth. You had your first brain ache from having no contact with me. But you only alluded to what was going on. And I played dumb by not asking you my usual barrage of questions when you hold out tantalizing bits of news. I really played dumb. Do you remember me doing that? But tell me about your state of mind and how it changed to where you felt you had to talk to me. Was it that almost immediately you found yourself engaging in deception and lies with ST? I'm going to stop with the chronological interrogation for now and go to something else very interesting today. Something you had not hinted at ever before in our conversations, your revelations to me. It was your fear of losing ST and how you felt the need to put yourself in danger of becoming pregnant as a way of holding onto him. Did you fear you would never find another man for yourself? Do you not see yourself as young, very attractive, with a bright future, smart, imaginative, and able, at the snap of your fingers, to cause a man stampede in your direction? Have I gotten the smart part wrong and you are actually stupid, or is it an extreme case of insecurity? (that's not a question for you--its a rhetorical question for me) I imagine a scene with dialog between two of our characters where you give up one fear to allay another. This is a short story not unfamiliar, I suspect, to a lot of women. Certainly I think it could ring true for every woman. The men would take a bit longer to get it--most of them anyway. But the gals will be the ones dragging their boyfriends to this film when we manage scenes like that. The dialog would begin with hints of his wanting to give up the relationship with you. You can only counter with words, in the beginning. But you have one ace in the hole (or up your sleeve), so to speak. The contest between you goes back an forth to continue the relationship or break up. But then you decide to make use of your ultimate weapon--his future child. Then a cut back to the moments before the wedding. What do you think? The story led me to recollect a scene from a Woody Allen film, EVERYTHING YOU ALWAYS WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT SEX, BUT WERE AFRAID TO ASK. He and a gal are sitting in a car out front of her house. She REALLY wants to do he. He's anxious about doing it--but tries to rise to the occassion. And the scene we worked on today reminded me of THE GRADUATE. That is another MUST SEE film for every budding filmmaker! The telling of that story left me drained, with a sinking feeling. It came as a surprise to me that you would have that much fear. But then without the prospect of a mate or children people are often left in a constant sensation of the grip of death. And I can also imagine that it was a story you do not want to tell about yourself because of how you think people will see you--weak, not able to control your future, confused about what you want. I have the sense that you try, with all the things you do, to manage the image that people have of you in your current predicament. You don't want them to see that you have no idea of what you are doing. You said that again today. I remember the first time you said that to me. I think we were sitting outside the sandwich shop by the trolley station. You were dressed in an off-white pants suit and jacket. It was then that you, almost reluctantly, filled me in on the last several weeks--but especially your adventure in a completely new and unexplored country. The landscape of sexual pleasure. And what a vacation that turned out to be for you, the first time tourist! But I digress. And this writer is STILL jealous! The story of Olive, your best friend back home, is still not clear to me. Let me say that my picture is that she has been on ST's side until you reached the point of being pregnant and she sees you making a bad decision by tying yourself to a man you barely know. Do I have that right? One other thing bothered me today. It happened when writing the scene with the parents. These are our CHARACTERS. These are not two people in your real life. We can make our characters do and say anything we want in order to contribute to the story. Likewise, we should never form our characters to fit to anyone in the real world because we think they might be distressed or think badly of us because of what we have made a character, who they identify with, do or say something they never did or said. Its a damned movie! Ok? I have had this impression from the beginning that something in you wanted to do this film in a particular way to whack Clint over the head. That has got to go away. If not we won't be writing a film--we will be making a piece of politically correct propaganda. You know, they used to get made in all those Communist countries! Its a damned movie! We are the writers of it. We can use any and everything from our own lives to tell a story. It won't be a story if its bent so as not to insult or bother anyone. The more people are bothered and disturbed and insulted the better. And if they laugh along with feeling all those other things then better still. I am beginning to think that maybe this is, as much as anything, something that has frozen you to inaction--not that the other story isn't potentially enough to bring on a new ice age. But this recent story did not become an issue except in the last three weeks. I think that for me this day, and last September 15th, will be the two most memorable days of writing the script. That day some months ago because of how you were so totally happy and overcome with laughter. Not before or since has that unbound, unplugged part of you spilled out. Today because I thought you pulled up such a big fear from inside yourself and tried to put it in the story. You will have to settle for this little bit of writing for now. I'm going to take Cassady outside to the "personnel office" and then retire for the evening. Write back if I've said anything that's made you think. Return-Path: Received: from MIT.EDU by po12.mit.edu (8.9.2/4.7) id TAA12689; Wed, 31 Jan 2001 19:36:23 -0500 (EST) Received: from c002-h007.c002.snv.cp.net by MIT.EDU with SMTP id AA27409; Wed, 31 Jan 01 19:38:24 EST Received: (cpmta 18194 invoked from network); 31 Jan 2001 16:36:17 -0800 Received: from 