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STRAIGHT

 

DIARY 2059 6/26/71

TAYLOR TAPE

"Well, Mr. Zolnerzak, you have a very unusual name. But it has one particular aspect which we're looking for all over everyplace, and whenever we find one which has a name total such as yours, we know they are something beyond the average. There are only nine numbers, but there are two master vibrations, and those are 11 and 22. This is based on the laws of musical harmony, and so in music everything is measured by the octave. In chemistry and other things we have octaves, as a method of measure. We know that every person is governed by a twelve-note octave. 11 is as high as you can go on an octave, and then you come to 12, or the end. There are 22 white keys in three octaves on a piano. So whenever we find an individual with an 11 or a 22, we know they are above and beyond the average.
Well, your name Zolnerzak, (explains numbers). The vowels are the inner self, the desire for something to do, and the consonants show the physical capacity, whether we can DO that or not, and the full name represents the mind, the soul-quality. in the vowel vibration (lost). You run true, according to Hoyle.
The first vowel of Zolnerzak is an O, that's a 6, that's the strongest vowel vibration that anyone can have because 6 is one of the strongest letters of the alphabet, and it never drops at the end (every other letter drops) --- OOOOOOO --- It's strong at the END of the name, like Enrico Caruso, or like Brando. O is the strongest vowel for its individual expression, You know about Edgar Cayce, I was at his headquarters in 4 different years, there's a brochure, and it says 3 is art, 6 is the mental side of art, and 3 & 6 is 9, and 9's your public, and you can't do much without your public, and ART adds up to 3, so you have the Art expression in the vowels of your last name, and that's 12, and 12 is 3. 3 is the physical plane, it governs the family, in activities 3 is the writer. It wouldn't make any difference if you TOLD me you were a writer, I would have seen it. WRITE is 30, and WRITER is 39, and 3+9=12, 12=3. Now you have 11 in front of it in the vowels of Robert, and 11 means to stand out in the light, LIGHT adds up to 29=11. So RZ gives a desire to write, and inspirational writing. (lost) Because your full name is 6-11 you should do more talking than you have.
You're 35, and at 36 you enter another octave; each 12 years is a new octave. Next year, 1972, you'll be 36, and that's 9, and as a writer you'll write professional, A-1, all that. And 1972 is a year you should TALK to groups, here or there, if anyone asks you to, you should do so. You're here to give out the light you brought with you. (lost)
This 11-3 shows that in a previous incarnation you gained mastery in some line. You could have been a writer, or a dancer. Do you dance? No. It shows you could if you wanted to. You have advanced from the pure physical activities into a higher octave of consciousness in this incarnation, and you have an 11 in the vowels of Robert, and a 22 in the consonants of Robert. This shows in a previous incarnation you gained mastery over something governed by 3, and that is a writer, it is art, it is
(are you married?) No. You have the family vibration. You see that 3 in March, and 30th, that's like 33, that's two 3's, isn't it? Let's see, you're 34, WILL be 35. I'm glad you're NOT married (I am too, (laugh)), because you --- I say that nobody reaches maturity until they're 36, then they've been 12 years in the physical, 12 years in the mental, and 12 years in the emotional, from 24 to 36. At 37, THEN you begin a new cycle which is your life work. You could come into your life-work now as far as writing and publications are concerned, but not until you're 36. When you were 33, did you have a desire to get married when you were 33? I think it was more 32. 32-33, it could have been there, but not fully developed. If you let the marriage influence go for awhile, it would be better. You have some things to do yet to prepare yourself for the big show.
Here's something new you might consider as a new slant before this year is over. This cycle you're now in has two possibilities. When we take your year of birth -- on Jan. 1, everyone has an inheritance, and then you consider the sum total of what you did or didn't do LAST year. That's considered as your capital at hand when the year begins --- if you didn't have anything from before, what would you have to work with? So we add the vibrations of the last 3 months of some year to the first nine months of the next year --- the months of gestation before birth --- everything begins in October, even the educational year. There's an arc of 3 months between the years (the red at the top of page), OCT, Nov, Dec, the winter, between ONE 9-month growing season and the next. So THERE we have the double influence of both years. 1971 adds up to 18, which is 9 --- the combination of last year and this is 8, which is a very good business vibration, and you should now bring all lines together and make a definite program whereby you can go ahead in a bigger way in 1971, and that's 9, so you should bring something to conclusion.
But you're organizing something you've been working on for some time. Have you any project, something wprthwhile, which isn't yet completed? Yes. Are there any present obstacles? Are there financial limitations on the project? Yes. That's what I meant. That's not surprising. You have a very good success vibration from something you're undertaking. But we have a choice of two vibrations. You have the writer vibration double. 3-6-9 is the publishing influence. You could do something musical, or even a syndicate. 22 in your birth years indicates many units in different places, through a channel that was broad in itself, like a syndication. But if you don't want to make the grade of 22, like working through MANY people, you have the 11's, which means you work by yourself, with more individual action than through an organization. I operate myself. You're your own agent? Yes. [Meredith digression] To me your voice sounds very well. Did you ever have your voice tried out for singing? Only in choir. To me your voice has a very marvelous register. Have you ever done anything dramatically? No. You may not be using your voice as a primary element, but you have a good strong voice --- this writing influence is a basic primary here --- you could do it with your eyes shut. But you SHOULD develop your speaking voice in some way, you've got to let your voice be heard, you should use it. Do you belong to any organizations? No. Are you interested in anything touching the community or politics? No. Any discussion groups? Oh, work with drugs I've been interested in. I think people misunderstand drugs and need education about drugs. I thought I could speak about something like that. "That's very good; you need a purpose --- you need something to throw your force around. You need a subject that has to do with something. The drug influence is very important, see drugs is 6 --- drugs is 3-3-6, and you have that right here in your birth Date, so if you have anything to say about drugs, that's very important. Adding some LIGHT to give a better understanding. What you're here to do with this 3-3-6 --- this is what your inner self wants --- you can help develop a certain basic program, to help carry out a DEFINITE method or skill which would help any situation you're working with, to develop facts and figures to prove certain things.
What did you specialize in writing in college? Wrote for yearbook and newspaper, and active in theater, and taught physics. The 6 is the teacher, you're a born teacher. You have the ability to take a subject in which you're interested (you have a strong personality) and organize the material for yourself or for others --- you can be an organizer of the information that you have, to pass on new light to the world, from what you've already gained in past incarnations, and the inspiration that pulls through you in THIS incarnation.
I want to stress this VERY strong: you may get inspiration, whatever may come through, something you haven't tried, FOLLOW IT THROUGH, you should bring through an idea which would be of help to other people. Have you ever had ideas come through which are beyond the recognized program at the present time? No. Have you any idea which would improve the method of teaching anything about the drugs? [I go into "everyone should have this experience" of LSD. If they're given in the right way, they can be extremely helpful.] People have to learn by DOING, not being talked to.
Now this 11-6 means you're acting as an advisor, bringing light (11) through knowledge (6), and you have this drug principle 3-3-6 in your birth date. You should give this knowledge through some reputable publication in which people have a lot of faith.
Have you ever been abroad? Yes, five or six times. That puts you back into the 22, if you've been overseas 5 or 6 times --- you may have activated your 22 more than your 11-6, which would be talking to people and acting as a professional advisor to them.
Have you a college degree? Yes, but nothing beyond that in a professional standing. You can make friends with whomsoever you're working with, whom you think is worth your while, but those who have no aim or focus in life, who are wasting their time, you have nothing to do with. You wish to do something, and you want associated who can assist your program along. You should make it now, if something were available in dramatic experience, you'd succeed now. But you've not had experience and self-confidence in public contact.
Did you ever turn down an opportunity for promotions? I did that, turning down promotions to supervisor and manager. You have supervisor and manager right here. Why didn't you do it? I didn't want the responsibility. Now we're getting right down to brass tacks --- there's a girl came to see me whose name was a 22-8, 8 means money --- to get this 8 you'd have to be a manager of a schedule or of materials or facts, or write a framework for music, or something, but if you don't want to take this responsibility, you drop the 22 here, you'd move over to the 11, which gives less responsibility with regard to others and more independence of action, and that means you are really both of them --- both electric and magnetic, and people who are both, you CAN handle other people, even though you might not care to bother to do so. Can you get people to easily follow your lead? Yes. It seems to me that you can.
You're in your third cycle, and your third letters are B=2 and L=3, that's 5, that means you could develop some SYSTEM of writing, or put two things together. In music you could be an arranger of one thing with another. Or you could put words with music, or music with words.
What about in writing to combine philosophy with faction? That's all right. Yes, the 2 is the occult science, and 3 is the writing --- so you could write SCIENCE FICTION. You would combine regular writing with something that's NOT so regular writing. 22 represents the philosophy angle. 22 means you recognize a cosmic law which overrides the so-called mental or scholastic law. [She goes into a Times article about control of healing by the brain by thought or stimulus.] "Now THAT'S something for you to THINK about."
In the Bible it says "Whatsoever you SAY, believing, you will have," and that WORKS. I've had things here, and I've said "Begone, God was here," and it worked. The Times article didn't touch on how the EMOTIONS tried to influence how a person reacts. If you love something that you're doing, you put your spirit into it; if you don't love it, you do it mechanically, leaving out the factors of love and joy, which can make things work your way if you USE them. [She gives anecdote about man's high blood pressure caused by concern over a car stuck in the snow.] If someone's always complaining or condemning a person about something they have ulcers. See this 2-3-5? That's an intuition as does 11 and 22 --- you could be a science-faction analyst, if not a real analyst.
You have between now and your 37th birthday --- a year and a half, you can develop a system that you can be the analyst of. SYSTEM adds up to 20. Then write about something that you analyze, and get some facts and proofs of it. This 22 shows that at the present time you can make some DISCOVERY in something that you are analyzing, that if you do something three times, you might find out something about something that you didn't know before. You may find something you're not looking for. This 11-11 means some new light may come through from something you're interested in. Have you had any experience with passing on some knowledge that you have to other people so that you know their reaction. That's what you're supposed to do. That's what I'm TRYING to do. I'm trying to give my knowledge of my experience in my writing. Then you're doing what you're SUPPOSED to be doing. Then I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. This is going to cause a little explosion with a few people who don't believe it, but that's OK, because you're supposed to stand up against any obstacle that faces you. In getting this information and bringing it through into the light, will you be taking any trips to interview certain people outside New York? No. Are people in New York? No, it's only in connection with me. Oh, then it would be this 11-6, only with you. So you have proof with records on yourself? Yes. Now we're getting somewhere. AND in connection with other people; I met them then, but I'm not talking to them NOW. This was 4 years ago. I'm writing about them now, but I'm going from the MEMORY of what happened. Have you gotten good and constructive results? I think so. Could the information be used as to be a detriment? No. Would it then be feasible for people to TRY as an experiment? Yes, and this is what I'm trying to WRITE for people. But you have such a good personality, everyone who writes a book goes out on the lecture circuit. "Well, when I sell the book, I'll be glad to lecture anywhere."
