Mish_Mosh
NOTEBOOK 383
10/29/80
END OF OCTOBER ALREADY!
I'd planned to keep October work-free and write the play. So I've spent about 10 hours on the play and spent the rest of the time entertaining, fixing up things in the apartment, reading books that I didn't have to read, and getting called on ACM and McGraw-Hill for personal consultation which wasn't the sort of thing I had in mind. Not that I've been doing nothing: though still Becky's stamps, Joan Anne's tooth remedies, Actualism bodywork, and extraneous reading remain to be done, but I feel guilty about not working on the play, expecting a call from Sergio, relating the ideas to Bob Rosinek and getting SO enthusiastic he says my mind is running ahead of my words. But I HAVE managed to earth tooth-brushing so that the dentist said the teeth looked good, more exercising than before, and even more Actualism sessions, along with J's and personal interactions. So things are NICE, except for the tremendous depression that hits when I KEEP thinking of the play, or the indexing book, and I GET time and the listlessness of "too much to do" hits me and I watch TV, read another book, phone someone (like Pope for Scrabble) to do something, and don't do what I've said I SHOULD do. Bradbury lists (see LISTS 13-16) took HOURS and really produced nothing; lots of puzzles in The Dial, New York, The New York Times done, even some restaurants gone to, and a lovely dinner at Paul and George's, and transient pleasures that get replaced by DEPRESSION when I think of what to do next and the BIG things loom: the play, the indexing book, stamps for Becky, and I turn away (afraid of FINAL fulfillment??) to something less threatening. Making up tables of contents for the notebook, transcribing Amy's taped reading, washing dishes, searching through clothes to find that I have none to throw out, looking at plans for Mexico, thinking about going to India with John, WORRYING about Actualism progress without doing the SESSIONS, staying up too late and insisting on taking poppers when I don't figure they're doing me any good, though feeling deprived when I want to STOP doing them, and piling up things to do in my drawer that is the NEXT analog of my do-list, resurrected in a different format: PAPERS IN MY DRAWER!
NOTEBOOK 384
10/31/80
MURDER MYSTERY COINCIDENCES
Apropos of almost nothing except being in town and passing TKTS, I phone Dennis Wednesday and he's busy, so I get a ticket to my second choice without binoculars: "Deathtrap." It's a fun play, with great shocks with the same guy who's supposed to be dead springing in from outside or up from the floor to clobber the hero, once phonily, once really. Full theater and I hope it runs forever so that I can say I saw it forever. Home and watch an unheralded "Endless Night" by Agatha Christie that echoes the play mightily: complete reversal about 2/3 way through, though "Deathtrap" has the frisson of a homosexual relationship and "Endless Night" the luxury of the 6th richest woman in the world building a fabulous house for Hywel Bennett by Per Oscarrson, playing a marvelously loving architect. Enjoy both very greatly, and then the next night watch "Topper," which doesn't fit into the pattern, even though it was about two dead people (hm, "Deathtrap" was about THREE dead people, "Endless Night" about two, and "The Plumber" about none---a definite progression), rather-too-fliply played by Cary Grant and a VERY slender Constance Bennett, and then "Sneak Preview" shows many films (I'm sure ONE of them must have been about killing ONE person), and I idly keep on Dick Cavett to see who he has on, and he has on IRA LEVIN, who WROTE "Deathtrap," which is quite a coincidence, with Don Stroud, or someone who worked on horror movies, and with George Romero of "Living Dead" fame and Stephen King of "Carrie" and "Shining" fame, and King and Romero are going to work on a SHOCK movie together. Then "The Plumber" with a sexy Ivan Kants (or whoever) and (his name IS that) and Judy Morris as the very believable heroine---though why didn't she just LEAVE the apartment (and to ADD to the mystery, right this minute, somebody buzzes the buzzer and I don't let them in, which mystery is VERY quickly solved by the fact that it's now 7:10 pm on HALLOWEEN and I'm about to walk across Brooklyn to Paul's for our evening at the Ansonia, and I checked the phonebook to find that this'll be the third-last baths to see, from oldest to newest: 58th St. Sauna (1), Club (2), Wall Street (3), Beacon (4), New St. Marks (5), Man's Country (6), East Side (7), Ansonia (8), Broadway Arms (9), and Everards (10), which I've been to, so Ansonia is NEXT to last, with only Broadway Arms yet to be seen.
NOTEBOOK 385
10/31/80
LIVING A PART IN THE NOVEL BY GADDIS "JR"
I started "JR" in 1977 (even though I bought it in 1975, because I wanted to read his "Recognitions" first, his only previous book, published in 1955, and certainly worthy of the status by the 1975 reviewer of "classic") and only got to page 127 before I couldn't concentrate on it anymore, and then I picked it up again by rereading through to 127, understanding it better the second time (maybe Barthelme's writing has made it easier for me to read THIS), and spent about an hour last night and most of today (it's slow going because it's so dense and unpunctuated it changes thoughts and people and even DAYS in mid-sentence) reading it, getting into its rhythm, so that when Paul Merritt called I kept hearing the book's lingo in OUR conversation, and that was heightened as I phoned Marjorie and she babbled on, and then later I got the phone call from Friendly Frost (though this was kept to the end, saying it at the beginning would have made it less of a mystery) asking if I used coupons, hairspray, breadcrumbs, bacon, frozen cakes, and other things that they wanted to send me coupons for. But this is a fitting ending for the entire month of October (see NOTEBOOK 383), so weird and unconnected and stream-of-consciousness has this month been---and now it's 7:30 and I have to get off to Paul's for Halloween at the Ansonia!
