The Cambridge Chronicles

I have had a cold these last few days. Thursday it made me cranky. Fighting with everyone - and unable to see myself doing this. Lotti pointed out how insensitive I was being with people. Growling at her and Simone about money. They keep making computational errors related to how much money they should get for working. Anxieties about writing and leaving something important out. I still have something of this fever. Its a strange illness for me. The cold came a couple of days after Linda told me about moving to NYC. She has since changed her mind back and forth.

My mother called me today. Something wrong with her foot. An operation has put her on crutches. No snowmobiling this year, she laments. What about Cheyenne she inquires. The latest news about Adele talking to me. Maybe she wants to get married, she proposes. Plenty of chances for that, I assure her. But she obviously hasn't done it. Maybe she waiting for you to ask her, she says. Doubt it, says I. Some people are like that and are willing to committ themselves to waiting for their whole life, she says. Maybe she's just waiting for you to make up your mind, she adds. The conversation gets a little tense at this point so she shifts to the weather. Carl has moved back to Cody and bought himself a gas station. Ken sold his station and works for an oil company. Ann's husband is going to be working in Las Vegas doing massage. He will go there 4 days a week and be home 3. The kids still don't like him. Its peculiar with this guy. He supposedly quit a carpentry job because some of the workers were swearing. He's also a Mormon. But here he's going to be doing massage in Las Vegas, and away from home. Something doesn't fit right here.

Talked to Judy a few days ago about her job. She's depressed with the situation where it may be over in January, and all this week outsiders have been evaluating the situation. Somehow she likes one of my pictures from the Social Art Works show. New York Times Swimsuit Ad, is the one. You can have it, I tell her. She's very pleased. And by the way, I add, how about an affair with me this weekend? Simone will be away for several days. Do you think about it, I ask. Yes, sometimes, she says. What would Simone do if I did? Would she hit me, or throw anything at me? Or, worse, make a scene? Yes, I tell her, but she's getting a lot better. She and Linda are in a position to be the best friends the other has ever had. Its a situation where nothing bigger, or more emotionally threatening, is likely to happen. When you have to face jealousy, competition, rejection, the need for love, and other things every day, you are dealing with the most important things in your life. She has had what she called loving, caring, deep relationships before. They turned out to be superficial when confronted with jealousy and competition. With Linda she is facing, and overcoming, those things. Things that ruined past situations. I sit her thinking about how to describe this new development. Its not clear how to do that or if its really happening, or a temporary state. She actually questions wether or not she wants to deal with these things. How is it possible to live any sort of reasonable life without tackling questions like that? She thinks of moving out in the Spring, or getting another place with Jack and Dana, and not me. She fantasizes about living with one or another of her easily conjured up romantics. She has second thoughts about living with me and Linda. But she is still here. She continues to try. She discovers that Linda, Ann, and Judy are not so bad. A phone call from her latest therapy weekend leads me to believe she doesn't think I'm so bad. Judy noted, after reading much of my recent writing, that I stress mostly the negative and unhappy parts of things with Simone.

Judy and I visited the Children's Museum last Saturday. She wanted to spend the afternoon with me and decided to go there. Standing around, waiting for her to come back from the bathroom, I notice a number of very attractive women. I find myself feeling not satisfied with what I've got, namely, Simone, Linda, Ann, and Judy. Imagining someone else would be a better deal. I wouldn't have all the problems I have with them.

Starpeople fantasies. An old fantasy is that I'm not really human. Aliens left me in the hospital with my 'mother' as a ruse. At times this seemed to be the only way of explaining my feelings of not belonging.

Last Saturday again: Simone tells me Carol will be coming over for dinner. I begin to feel paranoid. Sten was to meet with just her and me. Now she wants an ally. She protested about having other people there just the other day. She went to a tea leaf reader with Carol today. Throw him out, the reader tells her, he's a homosexual. Stu calls late at night with a crisis. He's threatening suicide. He's broken up with Laurie. She was too demanding, and rejected him for not giving what she wanted. But you rejected me, Simone reminds him. No, he replies, its because you took Richard over me. I must say how this is really crazy of him. Simone did not reject him. He rejected her because she wouldn't reject me. He wants her to treat me that way, but not him. When will people ever learn not to reject each other? When will they learn they must accept people in order to be accepted? Everyone is so stupid in this way. I see it over and over again with all the people I know.

A visit from Tom last Tuesday. He is a case. After his men's group meeting we meet at Ryles for a drink. Me, Simone, Tom, and Joe. He wants me to join this group. I tell him about my search for a human group. That's what I'd join. He's having trouble with Debbie again. Simone told him how he only seems to contact her when things are bad. He hung up. Debbie won't fuck with him. He's horny. He still thinks about having an affair with Simone. He very hyper, relaxed, and loose, but not really. With him its a bit practiced, phony. He is a manic-depressive type. His enthusiasm and energy is superficial and shallow.

I stayed with Ann last night. She thought we might be babysitting with Liz's child, Christian. But she was there. Liz has some sort of idea about how I am resisting her approaching me. And that it has something to do with Ann's relationship with me. Its confusing. She is very uptight, very rigid, cold, and hard. She hungup on me in mid sentence during a phone conversation the other day. Ann wanted to know what orgasms were like for Simone and Linda. Hers seem to be evenly distributed. That is, she feels fairly intense pleasure most of the time but doesn't seem to have what she would all a real orgasm. With Linda it is very well defined. They can't be mistaken for anything else. They couldn't be faked. Her whole body is taken over with intense pleasure and convulsions. Not large or violent, just intense. The whole surface of her body turns more red. Then surrender. She, Ann, seems to want them, but holds back just at the edge.

A dream about Judy last night. I am on a bicycle built for two with someone, perhaps Linda. We are riding around, and in, a house, at the same time. We go by a window and Judy is inside. She is sitting in a large, reclining chair. The TV is on. She's doing some sort of paper work, or maybe reading a newspaper, and half watching the TV. Then we are in bed, me and Judy. Hardly anything has a chance to happen when we are suddenly not alone. There seems to be someone else in bed with us. Its a kid. But he's very energetic, and not quite normal. He's like a miniature adult, but has both child and adult characteristics. Then the whole family seems to have come into the room. The end.

A lot of suicidal people around recently. Jane has been calling Simone the last few days threatening to do herself in if Simone doesn't live with her. A new roommate has just moved out. She annoyed when Simone points out to her how people seem to just move out after leaving notes. They never say anything to her. They just leave or maybe write a not that they are leaving. Joe had it a few weeks ago. Stu, Peg, and even Simone, about a week ago. Ann felt it a few days ago. I imagine there must be something more to say about this. I don't know what. This feeling seems to be accompanied by the urge to do someone else in at the same time. Peg said she wanted to ram her car into Joe's if she was in the neighborhood. She called me to say she was quitting. She can't stand being in the neighborhood. Stu want to do Ken, and me, in. Simone tries to knock me off when she's feeling that way. I notice it in myself. Frustration with myself or someone. Then I get these murderous urges. Sometimes even thinking that things would be better if I killed someone.

Dana has been acting most peculiar lately. First it was building a trapdoor into the basement. He would fix up a little room down there. Soundproof it, insulate it, and use it to hide from the world. I had these kind of fantasies as a kid. I was always scheming to build some kind of underground retreat. Once I started on it and was caught by my mother. I wanted to build a complete, secret, safe, underground world, known only to me. Maybe this is a fantasy common to most boys. He wanted to make a new rule about the dishes. This was a few days ago. It was that the dishes should be done as soon as possible by whoever uses them. They shouldn't be left for any length of time. I thought this to be a good idea as most of the dishes are washed by me in any case. The first few days didn't work so well for me. He even criticized me for leaving them. But a few days after this we learn that Linda has been putting pressure on him to have a neater and cleaner house. She was critical of my laundry and thought he might be doing the same to his. Namely, stuffing it all into a bag and not ironing it. It doesn't matter to me. Sometimes Simone will iron things. I don't ask her. She thinks it needs to be done.

Sexual fantasies about Judy all day. I imagine she wants me. Has finally decided to have me. I fuck her from behind. Somehow she is always bigger than me in these sexual fantasies. We are about the same height. I undoubtably weigh more than her. But she always swallows me with her body. Very soft. I am like a little boy in her arms.

Simone tells me Sten wants to have an affair with her, but is afraid. He also thinks she should leave me. Its probably several things he's afraid of. The state of his relationship with Connie, who would probably never be able to accept it openly. He has some anxieties about dealing with me. He could also be afraid of Simone becoming attached to him. He knows well what sort of person she is in a relationship.

Simone stayed with Stu last night. He barricaded in his room reading Playboy magazines. It was not a good night for her or him. She learned about the death of his relationship with Laurie. She was too demanding and aggressive, he lamented. I couldn't do enough for her, he says. Then he is demanding and aggressive with Simone. She resists. What kind of woman are you, he demands angrily. Then a pause for him to complain about Laurie again, about how demanding and aggressive she. Sometimes she wants to fuck and he doesn't feel it. She feels rejected and complains about this. They fight. He can't stand being with her. They are going to some sort of post-relationship therapy. Its the latest vogue. Simone give me a real life demonstration about how Stu assaults her. He grabs and pokes her all over, and tries to kiss her all over, but very hard. Its disgusting. She can't even play what he does. She is often exactly the same with me. I tell her she's insensitive and aggressive. She tells me I'm distant and passive. But I know I don't like it. I think this has helped her to see what its like for me better than all the times I've criticized her.

I am starting to get anxious about my resolution to write a page each day. It seems I'm always just a little bit behind. Late afternoon. I've just started for this day. Fear of running out of material. Why does this feeling happen? It is as though I'm afraid of not having much going on in my life. I know some of it has to do with that. Another thing is that getting all the past events into writing is important to me. I feel nervous about something that gets left out. Everything is important. There is some guilt. Why do I panic about not writing and leaving something out? I am anxious about getting to my class tonight, about typing while Dana has his group here, about not being able to write a page today, about remembering what happened today, about all the things I've put off doing, all the things that I feel some guilt for not having done. Its ridiculous.

Sten did not show up for the meeting with me and Simone last night. He got cold feet. I spoke with him. He hemmed and hawed a bit. A lot of resistance to doing it. He had lots of work. Maybe afraid he can't do it. Maybe he thinks it useless. I offered to pay him. Maybe he will run a plain, simple, SD group some evening for us. He goes away in two weeks, to Virginia on business, then to Europe for some indefinite amount of time.