One thing here, to sell the book, make yourself an apparent authority on the subject. You're not quoting other people, you're just quoting yourself, so you have to be an authority. You're here to give out the light to somebody, but you have to do it in an authoritative way. You know it, and you KNOW that you know it; you must have the AIR of authority. You have to make people FEEL that you're saying the truth.
You should pray to God to give you the best light on your subject that's possible for me to have. [She tells about losing something and praying for God to help her, and it was right under her nose.] I want you to be prepared and not surprised if something that you do comes out and somebody has quite a lot to SAY about it. It's good to AIR things, you know.
Do you know whether anyone else has broached in writing of any kind the ideas that you have to suggest? Not in exactly this way. They've suggested TAKING the drug, but not under CAREFUL SUPERVISION. You can make a collection of factual things, one right after another, which would lead you along. Let me give you the principle of continuity of writing, if you haven't already had it. I was associate editor of Character Reading magazine, her husband was editor of Opportunity magazine, and I had tutoring under professional lawyers and professional writers; I've written several books, and in one book, the editor said he didn't hardly change a word.
Do you know the EXACT principle of continuity? No. Take the first paragraph, select ONE SPECIAL WORD from it, and started the SECOND paragraph WITH that, and then take a word from the SECOND paragraph and start the NEXT paragraph with that first word or first thought. And you string it out like a string of pearls, from the start to the end. And you lead the mind along; one right after the other. Now I want you to practice that in your writing; there won't be any skipped paragraphs when your thought doesn't come through in your writing. You need to have a system as a basis for your writing. You have to make your writing colorful; you can't write on the same keel all the time, but you're holding the attention; skill corresponds to keeping your eye-focus on an audience. Don't read ANYTHING, even the Bible, when you're speaking to an audience. Your head goes down, you'll lose your eye-focus with your audience. Never write out what you're going to say.
Zolnerzak adds up to 11, and Robert Zolnerzak adds up to 6-11, and Bob Zolnerzak is 10-11. You have many ideas, but you haven't coordinated them into a definite program, which would be required BY a book --- you haven't developed them enough to establish the points that you need to cover in a book. We must know the purpose of the book, and what value it will be to the other person. Have you given the book to anyone in authority to read? Yes, Scott Meredith.
Let's see if we can put things down on paper to catch what is essential for the book. Now, WHO is your public? Everyone. You have to make up your mind who it's for. That's a weak spot, if you haven't got it. For people who are curious and adventuresome. Now if they had the book and read it, how could it help them? It will teach them the truth about drugs. Put that down. In what way? That there's nothing to fear, if handled properly. Put that down. What else? That it teaches the truth --- it teaches the truth about life. But truth is a big word. Teaches the truth in what way? That everyone is everyone else. That every person is part of one. That's good. That we are all part of the same one substance --- the only difference is the difference of rate of vibration. It teaches that all is one substance in different rates of vibration. That's it.
Is this going to give the individual the chance to try out the experiment themselves? No, you can't do it in the United States, it's illegal. It is? Yes. Why? Because the government is afraid, so they say it's illegal. To use certain drugs? They say it's illegal to use certain drugs? Where would you have to show this, in some other country? Yes, I went to Canada. In a hospital up there it's legal? Well, now we're getting somewhere. It's used in a limited way in the United States. I'm talking about LSD. LSD? That's quite well know, it's talked about quite a bit.
What are the values of those letters (ACID = 1394 = 8 TOO), what do numbers say about those letters? If handled the right way, there could be quite a lot of money made out of it. It MUST BE HANDLED PROPERLY. It's not only money, it's also health, it's also knowledge; it's very much like a religious experience. Oh? It gives you that? It gives you something so close to that that no one I know can tell the difference.
I know a professional librarian who's taken a course that only one librarian's ever taken on world administration, who was interested in taking LSD, but she didn't try it out. She might be willing to try it; if you could talk with this girl, she has a tremendous education, and she's just about venturesome enough to really try something if she thought it were under safe guardianship. Would you like to talk with this girl with regard to the possibility of her trying it out? Yes. Well, I think I'd better --- you came here for some reason, for some purpose, and there's some purpose that we may not recognize here in the normal way. She wanted to try LSD but didn't have the nerve to do it without some basic authority in the background. She knows so much about how to put things over, I mean, how knowledge goes out through libraries and everything like that. If she knew about --- were you --- what was your reception in Canada? They were wonderful people. Do you mind if I call her? If I could get you in touch with this girl, I can see the possibilities of this. I don't see anything --- the thing that would do you the most good would be to put you in touch with somebody, with her. [Discussion of LSD and taking it] [why it's best in a hospital] [What was the lasting value of it? It shows you where you were stupid in the past and what you might do good in the future] [it's one of the things that led me here. Is that so?] Let me call her. It sounds like she would be very interested in this. She wants to let go of library work and do something else. It would tell her what to do --- it makes it very clear. Have you had at least a dozen people taking it, who felt all right about it? Yes, more than a dozen. (986-0479) I'll call her later, then, there's no answer. I think she'd be quite interested in having you do it. [talk about Spring Grove] [she's past 60, lived a life of sanity, got degrees --- I'd think they would want her].
What value is there to you in this? What is this to you? Because you want to enlarge the scope of knowledge of other people? It's something I wish I could have had before, at 25, not 35. I see. I think that the government is wrong to make people so afraid of it, there should be much more research. I want to say to the government, do more research. "Now you're talking." It's had a bad press, Timothy Leary. This is what I wanted to say in the book.
I don't think that you are quite ready to put out this book. I think it requires a little bit more, like getting this girl to do this, and a few other friends, and they're both tired of the library game, it's awfully boring, she's done cataloging, and she ought to be interviewing people.
This shows that you are really, this 11-6, which is individual, this is drugs is 3-3 6, you also are 22, LSD is 8 --- it SHOULD be all right --- it's 3-1-4 the 4 principle twice, 4+4=8, it should be recognized THIS year, which is 1970 and 1971: which is 8 and you're 35, which is 8 (Mar. 30 - Sept. 30), if there ever were a year when this should be recognized and something done about it, it's now, it's 8. Well, let's hope. And this is just the first year in this aspect. We have to accept the 22 as something big and worthwhile --- it's universal. And this drug business is universal, it touches everyone. There's the 8 vibration there 4 times. Now is THE time. Financial obstacles and disbelief are in the way NOW, in January --- gather up the loose ends, get something more authoritative than what you have, in your hands, so that by the last of January --- a broader listening world in February, someone's going to listen to it that'll be worthwhile in the month of February. [MUCH fumbling and mumbling, but no good] Something's gonna open up a little bit. Everything's closed and you can't budge. If you DON'T consider the 22, you're stuck with the 11-9. You wanna get away from this 11-9 here, because that represents a disappointment: someone said it couldn't be done and you accepted it. But you should find a way to go beyond it. There may be obstacles, but you have to fight your way around them. [tells of a woman fighting investment business]
You HAVE to be the 22. If you don't, somebody overrides you. You have to do it in a big, fearless way, contact some very IMPORTANT person, you have to go through SOMEBODY in authority, that means somebody in the hospital, rather than personally --- it would have to be from an authority figure. I want you to think of yourself more as an agent who, through making the right contact in connection WITH a hospital, working through THAT channel, rather than as an individual, you'll be buried by so-called authorities who'll put things over on you. So, don't be afraid when someone says HE has the last work, just keep still and just go ahead and go on top of the situation --- just go to the HEAD MAN in everything. [Miss Kellerburr's not home] Do you write for other things? Some small things, philosophical. As I said, you've got the vibration that could bring through something philosophical that would put a new slant on an old thing. [Refer her to correspond with Lisa Malsin] To me, she's the perfect answer (again on the girl) [then to Mr. Backster and "the power of prayer on plants"] [he hasn't got a foundation around him?] Now, we're at a standstill. The important thing to do is to get Miss Keller to cooperate.
Oh, let me see your questions. Oh (first one) it looks like you're going to get the money to put it out, but if a publisher takes it, you don't need any money. I think you need a few more proofs before a publisher will take it on and really promote it. According to THIS, all this adds up to 8, this is the year of 8, and 8 is money, and good for a contract for the sale of a book, and this adds up to 4, which is "yes," up here. So it's yes, my. Why are you feeling depressed? Because you haven't SEEN just how you're going to go ahead, that's all. My land, it adds up to 17 or 9, the same things [it's the same numbers, only mixed around a bit] [Mumbles over Last one], looks to me like you definitely would. But you go away from home on some trip in which you are asked, from someplace else, to come back and tell about something, or maybe you might go back up to Canada to see the people. Would you like to operate up in Canada? Not really, I like New York. This truth is coming out into the light, you're going to shed some real light on the situation, yourself. When you get a few people like Miss Keller, with a few degrees in back of them, in touch with the powers that be, it'll be good.
You just keep up the idea of seeing the light, just say I see, just say now I see, "see" adds up to 11, I see the light under the screen door. Well, I've enjoyed seeing you. I'm quite a fatalist, I feel that people come here for some PURPOSE. When that GIRL found she was a 22, that gave her new strength in her own self-confidence. Could I buy a copy? Oh yes, I have several copies. It's a $3.50 book, but I'm selling it for $3. Are you going to keep the name Zolnerzak, it's quite unusual, and 8-3-11, and it's a very good number to bring things into the light. I couldn't give you a better number [shut off, then on] That 22-8 is the biggest money number we have. I'm not changing your name because that gives you a master number in every position, and it should give you money in writing, writing vibration is here twice, and it'll be of broad interest to other people in other places in many countries. 22-9 is a universal vibration. [And how much has happened with this: recorded on January 18, then my Wollensack gave out in the head, and I finally bought a Uher, and recorded the fact that the transcription of the tape was something I had to do before I left on the trip. So finally on June 26, over six months later, I sat down at 9:30 am, after moving the typing desk and typewriter next to the tape recorder, and finished typing the first draft at noon, which is remarkable, since the tape ITSELF is more than two hours, and then at 1:43 sat down to edit the typing, and made all the ink notations, finally ending AFTER 3:45, and as the tape rewinds for the final time, I'm finishing off this page, and it's just 3:55, and that's the end of the tape from Ariel Yvon Taylor.