NOTEBOOK 386
11/5/80
J'S #15
Phone rings as I'm leaving at 8:50, but they've hung up when I get there, so when Ron's not downstairs I figure he was calling to say he'd be late, and he shows up at 9:05, apologetic. He tells about the delightful Village Halloween parade he attended, without the "totalitarian police force of Canada" messing it up, and meeting a black he talked with for ages. Talked about a wedding of Alice O. Howell he went to a few weeks ago, with a guest with a Tibetan monk clad in a purple toga, and we're in at 9:25 for no masks, so I leave my silver one and he leaves his pink-plastic one in pockets, and there's more leather and hats than usual, and Someone Rogers wears a black mask that I ask about afterwards. Vest is back, jerking off at the bar, and I just sit easily next to the small, shy, pretty-faced one who seems never to talk to anyone, though at times he was behind me eyeing my masturbation, and I just felt very EASY about the place: didn't feel I had to MEET anyone (part of it being there was no one really DYNAMITE there---the best was the new bulky fellow with a beautiful body but uninteresting cock and jerk-off style, the VERY hairy Italian with the too-bulky body and VERY soft cock, but he got into it facially nicely, and the slobby blond who kept pushing in with his tiny meat), I was looking at what went on. At times I'd peer in on two or three working on it, and the circle would expand into "the action" for a few minutes, and then they'd dwindle away. The pool table was covered with black plastic, and the skinny blond disgusted me by trying to attract a bunch of people and then URINATING to simulate coming, and I was happy that not too many seemed interested in that, nor were they interested in a fist-fucking sequence with an older hairy guy who finally got off the table when no one was looking at him. The long-lasting Italian was there, too, but he seemed to CONTRIBUTE, coming when he was sucking on the cowboy I find so jerky, coming a few dots on the table egging on the skinny blond, and looking on at other scenes. I found the table exciting a number of times, but missed the vest coming most of the evening. At the end, the table was so great that I shot across it, LOTS of come on the black plastic, and Rogers kept patting me on the ass and saying that it was so great, and I FELT so great and could feel my lips widening in a DAZZLING grin, and I was pleased to find that EQUIVALENT grins were being flashed about the place afterwards. Ron came up and patted me affectionately after my orgasm, saying it was nice, and later I went in to piss and found HIM coming with ecstasy, bending his head over backward as he shot into the toilet, and then cowboy roared into climax, enjoying each other, and I said it looked like fun and he was amused and pleased that I'd seen that action. The guy I'd thought was from the Heights came to a rather withdrawn orgasm on the table after I did, and he didn't smile, only looked pained and open for encouragement, but when I went around to thank him for his coming, he was into conversation with someone else and only gave me passing acknowledgement. The blond who always seems to start with vest was playing with me a number of times, too, and he's a sort of person I confuse with others, including the fellow in the sailor suit, the only real COSTUME of the evening (the guy with the suit-jacket, tie, and shirt and long black socks from the week before, whom Ron said stepped right out of a fetish magazine that's popular with business-suited guys with roaring erections, was there only in an undershirt which made his ass look even fatter than it need), whom John pointed out as being Dick Currie, and I STILL wouldn't be able to point him out in a crowd, except that he's one of the many who look vaguely like Art Bauman. A blond who reminds me of someone named Corky kept playing with his VERY stiff cock, and it was great to look at, though his crusty tits were uncomfortable to play with, but he didn't shoot that I saw, though he looks like he could be fun to work out with. The shy-guy came, too, without fanfare, and people should learn that people WANT to watch and PROCLAIM when they're coming, rather than waiting for someone's "YEAH" butchly to draw the crowd and watch the AFTERMATH of the orgasm. Is it considered effeminate to groan YOURSELF as you're coming?? Rogers didn't come either, as I watched, but his cock was large and functional most of the time. Smelled a few poppers and felt better without them. Hope it's turned a corner (or I have) and it'll be AS good NEXT week! John was leaving, so Ron drove BOTH of us home (see NOTEBOOK 388).
NOTEBOOK 388
11/5/80
RON AND I HIT IT OFF
Was glad that JOHN was directing with Ron losing his way to our place about three times, but Ron laughed afterward, saying John was concerned and he was only enjoying himself. Ron mentioned that he was hungry (and I slightly envied John for being invited to Joe Gage's filming Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, being taken to a VAN to get to the filming site!), so I invited him up for an omelet, which John didn't want to join, and Ron liked the space of my apartment, used the john, and told me not to worry about the omelet, which I just said I was asking his choice for: seasoning before or after, without or with corn on the cob, two or three eggs, mind parsley? We had more wine, he turned down the Nassau when we finished and continued talking. He asked about the body table, I told him about Actualism, he read the brochure and asked about Chakras and energy-systems and physical-mental-emotional workings, and I said he'd enjoy it, so he said he'd come for the intro on Wednesday afternoon, maybe getting a body session, too. He said he wanted to find out more about a previous life as an orthodox Catholic, and I said that Amy would probably be very good for him, and he said it was incredible how much "synchronicity" there seemed to be, and how exciting New York was that he could make so many connections so deeply so easily. He talked about some monastery-intensive sometime during November and I said I might like to go to Holyoke with him for that. He said something that reminded me strongly of Hemlock Hall and we chatted about that, we talked about travel and religion and searching for higher meanings and the coincidences of meeting people who were at a place just where we wanted to meet someone. He kept being seductive so we kissed and held and necked for a bit, both getting harder, and I said "You would never have thought we'd just come from a sexy place, that we were two horny guys from way back," and he seemed amused at that, but we both figured, at 2 am, that it was a bit late, but that there was the definite air that we might make more of it at a later time. He read the letter on drugs, then phoned the NEXT noon to ask about tobacco, and Dennis retorted that they were manipulative, and I said they accepted tobacco and moderate alcohol but were particularly down on grass, which left a distinctive residue and lessened the highs by mimicking them in a drug-oriented way. Now it's Wednesday.
NOTEBOOK 389
11/9/80
GREAT DAY AND PUZZLING ENDING (11/7)
Found that Bloomingdale's Chinese exhibit ends Saturday, so I get to library to do research work for McGraw-Hill, getting back to office about 2, work through till 3, getting BOTH checks (second submitted YESTERDAY!), which is nice, and then walk colorful, exciting, sexy city streets to Bloomingdales, past traffic jams that really threaten to freeze even as early as 3:20 on Friday, and the ground floor Friendship Shop is dazzling with mirrored ceilings and pillars, blue-silk Japanese (?) lantern for light, polished black floors, hanging silks embroidered colorfully, and Chinese merchandise in the displays, and ceremonial robes atop each main counter and phony but nicely shaped enormous vases everywhere on black "lacquer" stands. Go up floor-by-floor, taking two chances on the trip to China, which would be nice, and note with some asperity that "Antiques on loan from the Brooklyn Museum. On the Loge" amounts to ONE vitrine with 8 whole items! The Ceremonial Robes of the Imperial court has "gone back to China" and been replaced by the Trim-a-Tree shop---WHAT a comedown! The scrolls are gone, too. The People's Market on 6 is colorful, the model rooms impractical spectacular knockouts, the Soochow Garden Pavilion is in the process of being dismantled, the Warriors of Sian comprises 6 photo-mural slides, the Three Pools that Mirror the Moon is a sheer shopping area, and the dragon outside the Children's Palace was so dowdy that I almost missed it. Wandered cheerfully around the new-looking floors, and about 4 decided Le Train Bleu would be nice, particularly since they serve tea for $4. Nice cream sherry, tasty Prince of Wales tea (I'd like tea, with the Prince of Wales), ludicrously small but tasty triangular sandwiches of the volume of one half-slice of bread, and a nice apricot-pear tart with LOTS of whipped cream. Wander more, to my contented fill of artifacts and objects on sale up to $48,000, then wander up Lexington to find Putamayo isn't Mexican but Guatemalan, over to Madison for more shops, wander across the empty park until passing shadows in the Rambles, some striking autumn-foliage vistas under path-lights, LOTS of people at home on CPW, and stroll into center feeling VERY good, then overwhelmed by Russell's tape and overwhelmed in ANOTHER sense by Crystal's insistence that my mode of sexuality isn't consistent with Third Advanced (see Actualism 93-101). Quite an interesting, adventuresome, unplanned, spontaneous, enjoyable-in-New-York DAY!
