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1968 2 of 2

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 1. Wake about 10, and Kevin's already blended the pancake batter. Allan's sinus headache from last night is gone, but he still feels poorly, and we all express proper sympathy. Breakfast comes surprisingly late, finishing about noon, and then there're chores which occupy us: Allan washes the old trunk and wipes the metal with linseed oil, Peter helps and rushes about looking imperious, even while Allan switches to shellacking the shutters. I grab the razor blade and begin scraping windows, and make quite a spectacle in my striped bell-bottoms and blue turtleneck, newly purchased from town last night, scraping the windows on the outside when two faggot acquaintances of Kevin's drive up in their station wagon, make fragmented conversation with me, then go in the back door to distract Peter and Kevin, who seem perfectly willing to be distracted (as Kevin was willing to be distracted Friday night with Phil, or whatever his name was, who was living as a caretaker in the loaded house owned by the old widow who married the old man who had sold Kevin the house he had, and eventually everyone left the room while Kevin talked on and on, eventually saying that he knew a lot about cars, that he watched the place for him to see that the heat didn't go off, by watching the red alarm light in the window, and saying that he was lonely and probably a repressed faggot, anyway) by the two as Allan and I, irritated by their swishy accents, preferred to continue with our work. They also squashed the vague plans to attend a 1 pm auction in town, and we worked through to about three, then went around to more auction and antique places, while the luncheon casserole bubbled in the oven. Again we got back just after dark, and I had about seen my fill of cold barns, stores converted into antiquity displays, and places which were closed on Sundays, thankfully. Ate the casserole and the white meat of the chicken left over from yesterday, and packed and finished fussing about the house, so that we finally left about 6 pm, with the roads thoroughly dark, and the promise that I could drive the car for about an hour. I had anticipatory qualms before getting behind the wheel, and for the first fifteen minutes I exclaimed about the differences between this station wagon and the camper, probably making everyone nervous into the bargain, but when I got the feel of the car, I didn't feel particularly nervous about passing on the fenced sections where Kevin said he was afraid to pass, and even felt safe at 45 going around the turns I had previously made at 50, which now had a 35 mph limit posted for them. We got back into the city about 9, and Kevin kindly drove everyone home. I bought the Times and read through it until about midnight, getting started on the crosswords, but stopping because I felt tired about 11:30. Into bed, but the meals for the day weren't enough, so I got out of bed about 12:15 to boil myself a couple of eggs and read an excellent article in the Times Magazine about Americans HATING their children, and back into bed at 12:45.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 2. Woke about 9 and lay until somewhat after 10, feeling terribly tired and very lazy. Meditate after fussing around a bit, and do a bit of the typing for the address book before I get around to exercising, and it's terribly difficult. Eat breakfast and it's time to get out to the meditation check, not even having time to shave and shower because Patty and Marty called and took up so much of my time. So I walk over to the Center looking like a slob in blue jeans, but the blond-bearded guy looks about as messy as I do, so it's no loss. Mrs. Peters has caught the 3 pm shuttle to Cambridge, so Margaret Collins (or something like that) is in charge of the checking. She's a small, prettily-gray-haired woman with bright dark eyes and a vivacious tone of voice which says "That's JUST the way I felt" when one of my questions concerns itself about my feeling that I should be DOING something rather than meditating, but she says "Soon you'll feel at one with THE MEDITATION." One of her comments to one of the other guys hanging around after initiation got to me, too: "No, you don't feel tired, just very relaxed." I pushed that thought around a bit, and felt it might be useful when I felt so utterly exhausted after a meditation session. With her long-windedness, talking about how great it was, how good she felt, how proud she was to be able to help, some of the "Mantra-in, mantra-out" directions of meditating, and how money and "things to do and problems to solve, which will always be there as long as we live" come more easily with meditation. Left there about 4:30, with the streets getting dark and my stomach getting hungry. Walk down to the theater district and toy with the idea of seeing "Bullitt," but decide that my social life is quite full enough for the week, and that I really don't want to go alone, anyway. Eat in the Whalen's across from the Music Hall, shop for quite a bit looking for pornography, and end up finding nothing and buying only Golden Boy's Number 12 for $3, buy tickets for the APA "Misanthrope," and find that the Billy Rose ticket office is closed at 6:30 for the Minneapolis company's "House of Atreus." Back uptown to finish "Dimension of Miracles" and watch "Laugh-in," and eat popcorn, but again at 11, decide I'm still hungry, and dispatch another pair of boiled eggs, feeling that my casual diet might be cutting down on intake, but it certainly isn't able to cut down on the number of meals. Bed about midnight.