DIARY 2071 6/26/71

PETER BETCHER

He's certainly dressed casually, in faded blue jeans which aren't tight but nevertheless indicate that he has marvelous legs, and his enormous hands and long muscled fingers bode well for whatever is quite hidden between his legs, and his thin face is attractive with his long black hair framing it, and his eyes are wide and earnest, quite attractive all in all, but John's as ugly as can be, laying down the law that we're not adding anything else no matter who says what, and I think that rather turns off Peter. He's spent 4 1/2 months traveling overland from London to Naples, then by boat to Beirut, then over the incredibly deserted countries of Iran and Iraq, except that he loved it for its native busses and the naturalness of its cultures. He insisted that we should see Bamiyan and Band-Ii-Kouri, or something, sitting on top of the bus that goes there, but then when he got into Pakistan he want essentially across to Benares, where he stayed for about seven weeks, meeting people that he liked to be with, getting into the culture of the town, and at his report not doing anything of the tourist things, not smoking anything, and not having sex, and later Fred said something not totally agreeable about Peter's "asceticism," and he almost looked down on some of our questions about how to handle beggars, ending up by saying that we have to decide what to do for ourselves, because the solution found by one person wouldn't necessarily be good for another person. We told him the things we hoped to do, but both he and John agreed that it should be flexible enough that if we find someplace we want to stay for four or five weeks, that's what we should do. After John got into bed we turned into a more philosophical conversation, and it seemed to ME that his living in the woods between Malmo and Copenhagen, just reading and eating and sleeping, was EXACTLY the same as his "Indian living" in Benares, was EXACTLY the same as his pitifully undetailed month in Berlin where he did nothing but "live off the bars," implying ALSO off his body. EVERY ROAD REACHES THE SAME DESTINATION, and we ended up talking about Huxley and Watts, and I figured to get his "Two Hands of God," and he try Krishnamurti.

DIARY 2074 6/26/71

JOAN ON ACID HOUSE

She rather discouraged me in the beginning when she had to look at the character list while reading the synopsis, but I guess that had to be. She was of the opinion that it should be in the first person, saying that there was too obviously a pattern of "XXXXXXX," Y said, ZZZZing AAAAAAA. She felt that the first person form would eliminate that since at least ONE person would be different from the others. She said that ZZZZZZing AAA sounded like stage directions and agreed that the strict dialogue sections WERE like a play, and she thought it would play well. She said there were too many directions, for instance, leave out "wrinkling her smooth forehead." "How terrible to think about it," said Frank, disgusted with the idea, is quite REDUNDANT, because she's obviously disgusted with the idea in what she SAYS, which is what Don O'Shea kept harping on. She said the conversation without the description went nicely. Here she was reading the second chapter, and then she said she wanted to read some trip sections, so I gave her the beginning, and she said the first seven pages were good. She thought that IF the first person would be used, the characters wouldn't be shallow (as she thought them) because Ken is so self-involved, he wouldn't bother to get INTO the other characters until after one or two of the trips. We discussed it and thought it could be made into a two-act play with the first trip at the end of act one, the second trip at the START of Act II, and the third trip and the denouement at the end of the second act. She said that the trips should be acted with a light show and sound and a vanishing room, saying that it would be a technical director's delight, which John didn't agree with, saying it should be symbolized, but Joan went ON to encourage me in the writing of a showcase piece for an actress: her, and if she liked it, she'd use it, and since getting a book published was rather like getting a play produced on Broadway, it was better to write a PLAY, since it could be produced in many LESS expensive off and off-off Broadway places, and thus had a far better chance. She said I could make a good playwright, and she needed us, and she wanted me to write her a great play. Good thought.