NOTEBOOK 390
11/9/80
SOMEHOW IT'S JUST NOT WORKING
True, there are lots of "continuing" problems: dentistry and periodontal work, sexuality questions with Actualism, changing relationship with Dennis, lack of work on either the indexing book or the play, but there's a certain VIM that's still missing. I may be going on a trip exactly a month from now (though certainly the fact that Ken isn't going along is a recent disappointment), but I'm really not that excited about traveling to Mexico: Possibly I suspect I'll be traveling alone again. True, there haven't been any new indexes in QUITE a while, and I'm concerned about how much work people will be getting to keep them busy while I'm on vacation, but my work at McGraw Hill is going very nicely. When I'm OCCUPIED (skimming through Wellisch's "indexing and Abstracting Bibliography," watching a delightful "Cenerentola" by the City Opera with mad sisters, even eating fish and asparagus soufflé (and farting) with Dennis watching "The Spy Who Loved Me" and "Three Men in a Boat" afterwards) all is well, but when I PAUSE: then come the thoughts: what do I WANT, what am I DOING that's useful, why aren't I more HAPPY, and SOMEHOW IT'S JUST NOT WORKING. So I think writing a page about it will help---what it was going to do was serve as the transition to get back to the INDEXING book. It DOES occur to me that I should have it finished to show it to Lauren Bahr and Virginia Martin for THEIR companies to want to publish it, even though finding there are TWO new books on "How to Index" listed in the current ASI newsletter is rather discouraging. Then Dennis and I never come TOGETHER: I think last night could be nice, but he has to go downstairs and "work," even though he has no indexes hanging and none scheduled for him (at least I've called a few this morning and let them know I'm still here). But it's my "pauses" that are filled with negativity that I dislike. And I'm even DOING the exercising and meditation---even though I'm not getting ALL the bodywork done for me that I should, but it's STILL not enough, I STILL want more, and more, and MORE. Missed the Nigerian exhibition at the Met, missed Makarova and may miss the Joffrey, though I have been seeing SOME. But I DO need PRODUCTIVE work like the indexing book or play.
NOTEBOOK 391
11/15/80
THE TRUE COMPLEXITY OF TRUE SIMPLICITY
Doing lightwork yesterday, getting down to the molecular level, trying to analyze the actions and motivations and "ego" of molecules, I tried to get some perception of their interactions and operations. And reduced the scope of my vision to molecular size and "saw" whirling identity-less particles BEING sent and BEING received (not yet quite getting to the level of seeing their own possible inner volition), with the CENTER of that "being acted upon" as a melting luminosity. How to describe that point of action? By designations of dimensional position, time-space velocities and direction, biochemical categorization of bondages and linkages and "fit" of particles, and by enormously complex multi-subscripted and superscripted parameters that, I saw with amusement, would require far more ELEMENTS to DESCRIBE than there are ELEMENTS in the material interacting as COMPONENTS. So that a TOTAL description, satisfyingly scientific and deterministic and reproducible, would form a UNIVERSE IN ITSELF which would be MORE complex than the action described. And when the mathematics itself gets so complex that the action itself is simpler, how easy it would be to visualize the "melting" of reality and conceptuality which would "fade out" the universe of "real" particles undergoing "real" transformations and "fade in" a universe of "equally real" mathematical SYMBOLS undergoing ACTUAL (mathematical) transformations, so that the atoms (which are IN FACT conceptual labelings of congeries of properties that we can STUDY as REPRESENTATIONS of what-is at that level of size and duration on the time-space continuum (from smallest to largest, here, rather than from highest-frequency to lowest-frequency---which brings up the OTHER continuum that Actualism proposes, forming ANOTHER "axis" of possible investigation, but in an orthogonality impossible to probe with time-space instruments), as opposed to our "visual" "perception" or "actuality" at "our" level of "room-size" and "clock-timed" "objects" on the "time-space continuum.") are IN FACT somehow LESS REAL (no need for quotes THERE) than the mathematical symbols IN ACTUALITY. So the TRULY simple (basic what-is) IS truly complex (viewed FROM OUR point of view) (in mathematical terms WE can "process") and the truly complex (what we SEE and FEEL) IS simple (effortless combinations of the truly-simple basic-what-is).
NOTEBOOK 392
11/15/80
DO I RESIST DOING THE LAST THING?
At some point, "all I had to do" was work on the play. I didn't. And I came up with the idea of the play when "all I had to do" was work on the indexing book. Which I didn't do. Then I washed windows, strewing the living room carpet with leaves and dead plant branches, having "all I had to do" then embodied in vacuuming. And I didn't vacuum from Tuesday through Saturday. I did other things BEFORE that. Now, this morning, it occurs to me that I might be resistant to doing THE LAST THING that I HAVE to do, because then I would be faced with the total unknown: what do I do when I've done the last thing I have to do? Would I, at that magical point, be totally free? And thus in a totally unknown area? Even on vacation, when I have the least "that I have to do," I still count down the number of days left in the vacation, as if reminding myself that THE LAST THING I have to do on the vacation is return from the vacation. Lists, in this context, are of course lists of ALL "the last things" I had to do. Getting rid of them (and via the "infinite things to do list," which tries to be some ETERNAL "last thing"), I was content, until now faced with the actual CONCEPT of THE LAST THING. Now I'm trying to "collect" that so that I can get something done on the ACTUAL "last thing" to see what "the other side" feels like IN EXPERIENCE. Since I was a KID, writing had always been "the last thing." From another perspective, "the last thing" was always a source of guilt, so that I could always rely on SOMETHING to supply me with guilt, some unfinished task that I had to do that would make what I WANTED to do somewhat more bitter and unfulfilling. The thought of giving up writing almost automatically produced the thought "What would then become my 'last thing' to supply that guilt?" I'm "energized" to exercise, meditate, eat, brush my teeth, pay bills, type pages, etc, by the knowledge that they're NOT "the last thing." If they WERE, I'd be reluctant to do them. I suppose some sort of "be happy" lurks as the REWARD for doing "the last thing," though of course I feel it must be DEATH, or DISSOLUTION, or NONEXISTENCE, so that I cling to the cerement of "the last thing" so that my dead body won't vanish completely before I feel I'm through with it. And also, of course, finishing one "last thing" (usually under pressure from ANOTHER deadline that I DEFY to finish something) is usually done with the INSTANT production of ANOTHER "last thing" to take its place.