I read some of Lotti's writing last night for the first time. From a notebook she left in the office. She was there when I started reading aloud. She tried to get it away from me. I began to exaggerate the words and phrases. It became very funny to her. It was a serious letter to John. She couldn't take it seriously the way I was reading it. She enjoyed it a great deal. It was fun for me. It gave her some new insights.

I have a date with Ann tonight. She called earlier today and said she was very unhappy about my changing from Wednesday to Thursday night. It was not obvious at the time to me. I told her first that it was Simone's wish. She readily agreed. After thinking about it she decided it had to do with my not wanting to be with her. It seems to me that this is a way that people can learn to accommodate each other. Another time I might have a date with Simone and she will call to have me change it in her favor. She thought for awhile that it might have had something to do with Simone playing tricks with me and her. Not so, I assure her. Simone is putting her head in some sort of trap with Stu and Ken tonight. She may end up having dates with both of them.

Simone has just brought me a quote. It made her think of my writing. Its by William Wordsworth: To me alone there came a thought of grief. A timely utterance gave that thought relief, and I again am strong.

I could not sleep last night. Maybe it was the Chocolate Orgasm from Rosie's. Or the vaporizer being on all night. Its been very dry. I thought it would help to have more water in the air. Or maybe it was my existential anxiety about life. I thought, we come into existence. We become aware of ourselves. Then we disappear forever. What does that mean? It must be things like this that turn people to being religious. To have an explanation for those kinds of feelings. They come over me a lot lately. This feeling of pure existence. The fear of not being any more. Of going poof! I continue to struggle with anxieties about becoming a success. I've had a fever for about three weeks. I thought it might have something to do with the last months turmoil. Then another idea. It stopped for a few days. It might be related to my having a can of coke during my classes at MIT. I haven't had any for just over a week. Then it stopped.

No writing for over a month. And why not? I don't really know. Maybe it is the prospect of having to write about a lot of things that make me uncomfortable. Things have been very busy. But its really some sort of resistance. I want to do it. I think about it a lot. I've even made lots of notes this last month. They are all written in a tiny notebook that I carry all the time. I thought of just trying to write the history of the last month to overcome the block. Not even that helped. It didn't get done. And now I think, why not just write down all the little notes I've made? Another resolution was to write a least one page a day no matter what. To just put paper in the typewriter and go to it. Unconscious writing. It shouldn't be too hard to babble on for a page a day. Then the next resolution was to write a page a day for the next month. Just to see if I could do it. Its really December 2, 1981, 1:16am, and I'm not even doing the simple task of writing a page a day. I've got to finish this page, plus two more just to be caught up. Now its coming over me again. This hesitation about what to do next. Sometimes it doesn't matter. Just do something. Of course, that's not always the appropriate thing to do. But it can't be a bad policy with writing. That word, policy. I still remember an incident from my childhood. about 3rd or 4th grade. It was Lorna Anno. I was in love with her. Maybe that's why its still in my memory. She mispronounced the word. She said something like the word police, with an e, as in tea, on the end, poe-lee-see! I was nervous about having to say the word myself, as I was uncertain about how to pronounce it. The feeling, the anxiety about having to say the word is still clear in my mind and body. It comes over me even now when thinking about it.

I sit here, trying to think of what to write next. It is a good model of my life. What should I do next? Meanwhile I continue to sit here and spend my consciousness time allotment. A little of it is used up each moment. It is better spent doing something. That's not exactly how I mean to say it. I have to stop and catch myself. I'm carried away with fantasies about fucking on FH.

Dear Donna: I thought it was about time for me to respond to your June, 1981 notes on A X-Country Journal. First, I would have to say it flatters me to get them and to be asked for an opinion. I was further impressed by your calling them notes. So, I have read them twice and am doing so for a third time as I write this. Your trip reminded me very much of when I traveled cross-country with my father and sister as a boy of 8 or 9. I also went across much of the same land right after graduating from high school. Leaving the next day, on my motor scooter, as sort of a mini-easyrider. The scenes come into my head as you describe your own impression of the land, animals and people. I see you imagine the openness of the land to be an invitation to emotional openness. Its not so. Having lived in one of these all-american, flatland towns, I can tell you that the plots, conspiracies, machinations, secrets, and mysteries, are as plentiful as the corn and wheat. In fact, I would wager that gossip there is greater per capita than in the crowded, but anonymous cities. There is less entertainment, and more work. So, what is one left to do? Gossip. I found it very plain, dull, and boring, and left. I have no real desire to go back. Sometimes nostalgia overwhelms me and for a few moments there are fantasies of visiting the old farmhouse, walking in the woods, along the river, over the fields. But soil, air, and water are not the things I want to work with. I have heard that Boulder is the new age capitol of middle America. Do you know that the Rockies are much younger than the East coast mountains? This accounts for their larger size, jaggedness, bareness, and teetering rocks. One day they will all be smooth and tree-covered. In Wyoming there is a place called Hell's Half-Acre. It looks very much like Garden of the Gods. I wonder what that says about the mind of the person who discovered each of those places. Often you say how young everyone seems to be in the Southwest. My trip of over 20 years ago left me with no such impression. Perhaps it was because I was still younger. But it makes clear how this really is the growing part of this country. The Northeast really is dying, but only relatively speaking. Its just not growing as fast. It just doesn't have as much youth energy. Unless you count all the people going to school here. But most of them will leave on day. They will be attracted by the sun, the open sky, and other things that attract you to that area. I'm sure you have heard by now, but Jack is not moving to Atlanta. He may in fact, be living with us. It hasn't been decided yet. Its a bit crowded for the three of us, plus the temporary situation with Jack. He was on the phone about 2pm. Its 3:30pm now. Maybe it was you, or perhaps Jean Varda. Simone got a letter from her yesterday. She has been away for four days. Returning about 7 this evening. She, and two friends, went to Grossingers for a 4 day American Art Therapy Association conference. She calls me each day to relate all the latest gossip. I was surprised to read about your impressions of atom bomb land. Did you know that right here, in Cambridge, just down the street from us, is where America designs and builds the prototype for all its nuclear missiles, and their guidance and navigation systems? Its true. We are most likely directly targeted by the Soviets. Ground zero is probably somewhere on Broadway, so as to get MIT and Harvard. I read an interesting book about the builders of the pueblos. It had an explanation for the comings and goings of the various people. It seems that in their culture, a fire, constantly burning, is an absolute necessity. This means a lot of firewood. The area has never supported the kind of forests we have in New England. But over the centuries it has been a different situation. Some hundreds of years ago it was possible to grow regular crops of grain in that area. The weather patterns have changed to make that impossible without irrigation. So this theory has it that they left when it was no longer possible to easily get firewood. The people, or another group, came back when things changed. The movement of people does correspond to the changing weather patterns over the centuries. Have you seen the movie, The Petrified Forest? It was Humphrey Bogart's first big picture. I enjoy watching it. I always seem to see something new each time. I went swimming in Lake Mead on the trip with my father and sister. The pain of walking on the shore rocks is still in my mind. A float made from barrels is not too far from the shore. No memory of actually being in the water. I was still afraid of the water then. I couldn't swim. It still makes me fearful now, even with the ability to swim. Its like being on the edge of anything more than ten fee above the ground. The lake will not die by being drained dry. Lakes die by filling up with silt. The lake slows the water enough for the silt to settle. This fills up man-made lakes in 50-150 years. I have heard that Lake Mead has about another 50+ years. So, at last, you are in San Francisco. And for me, now, what to say about your writing? Lots of beautiful pictures about the real world that exists for everyone. The sky, the land, the water, the air. Pictures about how you want your life to be. But I like best the more brutal and ugly things you describe. Not that I like brutality and ugliness, but I think it is only from a real knowledge of these things inside us that a better internal world can be built. I see only glimpses of this in your writing. The arguments with Brad, the loneliness of having left friends and familiar places, the longings for a new clean places to start life again. I know this feeling of being frustrated with where you are. I am having a lot of it myself, at the moment. Fantasies about the end of my life. Not really the end of life, but rather my consciousness ending. This has been on my mind a lot lately. Why, I wonder? It seems to be related with all my life frustrations. Feeling trapped, that things will never get better for me. I am getting older and sometimes get preoccupied with the idea of what life will be like for me when I really am old. What can I do now to make it better? What can I do now to make now better? I wonder what it is like to not exist. A funny thing to think about, don't you think? I try to create the feeling of this idea in me.

A man is parking his car on Hampshire Street. What will the world be like if he suddenly ceases to exist? Will it cease to exist if I die? Sometimes I imagine it must be this way. Even though I know people have died, and, of course, it did not stop. A lot of funny thoughts about consciousness being imbedded in the body. I can't really express them. But some of them make my consciousness laugh at itself, even be fearful of itself, for a moment. I have to push these ideas aside. They are capable of overwhelming, I fee. It must be things like this that push people to suicide. Enough of this heavy existential stuff! I have forgotten what in your notes prompted this. Yes, the writing about the external, non-people world. Like I say, it seems that you only strike this internal world a glancing blow. I can say the same when placing side by side, what I write, and all the things that really go on inside me. But from experience I know it to be a good way to see myself better. It relieves a lot of internal tension. My strongest impression of you is one where you are sitting, legs against your chest, and wrapped tightly with your arms. Almost as though you are afraid of flying apart, or of something being revealed. I have heard that you are not feeling well and things aren't going well with Brad. That you are not making friends easily. There are millions of people around you. Most of them feel the same. They have trouble with themselves, with other people. I would advise you to just say hello to anyone of them, to begin with. Then another and another. It won't take long to get all the friends you need. Your friend Simone is a good example of how well this simple approach works. She never lacks for friends or company wherever she goes. Try it. It works for her because she says hello. It will work for you. I have discovered that it even works for me! I recommend it to all my friends. It works for everyone who has tried it. And write some more. And send me a copy of it. I will send you more of my writing if you want. Bye for now.