DIARY 2088 6/28/71

JOAN'S PROBLEMS

She'd had an affair with Hector Troy (assumed name) before and then found that he was living with a girl he loved, not to mention having affairs with guys on the side, too. But she wanted to go to bed with him again despite the fact that her health didn't permit her to take the pills and she didn't know how to use a diaphragm. So she put in foam, which didn't give her a chance to manufacture her own lubricant, and he began plowing her too deeply (I may have wide hips, but I'm actually very TINY inside. Men say it's great for sex, but for ME it's just a PAIN.) and she tried telling him to slow down, but finally, intending for him to WAIT until she got more into it, she just shouted out "Stop, stop!" and when he did stop, he blew her entire mind by saying, "Did you ever think that you might be a lesbian?" I reminded her (though she hadn't thought of it before) that she'd HURT him by telling him to stop, and he was just trying, by reflex, to hurt her in return. But she said again that she was thinking going into therapy since she didn't enjoy sex very much, not at all in fact, unless she were drunk or stoned. I said I wouldn't have thought that, what about that time here with Murray? She said she'd had a few drinks, and I said there was a big difference between being drunk and having a few drinks, but she said that she DID think she was overly fussy, and I said I was the same way but it just took a lot of practice for me to prove to myself that I AM fussy, but that I AM NOT frigid. She said that she'd always had that problem, not because she was a prude, but she didn't want to sleep around with just ANYONE. And she kept talking about all her friends on tour who were gay, and she never had the CHANCE to sleep around, particularly in the south, where women weren't expected to make any advances AT ALL. She got into some other personal scenes, too, but I suggested she LEARN how to use the diaphragm, meet a number of guys and find out how to ENJOY sex rather than taking all her time and money and putting it into a therapist's couch. She went on about her bitchy conversations with her former lovers and how much she wanted someone she could MARRY and settle down with to have CHILDREN. Good Luck!

DIARY 2728 2/17/72

SIDNEY PORCELAIN VISITS

He's a graying, plumpish man who seems a combination of Truman Capote and Charlie Ruggles, and he'd talked to John for a few moments while I was down getting the mail, and I mentioned my homosexuality and the rest of the book, and he said he'd take not only the additional chapters I'd sent to Crown, he'd take the rest of the book to see how it was. I also showed him the diary pages, and he said that at first glance he saw no reason why they should be separated, they'd be better together, and he said he wanted to take THAT and read it too. I asked about other writing things, and he said that an article about living in India would be very easy to sell at this point, and the length really didn't matter. He said he didn't have to leave for awhile, so we chatted about his work, how he used to be a writer and even has a contract for a book now. He didn't think very highly of sending the book to ANY paperback place, and I immediately decided to leave the book in HIS hands, mentioning Dutton only as a suggestion, and hoping it would do something at Norton, where it was now, or some subsequent house. He talked about his trials at laying-on-of-hands, and about how a woman in crutches didn't wear them to his next class, and how he'd cure someone's migraines. He figured the body as a chemical laboratory and gave the idea of "putting the brain in the little finger" as a way of having the mind police the body for health, saying that the body was the self-cause of most of the body's ills. He talked of measuring the person's past and future by psychometry, looking at something that belongs to a person, and he agreed with me that the future IS fixed, and if we could see into it clearly we could see every instance of free will in operation, but the results would be all there to see, with the warnings of fire and falling on ice and all. He told of getting vibrations from people, but when I asked him about myself, he didn't offer anything memorable, yet he said I was a very pleasant person, and he would take an interest in my stuff if it was any good at all, and we agreed I'd like to be a writer. He said to see "Harold and Maude," I told of "Perennial Philosophy" and he left about 2:30, my large BOAC bag with him, filled with diary and novels.

DIARY 2809 3/6/72

STONED PM WITH ROGER

So I load up the pipe and we puff away, Roger somewhat less exhaustively than I, and he slouches back in his chair and I slump on the sofa and I put on some Moody Blue and later the Beatles "Magical Mystery Tour" just to give us something to listen to when the conversation drifts off into stonedness. He says something about losing weight, and I ask why, and he sort of looks down at his lumpy crotch, meticulously picks a piece of lint off his bulge, and says he's overweight according to an old height-weight chart he remembers from high school, and he says he wants to get down to 135, which I insist must be too low for his 5'10", but the effect is hard to remember, and I kept wondering if I should make a pass at him, but kept telling myself that if he had ANY wit, he would have to see that I was gay, and he's NEVER made any indication that he even THOUGHT about doing it that way, since all his talk was about gals, so that HE would have to make the first move unless I really wanted to take a chance with an old friend, which I couldn't see any reason for doing. But when we were passing the pipe back and forth I took care to touch his fingers with mine a number of times, in case he needed any encouragement to be physical, and then I sort of bumped and grinded away on the sofa in time with the music as the evening grew on. I turned on small lights as the sun went, and we talked now and then about being stoned, qualities of feelings when high, and ways of getting high, and then about 8 he said he was getting hungry and was reminded of the Karachi Pakistan restaurant downtown. I said I hadn't had any lunch, and neither had he, so we decided to brave the elements in our stoned state to get some food into our mouths and stomachs. We dressed warmly and negotiated the elevator without trouble, congratulating ourselves as we reached the sidewalk. Then down the street, crossing a bit too quickly out of a sort of self-protective paranoia, seeming to take an age to get to 46th, but there it was, and we got upstairs to an almost empty restaurant and managed to ask for a menu, again saying that we've reached a milestone without creating any serious problems for the world or for ourselves. The prices were right, though I wondered through the meal if Roger had any money, and if I'd have enough with $6 to pay the whole bill myself. We ordered nice things and the soup and breads came, and all tasted very good, and the smells were enough to make us salivate. The curries and papads and chutneys and rices vanished, though at one point I sort of reached for something he was leaving and he had to make it QUITE clear that HE was going to finish the bread, and that he WASN'T sharing it with me. Dessert finished, he reached into his wallet for his share of the bill, so that worry left me. We got down to the street with the feeling that we were STILL stoned, but not quite so highly, and that we'd be able to negotiate the rest of the way. When we got to Broadway he said he'd be walking back down to the hotel where he was staying tonight, and I was left to wend my way home myself. Back in the apartment at 9:30 it was obvious that I wasn't going to do anything useful, so the only thing I did was smoke some more, dress comfortably, sit down in the chair and listen to more records through the headset. The clangors and clamors and sonorities of classical music seemed to become too much for me after a bit, and I put on some of the rock, wondering when John was going to come home, and ended up with Beethoven's Ninth in honor of "Clockwork Orange," but I was more anxious for the record to be OVER so that I could go to bed than I was in the music, so it wasn't a very exciting passage. John came in about 10:45, and I suggested that he smoke, and maybe he even did, but we were both so tired from the long day (even though I commented that I hadn't DONE anything) that we just lay down in bed and he told me about the adventures he had that day in Washington, nothing spectacular, merely that they didn't know what THEY wanted to do, and it was rather up to HIM to tell them what direction they should go in, and I said it was EXACTLY like my job as a Program Analyst with IBM, since so many customers had no idea how to use THEIR data with a computer. We snuggled and smiled at each other and shut the light off before 11:30, and I had no trouble falling asleep.

DIARY 2834 3/11/72

STONED MOVIES WITH ROGER

It took a long time to search the telephone book pages to find the number of the theater, and the walk outside seemed endless. We hadn't had lunch so decided to stop for pizza but had the wit to bypass the 40¢ slices on 58th Street, going up to the other place on Broadway for 35¢, where the paranoia of stonedness came on in full force. People who looked at us were looking because we were stoned and it showed. The two blacks joking behind us were ready to slip knives between our ribs and take our tiny wallets because we were defenseless. We seemed to chew forever, and I feared my voice while ordering would slur off into incomprehensibility. After eons we were finished and got across the street to the theater, where we were a bit late for the start of "Play Misty for Me," but it became clear quickly that Clint Eastwood was playing a vulnerable disc jockey terrorized by a psychotic knife hacker only slightly more terrifying than the little old lady in "Psycho." When the knife lashed out the first few times I thought it was only the stonedness that made it so awful, but in another example it became clear that it WASN'T the bloodless off-screen bleeding of "Repulsion" but "Wild Bunch" explicit for each slit and slice. But the attacks weren't of heart-attack suddenness since the camera always rather coolly showed her detaching herself from the shadows with carving knife raised above her head or playing with it before hand, so it wasn't entirely shock-shock. Candy tasted awfully good throughout the films. Then "Sometimes a Great Notion" had the aura of impending doom: from experience with "Misty," from Henry Fonda's pre-opening fall from a tree that left him looking like a lopsided hat-rack in his cast, from the danger of the logging operations. Somehow Michael Sarazin and Richard Jaekel and Paul Newman always looked like they were about to kiss each other, and I went winging onto homosexual thoughts which would make fabulous films, wishing they were as acceptable as nude mixed love scenes. The drowning of Richard Jaekel under the tree was quite graphic but not totally convincing at the end, but the tearing of Henry Fonda by a split tree was wincingly good. Almost unstoned by the end of the films, and the walk back home was almost normal.