NOTEBOOK 393
11/15/80
TRUE SIMPLICITY VS "THE LAST THING"
Rising from typing the previous two pages (NOTEBOOK 391: the true complexity of true simplicity) and (NOTEBOOK 392: do I resist doing "the last thing"?), I can't resist observing that THEY'RE RELATED, and sit to type THIS page. DOING "the last thing" would PRODUCE "true simplicity" in my life. Then I pause. Is that all that's need on that page? This page. Which brings up Watts' brilliant observation that words don't create the UNIVERSE, they merely produce -- or "thingify" (in the sense of SEPARATE OUT) the THINGS of the universe. So I've been misreading all these years: thought doesn't produce the WHAT-IS of tables, it merely produces the SEPARATENESS of tables as opposed to the air surrounding the tables, the floors on which the tables sit, the knives and forks from the tables, and the mind which comes up with the word after the eyes have processed the light waves reflected from the atoms that COMPRISE the PORTION of what-is which I label as a "table." And I now feel drawn to rereading what I didn't understand of Heidegger's "Being and Time" to see if my new understanding clarifies what he says---which may (nay, IS, since I AM dominated by the weight of the four shelves of books that are "to do" as reading) produce another "last thing" keeping me from the simplicity of THOUGHT AND ACTION which would free me from the ruinous (of happiness) anticipation of tomorrow, and reading, and writing books, and understanding science. And this IS related to the dissatisfaction I've been feeling the last few days: read, but want to do something USEFUL. Do something USEFUL, but want to ENJOY myself. ENJOY myself, but on the way back from the St. Marks I berate myself for wanting to get back to watch TV on the caribou migration (see NOTEBOOK 394) or the Saturn Watch so that I don't have time to wander down another street, peer into a mysterious shop, eat something, talk to a stranger on the street for a possible sexual encounter---I'm not FREE, I'm not SIMPLE, there are too many "last things" to DO, making a SOLIDITY of time that I find agonizing when I really want the TRANSPARENCY of "nothing to do and all the time there is to do it in." which AGAIN brings me to the next page, the life and action of the caribou!
NOTEBOOK 394
11/15/80
THOUGHTS ON THE CARIBOU MIGRATIONS
When I watched the program I felt so INVOLVED with the caribou migrations. Did I feel sorry for them for their efforts? In part, but there was more. Did I envy their predetermined actions? In part; there may be more to it. SCIENCE reads in the complexity, asks difficult questions which the CARIBOU think not of, obscures the true simplicity (NOTEBOOK 391). Caribou, I'll bet, don't put things in such sequence that they have ANYTHING LIKE "a last thing" (NOTEBOOK 392). They don't distinguish between usefulness and enjoyment (NOTEBOOK 393): they merely do what they do when they do it, not doing anything ELSE, certainly, and weighing alternatives only in which berry to chew and which way to run when attacked by a wolverine. It may be that "which berry to chew" is the ENTIRE "purpose" behind their migration! "That berry" followed by "that berry" may merely LEAD them north and south. "The next berry" force them to swim the rivers at "the wrong time from humans' point of view." THEN there was the combination of SADNESS and TRIUMPH at the views of the killing and dying: no doubt about it, the dying of the weak and the sick and the old strengthened the herd; the combat of the males produced the survival of the grandest rack of antlers; the beauty we now admire is the RESULT of the survival of the fittest. What do we now do on earth? Preserve the mentally incompetent, let the debased elements procreate more fully than the elevated elements, tend to parole killers rather than execute them, hospitalize and drain the HEALTHY to care for, constantly, the perpetually sick and the lingeringly dying. Hoping to KEEP them perpetually sick, to PROLONG the linger of the death. The caribou are simple. We keep "last things" about us and become impossibly complex. IS brain-mind the villain of the piece? Caribou "go with" nature; man's brain-mind looks at, twists, perverts, resists, battles with nature. YET these sorted thoughts on paper give EMOTIONAL satisfaction, increase and sharpen PERCEPTION, and furnish CONSTRUCTIVE (?) food for the next series of ruminations and regurgitations. I'm impatient with Dennis because I WANT something from him that I'm not currently GETTING. Again as Watts put it, "I can't experience being in love with the thought of being in love unless I AM in love," and I'm not in love with Dennis now. Probably because I don't love myself very much these days.
NOTEBOOK 395
11/20/80
FINISHING NOTES FROM "BATTLE FOR INVESTMENT SURVIVAL"
This follows DIARY 11992, B169 in Volume 27, for pages 1-100, 6/6/77; finished 11/18/80
21. Investor qualities: honesty and genius
22. Gain profits by taking losses: if it shrinks 10%, sell out. Sell 10 to 20% every year.
23. Buy more of a SUCCESSFUL stock.
24. Profit strategy has 6 points on page 116.
25. Buy those advancing in price; follow up gains and retreat before losses.
26. Bonds good against inflation.
27. Gold is ALWAYS good.
28. Don't need to diversify.
29. Establish emergency connections away from home.
30. Speculation is difficult, not easy.
31. Invest AND spend.
32. Gear investments to tax laws.
33. Safety in ONE inflation does NOT imply that the same safety will work again.
34. In inflation, go for QUALITY.
35. Investment trusts are no good.
36. Good management costs a lot.
37. Investing is better than savings.
38. Weed out bad and increase good. In a bear market, SELL. P. 212.
39. Investment managers should think of CURRENT profits.
40. Don't invest ALL your money.
41. Market letters: believe what NO one believes and doubt when EVERYONE believes.
42. Good clients make better money.
43. There's always chances for profits.
44. Unexpected market reverses are doubly important to follow.
45. Stock TREND is important to follow.
46. Look only 6-18 months ahead.
47. Avoid promotional stocks, under $10.
48. Beginners should pick LEADERS.
49. Need OTHER information beside "tape reading." Trends USUALLY continue.
50. It's dangerous NOT to own stock.
51. Begin by buying the best. If BIG companies buy it, it must be good, since THEY studied them and others.
52. Nothing is truly cheap unless it is good.
53. Never accept a story without checking the facts of it.
54. Find a bright young broker and go up with him.
NOTEBOOK 396
12/3/80
WHAT DO I WANT IN LIFE?
Actually, what I HAVE: reading, work, travel, friends, mind-expanding adventures, entertainment absorption (TV, movies, plays, museums, restaurants, galleries, special events, lectures, gardens, zoos), sex, comfortable apartment---
WHILE KNOWING THAT WHAT I HAVE IS WHAT I WANT!!!
NOTEBOOK 397
3/3/81
OLDER PEOPLE ARE unhappy!
1) They KNOW (as youth DOESN'T) that they will NOT remember details of all
a) sexual encounters
b) movies
c) plays
d) love affairs
2) A list SO SIMPLE at age 20 is VERY COMPLICATED at age 50.
3) They've seen SO MUCH EXCELLENCE in operas, plays, movies, etc, that most NEW ones seem TAME, and that has to be added to the FACT that MODERN people in large towns see more in a YEAR than people fifty years ago ANYWHERE would see in a LIFETIME of theater-going and culture-absorbing---and even TRAVEL.