My Dearest Darling Daughter Laura: What a pleasant surprise it was to get that lovely card from you the other day. Especially so that you remembered my birthday. I have thought of you often these last few days. I remember a lot lately about when you were born and the first year of your life. What a time that was. Here was, apparently out of almost nothing, a completely new person. It makes me a bit nostalgic. Your choice of cards shows so much how a lot of that little girl is still in you. Its something I miss very much. Perhaps we can arrange to spend a little more time together? What do you think? Dana tells me of having seen you in Harvard Square on Sunday for the last three weeks. What do you say to meeting me there for breakfast next Sunday? How does 11, Sunday morning, sound to you? At the Mug & Muffin restaurant. My piano sits in the office every day. Lonely. Wondering where your fingers are. It misses you. Do you miss it? What is going on in your romantic life. I've heard rumors about you and that rascal rogue Dana. Are they true? And what about your art classes. How are those going for you? I am doing lots of writing. Taken a vacation from it for a few days. It is so hard to be creative consistently. I am always making a Monday morning resolution to get an early start and accomplish a lot. But its something I've been doing for many years. Perhaps I should try another approach. Or maybe I should go ahead and do it. In any case, your little card has gotten me to do some writing. For that I must thank you. Thank you, Laura. And what else? I am still struggling with my old fears of success. Thinking about my stepfather made me realize how much I'm like him. He had something with success also. He worked and slaved all his life to get ahead. Somehow real success seemed to elude him. Others around him often managed it. He worked very hard and seemed very capable. But somehow he did not seem to follow the right things. Its this way for me. I have lots of opportunities. There are two bigs ones sitting right here in front of me. But I find myself procrastinating. Anything but those things need to get done. Its not even that much to do. But I can't seem to put my hands on them. This kind of success would most likely mean some kind of changes. Certainly one would be that my life would become a little more regimented and influenced by the schedules of others. Before I forget, you are invited to a Halloween party here. Its next Saturday night. Come as your dream. Well, what else to say? Why don't you write me again. I do like to get letters, especially from you. Bye for now. your Dad

I had the best of intentions yesterday. Get up early in the morning, write, go to work, get lots done. It was hard to wake myself this morning. It was an odd depression. Thoughts about Otto and his writing. Thinking about how he speaks about things. Its always about himself, but it gives one the impression that he's speaking directly to you. Whatever he says stirs some universal feeling related to his current topic of discussion. How can I learn to do the same with myself? Sometimes it works for me. I can manage to do this. But more often than not some dogma, idea, ideology, prejudice, fear, projection, fantasy, paranoia, come out. And most everyone notices this. It becomes easy to dismiss me. To ignore whatever I have to say. This is true of me. Program-like responses from another person turn me off, or, the opposite, turn on a frenzied response. The latter comes from feeling as though I am being attacked. Stuck, stuck, stuck. You-are-a-robot. You-can't-write. You-can't-do-anything.

You-are-stupid. Why-don't-you-try-something-else.

Have-you-ever-thought-about-computer-programming? Give-up-this-stupid-writing shit. You-can't-do-it.

You-are-a-complete-failure. Beep!

Hopeless. Hopeless. Hopeless. Mope. Mope. Sit here and do nothing. Pretend to be a great writer. Pretend to be writing about the rich world of my inner self. Pretend to write about things of interest to all humanity. Pretend to pretend. Go on you asshole. Keep it up. You've got to do something. Break through the trap you carry around. You aren't just caught in it. You maintain and repair it. You keep it in working order. You plug all possible escape routes. You chase away those who wold break it.

I have just been talking to Simone. Its about what's been bothering me since last night. Do I say anything about it, or hold m tongue. Its bound to eventually come out that somethings there, and not being spoken about. Are you thinking of leaving me, she asks. No, its not anything I'm going to do, or planning. Its just how I see some of the things going on with me and her, and the four of us living here. She has said some half dozen times how the next few days are precarious for her. It was two years ago, just before she left for the last art therapy conference that Michael left her, or rather announced that he would be leaving her. That's not it now, but she is sure to be sensitive to, and disturbed by what I have to say. So, do it now, or wait till later?

I am feeling terrible. Its been building up the last few days. A bad class last Tuesday evening, impotence with Simone, Jean, Jeannette, the hearing I have to attend tomorrow. Only my being blamed by Jack, Dana, and Simone cheers me up. Its so exciting to have people imagine you are the cause of their problems. It makes me feel important and needed. Without me they would be desperately searching for someone else. Richard the lightening rod.

Jack is the first one. I come into the house and say something about him and Dana eating with me if they haven't already. Reading a newspaper. He comes in and fills the air with tension. Its very measured and careful and difficult for him. He finds my manner offensive. It seems as though I only ask questions and give him advice or criticism. He can't stand this. He yells at me, no, not quite yells, but raises his voice from frustration. He doesn't think I'm getting it. Incredible tension. It seems he might jump up and hit me at any moment. He tries to be very earnest and serious. Too much so. I seem very mechanical and like a machine to him. He gets no positive feeling from me. I think he is very confused. Very unsure of himself. Afraid, jealous, and envious of me. He wants some of the things I have, or seem to have. He sees me acting out a father figure, but seems to have little awareness of how much of it is his own projection onto me.

Dana comes into it near the end when I mention how people sometimes sabotage the efforts of others. You mean like the way you always upset Simone when she has something important to do, he interjects impatiently. Yes, I say, but at the moment don't remind him of how she originally blamed him for everything going wrong. She has just shifted to me. In the beginning he was important to her being able to do things. She came to see him as a hinderance at one point, and realized she could probably do everything by herself. I eventually did many of the things necessary for starting her business. Gradually I started doing less and less and put the responsibility back on her. Now I try to do almost nothing. She reads this and tells me how she and Dana never got into arguments before leading a group. I tell her she has a bad memory. She and Dana never did this much before. They couldn't because of all the fighting they did. I remember criticizing both of them for their mutually antagonistic behavior. It was at this time that I became Dana's good friend, as he used to call me. He didn't like Simone to criticize me. I would jump on Simone when I thought she was pressuring him, or had unrealistic expectations of him. It was always done with both of them there. He seemed to be very impressed with this ability to be fair and avoid taking sides. Never can experience your own faults, she snaps back nervously.

So, after Dana gets started on me, who should walk in, Simone, back from her therapy weekend in Amherst. I get a lecture from her. Its my fault again. My not being a success is because of you, she confidently informs me. This is unacceptable to me, and will have to end, she assures me. More false confidence from Wacko Therapy. She tells me about how Barbara and Jerry are very distant and cold to her. But not once does it seem to come up during the formal therapy. More and more I am convinced that all these therapies accomplish only one thing. That is, that people learn how to be more deceptive with each other, how to avoid deep things, and how to argue your case with antagonists, how to convince others of their responsibility for your problems. Simone is certainly getting better at this. She is more and more turning to leaving me as a way of solving these problems. What a surprise she will have once the excitement of making a decision wears off. People seldom realize that the decision one make is unimportant. What's important is being able to make these decisions. It seem to me they mostly make the wrong decisions, but get an enormous burst of energy from having done something. Ending relationships is the real biggy. I have yet to find anyone who honestly sees themselves as responsible for staying in and ruining a relationship. Lottie has recently experienced this. John has his little clique of friends who completely support him and see Lottie as the crazy one. Lottie has isolated herself and doesn't have the same for herself. Jeannette spent three hours telling me how bad Vinnie was to her. How he's so superficial and is only using her. How he and his friends rejected her when she was down and out and needed some help. She's the same sort of character herself. She calls me only when there's trouble. She only wants me when there's something to be done. She complains about his failure to communicate. But with me she is the same way. She avoids talking about anything of substance in her relationship with me. She stopped sleeping with me when I got more involved with Simone. But she doesn't want to talk about that.

Simone got a call from Ken. She has gone to spend some time with him at the Arboretum. She is very excited as he has a surprise for her. I will be back in 2 hours, she informs me. This I am skeptical of. She won't be able to cut off a good time. She may feel guilty, but won't stop it so suddenly. He is going to quit set in order to have more time with her. Stu did this for about 2 months, then went back to his old ways.

There is something wrong with this writing. I am getting no relief from doing it. Certainly it is going fast enough. I'm typing along at a mile a minute here. But it seems I've said something other than what's going on. The face is hot, the hands cold, the body nervous and uncertain.

Simone has created another of her unconscious melodramas in order to get her way. She did not come back as planned. She wanted me to wait. I didn't. She states a drama to get Linda to give up the idea of me fucking with her. She tries to disguise it as sincere concern and love. As really acting from her heart. It smells like bullshit to me. More of her old double standard. She claims to be competent to criticize me, yet in the same breath demands that I have work for her to do. She is not capable of finding her own. She wants to force me into a limited role for her security, and to finance her freedom. A dramatic veil of tears hides everything else. How could anyone doubt such an open person and sincere tears?

A feeling of going crazy. It started with intense ruminations and thinking about Simone and Linda. I imagined her giving me a hard time tonight about going to see her. Worked myself into a frenzy about it. On getting out of the shower I discover the two of them are talking on the phone. She has apparently called here. Then paranoia. I notice myself thinking all these things. I feel a little bit crazy. I notice myself getting a little bit crazy. It makes me feel a little bit more crazy. I notice this. Then come some berserk and murderous feelings. All this while Simone is on the phone with Linda. I was taking a shower when she called. It seemed like someone else.

She has changed her mind about me coming over tonight. I want to get some sleep and up early to work on my art she explains. I don't believe this and tell her so. She is saying just the opposite of what she wants. She told Simone first. Then me. Simone takes it at face value. But most likely realizes its not so. A man's behavior, in a similar situation, would be transparent to her. Dana says that Linda is just not capable of being really honest with Simone. Its much easier for her to tell me, or much harder for her to lie. Linda often tells Simone just the opposite of what she really feels. The truth about things would probably make her feel vulnerable. So she will say one thing to me and something completely different to Simone. I get there and she blames me for not being able to work on her art. She talking to Simone. I leave the house only to hear Simone say she will call Linda about her change of mind. There is rancor in her voice. I tell her that making trouble will cost something. She takes it to heart as it comes out ok. Linda is not offended by it. We are miles apart. A very distant feeling. No real contact. I am awake many times during the night. Linda is having some sort of bad dreams. She breathes very hard. Tries to cry out in her sleep, is very restless. She shakes in an odd sort of way. Almost like being cold. This happened more when I first knew her. Simone also did this, but for her it almost never happens now.