DIARY 3181 7/19/72

INTERVIEW WITH RAJU

Mortified to be late, particularly since their office clock is ten minutes ahead at 10:20, but talk to him and he's impressed with my trip through India and he tells me about the newspaper, is disappointed that I don't have a background in economic, political, and financial matters, then finds out that I've a background in physics, and he strikes out onto the tack of finding what the Indians have done in research and application in physics, starting with Raman, and he expands until I point out he's talking about somewhat more than an article in the paper, which I get a copy of, and he reminds me that the Times comes out with special supplements on various topics and this could be one of those, and he goes upward to include studies by Indians in the United States, fellowships and grants that might be available here for Indian students, jobs for graduates, then advances to patent descriptions so that American industry could become acquainted with Indian patents and copyrights, and we begin to think in terms of monographs, and finally he says that it shouldn't be difficult to get financing to make this finally into a book about Indians in science. He says that it would be part-time, however, and even hints that he'd rather the work be voluntary, so I decide to show him what I can do by Friday at 5:30 in setting up an outline for a book and in starting on a sample article, and it'll include research, publications, foundations, scholarly work, interviews with people at Columbia, reading and researching at the library, and seems to go on forever, though he's reluctant to talk about what he wants to PAY me. John says that he always talks about $100 a day then comes down to $7 an hour, but I'm willing to think about $5 an hour, so for 20 hours a week, that would be $100 a week, which seems more reasonable to me. He cautions me about diving into a book, saying that I should start small, and if it builds into a book, fine. I say he WANTS to see a grandiose idea first, so I'll spend 1/4 of my time on a book outline, and 3/4 of my time on the first article, probably on crystallography, and Friday we'll have to talk about wages since I fear him TAKING my ideas, paying me nothing, and trying to milk whoever ELSE comes into his office.

DIARY 3241 8/25/72

PHONE CALL FROM HOME

At 10:50 Rita calls, saying she called the old number and got this one. When we're finished talking about her chances of staying here before or after Labor Day, she asks Mom if she wants to talk to me, and obviously she says no, so I say "Put her on!" knowing she'll be pissed if I don't talk to her, so she comes on, says "Yeah!" and I ask "How are you?" and she grunts again, so I flail around, trying "Working?" and we get off into my work status, and she asks "You shacking up with John?" And I say, "I refuse to answer such a silly question," and later she says something about the "kind of son" she's raised. Then she blurts, "Don't even ask how I AM," and I shout back that I DID, and things are pretty shouty for a bit, but then it turns out she just got back from a week in Florida, on the Gulf Coast, trying to get rid of some bronchitis, and just as in Hawaii, the sun and the clear air cleared up EVERYTHING that seemed to be wrong with her system, so she's REALLY thinking about moving to Florida (except that she hated Disney World). Then she gets into Grandma, and she DOES sound bad, even asking someone for a glass of water rather than getting up for herself. Helen refuses to help her out, won't even get groceries for her, but though Mom's offered to get groceries, Grandma refuses: "Yeah, she's stubborn, and I inherited it!" "She's afraid to think about dying," and I think Mom says as much about HER impressions as about Grandma's thoughts. She refuses to see a doctor after one recommended something to her that should have been given to someone with a far HIGHER blood pressure, she can't sleep at night because the bed shakes with the beating of her heart, and the damn dog of Helen's keeps her awake, but she refuses to get an electrocardiogram, and Mom insists that even if she WENT over to take her to the doctor's, she wouldn't go. I doubt it. She insists that I write to her but shouldn't call her because she's very hard of hearing: "After all she IS 84." I thought she was just 80! Michael's been in town, too, and the other Grandma sounds fine. So she ends up by hassling me again for not writing, or not caring about anyone. "You're just waiting for a telegram telling you that she and I died," and I have to admit that's not TOO far from the truth.

DIARY 3285 9/21/72

CONVERSATION AT LEWISBURG

Kathy says one of the students started talking about the difference, or the similarity, between "art, artistry, artifice, and artificial" (which I think has lovely semantic-philosophical possibilities, but no one follows up that line of thinking). She spends about $15 each month to get her hair fluffed, but she says it's worth it since the severity of her face and natural hair would lead anyone to think she was a stern, unaffectionate person. I was led to comment that it may have been the way she thought about herself BEFORE, but that I wouldn't have the tendency to think she was that way NOW with her animated voice and body, her thin lips in fact stretching to frequent smiles, her little eyes often lit with amusement. John got into some of his ideas about dressing, and I volunteered the strength of mind over hair-curl, saying that I'd always had STRAIGHT hair and look at me now! With all the wine going around, with Tom's infrequent VERY funny sallies, with Joe's commenting about some of Tom and Kathy's exchanges: "It's beginning to sound like a family ARGUMENT," with delightful talk about how quickly children pick up talk about sexual practices, which I enlivened with Marty's story about Chris's "I've got a penis, daddy has a penis, a bigger one; you just have HAIR." Then there was the intimate look exchanged with Joe as he talked about his sexual openness and his Slavic intensity and mop of curly black hair over his red embroidered peasant shirt, with his strong hands and his legs always thrown out at askew angles, made a very interesting talk partner. Tom seemed very sleepy, nodding at the conversation in the ruined living room over the fireplace fire, and Kathy said later that they had a long conversation about his being ABLE, even as host, to go to sleep, and the next morning we talked long about Krishnamurti, whom she was reading when "her" Tom wasn't reading the "Eagle" book given by Tom Johnson, and death, and freedom, and what I believed in and what she would like to do: not only fuss with the children and her class but have more to do with the inmates of Lewisburg prison, liking my idea of a rap session with them about women, and more intellectual contact with me, which I thought, unspoken, that the society of the sophisticated town would have to get used to, but she IS a flirt, too.

DIARY 3287 9/21/72

THE GREAT FLOOD HITS LEWISBURG

Tom was studying at the Moravian University and the children, not spoken of, were probably out of town, and Kathy said that on Thursday night the waters were just up to the brink and there was nothing on the news about any possibility of flood. Then during the early morning the fire alarms in town went off, without the following buzzes which told the location, and she woke to find that it was rising VERY slowly up the lawn, so she started moving things upstairs, and during the morning and afternoon she asked for help and got it from the many volunteers from town, country and university, and things were all moved up to the ground floor (previous high mark in the 100-year old house was about five feet up the basement wall). During the evening the waters entered the cellar, but they were rising so slowly she went to sleep somewhere else without worrying about the place: and still there was no news about a possible further crest. On Saturday, however, it had gone far beyond anything known, was rising even faster, and she started transferring things from the ground floor, now doubled, to the upper stories, getting two complete floors of stuff into two already-filled floors. At a time of desperation, she noted with wonderment, when they had three or four enormous items to be moved up the narrow stairs, two 6-6 giants knocked at the door, asked if they could help, moved up the items without trouble, and vanished without being seen again. There was no lookint in wealthy Lewisburg but in the poorer sections of Mt. Carmel and Sunbury there was much of it. The surrounding areas were flooded long since, and after the crest sometimes in the morning, the waters went down VERY fast, so that in a day or so the very GREEN grass on the lawn cold be seen in ironic contrast with the mud-encased walls and streets, which had to be hosed by bucket brigades from the river before it solidified, and again crews of people went from house to house to help, and they scraped and scraped and let everything dry, but still the plaster was falling off, and she really didn't know what to do about the living room, which had to dry before it could be repaired, but she DIDN'T want to have to scrape the whole thing, very expensive, but she didn't know how well the repairs would hold up if it weren't taken down to the bare boards!

DIARY 3332 19/10/72

LETTER TO ELAINE

Dear Elaine,

There are itches and there are needs and there are things in between which I don't know much about yet. But I want to look at them.

Before this morning I wanted to write you a letter, and I wanted to write something for the River. I hadn't written anything for the River for a long time and I was feeling guilty about it. That was a kind of an itch which was part of a need which now seems like something in between.

The things that are in between depend a lot on other people.

Right this morning there was a series of itches and needs and things in between that started this whole thing going.
The alarm rang a bit early.
I know I always have a need for sex, but this is something basic --- down inside --- and it manifests itself in different ways.
Many times I have itches for sex, but itches are itches and sometimes even THINKING about scratching them makes them go away.
The itches and needs are of course connected, but I'm not sure how; however, I know it has a lot to do with other people.

The most important person in my life at this time is John.