NOTEBOOK 398
3/19/81
TALK WITH DENNIS ABOUT SEXUALITY 3/15
Incredible coincidence that AFTER talking with Amy and Ken about sexuality this morning (ACTUALISM 133) after my talk with Bruce (Actualism 127-32), HE came up with connected feelings. He's just returned from an orgy with 13 people at Jerry Rodgers', and is OVERWHELMED by how nice it was: how ALL these people, linked only as being friends of Jerry's, gathered and LOVED and SEXED and RESPECTED each other. He wondered at Jerry's seeming SEXUALITY exclusively with the group, but about his EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT to each of the people, including Dennis at their dinner afterwards. He felt touched, as if he were finding new levels of homosexual relating. I said this was just the sort of camaraderie Bruce was looking for in his men's pelvic session, and yet had no idea how to produce it. He talked of the heightening of sensuality with a group of men participating in the same activity, and how he could relate STRONGLY with two or three men in a group, and I said this had to be taught to Bruce, who thought it had to be two people ONLY for any kind of sensual-mental-emotional rapport. Dennis still seemed to be going through conflicts with Dick Currie, getting jealous when he saw him relating deeply with someone ELSE, wondering how WE would react to each other if WE were together, and I reminded him that we had some nice THREE-PEOPLE encounters with Theo and Mark someone. He seemed not able to find adequate words to describe the intensity of the situation, and he didn't seem to want to get together with me to talk about it more fully, so he was contributing to the problem that Crystal pointed out about HAVING both the casual AND the permanent that seemed to CONFLICT with each other. But I had no problem with Edgardo or Arthur Mitchell's intensity WHILE in the relationship with John, though neither of those THREATENED our stability since neither COULD be permanent, with Edgardo in Italy and Arthur into his ballet company. But the area is still wide open for MORE, rather than less, and this is what I keep having to insist to Bruce and Actualism AND to Dennis, who has to learn to ACCEPT it, rather than QUESTION it and tear it apart, while doing disservice to HIS emotions and conflicts at the same time.
NOTEBOOK 399
4/6/81
HELLFIRE CLUB #1 - 3/16
My Monday slip got me in, but they said I should pick up a card downstairs. I never found where. Paid $5 to check my clothes, without anything to tip the guy. Sleazy bar area, but the back is even worse: overheated slapped-together walkways and "fantasy rooms" with holes cut crotch-high in the walls, with no one walking around. A raised stage with a horse-like bench on it, and in the back a spotlighted "torture chair" in bright red and chrome glint. Checked my clothes with a bright-eyed bald guy with too much flesh to be sexy, and he was into getting his ass eaten out after with his legs up in the Trendelenberg position in the red chair. The vested fellow was there getting people hot with his incessant jerking off, and he came at least two times on the horse. Ron was there in his pudginess and friendliness, but didn't want to seem to talk personally with me, just acknowledge my presence. Jerry ignored me the first time around the bar, since he was talking with someone, but then he came over and chatted with me. I liked looking at someone who turned out to be named Paul, and he came over and showed me how he liked to jerk off, but his tits were tiny and ungraspable, and when I leaned in for some nice affection, he didn't seem to want to participate. I cupped his balls as he shot, and the come SQUIRTED up very excitingly and struck me in the face, getting some around my left contact, so I then had an "excuse" to leave early, since my eye was bothering me a lot toward the end. Who turned out to be his roommate, Gary, "happened" to be sitting on the stool, supporting me while I jerked and jerked, mostly soft, wanting to come, feeling sexy in my boots, too hot in my flannel shirt, and I DID come, and they liked it, and he introduced himself as Paul and we agreed we didn't know what John was going to be doing next week. But as I left, about 11, there was a sign on the door (obviously AGAINST John, saying that they'd be showing J/O films next week, business as better than usual). Few people in the back, but I HATED the john-room: pissy and decadent and wet. Bartender looked NOT into j/o, which was too bad, and there were a few of the old and a few new, but though it was a bit of a downer, it was still exciting, enough for me to figure I'd probably want to see it again.
NOTEBOOK 400
4/6/81
HELLFIRE CLUB #2 - 3/23
Just under the wire at 9:30, somewhat smaller group than last week, but a few NEW people seemed sexy: a guy who didn't take off his blue jeans until way late in the game, when he got off with the sexy guy from the Heights; and a fellow who was jerking off with Paul and Gary (who gave me their numbers on a slip of paper, which Paul got from the humpy bartender that he wished would join in the activities: he might have, had he been asked, but he wasn't), and then fell into necking with an overweight jock that I was certainly better than. He brushed past me with a smile, and I thought there might be something, but he was occupied by his big friend. Without John or the vested guy, things were rather slow getting started, but there were still enough people to get interested in, except that I couldn't go over to them, they had to come over to me. At one point I followed the jeaned fellow into their cubicle and shamelessly went into the NEXT room and peeked through the peepholes until someone came along and leaned against the wall right there to jerk off while watching them. It was too hot, again, and I took off my shirt and jock and wandered around trying to get some attention, but nothing much worked. I told myself I'd stay around until the end, to watch some of the die-hards come, but some of the cuter ones DID come and then left, and when some rough-looking characters came down the OTHER stairway, the exit stairway, I fantasized that there might be some misunderstandings about the type of bar and then trouble, so I got my clothes and dressed quickly and left, at first surprised to see that it was as late as 12:30, but then found the first clock had been wrong and it was only 11:30, so I didn't even have to worry about getting the long-way-round train back home. Didn't care for it so much the second time, so I didn't have any conflicts about staying home to watch "The Tempest" on TV followed by the Oscars, and tonight I'm just not too sure about, rather disappointed that they DIDN'T have the promised j/o films, though no one was AS into rimming as the bald fellow, who wasn't there either. But tonight will tell me what I'm doing TONIGHT.