Thursday night. A fantasy. I am in bed with Simone. She is sucking on my prick. A nuclear Blast. The force and shock causes her to bite off my prick. We are buried in the rubble. Years later, maybe centuries, we are discovered as just skeletons, but she still has my prick in her mouth.

Another fantasy, about the three women whose names begins with J. I imagine that I manage to seduce them all this weekend, while Simone is in Amherst. Jean, Jeannette, and Judy. Jeannette was to visit me for lunch at noon today. She didn't call or show. Judy wasn't at home, or didn't answer my message. Jean has turned around on me. How ironic a fantasy.

Jean me me today at the post office, our favorite meeting place at four. She was obviously upset. It came out of her with difficulty. She does not want to have a physical relationship with me. Well, I may have thought of it once, but it was nothing more, really, she explained. She has talked with Leo again. I don't know much about exactly what. She tells him about the sweater she wanted, and that I offered to buy her. Be careful of what he wants from you in return, he warns. And some number of other hints that seem to say he's putting some pressure on her. But most of all is what her manner reminds me of. It is like I have women describe men. I mean she is evasive, doesn't really want to talk about, tells me to stop bringing it up, just like men treat women who are talking about something that bothers them. And I know she has these same communications difficulties with Leo. They are of a slightly different sort. He doesn't want to think about the everyday problems that people have. His idea of life seems to be that one works for success and they go away. She tells me more about the pressure from him. I didn't dress warm enough. Leo tells me I shouldn't be so cold. I like lots of blankets when I sleep. He says it has something to do with wearing too many clothes. And then there is her loneliness. She has mentioned it every day we've been together. I should learn to get used to it, she tells me. Leo will be going away a lot, and I will have to learn to be alone. She wonders if I will still love her after this. If I will love her if she doesn't sleep with me. You know the answer, I say. You won't love me as much, she concludes. Right. You have decided to cut yourself off from me, and it just won't be possible. Making up such an indirect explanation for her doing this makes it even less likely. Better for her to have just said that it was too hard. On the other hand she is very young. This is a completely new thing for her. I have immersed her in quite a lot. And she did make a big step for such a little amount of time. No small thing to ask Leo if he still wants to marry her and have an open relationship. While I feel the distance has increased between us, she did not refuse physical contact with me. She kissed me goodbye. But not like the other times. It was more perfunctory.

Did you have sex with Jeannette or Jean today? I had sex twice with Ken, Simone informs me in her childlike, strained tone of voice. She has been drinking, is nervous, and throws her arms around me like a desperate child. And me, I feel like a competitor who has just finished second. But it doesn't last. Not even worth joking about.

I visited Jeannette at the daycare center today, and showed her the reference letter for her court appearance tomorrow. She was nervous to see me. Couldn't sit down or still. Especially to sit next to me. She only lets me hold and squeeze her for a moment, and bounds up to pace around. I guess you are the only decent guy I know anymore, she suddenly informs me. Last night, being nervous, she tried to contact Vinnie. He had been telling her that tonight he would be moving furniture with his brother. He told her this very explicitly at least twice. On calling Vinnie's brother she learns that this is not so. She bicycles over to his place. You can't come in now, he exclaims. Someone else was with him, it turns out. They have been in this situation all along. Jeannette has gone out with many other men. She knows he does this also. But for her, this was the first time she has been directly confronted with the feeling of being rejected because of another woman. She wants to do nasty things. Well at least give me money for a cab home, she demands. On taking out his money she grabs it all. $92, more than enough for a cab home. She's put it in an envelope and wants me to deliver it. A very clever way of getting back at him with a cheap shot. He will most likely think I am seeing her again. She gets off without having to do any of the things he will imagine we are doing. It reminds me of Judy. A boyfriend informed her father he might be moving away from Boston. That night she asks me to sleep with her. We just slept together. I was awake most of the night, horny as shit. She did it to get back at him. So I took the money to Vinnie. He recognized me, but I left immediately. So, what to do about Jeannette? Certainly I will call her about the Friday court appearance. I have thought a lot about what she is doing in her life. I wonder a lot about how she is able to be so open about things that happen to her, how she feels, her ideas and thoughts, and on the other hand so carefully avoid any intimate contact with me. Hugging her today suddenly turned her into a spring. Up she jumped! Up and running, practically, around the room. Quite a sight. I'm stuck here. I've never felt so close and so far away from someone. It seems that this kind of behavior, such opposites must create some sort of internal difficulties. I still want to sleep with her. But I can't seem to get a real yes or no. She thinks about it. I sit here pulling my hair out. Enough of this Jeannette.

I have been meaning to write about Jean for several days. She was flattered by what I wrote several days ago. We had one of our secret little meetings in Harvard Square again today. All the time, walking around, a bit paranoid about meeting someone I know. Nobody in particular. Just the idea of meeting someone who might what, I don't know? We talked a lot about Leo. She can't tell him. She wants to keep it a secret from him. Why don't you and Simone come over for dinner sometime, she suggests. No, forget it, she concludes. It would be very awkward for everyone but Leo to know what's really going on. She has to drink a bit to get in a mood for doing things like this. Not all the time, but sometimes it helps her. She is from a Catholic family and often feels guilty about what she does. How did she explain it to me? Something about being in a state where its possible for someone to take advantage of her. She thinks she might have to be that way for me. But its her who decides to get in that state. Ok, I tell her, I'll take advantage of you either way, drunk or sober. She knows I want to. She's beginning to draw back a little after reading more of my notes. She wonders what will happen. Have I got it all planned out? Of course not, she realizes. How I wish it were easy enough to plan out. I can say what my ideas and fantasies are at any given moment, but it has never happened that way. I'm not really in control here. I have noticed that she is a little chubbier than when we first met. She was wearing bluejeans then. The last few times a skirt, from her job. She tells me I'm a handsome man - in my own way, but that my personality makes me more than just a handsome face. I notice myself trying to make a joke about it. She almost called me last Monday night. It would have been too much. She had a fight with Leo. They didn't sleep together. She was a bit drunk that night. He didn't come home till late. Leo has all these ideas about becoming a rich man at an early age. He will probably spend his entire life trying to become either rich or richer. And probably not really doing the things he wants to do after getting rich. Who knows for sure. But she does talk a lot about his being away from home a lot. Lonely. Maybe its time used to think about being with someone else. I sense a desire, at times, to try something else. Its not come out directly. But maybe later. Six children in her family. Four girls and two boys. Her father is a professor at a Connecticut university. We may meet again tomorrow afternoon. She's been busy, something with her job, on most evenings this week. Its not usually that way, she assures me. A good idea from her - she will come over sometime and draw while I write. A nice idea. It makes me feel good that she thinks of such things. It makes me feel even more desirous of her. I tease her about a sweater she sees in a window and wants. Why not ask about the price, I suggest. Maybe I'll buy it for you, I say. She won't let me go back. I pull her back again. She resists. I pull her back again. And back and forth. Tomorrow I'll find out what it costs. She thinks it may be as much as $60. We meet someone from her work in the subway. A black man who is always asking her out for drinks. He's from Barbados. We pretend to not notice him at first, then to be shaking hands. I kiss my little fantasy, and she is gone into the bowels of the MBTA. Sigh. Until tomorrow. Such a romantic asshole I am. Enough of this silly writing. Time to say something serious about something.

Important developments for both Simone and Linda in the last few days. Linda has realized, for the first time, how she acts just like her father. He becomes very paranoid at first. Then comes the rough stuff, threats, violence. She has become afraid of Nadine's influence on her. Nadine is too much like all the things in Brooklyn that she doesn't like in herself. They came out very much in Nadine, or so Linda feels. Her solution is to imagine them getting even worse, then to act on the fantasies. Namely, to kick Nadine out of the apartment. She doesn't even want to give her a months notice, but does it anyway. She breaks down enough to ask Sten to help the two of them work on it. She has come to see it as her problem, and not Nadine. Simone's realization has come about by taking her religious training seriously. That is, to really live by all the fine words that one hears in a church. Forgiving and forgetting. Loving and accepting. She went to dinner with Linda last night. Fuck you, she snaps, Linda and I are going out to dinner with just each other. She sees that it doesn't make much sense to go to church and talk about all the fine things written in religious books if she can't do these things in real life. And Linda is one example of her contradictory behavior. I am a bit lost trying to find something as significant in myself. There are not even any possible candidates. Maybe just that I haven't gone crazy from all these things yet. Maybe that I keep trying.

More funny things with this Ken fellow. Now he wants Simone to leave me. You are always trying Simone, he tells her. But he's such a nothing. He has been reading my notes over again. But still nothing directly from him. Simone says he was wearing underwear today. Carol was at his house today and go pissed at seeing a copy of my notes there.

I am not able to write in a way that satisfies me. Something is said but nothing is being revealed. It seems like a lot of little scattered, chaotic, dim pictures. What is the big picture? I had an idea today and lost it.

Simone says Carol came by today looking for me. She wanted to spend some time with me. Simone tells me how Carol has criticized her in a way very much like I might. Michael accused Simone of being like me today. What a popular fellow I am becoming. Everyone seems to believing, hating, or mimicking me. Its so nice to have attention! Its so nice to have attention! Its so nice to have people talk about me! Its so nice to be the cause of everything! I almost have the urge to write a song about it. Something in the style of My Fair Lady, or Doctor Dolittle, perhaps. A parody of the Talk To The Animals song that someone sang last night at the Ding Ho.

Dana talked to me at length about his new woman friend, Linda, this morning. He is thinking of showing her some of my notes. But he didn't want me to write anything about the things he was about to tell me. I must tell, and did so right then, that he will have to be the censor. So he doesn't tell me some things about her for husband. She is 34 and a school teacher. She is very attractive. He wanted to stay with her last night. But she was anxious about what her daughter might think. Its just something she got from her parents. She will end up passing it on to her daughter, Dana tells her. But in the end he comes home. Maybe another time. I have suggested that she bring the daughter over this Friday and Saturday. She's to be staying here for two nights and a day. Exactly why does he want to show her my notes? I suspect its so he won't have to tell her some difficult things about himself. He indicates that there just might be something to my idea. He seems to go for a long time where I only hear real things about him from Simone. Then, for some hours he will reveal a lot about himself. Its been this way since we have lived here. A few days ago, during the Monday night fights, he even suggested to Simone that she leave me and get a place with him. He's becoming more bold. But not enough to be able to handle Simone alone. Boy, would he be sorry!