So this morning when the alarm rang a bit early I was very tired (up late last night with proofreading, but that's only a fact).
The need for sex, which I know I have, surfaced as an itch, so I started to scratch it in a way that made it something else.
I started trying to generate at least an itch in John.
And, in a fairly easy, lazy way, I succeeded.
The now existing itch in John elevated (don't smile) my itch to something in between, but it wasn't yet connected to the need.
I know that because sometimes when I scratch something in between, it goes away; so it was really only a strong itch.
But sometimes when I scratch something in between, it gets stronger, and grows to become part of a need.

This morning something in between DID get stronger, became part of a need: John's itch grew to a need.
So we had very satisfying sex, since both itches grew to a need.
(Yes, sadly, there are some ragged edges in here, but I don't feel a NEED to investigate them, so I won't.)

Afterward I lay lazily in bed and thought about the sex and thought about the differences between itches and needs.
And discovered that there were things in between the depended on other people.

That led me to think about you, the letter I got from you yesterday, and the fact that I felt I wanted to write to you.
Lots of times I feel I want to write to you, but thinking about it reveals that it's only an itch, so I don't write at that point.
But when I feel I want to write to you, and thinking about it reveals a need, I write.
So this morning, after sex, after the alarm rang a bit early, I knew I was going to write to you.
That immediately brought up the fact that I wanted to write something for the River, so at this point I had a conflict.
I knew that I wanted to write something about itches and needs for the River: a rather generalized, impersonal essay-type thing.
But I very much wanted --- needed --- to write to you about your letter and your "something in between" with the River.

Into this conflict between two things, as many times seems to happen with me, floated a third thing, just to complicate things.
Someone professionally connected with writing told me that at many times my sentences go on forever; I had to cut them smaller.
And that resolved itself into writing lengthwise on the paper and limiting sentences to the length of the paper itself.
So I decided to write, whatever it was I was going to write, lengthwise on paper.

Then came the dilemma I usually encounter when I'm going to write: what will it be EXACTLY, and where do I start it?
The need to write you a letter gradually overwhelmed my "something in between" for River-writing in a sneaky way.
What YOU seemed to most need is something for YOU, and not something for the River.
But you, in case you didn't know it before, ARE the River, and the River IS you.
And writing to you IS writing to the River.
And since you've probably told more people than me about you "fighting the urge to let the River die," something will happen.
People will talk to you and write to you and telephone you and maybe even pray at you about that, one way or the other.
You'll get praise, you'll get "Odes to a River-Death," you'll be told the River was dead ALREADY.
(Which reminds me of a point I'll say now so I won't forget it: YOU have written little, VERY little, for the River lately!)
(I've thought about that, and probably you've thought about that; I'm sure others have; what DOES that mean?)

What REALLY got me out of bed was the thought of starting it, "It's 8:20 am on October 17," but that didn't work, did it?
But it got me out of bed and started, and that's the important thing, isn't it?
So it's not what you THINK you'll do that's important, it's want you DO do.
I guess everyone knows what it feels like to decide to do something and then look back a week later and find you haven't done it.
Contrarily, there's the awful feeling you get when you've decided NOT to do something, and before you know it you've DONE it!
Well, sometimes it can be a NICE feeling, too.

But it seems to me that it all has to do with itches and needs and things in between that depend on other people.

A need is a very deep-felt personal thing and, if you're relatively liberated, you cat on your needs DESPITE other people.
An itch is a rather shallow personal thing and, if you're relatively liberated, you scratch REGARDLESS of other people.
But sometimes scratching an itch leads to something in between, which hasn't yet been elevated (OK here?) to a need.

I guess if you had NO contact with other people, you'd scratch itches and act on needs and not HAVE things in between.

But it's hard to get away from people, even if you WANT to; but this is pointless since most of us don't WANT to get away.
We want to be involved with other people, but we're many times not sure HOW to get, or stay, involved with them.
(I don't know where THIS came from; it wasn't there when I STARTED; but the important things is to START, and then it all happens!)

And that brings me to your "fighting the urge to let the River die."
I can think of only one question in response.
Why?
Not "Why do you have the urge to let the River die," since if you have it, you have it, and there's no use "why?ing" what IS.
But "Why are you fighting the urge to let the River die?"

One step backward: looking at the urge to let the River die.
Is it an itch? Then you've scratched by telling people about it, elevating it to something in between.
People's responses to you might indicate where you NEEDS in the matter lie: there are lots of possibilities.

You might find you NEED the River and its continued existence, and therefore continue its existence.
You might find you DON'T need the River, and discontinue its existence with relief.
Or you might find it's not as simple and clear-cut as all that.
But that would mean the River isn't a NEED, one way or the other, inside YOURSELF, but it depends on other people.
So that means that the River isn't a NEED, it's something else.

One step forward: looking at you fighting the urge to let the River die.
I hope you're not fighting some battle inside yourself, because internecine warfare is bloodiest of all.
But it seems fairly simple, at least to me: either YOU know what YOU want, or you don't.
If YOU know what YOU want (like you know you want to let the River die), then it's transparently simple: let the River die.
If YOU don't know what you want, then you let it up to OTHER PEOPLE to decide what you want FOR you.
There are lots of ways to do that.
You tell many people about it, wait for the responses, count up the pros and cons, and the highest count wins.
Or you weigh the counts: this particular pro is worth three little cons, but this con is worth two big pros, and THEN count up.
Or you get a pro, or a con, that outweighs ALL the cons, or pros, and you act on that ALONE.

But that all means that the River isn't a NEED, it depends on people so it's something else.

So where have we gotten to this point?
Either the River's existence or death is a NEED; it DOESN'T depend on people, so YOU are obliged to act according to your NEED.
Or the River's existence or death depends on other people, and you're obliged to act according to what THEY say.

Fine.

Now, those "things in between" that depend on other people reflect itches and needs themselves.
These itches and needs ARE other people, and the ways you want them, or don't want them, to relate to YOU.
Everyone needs other people.
But we need other people in different WAYS at different TIMES.
If you need someone to be loving and someone starts being very intellectual, you don't need them in that way at that time.
If you need someone to be intellectual and someone starts being very loving, you don't need them in that way at that time.
If you need someone to be ANYTHING, and they're NOTHING, you either have to find someone ELSE or fall back on YOURSELF.

Lots of my itches ended up needs, which ended up in the River; I suspect that's true of many contributors, and maybe of yourself.
Some of my "things in between" ended up only itches, which I scratched and got rid of.
Sometimes the River met my needs, giving my appreciation, humor, intellectual ideas, deep feelings, a feeling of kinship.
Sometimes the River didn't meet my needs, frustrating me, turning me off, causing me to ask questions I didn't like.
Like "Do I really NEED the River?"
Like "I can see that that individual needs the River, but wouldn't it be better if they took their needs somewhere ELSE?"
Or sometimes I looked at it from a greater distance.
Like "Gee, it's nice; I wonder how I'd feel if it weren't there anymore."
Like "It must be a hell of a lot of work; I wonder what Elaine gets out of the whole thing?"
Like "Wow, her mailbox must be full every day; that must be nice."
Like "Whew, there must be some days when I bet she wished she'd never THOUGHT of the River in the first place."
Or, even, "My God, how will it every END? --- since the ONE SURE FACT about the River is that it WON'T go on FOREVER."
(Remember those crazy bits of fluff that, if they NEVER hit the ground again, would cause your wish to come true?)
*W*H*E*N*?

But a "When" question is fairly easy to answer.
It happened ALREADY
It's happening NOW.
It's not happening YET.

So the River could have died already, and nothing I'll say about it would change that, and that's the way it IS.
If it's happening now, I guess it could happen in two ways.
Quietly, with no more issues, only a lot of words and feelings going back and forth between you and all your friends.
Loudly, with one final issue, which would try to say why, or why, or why not.
And, as a sort of fantasy, that final issue would be full of addresses so that if X wanted to continue to talk to Y, they could.
So that if A and B and C wanted to continue with the brook or trickle or feeder branch --- or ocean --- they could.
So that if D and E wanted to say how sorry they were about it, they could.
And F and G could say how glad they were.
And H could temporize exhaustively, as usual.
And I and J and K would establish a mutual suicide pact.
And L would applaud.
And M would weep.
And N and O, forming a marriage of NO, could go to sleep.
And P would.
And Q would continue being.
And R you ready for what seems to have just happened here?

Example of instant itch, instant scratch, and accomplished change of direction.

(But to finish the above, if the River hasn't died YET, I'm looking forward with as much eagerness as I always have to the next issue --- and that's even worth breaking the artificial mold to say!)