NOTEBOOK 401
4/6/81
TALKS WITH DENNIS ON TOUCHING
He kept saying how LONELY he was in his private writings; he keeps talking about how nice it is when others TOUCH him. I can't bring myself to say that his acned back turns me off. We have great sex, but I've forgotten what night it was. Then after the party on 4/4, Dennis having had maybe a bit much to drink, we get into bed at 11 and start jerking off, but suddenly he's into GREAT affection, holding intensely and squeezing his head up against the wall so that I have to interpose my hand to prevent his hurting himself, and he squeezes out tears and gasps, "I know I haven't said this very much, lately, but I love you," and then he went on to an even more heartfelt, "I NEED you," and I didn't know what to respond. After a few minutes I could honestly say I loved him too, but I felt in a turmoil about our relationship: WHY is it that when HE wants to be with ME, I don't particularly feel like being with him? And when we have a CHANCE for sex, usually one or the other of us is tired and wants to go to sleep, or is busy and wants to get up to start the day? I feel CLOSE to him at one point, but when we reach another point, I simply don't feel like exerting the energy to caress and comfort him and MAKE him feel loved and wanted. It seems so perverse but at the same time so APPARENT that there's nothing I seem to be able to do about it. I keep telling people that our relationship is tapering off, but then he'll do something like that which makes me wonder if I wouldn't be hurting him too much to cut off the relationship more than it is. He asked me to see "9 to 5" last night and it was AWFUL to say no, knowing that he'd want to share that with me, even though he said the writing was awful afterward. I don't have any control over it, it seems; and that might be one of the things that I don't like about it: HE seems to be calling the shots now. But he NEEDS contact with people, which I don't give him; he NEEDS new sexual encounters, which I can't offer him; he DOESN'T like indexing as much as the other indexers, but there's no way I can train him for what he'll do INSTEAD of indexing. So the situation gets less and less certain, and my control doesn't SEEM to matter, but I don't know where it's going!
NOTEBOOK 402
4/15/81
NEGATIVITY
Fill out my income-tax returns, rehearsing what I'll say to an auditor: "Fine me whatever you want; I'm not going to disrupt my life and my records for your job. If you want to hold me in contempt of the tax system, you may do so; I feel nothing but contempt for the tax system. I have nothing against you personally, but I have no intention of making your job easier. I do a good job myself, I expect you to do a good job." I sit and stare off and wonder why I'm so easily disgruntled. Impatient is a good word, so there's anger there somewhere. Anger at what? At the country going to hell; at the city getting there faster; at Actualism interfering with my life. I decide to write a page about it, get out the paper, and it dawns on me that I should do an Actual session. But I want to write the page anyway, while the anger is at the surface. Get 1/3 through and the doorbell rings for about the fifth time today (John to leave a painting, Mrs. Johnson for the rent, Marge for cards, the painter for John's apartment, the mailman---so it's the SIXTH time today!), and it's Dennis, wanting to borrow a (actually HIS) 6-cup pot for a soufflé, his first! He's bouncy and cheery and by the time he leaves my anger has evaporated. HOW CAN I STAY ANGRY IF THE WORLD CONSPIRES TO DEFUSE IT?!
NOTEBOOK 403
5/4/81
WHERE AM I NOW?
Having cleared away almost everything I "have to do," the days seem to pass effortlessly with mingled "business" (writing letters, distributing indexes, answering questions, Actualism, entertainment absorption, paying bills, reading the mail, talking with Joe, sort of preparing for my mother's visit today for the week) and pleasure (finishing "Unlimited Dream Company" yesterday, then talking with Amy for an hour when she comes over for a box of cards, showing the Mexico slides to Joe, watching TV, eating), yet the "main job" during this time (the Prokaryotes index) doesn't seem to be substantially touched. True, I'm looking forward to having "something to do" to work during the day when Mom's here, keeping away from the need to be with her DOING something every hour of her week here, AND Larry's not been in the office to answer my questions, and the Bergey's Manual hasn't arrived yet. But there's still not a sense of having ENOUGH time: I'd like MORE listening to music, MORE reading, MORE work, and I can't even say LESS of what ELSE: I'm not spending much time with Dennis (except for "The Hand" and Sans-Culottes, and for the "Postman" duo and four restaurants on Friday night), I'm spending VERY little time on the journals (both the last Dream and Notebook pages were dated April 15, almost three weeks ago, though I added three pages in Essays for the ASI meeting that took all day Saturday), and I'm not really spending lots of time on sex (though I jerked off yesterday after Joe's departure and before Mom's arrival). But the apartment remains clean, somewhat of an effort; the gym stays maintained; and whatever WANTS to get written, like this, gets written. But, because there's not much WORK done, I have very little sense of HAVING DONE ANYTHING, so when "Beyond and Back" last night asks "And what did you do with your life?" to one of the "dyers," I wonder what I'VE done with MY life recently. This childlessness of mine is emphasized with the NUMBER of children friends seem to be having: Edgardo, Rita, writing to 5-childed Seavers and O'Sheas, my dentist, Larry Meyer, finding that Joan Pankosky IS married with kids. But the day goes along, effortlessly, now 10:10 am, plants watered, page typed, yet to phone Larry and go to the gym and eat breakfast and wash dishes and meet Mom about 2:30 (not AGAIN no time for the index!) and life continues.
NOTEBOOK 404
5/13/81
TALK WITH DENNIS ABOUT MOM - 5/7/81
"I don't like her" is how I start. He takes that very seriously and I crawl into bed with him to talk about it. He admits that she IS difficult, but seems to say, like Richard, that maybe there's something in me that takes her too hard. I can't think what it is. I KNOW there's hatred there somewhere, but no matter how much I try to avoid getting mad at her, just to let her have her way, there's no way it seems I can stop getting angry with her when she asks the same question the third time, lies, exaggerates outrageously, or asks me for help in some way that I don't think she should avoid finding out about herself. I can feel emotions below the surface, and from the way he hugs me and looks dolorously at me and overwhelms me with sadness, I think he's trying to get me to relieve myself in tears, but I'm interested in a SOLUTION to the problem, not just temporary relief. I say that I'm debating not talking to her ANY more, as I'd done before, but I didn't want the burden of NOT talking to her to last through the years after her death when I might condemn myself for cutting off relations with her. So it's a price I have to pay for not feeling guilty about her. I say that "If I could only live more moment to moment, I wouldn't remember that she's just asked that question, that I'd told her the answer three times already, that I hadn't asked her not to interrupt me, but I keep bringing in the PAST. Sure she's OK for 10 or 15 minutes, or even for an hour or so under prime conditions, but when you're with her for hours and days and she goes AT it and AT it and AT it and AT it, there's a point when I just want to SHOUT at her, but I know I can't do that, it just makes it worse, so I keep as calm as I can and count the meals till she's leaving. He sympathizes with me, talks some about his brother's cruelties to his parents, says some of the irritating things about his father (ALWAYS has to go to the john before leaving the house late, among other things), and I thank him for his patience and kindness in listening to me, and when I look at my watch (we'd started about 1:15, I'm amazed to find that it's 2:40 am and Dennis has been looking VERY tired but insisting he wasn't just so I could finish talking it out with him.
NOTEBOOK 408
7/3/81
EYECLASSES (May 15, 16, 17)
Obviously says something that I haven't transcribed the notes from the first class (or even took down the second class) since MAY. We write down suggestions:
1. No glasses except for driving (until Sunday night).
2. No nonprescription drugs, including wine (vitamins OK) & MONITOR cigarettes & caffeine.
3. Punctuality and presence.
4. Participation.
5. Confidentiality (not talking ABOUT it DURING weekend).
6. Follow-up letter two weeks after Sunday, letter to office: final act of completing class. Notepad tomorrow and Sunday, 2-hour meal break Sat and Sun. Reviewing class is $50, starts at 10 am Sat and Sun, ends 8:30-10 Sat, 7-9 Sun.
