The Cambridge Chronicles

Today is the 40th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor. Two people, Sten and Lotti, have told me they read an interview with the lead pilot.

The picture has come back. It went away last Thanksgiving day, a week ago Thursday. Simone moved my bed around to have room for some art work. The picture was placed in a position for everyone to see. It was gone at the end of the day. Simone has accused me, Jeff, and Dana, of having taken it. I thought Jeff might have taken it to his mother for a wedding present. Simone thinks I may have taken it for some ulterior motive. Or because I've done this sort of thing before. That Richard is a known picture thief. Anyway, its back. It could only have been me, Jeff, or Dana. Maybe Jack, as he has a set of keys, and could have snuck in with it. It was not here when I left for the office about 9:30pm. I didn't even remember what it looked like. Its been hanging over my bed for months. This missing painting seems symbolic of something. The lack of communication here or inability to recognize a common purpose or interest. Its like taking the normal little foolish and nasty behavior we exhibit and abstracting it. Maximizing pain with minimum damage. Throwing a psychological wrench into the machinery of life, into the workings of social reality. A considerable amount of unnecessary tension and speculation and accusation has been generated by this incident. What actually happened is still not clear to me. After realizing that the painting may have been under my mattress for the last few days, my suspicions shift to Dana as the culprit. I only noticed it the last few days. But Jeff could have put it there also. It was something I only noticed every now and then. My awareness built up slowly after noticing something like an edge under the mattress. But its only a piece of foam rubber on a flat piece of plywood. There shouldn't have been anything there. I didn't look because I couldn't imagine what it could be. It may have crossed my mind for just a moment. But I was in bed with someone each time. Not a romantic thing to do. Excuse me, but there seems to be something under the bed and I'll have to stop fucking, or whatever is going on, and check it out. But most important is that we not only unconsciously try to manipulate the mood here, but now its going on in a very deliberate and malicious manner. Somebody feels they have something to gain by causing confusion and suspicion and bad feelings and mistrust. I wonder if it isn't Jeff trying to push Simone more in his direction. After I left for the office, and Simone went out, the painting came back. Jeff and Dana were here. Jack may have come in for awhile. Jeff asked Simone to live with him and get married. He is pulling out all the stops. On the other hand, just a bit earlier, Simone told me that he wants to try having more than one relationship, and that he wants to be honest about it. He's very afraid of doing this, and asking Simone to marry him may be a way of avoiding having to do that. Dana, on the other hand, said something, like a clue, which made me think it was him. About the painting being face down. I imagine a meeting where we all present the facts, and theories, as we see it. But even this is such a frustrating thing. What a waste of time for all of us. The culprit could still manage to stay hidden. On the other hand it could be a very good thing to see exactly how each of us suspects the others. Not even Simone is free of guilt. Its possible for her to have done the whole thing. The motive is not exactly clear to me. Perhaps to stir up mischief amongst the rest of us. How would the others see me? First, that I did something similar before. But I made my position clear. It was in reaction to something else. Well, they might say, obviously you won't try the exact same thing. Something a little more clever, a little more subtle. Maybe a new way to keep Simone in line. Keep her a little off guard all the time. In any case, someone will be paying for it till they confess. Something like this always costs something.

And why do I tend to use the same word two or more times in the same sentence? I notice myself doing this to myself in the previous paragraph. Why, exactly, does it turn out to be this way, exactly, why? I have to think about it too much to do it. Thinking about it makes it too hard to do. I end up making sentences that make no sense, tense wise, perhaps? Will he ever be literarily clever, you ask yourself? Will he ever go on to something else? Yes.

A long talk with Joe yesterday about VD. The fear of it makes him loose his enthusiasm about Linda and Simone. He sees both of them as not very prudent or careful. Its a very unromantic part of his relationship with women. He grills them about it. He also tends to be with women who get around less than him. I have heard similar anxiety from Ann. She worries about it. Simone's friend Steve has told her he's afraid of getting herpes, via me, from her. He has the same problem, but more related to being so secretive about his relationships. Everybody is afraid of getting something from someone else. They never suspect they may be the one. I have decided to get a VD test, and make the results public, at least amongst the people most directly concerned, once a month. Joe liked the idea and said he would be amenable to doing the same. Then others could follow the example and space their tests so that someone has a test every few days. This should help the anxiety. But I suspect resistance to the idea. Nobody wants to get caught as the one with something. Everyone will be inclined to say its a good idea for everyone else. I even thought of refusing to fuck with someone who doesn't have the test results from at least the last month. There are those who will say it spoils the mood. Tough shit. Anxiety about it spoils the mood. A disease will destroy the mood.