Honestly, if anyone could bring originality even to the institution of divorce, it WOULD be La Restifo.
It sort of SOUNDS like hubby is staying in the house with the chillun, which sounds refreshing right there.
Loved your "electric eye opener for the garage door."
I'm happy that John's included in #28, and so is he.
His first reaction was "How could she have taken it in pieces. It was all one thing."
Then he looked at it again and said, "Well, I guess it does stand on its own, doesn't it?"
And I said, "Yeah, she does it all the time and things get better, more often than not."
Your and Joe's and Chris's and "ex"'s dinner should be v-e-e-e-r-r-r-y in --- teresting.
Our invitation to you was not necessarily only for birthday days, and since you should have MORE time, we now EXPECT you.
But let us know.
"Please write something to urge me on either one way or t'other," you said in your letter.
And you get this back.
Wow.

I responded to an ad in the Village Voice for a part-time proofreader and am now working for Creative Book Services.
I started as a proofreader who had to be trained, became an expert in about a week, and hinted around that I was a computer "ex."
Crebos (they HATE "CBS") has about a dozen computer books to copyedit, which they hate doing, so they gave ME one to try.
Bid the first two chapters and they thought I was a blooming genius, so now I have a purchase order for $275 to copyedit one book for them in one week, THIS week, which is ANOTHER reason why I have to close this letter now.
Love the work, and as chance would have it, have gotten in OTHER freelance work from Harcourt Brace, which I was doing last night.
My freelance rate (since I cheat, I'm such a genius) is about $7 an hour, which isn't bad at ALL, if there were only enough of it.
The Rivers arrived (and was pleased to see that they WERE rescued from the mails) and DID chuckle about the BOOZE doing.
But then ANY child of yours IS a child of YOURS.
Yes, indeed, the thoughts of all the movings ARE neuron-inciting. GOT to end; let me know how it keeps going. Best love, Bob

DIARY 3380 11/6/72

COINCIDENCE NIGHT AT ARNIE'S PARTY

Norma started it all by visiting her surviving aunt in Diez (pronounced Dietz), Germany, and her daughter Ruth telling her that she's seen my picture in Newsday from speaking at the Suffolk County Police Department. Then the blustery Avalon enters and says she knows a friend of mine, Marty Sokol, through Helen, who turns out to be the South African who doesn't like kaffirs and who cooks monkey gland steak. Later when she says they went to the Eulenspiegel Society, I'm amazed, and when she announced that she's on the phone service at Community Sex Information from 6-9 on Thursdays, I can't resist saying that I'm at Mattachine from 6-9:30, and she files through her mental organization file and says, "Oh, the gay men's group," at which point John reported that Lana left the room abruptly. She gets opera tickets, and I wanted to cozy up to her to see what I could see for the rest of this season. When the Glorias entered, I was amazed to find that one was married to an Indian and the other had been to India for a number of years, and that sort of made up for the fact that I just couldn't get into the conversation between Arthur "Buddy" Fromer, the publisher of "Everywhere on $5 a Day," and his relatives, someone and Peter Press, who talked about relatives and seemed determined not to get me into the conversation to say how I wished I could work for him on an enlarged edition of some of the GREAT places to go in India. John, Lana's husband, had a lovely crotch and seemed interested in orgies, and I was dreaming about inviting him to a Tsi-Dun "just to see what it's like." Then I was introduced to Avy Offit, and I exclaimed about her name, and then she said she knew Dr. Kaplan of Cornel Medical Center and in fact she was IN the class that John and I gave with Bob Milne for Mattachine! Her husband is editor of "Intellectual Digest," which John pooh-poohed until it turned out he might accept an article about music in the 60's from John, and no amount of ribbing John would get him to admit it was "using" of him to do so. Then Pope said he wanted to look again at my chart, was going to WRITE A LOT for publication, and I immediately wanted to become his copyeditor, but then I left and ALL those things ended.

DIARY 3583 2/3/73

PRATT PARTY

Harry directs me after I find my way to Myrtle Avenue, and we park right in front of the house, going in through the cellar door. The two guys who greet us seem gay, and there's a moment of wonder when I see the table piled high with coats and there's a ratty fur on top: is Bob Kelly from ACC here? Then the women appear and I go into the kitchen through the boxy two-floors made into a dance floor and balcony central area to see a VERY pregnant woman drinking the potent punch which has given her eight-month fetus the hiccups which I can distinctly feel, though they're quite slow. Have some punch, look at someone reading through the decidedly pornographic National Lampoon, and watch the desultory dancing on the floor, which is surpassed in interest by the shoes and long shocks of hair hanging over from the second floor. Up and sit at the edge of the balcony after having talked to Abigail in the kitchen for my only other contact for the evening. Watch and watch as people pass and dance back and forth to the music blaring from the speakers atop the baroque fireplace which sadly doesn't work, and then Bernie comes out to say they're smoking inside. Indeed: with a long condenser pipe filled with water with a foil-lined bowl so far away from the mouthpiece that someone else must light it for the smoker, and on a bed of grass is put nice-sized chunks of hash. The circle has about fifteen in it, and Bernie dazedly passes it past me and Abigail, who isn't smoking, but then I get it, it keeps going around, the circle gets smaller, it seems to turn into an "I can take is longer than YOU can" feeling, and finally I have enough and leave to find the floor covered with flailing dancers. One Japanese girl, dressed frankly in a slip and a nightgown cover-up, has taken off her cover-up and is literally prancing around the floor with dazzlingly fast series of knee-flexes to her chin, and her arms have perfect freedom in all 720°. Others get her spirit of the dance, and there are usually more men than women on the floor, which gives me the stoned impression that ANYTHING could literally happen with this group that didn't really seem hung up enough to be worried about some guy making a pass at someone else. The music seemed to get louder and louder, and I found myself downstairs watching the dancers more closely, noting that guys DID actually seem to be dancing with guys, though the dances involved no touching, and that it would pattern itself on the music: every so often someone would start clapping, or singing syllables, or stamping their feet in a pattern on the floor, and everyone on the floor would follow them, so that it began to take on the appearance of an entertainment, and my mind went back to the "Strange Festival" which was a party that turned into an entertainment, and I thought of this in the same way, except that the entertainment was even more skillfully disguised by the party attendees. Bernie finally asked me to dance, and we flipped ourselves along with the rest of them, and finally I just began joining in by myself, turning among the dancers like a wayward comet until they began lining up in a sort of square-dance pattern and people began passing back and forth up the center doing their thing, and then the orientation would shift and everyone would be dancing with someone else. The Japanese began making long excursions around the room, arms flying off like spears in every direction, her face beaming with pleasure, while others chugged like locomotives back and forth in a small area, and others turned like binary stars in elliptical orbits around each other. Finally the entire group seemed to fragment individually, but coalesce as an entity, so that everyone seemed to be grooving together to the characteristics of the music with such force and gratification that there would be spontaneous outbursts of applause from the dancers when a record was finished. Later, when I went back to observing after more hash, Bernie began chasing the Japanese girl in and out of the stone pillars leading into the kitchen, and the dance took on the characteristics of partnership and solo turns, sometimes getting into trios and quartets that all danced together, as often three guys and one gal as not. Then Bernie said it was time to leave, and though I was completely zonked, I let Harry guide me back to Myrtle Avenue, and though they were obviously worried about my sanity, I mollified my driving around by explaining the one-way of Hicks, and they seemed calmed and let me drive finally into the garage. Then we had sex.

DIARY 3696 3/18/73

ROGER'S "ACAPULCO GOLD"