1Cust177.tnt8.bos2.da.uu.net (HELO oemcomputer) (63.27.147.177) by smtp.peoplepc.com (209.228.32.171) with SMTP; 31 Jan 2001 16:36:17 -0800 X-Sent: 1 Feb 2001 00:36:17 GMT Message-Id: <002101c08be7$48b4f960$b1931b3f@oemcomputer> Reply-To: "Richard Gardner" From: "Richard Gardner" To: Subject: YOW! your latest story... Date: Wed, 31 Jan 2001 19:38:19 -0500 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Priority: 3 X-Msmail-Priority: Normal X-Mailer: Microsoft Outlook Express 5.00.2615.200 X-Mimeole: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.00.2615.200 YOW! We seem to live in parallel universes. May I add your notes to my Cambridge Chronicles? I'll alter unique names. January 31, 2001 (email from CP--talk with roommate) First, I suppose, the next droll installment of "The Roommate": I decided over the weekend to embrace Bonnie (not physically, just the idea of her presence) in her remaining days in my apt. I bought her dinner Mon. night and patiently listened to her talk and gave her feedback. Last night I sat down on the sofa around 8:30 to work on my play and she preceeded to spend most of the next four hours next to me, drinking my tequila and chain-smoking and whining. I'm in such a state from work. They treat me like shit. Maybe that's not the right place for you. Maybe you'd be happier in a smaller gallery where you'd have more responsibilities. I can't leave after just two months. Well then you'll have to develop thicker skin. But I've always been very project oriented. There I have to be task-oriented. You'd be in a better state of mind to deal with it if you didn't spend a third or more of your free time drinking and smoking and complaining. You're drinking a lot. I'm not drinking that much. A six-pack lasts me three days. That's just the price of a cappucino per day. But you're on a $10/day meal budget. That's 30%. So true. I hate being poor. So, should I call him? No. Why don't you work out? Because I've had three drinks. [not grasping the irony] I just don't know what to do. Why don't you work on your research? I need the internet. Take a bath thebn. Draw. Write down your feelings. Write a letter. Doing anything will put you in a better frame of mind than whining. Read. I already read. I just haven't made a nest yet. I'm not comfortable. I need my friends around to spew at. It takes time to make new friends after college. You should focus on the things you can do alone. Why don't you make a list of the things you can do? I will later on. I've got a plan. I'm going to discover a new artist and write my ticket to a Ph.D. Successful people don't spend all their time drinking and whining and refusing to work. Why don't you do the dishes you've left in the sink all week? Ughh! People are coming over tomorrow night to see the apt. I don't care. I do the dishes. I just use them again. The point is that there are dirty dishes in the sink all the time. I usually don't just talk about myself. I'm very introverted. I don't understand this American way of just being intimitate with someone right away and telling them everything. What are you working on? My play. I called him on Sunday. But he screens his messages. Do you think it would be ok if I called him tomorrow? Not if you still don't know what you want out of the relationship and continue to be in this neurotic state. I just want to kid around and not be physical. But I've been really cold and mean to him lately. He probably thinks I'm a psycho girl. But then what happens when you jump him again? But I really need to get a videotape from him. I let him video us . . . [when she went down on him I think]. I could go on, but you get the idea. Perhaps the most ironic moment though when she complained about twangy music always being so about "I lost my love" right after she herself went on and on about this fjy at work she's fooled around with and treated poorly who won't return her phone calls and whom she's afraid to talk to at work because of the gossip that would ensue! She has no idea that her own life is so tawdry. She prefers to sulk and feel sorry for herself than to actually do anything at all that would help her to feel good. She just wants to waste other people's time and suck their energy by whining at them. I told her this and all the while I worked on my play. She distracted me some but I still got some good work done and remained amazingly cheerful throughout. She should be moved out tomorrow, thank goodness. A number of people are coming to see the apt. tongight and hopefully i will find a more mature and healthy person to move in. Gail came to class Monday night and we talked for awhile after. She has already tried to break up with her businessman boyfriend! but he cried and she couldn't stand to see him so unhappy so she agreed to stay with him. she is going to try to let him down gradually now. amazing how compassionate some women can be! She says he has more growing up to do. He is my age, 31. Why do men take so long to grow up, she asked? Men are stupid, I reply. What do women struggle with, I asked her? They struggle to believe in themselves, to believe that they are worthy. I came from the perfect family, she said, and grew up feeling very loved, but even I was with an abusive boyfriend from 18-20. I agree exactly. Women lack only self-love, belief in themselves that they are deserving of love. If they had that they would have everything. she showed me a beautiful photograph that Alison took of her at the apex of a leap doing a perfect split, arms in high fifth, her perfect smile radiating over all the world. I showed it to him, she said, and he thought it was neat. I cupped her chin in my hand and looked her in the eyes and said if he'd just look in here, he'd know exactly what you were about. She likes that. today she was so sleepy, poor thing, she works so hard. i sat down beside her as she napped before class, lying on her stomach, head over her arm, knees bent like a frog's. then watching my sunny frog slowly awaken and wipe the sleep from her eyes, shaking out the indentations from her sleeve on her face. i stroked her leg and tried to send my energy out to her, really just returning her own. i always feel so energized in her presence, my perfect Gail, my sunshine.