Simone's friend Nancy Anandi is not on the critical list. She called here today to say she was home and well. The baby's heartbeat has been found. It was a mistake at the hospital. Two people with the same last name.

Jeff and George have been talking about Simone. George dropped over to visit him the other day. They both agreed that Simone should leave me. George confronted Jeff on his relationship with Simone and hoe he hanging onto things from six years ago. Jeff wants Simone to go see Herb Pearce with him. She has agreed to do this once. But Herb has the idea to turn it into couples therapy. He says it would be more interesting for him.

I have just realized something about Linda. Simone tells me sha has said she's not interested in reading my notes anymore. Then I realize how she always says one thing to me and quite often the opposite to Simone. Recently she's told Simone that she wants a monogamous relationship with me. But just the other day told me, again, that she wants to live with me and other people. I have noticed this quality a lot in people. Saying things that seem to be so contradictory. I think what she tells Simone is often the truth and she says things she thinks I want to hear when with me. But there are clearly times when the things for me are also true. Like most people, lots of ambiguous feelings. Such strong contrasts. Perhaps part of it is also to keep Simone off guard. I can imagine her having a subconscious urge to disinform.

Carol has this thing about my writing. She spent yesterday with Gary. He just happened to be in her neighborhood and dropped in. I suppose Richard is going to write all about this, and have lots of interpretations and meanings for it, she says. He's probably going to be even more fanatical about seat belts, she adds, after Simone tells her about Nancy's bad car accident, from which she may be paralyzed for life. I will have to ask her what it is that provokes her so. She has gone so far as to correct some of my public writing. I remember putting something up at the art show last Spring. She added a correction to be placed beside it. She wanted everyone to know how something really happened. She has gotten mad at me for some other things I've written about her.

Sunday, a date with Judy. We are to go biking at 11am. I'm over an hour late. She's mad at me. We go out toward Lexington. The route I took with Adele about 10 years ago. We passed Habitat. Another incident with Adele. We were going to visit a friend of mine. He was doing something there. We were all set to go, but she became reluctant. It turned into a fight. She didn't want to go. I was going without her. Walking down the stairs when suddenly she throws a ceramic cup at me. It shatters and splashes all over the hallway. Am I pissed at this! Completely indignant. You fucking asshole, I yell, what kind of way is this to communicate something! It turns out she wanted me to stay and fuck. We did. It was very good. Later, she tells Sandy how much better it is after tension has been released through a fight. So, Judy and I return to Cambridge and have a late brunch on Huron Avenue. She has to go home and work. What do you want to do now, she asks academically. Well, I respond, my plans were to go home with you and try to seduce you. A smile from her. Nope, she's going to work. I go home.

Monday, one of the craziest days of the week. Nancy Anandi calls to say she has been badly hurt in a car accident. The baby, she's 6 months pregnant, doesn't seem to have a heartbeat anymore. She may be paralyzed for life, and badly scarred. But her husband is paying more attention to her. He had been going to New Jersey and seeing prostitutes for some time.

Ed, who's in my class at MIT, and in love with Simone, just happened to be in the neighborhood, and stopped by to visit her. I was right. He didn't tell his wife. He lied to Simone. He can't do. She's my anchor, he laments. I can't take a chance on her leaving me, he wails. Simone demonstrates how he's romantic with her. He holds her, looks at her eyes, and slobbers all them after saying, what wonderful eyes you have. Next comes her pelvis. Then the lips. Then the ears. Then the elbows. Or something like that. Simone won't be going to his place for breakfast on Tuesday morning. Simone told him I might be playing jokes with him the next time we meet in class. But last night I played it cool. He was a little nervous. His hands were shaking. I just gave him a lot of individual help. A little more than the others. I got back late from class. Simone thought that he and I got into a fight. She tells me how some are afraid to come here because they think I might do or say something. She says Michael won't come by with Constance because he's afraid of what I might say. I meant to say, after the note about the fight, that she is very paranoid. None of the things Michael imagines has ever happened. None of the other things people imagined have ever happened, as best I can recollect. It seems I am everybody's lightening rod. More Monday night - crazy with Simone and Linda. Linda gets pissed that I won't stay with her. Things are very bad for her. But I point out how she's managing them very well. She wants Nadine to move. But now she sees that she's been acting exactly like her father. She asks Sten to help them see the situation clearer. She stomps out. I am in bed with Simone. She wants to fuck. Nothing else will do. I've been impotent with her the last few days. She becomes aggressive and starts hurting my balls. I push her away. She gets insulted and stops out. She comes back and tries to force herself on me again. I just want to sleep. A long day. No desire for her. I get up and start to dress. She jumps up and starts hitting me. Tries to keep me from going. I force her to let go of me. She gets dressed fast and runs out ahead of me. I call Linda to see if she will let me stay with her. Yes, but I want to go to sleep soon, she firmly informs me. We get in bed. She immediately starts to seduce me. My impotence disappears. We fuck. She threatens suicide and mayhem if I don't. Linda is reading, apparently quite satisfied, and tells me to go to her. She needs you now, more than I do, she says. And honestly, it seems to me. Simone will come over, cause a scene, and ring the doorbell all night, if I don't return home. She calms down a little. Dana is there. He's with her. Will take care of her. Ok, she relents, but I want to stay with you tomorrow night. I agree. Linda and I talk about it. She becomes outraged. She attacks me. Tries to scratch and kick me in the balls. She's stronger than Simone and its hard for me to hold her back. She gives up. Its her father again. She knows it. A long cry. We cuddle. Start to play with each other. I masturbate her to a very strong orgasm. I'm horny again. Get her diaphragm. We fuck again. Three for her and two for me. We are exhausted. At last sleep. It must have been 3 or 4 in the morning. Eight am the phone rings. Its Simone telling me a customer is at the house. I leave and start the day.

These notes are about the day Cheyenne was born. Also, about the first months after she was born, and some things that happened to her.

It really began the day before, early in the evening, at a Chinese restaurant in Inamn Square, and whose name I can't remember at just this moment. Adele and I went there for something to eat. It was sort of a fast-food Chinese restaurant. Nothing special. It burned down a few years later. It's a little park now, right across from Rosie's, the bank, and a drugstore.

On the morning of June 6, 1972, Adele woke up feeling sick to her stomach. She was two weeks past her expected delivery time. A little vomiting, with something that looked like worms. But it was only some sprouts from the Chinese food. The contractions started. I made a little table of the time they started and how long they lasted. It looks like this:

6/6/72 Contractions: 9:02:45(am) 45(seconds) 9:09:30 7 45 (the 7 represents 7 minutes since the last contraction) 9:15:00 6Ω 45 9:21:30 6Ω 45 9:26:45 5 50

shower

stronger 9:52:30 35 10:00:30 8 45 10:04:55 5 35 10:10:10 5 35

- - -

10:21:35 55 (Adele, or someone else, wrote these) 10:27:50 6 50 10:34:25 6 50 10:40:30 6 45 10:46:00 6 70 10:52:15 6 60

hospital trip

2:13:40 60 2:28:15 2:37:15

prep, enema labor room

3:09:30 75

4:30 delivery room 4:56 - baby Cheyenne is!

Oops! It seems I left out a bunch of contraction timings. So here they are continued from the previous page. These begin sometime after 10:52:15, so, here we go again:

11:14:35 60 11:21:15 7 65 11:27:25 6 85 - - - 11:55:20 65 12:03:40 8 65 12:14:05 10 55 12:18:05 4 55 12:24:35 6 60 12:30:35 6 55 12:35:05 4 55 12:41:40 6 55 12:47:40 6 65 12:54:40 7 70 1:02:30 8 1:08:30 6 60

and then back to the previous page and begin with the hospital trip. Only one thing came as a real surprise, in the sense that we didn't know it would happen. After expelling the placenta, Adele began to shake, almost violently. The doctor told us it was a completely normal reaction. It lasted for only a few moments. Near the end of the pregnancy Adele would do some funny things. One was to carry a bottle of water around. Something like mineral water. She was afraid that the sack holding the baby inside her would break and get water all over. Also, that it would occur in odd places, like supermarkets. So, before shopping, she would have me get a bottle of mineral water to carry around while we shopped. I remember we went to a supermarket, Star, no, Stop & Shop, on Beacon Street, near Porter Square. Groceries, then, cost us something like $5 to $10 a bag. That was a long time ago.

Adele was surprised at the episiotomy. She got a shot for it, but still an unpleasant thing. There were a number of other women in labor at the same time. But it was different for all of them. They were either hysterical or crying their hearts out. We had taken two courses to help with the delivery of a child. It seems the doctors of these women had kept them completely in the dark. They had no idea of what was happening. We were quite offended at these doctors for doing such a thing. Adele ended her relationship with a doctor in the beginning of the pregnancy because she found him insensitive. Another couple we knew, and who had a baby shortly before us, also took the Lamaze course, but found the same conditions in the hospital they used. The other women were either hysterical or crying.

It was difficult to restrain myself in the delivery room. I kept reaching over to help the doctor with the delivery, and holding Adele's hands with my other hand. It lasted about 30 minutes. She was born at 4:56 pm, 22 inches, 6lbs 10oz.

The doctor put her in a little box to keep her warm. She turned her head to one side and looked at me, or so I imagined. She cried for only a moment, then was quiet. She was perfect. Later, in Adele's room, I held her for the first time. The tiniest little hands and fingernails, and each one just perfect. She had a slight bit of yellow color for which the doctor did something. It seemed to be a common thing.