His hair and bead trimmed close to his handsome face, his shark's tooth earring more apparent, his face fuller and with more color from eating better, probably, even his body in a new red nylon sweater and red velvet trousers with a purple chiffon scarf knotted about his neck, he looked more attractive than he ever did, and he kept watching my crotch, displaying the gentle curve at his inseam, and put down this large envelope of what he said he knew WASN'T Acapulco Gold, but it was just as good as it was. He'd had some since he got it yesterday and was rolling some now, and I had formerly said I had to wait for the company, but it was too much to resist, so I said I would, went over for the pipe and filled it up, and while I was going under he told me about the clock he wanted to make with an engineer friend of his which would pick up signals for the EXACT time from the Washington Observatory, would digitize them when plugged in, and then would STOP when it was pulled out of the wall and STAY AT THE SAME time until it was plugged in again, at which time a correction factor would be applied and the CORRECT time would show on the face. My mind raced off into the "trip" implications of that: stopping time then INSTANTLY making it up again, though I intuited something by saying, "It's just like having a light cord that you pull to turn the lights off" and obviously the clock KEEPS RUNNING at some level of its circuitry, but the electricity from outside is necessary to make a VISUAL presentation of the actual time. I can't see how each unit would have a "memory" and "accept a correction factor" for the REAL time --- it just stops DISPLAYING the time. But my mind was off into infinite orgasms, the eternal hot fudge sundae, and peak experiences that would last a lifetime, after which instant the body would turn into dust. I sat next to him, lolling back and hoping he would attack me, hoping I could refrain from attacking him. He told about his gal friend and her brother leaving the house, how he might be moving; I said how WE might be moving, and then he got on the phone and I figured I HAD to get ready for the LaRue's, so I went into the other apartment, shaved, brushed my teeth, and even though it was 6:15 and they could arrive any minute, I hopped into the shower. WHAT A TRIP! I was aware of the automaticity of the motions that we do so frequently: soaping, scrubbing, rinsing, drying, so that while the head trips away on Moody Blues music played on the hi-fi of the brain, the hands and body acquiesce to having a shower. Roger came in to say something and I fantasized him pulling the curtain aside to attack me, or me pulling the curtain aside to see him jerking off, but no such luck. He'd gone back across the way and was packing up when I got back. I said that I was totally high, said that I was having trips of my own, and got absolutely no erotic message back from him, and that made me self-conscious, which helped bring me down from my peak, and he blew my mind once again with some closing topic of conversation and then went to the door. I thanked him and somehow our hands got together and I simply didn't want to let go, and his hand rested in mine, clasping with equal pressure, not pulling to be let go, while our eyes spoke together, but again I got absolutely no come-on and finally, guiltily, shook his hand again a few times and let it go, when it cooperated and dropped to his side. He left some little bit in a bottle, and I debated not telling John about it, but I felt so close to him last night as he moved about putting on an excellent supper that I just felt I HAD to share it with him (and what would happen if he FOUND it, anyway, as he was obviously into SOMETHING when I got back from Nancy's since the bidis were out AGAIN --- one smoke lasting through a number of sessions, it seems), so I told him about it but he was too tired at 1 am to smoke any of it. Marveled about Roger's being in my life at ALL: his bizarre good looking face and eyes, his colorful clothing, his saying that he'd keep in touch even if we DID move down to Washington, my feeling that he DID like me: he said he had nothing to do, came down to see his sister, who wasn't home, and wanted to share his highness, so he took the chance of coming here. I said he was welcome to stay the night, but he had DRIVEN down from Norwalk, and I said we'd stop to see him when we went to see the Landas in Shelton, and fantasized about the LaRue's reactions if they'd come in while he was still here, wreaths of pot smoke still in the air.

DIARY 3761 4/29/73

NANCY'S FAREWELL PARTY

Faggoty typesetter with a pregnant-looking gal with a strange first name who lived for years in France, Nonoy, who with Hank and Tom painted the hideous auto-accident that covered one whole wall; Tom came with his petite, helpless bitch of a wife that I don't see how he got involved with, Ruth came with her husband, a red-head, saying that SHE turned down the ACC offer, which makes it sound nice; a girl who'd worked there before, who'd just returned from a year in India, but she must have been on some kind of downer (or I turned her off completely) because there was no contact at ALL. The wine was passed around and I drank more and more: starting with burgundy, Elizabeth poured me some sherry by mistake, I graduated to rosé when the burgundy gave out, and ended with the Almaden Chablis. (SMASHED on booze, see p. 3780) Hank tried to heat the spinach pies John bought (with my money) from Atlantic Avenue, but something started smelling (Hank later said it was only a paper bag over the pilot light) and they turned it off, so they were pretty awful. Ed arrived talking about his new cooperative he wanted to buy on Grand Concourse, Marjorie Hirschburg was her usual friendly self; Barry showed up without his dog but WITH a pair of leather trousers that showed a DECIDED bulge in front, and he was STILL so friendly and chatty that I just couldn't stop talking to him, even taking down his address where he's working with a fellow who allows astrology to rule his life, co-workers, jobs, business calls, and everything. Hank says he's a marvel to watch. I ask if I can come down and Barry beams and says, "Flattery's always nice, sure you can watch me." Ugly Aussie gal-friends from Elizabeth's past are there, talking about how much they like the country; none of the blacks are there, which is a relief, and Nonoy sits on a radiator talking to no one for the whole evening. I start talking with Leslie's replacement (who's ended up with a great job) and her boy friend, the nicest piece there, who ALSO seemed to be on something, and then Nancy came in and took my gift ($5 in an envelope) and Betsy said I could borrow some instructions on making an index, and John liked the place so much we didn't leave until 1 am, thinking it just a FINE evening.

DIARY 4043 8/12/73

PETER ROONEY

About to give up my membership in the American Society of Indexers when I read the summarized report by Peter Rooney on the costs and salaries of indexers and the fact that he WANTS some indexers, so I renew my membership and send him my resume, saying that I'm interested. He calls me at work on Tuesday and I arrange to go to his place at 6 today to get an orientation of his programming system to assist in indexing because he has a 500-page Congressional Report on Energy Resources in the US which is ALL tables, NO text, so that it'll be essentially indexing the HEADINGS of the tables. It's in manuscript now, but they want it by Sept. 1, so it'll be indexed in manuscript, than RE-PAGED when the galleys are finished. He says over the phone that the MS is marked, then KPed, then there's a computer run, the printout is edited, re-keypunched, rerun, and the final index printed out. I get to his place, sweating in the heat, and climb the five flights to apartment 64, and he's a shy, rather startled-faced fellow who seems to be gay by his gentleness, his staring at my shirt and crotch, and his roommate, who's somewhat younger and cuter than he is. He'd come out from California a year ago, and I marveled at his skill in getting himself into ASI so thoroughly in such a short time. His computer system is rather simple minded, producing an incredible nested outline form of index (up to 15 levels) which is then massaged and run, sometimes a couple of times, and then, sadly, the grand sub-sub-sub-etc headings are broken down into the printer-required THREE levels. I compare it to painting a grand picture and then cutting it into postcards, so why paint the picture in the first place? Also, his "40% for the indexer" strikes me as a bit LITTLE, not to mention subsidizing him, and the system would be a PAIN to learn for the first few times. Get there at 5:20 and stay till 7:40, finally saying no, but he NEEDS it done so as not to lose a contact, hasn't time to do it himself, and I ask if I can do it "normally" and he only takes 5% for his work as an agent --- maximum of $40 on an $800, 40¢/line, 2000 line job. Told him I did 6 indexes already for ACC and Crebos, HAD a manual system in the works (which he wanted me to writ up, and John said he should NEVER see it) and he gave me a copy of HIS system but said he'd call me on Tuesday when he got a response from the EDITOR of the book.

DIARY 4252 12/4/73

MOM IS IMPOSSIBLE (on Russia charter flight)

She screams at me in the hallway, everyone looking, then demands that I carry some of her bags over, pushing them under my feet with her foot, saying that she has to keep her THIRD bag with her at all times and that I shouldn't crush her hat on the top of it. She's hungry, starved, hasn't eaten anything but a hot dog all day, and demands to eat. I'd mentioned to the gal behind "She's my mother," and she looks in amazement and says "I know why you said that," and of course Mom wants to know WHAT I said. She talks to the guy who's all anxious about getting his flight, pressing him for information he obviously doesn't want to give. She walks VERY slowly, hollering all the way, wanting to know things that I don't know, and then not believing me when I say "I don't know." She doesn't know what to eat, says it's too expensive, doesn't like the tables, then gives me the water that I wanted. She loses her head-net, makes me go back to check where she'd left it, and repeats fifty times, "I'm going to miss that." Into the lounge and there's CONSTANT comment about "Look at her, look at THAT, where does she think SHE'S going," even when they CAN hear. She shows me photos and comments unfavorably about Rita's chum and wants her to marry someone else. She bitches about Helen and Edward and Grandma and everyone else, saying that Rita and I are the worst, dangling her $22,000 on the stock market in front of me, bullying me into guessing who the third person in her new will is. Onto the plane, complaining about smoking section (actually, later they say there IS none on a charter), I finally talk to the guy next to me (who seems to be pressing his leg against mine), and she overhears and calls me stupid and says he should smoke all he wants, then bitches when he DOES. Seat's too small, drink's too strong, and I'm driven to say, "I'm not LISTENING to you when you complain." Finally, after dinner, feign a headache, but she talks through my earphones, won't give me her seat when I want to look out and she wants to sleep, demands out to walk around, complains about heat, cold, and EVERYTHING, including wanting where MY elbows want to be on the seat. When we turn back, I DETERMINE that BOTH of us can't go to Russia or she'd absolutely RUIN it for me, as she has the flight!

 

 

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