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 3. Don calls rather early about seeing "The Impossible Years" tonight, and I call Joe and talk to him for a long time, and finally get down to exercising and meditating, in reverse order, and some time in here I finish the address book typing, and even finish the Music List typing, in some sort of desperation for something to do except do the things on the list, which must be done before writing the diary, which must be done before writing up the Nude Workshop, which must be done before getting back to the book, which I'm certainly not going to get back to before going home for the middle of December. I keep harking back to Don's astrological prediction that I'll find the three months at the end of the year not as productive as I'd like quite a cushion for my non-productivity. Here's hoping January is better, though December 3 is a heck of a day to give up hope. Call Norma and make arrangements for lunch tomorrow, and make a call to Chuck to see the slides, also tomorrow, and later to John to please get the Aureon stuff back to me, which he can't since he doesn't have my address. Then I'm out to mail the 9 pieces of mail I got out yesterday, but it's too late to try to get the Dodson exhibit, which I'd checked yesterday to find the Wildenstein closed on Mondays, so I'm back to catch up on a few pages of the Diary 84-86, and what with fixing up the apartment, the time's gone and I settle down to watch the National Geographic special on Amphibians and Reptiles at 7:30, and Don arrives about 8 to watch the finish with me, and we're out to the MGM building, where I used to work, to watch the beginning of "Impossible Years" at 8. The film turns out to be impossible, with the young supposed-cutie being played by a paunchy Rich Chalet (honest), and the love interest being supplied by a cute Chad Everett, who seems never to get around to getting undressed, so we leave in disgust (mainly Don's disgust) just before 9 pm. I SAY I'm hungry and we're to Angelo's for pizza and beer at 9:30, and then I'm home. Decide to flip through the slides so that I can see which I want to send out for myself, and end up by getting out my own slides and coming, not terribly pleasantly, just for the heck of it, somehow, from a general futility, which Don can sense as we pass a lunch counter and I ohh about a cute fellow, and Don observes that I mustn't be getting anything lately. How true. Bed about midnight, cold and disgusted, but it's too late for heat, so I add another blanket.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 4. Wake again about 10, disturbed by the amount of sleep I seem to need, and get finished with exercising and meditation, and then it's time to get down to Norma's, in the pouring rain, for our lunch engagement at the Cattleman, and it's cozy up on the balcony, and we have a long talk about her reading of Krishnamurti, and how he says life should be lived moment to moment, and that reminds me of "Dimension of Miracles" and I scoff about his "Predation" idea, but it strikes a spark in her, as she talks about her friends' reluctance to see that SHE could have hostilities and angers and predatory instincts, and I visualize the painting of Dali's of two forms (yet joined at the bottom) spooning substances off each other to feed each other with, and suddenly the predation theme seems right, and I get up the nerve to say "Every friend should ask every other friend, 'Just what do you want from me,' since every friend DOES seem to want something from the other." She begins to indicate that she has some sexual interest in me, and we begin talking about Grant (whom she amazes me by saying that he's NOT gay, and rather good in bed) and Betty, and I tell her of their suggestion of the "Ménage a trois" getting me excited about going to bed with a woman, which I would like to do. Norma rises, cheerfully, to the bait, and I even tell her my fears of using her, and she pooh-poohs that, and she's obviously hoping to get a lot of pleasure out of it, too. We rapidly go through this evening (I have "Camelot"), tomorrow evening (I have APA), she can't Friday, and we quickly talk about next week, but I say I have to leave Thursday, which was when she could make it, and then