I started to write notes about things that happened to Cheyenne as she developed. Sometimes they would be things noticed by me, or by Adele, or some other person. Each thing was written on a 3 by 5 card with the date:

6/6/72 Cheyenne's entrance into the new world. She came out breathing, blinking and crying. What a beautiful kid! Weighed 6 lbs 10 oz and was 20 inches long. The following is not a regulation 3 by 5 card, but is a list, on 3 by 5 paper of who we sent birth notices to: Maggie Lettvin, Tom Savage, Dan Rubenstein, John Donovan, Dorothy Jones, Buddy Cohe, John Rosenfield, Sheila Hoffman, Gusty Trainor, The Breidenbachs, The Berensons, Carla Marceau, Liz Notarius, Jack & Ruth Rothman, Mitzi Haber, Billy & margot Rothman, Mark Habor, Louise Castellucio, G Pederson-Krag, Phyllis Newman, Laura & George Price, Annette & Hy, John Carley, Sam Mason, Karolyn Martin, Bob Rappaport, PInky Sinclair, Rosemary Xeron, The Gardners, Ted Gardner, Dave Burrmaster, Barbara Ackermann, Karl Linn, George Morrisey, Ed Mcquillan, Victor Oppenheimer, Al Solish, Rina Wald, Warren Brodey, Avery Johnson, Joseph Brenner, David Silva, Sylvan Bromberger, Bill Buffett, Mike Cheney, Earl Coleman, Martin Hurwitz, George Alves, Stepehn Arons

6/10/72 Cheyenne comes home for the first time and meets her new neighbors.

6/18/72 Cheyenne blinks her eyes at light and air pressure, but not motion.

7/6/72 Cheyenne's first visit to the doctor! Gained 3 lbs and 13/4 oz in 30 days. AMAZING!

7/17/72 Cheyenne 'talked' and said her first 'words' today. Her grandmother has been speaking to her a lot.

8/4/72 Cheyenne started blinking at motion today. Adele says she laughed for the first time.

8/5/72 Adele says Cheyenne turned over on her side for the first time today. We were at Fresh Pond.

8/16/72 Cheyenne took a whole bottle of milk this evening. 7-8 oz, went #2 twice during the operation.

8/17/72 Cheyenne's first diaper rash showed up today! My goodness! Look at those red wrinkles!

8/17/72 Cheyenne has started blowing bubbles and dripping at the mouth.

8/18/72 Cheyenne can now lift her head and look around while lying on her stomach. Her shoulders come up just a little.

8/19/72 Cheyenne has learned several new sounds/'words' today. We went to visit the Wyler's in Snowville New Hampshire.

8/20/72 Cheyenne has discovered fingers! She can put individual, as well as a collection of them, in her mouth, and sucks, making a lot of noise in the process.

8/20/72 Cheyenne has discovered Sam, and vice versa! She spent a long time watching him as we returned from New Hampshire. Sam had a good time smelling and licking her hands and face.

8/21/72 Adele says that Cheyenne responded to her voice for the first time today by looking in her direction. Cheyenne likes to be held high over my head.

8/23/72 Cheyenne's double chin is going away and her neck is getting longer. We held her upside down and there it was!

9/7/72 Cheyenne can lift herself up, the back part, by straightening her legs. She can almost turn over. She has started blowing lots of tiny, clear bubbles. Adele said Cheyenne laughed today when she was tickled around the neck.

9/17/72 Cheyenne spent her first night alone, in her new crib, in another room! Adele seems to be taking it ok. Cheyenne likes the extra room for moving and the spaces between wooden slats allow her to see more.

9/20/72 Cheyenne visited the doctor again. She has gained 22 ounces and continues to develop normally. A variety of reaction tests were conducted and she performed satisfactorily.

9/22/72 Cheyenne has learned to use tools! Today she grasped her rattle and manipulated it to her mouth, several times. She also laughed with us and ate some solid food, which she seemed to enjoy very much.

10/1/72 Cheyenne seems to be starting her teething. She bites her lower lip with her upper gum!

10/2/72 Cheyenne grabbed a toe earlier today, and, just now, about 10pm, turned from her stomach to her back!

10/8/72 Cheyenne discovered toes today and played with one for the first time.

10/13/72 Cheyenne is beginning to see and grab things like paper, her hanging clown toy, etc. She has lots of patience and tries to get hold of something over and over again.

10/16/72 Cheyenne fell asleep on her back today! Another first time event!

10/18/72 Three big things new happened to Cheyenne today: 1) held her own bottle, 2) played with Sam and got licked in return, 3) grabbed the beads hanging over her dressing table and played with them.

10/29/72 Cheyenne visited her grandparents this weekend, was her usual wonderful self and they got to feed her solid food for the first time. Her grandfather took care of her while Adele and Richard went to the movies, The French Connection.

11/5/72 Cheyenne bit Adele for the first time today! Boy, did that hurt! The reason is because of a tooth coming in on the middle of the lower gum. Her grasping and manipulating abilities have improved considerably. She really likes to play with pieces of paper and twirl them around.

11/7/72 Cheyenne spent about an hour in her Jolly Jumper, had a marvelous time jumping and talking and touching Sam who was very interested in smelling her.

11/8/72 Cheyenne can almost stand and sit by herself now. She can stand when she is being held only by her hands.

11/127/2 Cheyenne's first tooth has broken completely through the gum today. She tried to grab her bottle by leaning forward and grasping with both hands just as I was about to feed her today. She recognized what it was quite clearly. Adele showed me how she has just learned how to lift herself to a standing position from a sitting position while being balanced only by holding her hands.

11/13/72 Cheyenne has started swimming! Well, almost. She and Adele were in the bathtub and Cheyenne went underwater three (3), count them, times! Only a bit of distress, with a quick recovery.

11/15/72 Complete extension of the fingers and repeated attempts to grasp anything in reach is beginning. Cheyenne can stand with only a little balancing with two or even one hand at a time. She is taking and holding her pacifier now for long periods of time, perhaps because other teeth are coming in. She sometimes sleeps on her side.

11/25/72 Another big week for Cheyenne! A visit with grandma and grandpa and the other Rothman's for Thanksgiving dinner. Acquired the ability to sit up vertically from a bent over position, resting on outstretched hands instead of forearms, reaching out with hands to be pulled up from a lying on the back position, ability to pull herself from a sitting to a standing position with only a little help with balance, reaching out to grasp my hands, very interested in Sammy and his movements, smiles and giggles for everyone, especially her grandparents.

12/4/72 Cheyenne put the toes of her left foot in her mouth this evening - for the first time!

12/6/72 Cheyenne said what sounded like DA-DA or GA-GA for the first time today!

12/10/72 Cheyenne is now saying MA-MA very clearly, mostly when she is somewhat distressed. Her ability to sit up and manipulate objects around her has improved. She can push up to a sitting position upon falling forward.

12/14/72 Cheyenne has learned to play a new game. We placed a blanket over her head. She didn't know what to do. It was slowly pulled away till we were visible. We placed the blanket over her head several times and she finally learned to pull it off.

12/16/72 Cheyenne had her first 'finger food' today! She picked up and ate a cracker.

12/19/72 Cheyenne is laughing more, especially at visual jokes, has learned to grimace, as though sucking on a lemon, and is very active in the jolly-jumper.

12/25/72 Cheyenne's first Christmas! We spend the day with lots of grandma's relatives. Cheyenne is her usual wonderful self. Looking around and smiling at everyone. She reached out to get me or Adele when someone else is holding her and will grab us even tighter if she thinks someone is going to pick her up. She is pulling herself up to her knees - starting to crawl, is holding and manipulating her pacifier. Sitting up and playing with toys for longer periods of time. Can almost turn from back to stomach.

12/29/72 Cheyenne went to the doctor in Monsey, has stomach virus, diarrhea and a cold, weighs 15 lbs 15 oz. Two miscellaneous sheets of paper from the doctor with a prescription and a list of foods to eat while she's sick.

1/19/73 Cheyenne turned from back to stomach for the first time! She was lying on the table and getting ready for a bath.

1/19/72 Cheyenne can move in specific directions with the stroller. She can chase Sam or move towards an object that interests her.

1/21/73 Cheyenne moved her arms alternately while in a crawling position. A telephone book was the object of her pursuit.

1/21/73 Cheyenne stood up in her crib by herself today and moved the car on the busy box back and forth!

1/17/73 Cheyenne seems to be getting four top teeth at once! She has been a bit cranky.

1/28/73 Cheyenne can now roll from back to stomach by twisting and arching her back. Also, started to clap hands, and seems to be mimicking others actions.

1/31/72 Cheyenne has learned how to crawl! She started about 6pm when Adele was playing with her on the kitchen table. Alternate movement of hands & feet was somewhat shaky but clearly evident.

2/1/72 Cheyenne used both feet to propel her stroller, also, alternated pushing with left & right.

2/14/73 Adele observed Cheyenne picking up a milk bottle and putting it in/near her mouth.

2/19/73. Cheyenne started clicking her tongue today.

2/23/73 Cheyenne now holds a full bottle all by herself and can finish most of it before it, or she, has to be tipped up.

2/28/73 Cheyenne's general flexibility is increasing and today she put a toe in her mouth. Adele found her lying on her stomach with legs pointing forward.

3/22/73 Cheyenne has learned a hand game! We put our hands on her high chair table. She puts her hands on ours. We pull our hands out from under hers and place them on top of hers. And so forth, with great relish!

3/29/73 Adele says that Cheyenne has learned to climb down from the front room couch, about 10 inches high, by going off feet first.

4/11/73 Cheyenne's swimming is improving. She no longer clings and cries but will reach for things with both hands, and is more relaxed.

4/13/73 Cheyenne stood up by herself twice this evening! Another first.

6/2/73 Cheyenne visits her grandparents today. Says 'hi', seems to recognize them, is held by them. Also, learns a new word, 'see', and points at things.

6/6/73 Cheyenne is working very hard at standing, tries to throw herself into a standing position, momentarily does so, then plops down.

6/16/73 At last, Cheyenne is kicking during swimming, and for the very first time, is reaching out for objects and no longer clings.

6/18/73 Cheyenne has been a real terror these last two days. The reason: first molar, bottom left side.

6/24/73 Cheyenne took her first independent steps today, while visiting M. Fay in Worcester MA.

7/14/73 HCHP doctor says Cheyenne has Roseola. Loss of appetite, fever, up to 104 degrees at one point, but mostly about 101.5 or so, with the rectal temperature about 1 degree higher than the oral.

7/21/73 Cheyenne recovered from Roseola, after the 4th rash. She sleeps more now but should return to her regular schedule. Activity has increased considerably in the last few days. She doesn't want to be carried in the sling unless moving, trying to stand up and is more steady than a week ago. Two cards with the schedule for taking care of Matt. He's about Cheyenne's age. We made an arrangement with his parents to trade childcare. We would trade on the basis of hours.