7. Communicate with Eye-witness partner ONCE a week for SIX weeks.
8. Follow instructions.
Our teacher is Martin Sussman (a student of John Roger), and his partner, the cutie in the photographs, is Thomas Boyer, DBA (Doctor of Business Administration?). For Friday, we REGISTER at 6:00, gather, starts 7 pm. There are 10 of us, counterclockwise from Marty: Don, Werner, Leslie, Ed, Solveg, Cynthia (Mrs. Story), B, Nancy, Sheila, and Roger (5M, 5W).
Marty tells of Tom Boyer, "we" and mental, emotional and physical tie-ins with sight. Write Suggestions. Sharing 1: with Nancy, alternate repeating "I can see." Sharing 2: Cynthia, alternate repeating "Your eyes are good." Sharing 3: Sheila, what I hope to get from this, realistically. Then group sharing. Letters telling who's where, clearer on "CLEARLY" (I don't know what this means.) Lights out: close eyes, introduce ourselves and our histories of wearing eyeglasses. Story: senses opened: touch if 6-8', taste is 3", smell is 2 miles, hearing is 100 miles; sight, to infinity. Look at candle. Sharing 4: complete sentence: I like wearing glasses because ... with Ed. Sharing 5, with Roger, I see the way I do because ...
Group: "I'm here because I want to SEE" and applause (3x). Break. Talk of tomorrow and "staying on." Lights out: Tape of Boyer putting red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, white from front left eye, muscles, optic nerve to center of head, back to left occipet, spill to right occipit, forward to enter back of right eye, overflow to front of left eye. MUSIC, then GREEN music, WATER music, MOUNTAIN music. "You CAN see." Leave at 10:55.
SATURDAY
Start at 10 with news that Nancy's mother's died---so we sent her support and think "to help her mother through this transition." Leslie comes in about 10:30, Roger about 11, so we're grinding our pelvis back and forth in stretching and relaxing exercises. We started with sharing of the previous evening, and I mention that Marty's been saying a LOT so far about JUDGING (giving us a rubber band to snap when we come from our "reactive" mind that says "This should be like THAT," or "This IS like that WAS.") He talks of the STAGES of seeing: 1) Letting the light come into the eyes---perfectly passive. 2) The visual system that brings the signals to the brain. 3) I forget. Exercises: 1) Fingertips to shoulders, dip DOWN grunting exhale, sweep back UP inhaling, back DOWN voicing exhale. 2) Swinging back and forth, letting eyes go FREE, so that it looks like the ROOM is moving, not that the EYES are FIXING and moving. Strangely, when I CLOSE my eyes and THEN open, they FIX VERY QUICKLY. Tire of this and feel vaguely dizzy after. 3) Rub hands together and palm eyes. The "I SEE" reaction is shouted when we sit in front of the eye charts and squinch up our eyes VERY hard then look, BREATHING hard all the while. I just CAN'T believe that 1/3 our oxygen use is in the VISUAL. Eye exercises: Sitting, turn head to left and right, then LOOKING (eyes closed) FARTHER left and then FARTHER right. Then looking up and down, up and down, THEN in a circle on a clock, first counterclockwise, then clockwise. We sit in chair so we can JUST see two last letters of I LOVE TO SEE. Farsighted have to look at tiny sheet up CLOSE that they focus on top two lines are in focus and bottom two not). Then move chair BACK as we can see more clearly. FIRST (for unknown reason, but I DO it) we paint a black band at eye level with a paintbrush on our nose by turning our head from side to side. (Also forgot we shoot heads vigorously and shouted "NO," then nodded vigorously and shouted "YES.") AND we traced FIGURES on chart with our nose, eyes closed, then opened, to surprised "I see's." But eyes are SORE and TIRED after a bit, vision even blurring, and we stopped, mercifully. Vision string fun: string to nose and concentrate on where strings "cross" at alternative red and black beads. I tend to focus FAR OUT and strain to see CLOSER. Can't make a Vee at MY nose (REAL muscle strain, but Marty tells of "200 times stronger muscles: the "marines coming out and blinding us when we say "I don't want to look at that," or "That hurts me to watch.") but it's OK out FAR, now. ALSO at chart, looking at fingertip 6" from nose and focusing near (seeing two charts, HARD) and far (seeing two fingers, easy). I start FORCING one eye, and "near" slides too far, with strain to keep "smooth." Then I BREATHED for with two near fingers and it works BETTER (not forcing EITHER eye). Then we partner (with our eye-witness partner, who turns out to be Don!) and to "Trust walk" for 15 minutes each, tapping head to "take pictures." Partner Leslie in "Above all else, I want to see," and it goes on a LONG time, but I get that I COMPLICATE, EVADE, get BORED, want to see MY way, but DO want to SEE. Trust walk is 1:40-2:25. Then out to lunch 3:30-5:30, to Brownie's and GREAT talk with Don on travel: me around the world, he to Indian lands. Back to long BORING lecture by Marty, falling asleep. Ends with "An early memory I have is ..." with Solveg, alternating similar memories for us two, and then INTERESTING process of sitting in dark and taking memory back to today, yesterday, last Sunday, Sunday before, Christmas, Christmas before, THEN to "Year before I wore glasses," and walk to door of house, into living room, to bedroom, to room, to bed, to YOU in bed, wake gently, eye contact, ask him to SAY something, then respond as OTHER person. Touching. I write letter and cry. The music (some tacky, some nice) and feel blissed out. Stay to end at 9 and Don says it's marvelous. Cynthia and 2 leave together. Nice feeling. Reminded VERY strongly of "Want some ONE," to make my "joy complete" on the mountain-water-green place! Also, thinking something DIFFERENT from FEELING (lack of attunement) is KILLING.
HOMEWORK: 1) Write NOTES on entire day, transcribed previously.
2) For 10 (?) minutes, write "Above all else, I want to see," then RESPONSE.
I got bored, but DID it, and to the RIGHT of "Above all else, I want to see," comes: I want to see, but I'm not sure it's above all else.
I always put things BETWEEN (like glasses) me and DOING something.
I DO want to see, and I'm taking steps that will lead me to seeing better.
I keep coming back to the QUALITY of seeing, but quality is JUDGING (snap).
But I DO want CLEAR vision---to me SEEING MEANS SEEING CLEARLY.
Seeing is the main way to get information about people, places, and things.
Now comes the resistance, I'm tired of writing ALREADY.
More additions: look at clock, THINK about doing, rather than DOING.
Then why am I writing THIS? Because that's PART of wanting to SEE.
And fill this sheet with scribblings, so I can prove I did the homework.
Doesn't make any difference what I write, only I will know about it.
But I'm only ripping myself off. Is THAT the way I want it?
No, I WANT to see.
Above ALL else.
Thank goodness I'm going faster than I would have thought.
Let's be CLEARER about this.
I'm important, rebellious, want to do it MY way and no OTHER way will work.
Good intentions go by the board so quickly.
Deadlines take over---I aim for the END and not the GETTING to the end.
Resistant bastard!
But be GOOD to myself, treat myself with LOVE.
Writing slower helps!
RELAX into it.
Why do I usually write "elso" (for Above all elso)?
Am I finished, completed, or just at the end of the page?
So I look MORE at what's TO do or what's DONE, but not the DOING.
SUNDAY (from memory from almost two months ago):
OH, from notebook I find that we wrote LAST NIGHT:
Younger Bob to Older Bob: "I want to get out of here." (home and Mom)
Helen to both of us (someone else told to enter): "It's for your own good."
OB to YB: "It'll be better later on." (I'm probably weeping by now.)
Debate between WHO comes in: Mom, Dad, or Helen. I WANT Dad, but feel he won't come.
I DON'T want Mom. Helen is all too willing to enter. (THIS IS GOOD!!)
Younger Bob is puzzled, but pleased. OB is confused---rather like Dad might have been.
Probably the message from all to all: "It'll all be OK. We all try the best we can---even though it might not look like it. Nothing's done with malice."
SO, we gather after 10, Solveg met me downstairs and announced she'd be leaving at 5. He asked for reports: we started: I said I kept coming back to NOT wanting class to end with our being SATISFIED with the POOR way we saw. He clowned blindness, saying "I'm perfectly content with my vision," and said, "we're not aiming for that." OK. Then Solveg brought up her leaving and there was a LONG (after signing sympathy card that Cynthia got for Nancy, and Solveg got Ed's and my name and address) discussion, her NOT understanding that her saying "My body in clearing my vision" instead of "My body COOPERATES in clearing my vision" is what she's doing NOW: insisting that SHE is right and NOT listening to the other person. He gives her a choice: leave NOW or when ALL leave at 7. She insists on leaving at 5. She blurts that she has to visit a sick friend (which doesn't sound that important, though she says she's a healer) in a hospital and can't go sooner or later or another day. Marty justly says he doesn't care, but seems to be too unfeeling in the way he handles it. Finally, after much trivia and trial, she leaves about 12 (and I get up and hug her and say for her to CALL me---she sends me a postcard after she leaves for Norway in the summer), and then Cynthia finishes her sharing. We get into more exercises with the fusion string and the charts, more relaxations, at times go outside to swing and focus on distant objects (passersby looking with amused interest), and have lunch from 4:30-5:45, but we're there at 6 since we ate slowest, talking about all KINDS of things, and I can't decide if he's gay or not, despite his talk about his girlfriend. Fantastic that HE quit a great PR job to write a book on Lincoln, as I quit IBM to write a book on LSD. Then we get into POWERFUL exercises, but I don't feel QUITE safe in the space, so I don't REALLY get carried away. He asks us to come up with an affirmation. I futz around and come up with "I would like to see myself reveal my innermost self to others without fear." Marty looks over my shoulder and says it should start with "Something I'm ready to see ..." but it gets too long. Marty tampers and tugs, and I get more and more deep and, incidentally, embarrassed (yes, suppressed joy about having to SAY I want to reveal myself). Finally I write "I'm ready to share myself with you," and someone changes it to "I'm willing to share myself with you." Say it for a good long time and really weep. Don comes up with something like "I'm willing to admit that I'm a good person." Then Marty floors all of us by saying that we go to "An Eyeclasses Cocktail Party," and mingle with EVERYONE chatting---YOUR AFFIRMATION!! DYNAMITE!!! Werner turns me WAY off by having his bright blue eyes NARROW TO TINY BLACK DOTS even rimmed with WHITE, and I take it as HATRED for me, as ASP-like COLD snaky HATRED. Really FEAR him, and my reaction to him. Chilling! Then we write our GOAL: I see without glasses clearly enough 1) to focus a camera, and 2) to recognize a face at 20 years (HA, what a typo---YARDS). It's OK for me to change my goals. It's OK for me to exceed my goals. What steps could/WILL I take? Turn the page and write down the DATE for the goal, and I write "July 14, 1981." Trip. That's all there is in the notebook until the last page: Don Kemp/400 E. 56 St. Apt. 24A, NYC, NY 10022/832-1273. (I phone him through the week, he's not there. Get him after 10 days, Wednesday, and he talks of having MET Werner, TALKED with Roger, and I met Nancy at Benjamin Crème's event, and I went to Cynthia's concert and LOVED it.) There's also the "cheering section" when you announce YOUR affirmation three times to the crowd, who cheers and applauds you. There were other exercises, which I don't recall. More laying around the floor and going to the distant clear-sighted place. I looked through the other books, didn't get anything, enjoyed the tape for the 18th, which I did in the morning of the 19th, then 19th, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26 (on 17th), 27, 28, 39, 30 a day late, caught up on the 31st, then June 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and stop on June 7, noting the following: if three weeks shows NO (not quite true, clarity WAS there, sometimes for two seconds!) progress and Marty is STILL trying to pass a driver's test without glasses after FOUR YEARS, I've had enough. If "catastrophe" occurs, and I survive and HAVE to do without glasses, I can practice THEN. Anyway, don't eyes USUALLY settle for more distance in AGE? So that's the end of the notes, and I leave this place to add anything more I recall from Sunday. Don and I ate ALONE in Fruit and Nuts, or wherever, while the others ate together. He said he'd call ME the second time, but he didn't. I wrote the letter to them only a FEW days after May 31 due date, just before I QUIT. Sunday ended rather early, about 7 or 7:15, everyone feeling warm toward each other, but aside from holding hands in a circle we didn't really HUG each other. I think Marty would have been against it. He seemed not EXACTLY to be able to handle the group---or give me the CONFIDENCE I needed to ACT as if he could. Hearing other people through the thin walls most of the time didn't help with a sense of privacy, either. Ended as Saturday with us lying on the floor listening to peaceful music, blissed out, not really wanting to go, except for those who WENT AS SOON AS THEY COULD. I got a BAD COLD on Sunday, which lasted about 8 days, I theorized from the tears awakened and unshed in the unsafe space. OH, ANOTHER dynamite process: in a circle, someone steps in front of the next person and SAYS SOMETHING to him (emphasis on positive). I started quickly SAYING, which was hard ("Warner, you're a real GAS."), but TAKING things like "You're a really wonderful person, Bob," and "You're a beautiful person, Bob," one after another after another was heart-wrenchingly rough. I think maybe Marty should have been in on that, too, since he seemed distant and manipulative (and a little wistfully lost) at the end. No one offered to drive him to the airport, either. He had an "assistant" (black man from previous class) who wanted to sit in. Glass-less.