And so ends the notes about the first year or so of Cheyenne's life. A Lot of other things were happening, both in the world outside and around us. The 1972 Olympics were going on, and the Munich massacre. George McGovern was claiming that Richard Nixon was the crookedest guy to ever be President. A year later he was to be on TV every day. Another short war in the Mideast, and lots of other things. There was some competition between Adele and I over discovering new things in Cheyenne's development. We were always excited to tell the other of what we had noticed. It seemed to me that she always discovered the biggest new developments first. But reading it over again makes that seem not so likely. We were very excited about her and pleased with her. In many ways she seemed to be a perfect baby. I remember staying up all night a few times, but never after that. It happened only at the beginning. She would always eat and shit regularly. She was a good sleeper. We loved her very much. She paid us back many times over. I remember once when Adele and I slept late. We went to her and found her covered with the stuff she normally left quite neatly in her diaper. She was unable to keep it organized will we got to her. But she didn't complain. She just talked to us with her cooing voice and held out one of her toys for us. For awhile she made a noise that sounded just like and old creaky door being opened. The sort that one sees, or hears, in a horror movie. I remember being scared out of my pants by it, and looking frantically around the apartment for the source, only to realize that Cheyenne was the source. She really liked this little orange sling that went around my shoulder and made a pouch at about my hip. Putting it on was enough to send her into an ecstatic fit. Or saying, wanna go for a ride. That would do it. When she was really small I'd carry her around in a little gizmo on my chest. Wearing my parka, and her, made it seem as though I had an enormous stomach. People would often be surprised to see me come in and hear this squeeking sound from inside my coat. She was very careful with her position relative to real objects. Once when she got herself under the kitchen table, I noticed her placing a hand over her head to keep from bumping the sharp wood and metal objects located there. Matt, on the other hand, would jump up, practically get himself knocked out, fall down, lurch forward, and jump up again, only to bash his head once more. At a very early age he would scramble in and out of his crib. Very athletic kid. Cheyenne was just the opposite. Sometime before her first birthday we invented some games. One was for her to jump from the kitchen table into my arms. Another was for me to grab her around the waist and hold her over my head, sometimes tossing her even higher into the air. I try to think about more incidents from that time. A lot of little pictures come to mind. Sitting up late at night right after she was born. She would cry and cry. We didn't know why. Holding her didn't help. Feeding her didn't help. Changing her diaper didn't help. Making her warmer or cooler didn't help. So I would stay up, put on my old motorcycle crash helmet, and read the paper. From time to time I'd talk to her, or try to give her a bottle, or hold her. But it didn't help. So I'd go back to the crash helmet and newspaper. She would finally fall asleep. It was all over within the first two weeks or so. Just a thousand little things about the sound of her voice, the looks she gave me, the things she pointed to, how she was so happy most of the time. And now, in this moment, how I completely miss her. I can't help but cry. I can't see from the tears. A sharp pain in my throat. This has got to stop. Enough. Dry the eyes. Clear the throat. Blow the nose. Crying doesn't help anything. It has to stop before one can go on to do something real besides crawl around in misery.

Sometimes I wonder about her deep down health considering the battles for her mother and I were going through at the time. But we did not blame her or take it out directly on her. It makes me very wary of being a father in that way again.

I have noticed some little things about my body. Hair growing out of my ear lobes. Once I found a hair and inch or two long. Another time one a foot or more long growing out of my shoulder blade. I'm getting older. Little things start to go wrong. I read about a woman who recently celebrated her 100th birthday. Will I ever make that mark? Will I ever make anything? Will I ever get anywhere? Will I ever be anybody? Will I ever? Will I ever! Will I ever. Will I. Will. I. Ever? Ever! Ever. Have I noticed anything about my writing? I stop to think. And realize that nothing immediately comes to mind. Joe told me it is getting better.

Which brings me to Jean. I met her by chance in the PO. We wandered around the square for an hour or so. I didn't want her to go. I was all nervous inside about her. I wanted her to fuck me. Next day I sent her a copy of my notes. She started reading them Sunday night and wanted to call me, but was too shy. Finally, last Tuesday. I was out and Dana took the message. He said she seemed enthusiastic about the notes. The talk we had can only be described as thrilling. I was so pleased that she liked me, and my writing. It made her all fluttery, or something like that inside. She made little notes and comments in the margins. Her head was filled with little things it made her think of. I wanted to take you home and do something crazy, she confessed to me. It made me ecstatic. I am sure she wants to fuck me. She's going away for a few days. She comes back today. I have told her about my desire to touch and hug her last week. Maybe it will happen next time we meet, she says. I was completely in a trance for the next day or so. Its not so intense now, but has been replaced with expectations. On the one hand, I want her to be in love with me. On the other side is my fear that what she knows about me will be too much, and so rejection. She has only read through March, so I imagine that April and May will put an end to her desire. Or something else will do it. And finally, this intense longing I have for someone, will be frustrated. I fear she will hold back.

10:45am. A dream. Back on FH. I have returned for a visit, or is it to stay for a longer time? Not clear. Meeting lots of people. But I notice myself not hugging or kissing anyone. My hands are constantly full or occupied with doing something important. Marlena says hello to me. I notice something is slightly wrong with her teeth. She seems to have gained a little weight. There is some sort of course going on. People are going into a room with equipment. Then it hits me. Everyone on FH is studying computers. Its a keypunch/terminal room. ITs the new thing on FH. Everyone is learning how to program computers. Otto is in a room doing something. Sausages are frying for him on one side of the room. The next person I recognize is Katarina. She is doing something with the sausages.

Simone learned something about herself yesterday. She often gets frustrated when I'm caught up with work and can't really be with her when she wants. But she remarks how she does this with everyone else she knows, and comments how they must dislike this quality in her as much as she dislikes it in me. She tends to do this to a larger group of people.

I have been nervous all day. Thinking about Jean and seeing her again. Will she come here? Will I go to her place? Will Simone come back when she's here? Will Simone cause a scene and cause her to go away? Will I fight back? Will I do any number of the fantasies I've had? I've imagined a whole scenario. Exactly what will happen, and how I will respond to it. None of it is good. It assumes the worst behavior from everyone. I can't imagine a positive future. When thinking hard enough about it, when contriving one, its possible. But a positive future seldom arises spontaneously. Sometimes when its a fantasy about just me and Jean it comes out that way. The moment someone else enters into the picture it goes bad. Already I feel better. This writing is such a therapeutic thing. My nervousness has subsided considerably. Its like magic. The more exactly I describe what's going on, the more that difficulty goes away. Maybe I should try to develop some positive scenarios. I started one this morning while in the bank. I thought about the paintings they have up behind the tellers. Wouldn't it be great if we could get some of the social art works placed on display. My little fantasy included me, Simone, Jean, Gene Hall for some reason, and some others that escape me. We got together and made an exhibit that the bank accepted. Another fantasy, from yesterday, was about writing something on what I've learned about multiple relationships. Then taking it various places and giving little talks about it. I thought about Dr Vallee at Leslie, Herb Pearce's groups, Family Tree, and others.

I realized something about myself yesterday. It seemed like an important thing at the time. Something worth writing about. But I've completely forgotten it. Some sort of defense. Perhaps writing about what it might have been will cause it to come up again. Why do I forget important things like this? Maybe its so I won't have to do anything about it? It still won't come out. Sitting here thinking about another subject, my course at MIT. I remember it came to me while walking from the office to here, home. Still nothing.

A science fiction fantasy. The world is divided into two camps. One side is ruled by Harvard. The other by MIT. The border between the two camps is somewhere around Inman Street and the post office. One side rules by controlling the social order. The other by controlling technology. The end.

Every half hour or so I call Jean. She's to be back from Martha's Vineyard, or the other place, sometime today. Very nervous. I keep thinking about it. Will she still accept me? How will Leo take this? Will I be able to handle situations that come up, where people are very anxious? I imagine myself in a situation with her and Leo. What can I do to put him at ease? It will be a hard thing for him, no matter what. He may try to pretend otherwise, but will turn out to be human. I could take a positive position here and say it won't happen this way. But that is not realistic. He's cool, Jean tells me. But all of us are so conditioned and trained to feel rejected in this kind of situation. I play a little scene out in my head. Hello, Leo. My name is Richard Gardner. Or maybe, I'm Richard Gardner. Jean's told me a lot about you. I get lost here as its difficult to imagine how he might respond. How do you start talking about being in love with someone he's living with? How do you tell him about your desire for the woman he lives with?

Linda has just called me. We talk for awhile about the situation at her apartment. Its starting to go bad. She doesn't want to live with Nadine anymore. She sees Nadine as a negative influence. Someone who has no ambition, no desire to do something with her life. People from Brooklyn never do anything, she tells me. So I imagine getting out a book of all the famous people who were born and grew up in Brooklyn. She feels so entitled to having a creative environment where people are responsible, creative, hardworking, etc. But she herself is not willing to put anything into it. I give her all my criticisms of how she's trying to blame others for her difficulties. I'm going, she snaps. Look what you are doing here, just like last night, I tell her. It gets too hot and she has to go. She has been like this all the time I've known her. I wonder, will she realize this, or take another random tack in the course of her life, and return to NYC? I have tried to criticize her, and at the same time show her how we have created a more active environment here. And that she can do the same where she is. She brings up FH. Uses it as a defense. They wouldn't allow this sort of thing there, she informs me, Sten says so! So what, I respond, this is not FH. They are half way around the world.

Back to Leo and Jean. More scenario: I know its hard for you to hear this, but I've sort of fallen instantly in love with Jean. Its not very deep, but I like her very much. I want to sleep with her. I want a relationship with her. I know this might be a very new thing for you, but I can't really have much to do with the idea of sneaking around and doing this sort of thing. The truth is I just feel this way about her. I don't really know you. I don't have any strong feelings about you. Who knows what might happen. Perhaps you have thought about the same sort of things, but couldn't really do anything about it. Maybe you didn't know how or where to start. But I've started something. I don't know where it will go. Maybe my fantasy of having us all live together, without the emotional and sexual barriers that most people put up, will come about. I don't know. Its only something that seems very important to me. I don't like having to resist the kind of feelings I have with a woman like Jean. Its seldom that I find someone who responds so positively and clearly as her. I can't resist such a person. I don't want to. To resist would mean holding down, holding back from loving someone. I don't want to do that either. I don't get all the love I want and need. I don't know anybody who does. But I want to try different things to get it. I notice that my face is feeling very hot. Its difficult to write this sort of thing, even if it is nothing more than my imagination at work. But it is something like what I would want to say. It is close to what I feel. My throat is getting tight, and my eyes a little watery. But I also notice that the driving energy from these feelings has incredibly speeded up my typing. I'm going along at a mile a minute here. Now it seems to end. I shouldn't have said it. It has put a cruse on energetic, emotional, fast typing.

And what to say to Simone? She really does understand. The same thing has happened to her in the last few days. She may not want to see that it's the same, but it is.

I have just talked to my aunt Rosemary. She lives in Maryland. My project to interview my grandparents, her parents, about their early life, what they remember about their parents and grandparents, interests her very much. You won't have any trouble with grandma, she says. But I can't remember, except once, grandpa talking about growing up, she adds. Then we talked about things from our early childhood. She will be forty next week. She is about 3 years older than me, and doesn't remember anything about us till 6th grade for her. No, one other thing. She was 4 years old, we were in a car going down to Patrick's Pharmacy, she had a watermelon sucker. In the sixth grade, for her, she came into my 2nd grade class one day. I was very anxious, nervous, about to shit a brick. She'd left her watch in the bathroom that day and I decided to wear it. And here she is, right in my classroom. I was incredibly afraid of being discovered by her. She tells me of a time when Ann was blamed for sticking pins into a toothpaste tube. Grandma spanked her for it while Rosemary watched. Rosemary was the real culprit. She came to resent our being there. At first she looked forward to it. Then her attitude became one of, nobody lives in Wyoming. It isn't even there, she exclaims! She wants me to visit if I go to my grandparents in Florida. Her sister's, my aunt's, husband has decided to become a priest. It was very surprising to everyone. She says he's not a very good person with people. He reminds me of the father in a Victorian novel, she explains. I tell her I'll visit if I go by train but not if I fly. Flying gives me white knuckles. It frightens me. She tells me how grandpa isn't afraid of flying, just crashing. I can identify with that. Another thing I learn is that dinner was a time for arguments. Clever, intellectual arguments. This is not part of memory. I can imagine participating as a way to divert people's attention from the food. This would make more available to me. She did not understand all my notes. I sent her a few miscellaneous pages. Now she gets a complete copy.

I have tried to call Jean again. She's still not home. Its making me nervous again. My face is burning. Some of the things with Rosemary embarrassed me. She reminded me of how I used to wet my bed every night. I gave it up when I left home, I tell her. Its so hard for me to be reminded of that. Always a big thing for me.

Phone call from Simone. She's just finished dinner at the wedding. Tells me about the enormous quantities of food. Some of Nancie's friends have criticized her for coming with Jeff. If not Richard, then by yourself, these little guardians of modern day morality tell her. Some expression they used. It wasn't exactly saying that it was wrong, or in bad taste, but something in between. Can't remember. Michael Schaffer has been saying things about me. How I'm too old, and don't make enough money. He doesn't even know me, but, according to Simone, does not like me. I tell her its like with Linda. She doesn't really know Linda, but mistakes what gets stirred up inside her, for the feelings one has of not liking a person. Surely she understands this. And then a bit of rancor in her voice, as she relates part of Dana and Linda's conversation from last night. It seems Linda said something about going to Holland and becoming a hooker. I let it pass. I think now about just hanging up the phone when it happened. Or saying, I'm going to hang up the phone in a few seconds unless you become aware of what you have just said, and why. As usual, she has lots of stuff to tell me about the people there. Especially the moralists, Nancie's friends. I can imagine this putting quite a strain on their view of the world and how things should be. We talk about my conversation with Rosemary, my date tomorrow with Judy. She will call later tonight. I would still like to do something with Jean, but she's still not home. Why don't you fuck earlier, like at nine or so, and come home afterwards, she suggests to me.

My face is hot again. I get up to piss every few minutes. Must be nervous again.

Simone reminds me again about writing the notes for Loris. She may have delivered by now. They've been sitting here for weeks. It's a pile of 3 by 5 cards, with a piece of paper on top, also about 3 by 5. Its dated 6/6/72, underlined, and under that is the word 'contractions', also underlined, then some numbers. I will start something, a new page for these, so they will be appropriate to send to most anyone. Who would want to read about some of the things written here? Besides, I don't want to waste the rest of this page.

I wrote a poem for Simone while sitting at the kitchen table, eating the lunch she had made for me: a turkey, cheese, and tomato sandwich, and some cookies and an apple. Here it is:

Higgeldy, piggeldy, bump.
While laying in bed late last night
You heard a thing that went bump!
Don't pay it no mind,
You know its only my lump!

She wants to put it in her notebook - the Richard and Simone file. Have you been writing lately, I ask. Yes, but the last ten pages were bullshit, so I threw them away, she responds. And don't go looking in the garbage for them, she pleads.

Linda has abruptly ended a phone conversation with me. She does not want to hear about being number 2. That is, she's not number one with me. She can't face hearing this. On the other hand, she doesn't do as much for me as Simone, who always likes to remind me of this. Tell me just one thing she has ever done for you, she demands. Its true. Linda does very little for me. She seldom goes out of her way for me. She is like most of the men Simone knows. She always expects, or feels entitled. She informs me of her plans to return to NYC. Its not working out the way she wants. Earlier in the conversation she complains about how a person can't rely on anyone. One of the people who was to move in this last month has not been seen for two weeks. She doesn't understand why things aren't going better for her. Why aren't men more interested in her. Why did I get these lousy roommates for her. She wanted them to commit themselves to living with her for at least a year. And now she plans to leave. Even going so far as to give up the lease on her apartment. She whines about how men are so callous and superficial, and then tells me about how she only picks men with beautiful bodies, and how could Nadine ever have someone like Martin. Nadine thinks he's just fine. His body also. So blind to her prejudice. She rejects anyone who doesn't fit into her exacting standards. And, at the same time, wonders why she has so little contact with people. Wonders why Simone has so many friends. Simple, she doesn't reject as many people as Linda.

Simone has called from the Cape, where she is attending Nancie's wedding. Lots of people and money around her, but she wants me. Michael Schaffer is there asking her if I have brought 'him'. He means me. She told me of her idea to have me sleep with her and Nancie tonight. I would fuck her and then Nancie. But its only a ruse to get me there. Before leaving she asked if there was anything I wanted to tell Bob and Nancie. Yes, says I, tell them to stop using you as an intermediary and mouthpiece. Speak for themselves. Bob walked away from her when she told him. Nancie still has not told her mother she is pregnant. She has some imaginary fear that they will make trouble over it. Simone is staying with Jeff tonight. Nancie wanted Simone to sleep with her tonight. She said Darby wanted to sleep with her the next night.

Wednesday, 10:51am. A dream. I am in a fancy pastry/cookie shop with Linda. You have to order something and wait for it to be made. We are there waiting. and looking at things to buy. Adele comes in. I do a double-take and whisper to Linda, did you see who just came in? She says some name I never heard before. She and I go to one side of the shop. We sit down. She starts moving away from me. It gets harder and harder to whisper to her about Adele being there. I don't remember any more. Suddenly the phone rings. Its Linda. She has called to ask me to come over and see her. We make an appointment for 12:30. She is having a very hard time. After stomping on me for my behavior of two weeks ago, she breaks down and cries. I realize that I am in love with you, that you are my best friend, that most everyone is boring compared to you, and that I missed you very much, she tells me. She didn't think I would respond to her call. But she has thought that all the other times she's ended our relationship. In the past it was always me who did this. I have told her what a big step this is for her. Even when the jealous feelings are very strong, they can't win out over the positive feelings she has for me. We slept together last night. It was surprising how little sexual resistance she had towards me. There was none. Let's fuck, I said. Ok, let me do this first, she says. It was that simple. It was the first time we'd done it without rubbers in a long time. We both like to watch the prick go in and out of the cunt. It was very wet and noisy. She has two orgasms in a very short time. She even prepared something so we could fuck in the morning if the opportunity rose. It didn't. She has, sometimes in the morning, and very strong this morning, something like waking nightmares. Her body shakes, she sobs lightly, as though running away from something. The feeling she has, as told to me, is one of being very lonely and afraid. I watched her do this for most of an hour this morning. Holding and touching her helped only a little till she woke up. She'd fall asleep again and it would start over.

Simone has started to come apart again over Linda and I starting up again. She makes many underhanded and nasty comments about me and her. Are you going to try and seduce her tonight, she snaps. It is most evident in her voice. Most everything she says to me, even about totally unrelated things, is distorted by her inner anxiety. She has started thinking more about leaving me and living with Jeff. In exchange for freedom and security with me, she wants no freedom and insecurity. She is standing here and saying how I never write anything good about her. What did you say, I ask in a moderately stern voice. She responds with a couple of off the subject things. I ask again, but with a softer voice. She admits to me that its not true. Sometimes you do write positive things about me, she admits. I didn't mean never. So why did you say that, I ask. Because sometimes I can't put aside my little black book used to keep track of everything you do. I still haven't forgotten how you said you wanted me to be run over by a car. I can't forget it, even if you have put it away, she admits.

Today we got into a fight about fights. I don't want to fight, she yells at me. Snarl, snarl, snap, so who's fighting, I protest. And so it goes, back and forth.

Some guy who goes to my class has fallen in love with her. He wants to fuck her, and has said as much. Simone doesn't want to do this if he keeps his wife, of two weeks, in the dark. Monogamy is such a wonderful things, he tells her at one point. Somehow what he is doing is lost in his brain. She won't do anything unless he tells his wife. Today he made a date with her, where she will have breakfast at his place, Simone, him, and his wife. I have the feeling that his wife might turn out to not be there when Simone shows up for breakfast. I am skeptical that he has really told her what might actually go on. His behavior is so typically male, that I suspect he is scheming about how to carry this thing off. Its hard to imagine that he has suddenly become truly open about what he wants to his wife. But perhaps this is just jealousy or paranoia on my part. But I can't put it out of my mind. His honesty with his wife has been too sudden. I think something more is going on. Three of the men in my class asked her out. Ed, with the wife, thought I was her brother. Boy, was he surprised. I notice he made their date for Tuesday morning, before the next class. Perhaps there is nothing to it.