we settle on late Saturday, about 11 pm, giving her a chance to put in an appearance at a party she wasn't going to attend. I feel strange, say that I'm embarrassed, and we both have enormous laughs when we repeat Lynn's dictum "Embarrassment is suppressed joy!" I DO feel good, so good we attempt to leave without paying the check, but I do, and she pays me for hers, and I walk her back to the building, then continue downtown in the pour to get the APA tickets, and get back home about 5 to call Shoshana, and Walter Joseph calls to say he knows Florence Monroe, and it seems the Aureon-caused coincidences will never end. Eat a quick dinner and Chuck and Don arrive equally late at 7:55 for the slide show, which goes quickly, and we're off in a cab at 8:30 for the 8:50 (NOT 8:40) show of "Camelot," which is good, and back at midnight, by bus in the windy cold, and to bed, feeling good.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 5. Doug wakes me at 9 by calling, and meditate and exercise by 10:30. Then I eat, and get down to typing Diary 86-92, getting finally caught up to date. I call Warren, and he admits he's forgotten I need cash, and then later calls for me to bring down the Energy Fund shares. I figure this will be a good day to do things, so at 1 I'm off toward the Wickersham for Betty's exhibit, and it begins to rain as I get there, and it snows heavily when I'm in the gallery for about 15 minutes. Her exhibit is good, but the $150 per sketch to $800 for finished drawing is a bit much, as is the Middleton flower impasto for $1000. Eat in a nearby coffee shop, then subway down to Warren at 3 for a $330 check and the promise of $700 tomorrow. Also took the slides out to be processed. Subway back up to 14th Street and Pat's old place, where at 4 the super is said to be back at 4:30. Shop the 14th Street area for two 95¢ Basque berets, two sets of pajamas for $5, scotch tape, and more undershirts, getting back to find no answer when I ring the super's bell. Wait around, and a friend of theirs comes, gets in, and the wife acts dumb about the umbrella, until the kid says, "Oh, is THAT it?" and it is. Delighted with him, and I get back home about six to find that I have very little to do, and begin to answer Rita's questions about the Moody Blues before going to meet Joe at 6:30. We wander 9th Avenue from 44th to 29th and find no decent restaurant, and Never on Sunday's finally a club and not a restaurant, so we bus back to the Acropolis, which is pretty good for soup, appetizer, eggplant and lamb, two desserts and coffee for $5.90. Peek at the pickets in front of "Jimmy Shine" about the firing of a Puerto Rican actress, and get to the APA for a sparkling, witty, great translation of Moliere's "The Misanthrope." Out at 10:30, and I stop to shop for "Man the Manipulator," and read it until 12:45, when I drop into bed, thereby coming up with the solution to the program problem: make another list of ballets and operas: think of the SPACE I'll save! Dream.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 6. Up at 10, meditate to 10:45, then for the first time in ages get one page of the diary done when it should be done, on the day that it all happened. So the day starts well, and it's "ONLY" 11:10 am. HA!

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Anyway, it was easy to get home after the lecture, though it was over at 11. Fussed some more with the programs until 1, then fell fatigued into bed.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 7. Norma called sometime yesterday and said she'd not go to the party, and she'd be at my place between 8 and 8:30. In preparation for this I meditated and exercised after I awoke, about 10, and then I began the ending of "Man the Manipulator," which I didn't particularly like, but it has SOME good things in it. Then, in deference to Norma, I read all of "Beyond Success and Failure," which was also pretty good, except that I got the distinct feeling that I WAS self-determined, more so now than ever, and the book then was sort of a series of pats on the back. I was finished with that by about 4:30, and I hurried to do the dishes which had been piling up for well over a week, hoping they would dry by the time Norma came in: I had the evening planned nicely, then I would shower and wash my hair, then sweep the apartment, since that hadn't been done since Paul was here, and leisurely await Norma. Then at 5:30 I decided to catch up on phone calls, and called Karen. She sounded sleepy on the phone, but it turned out she was only voice-strained ("You don't wreck your lungs if your screaming is connected, like mine was," she said) from acting out her anger at Ralph. "What's wrong?" "It's a very long story"---there was a pause. "Can you come down?" "Well, I have someone coming over at 8:30, and have a lot to do before that." There was more conversation, which revealed she was high on something, very much in need of someone to be with, so I quickly got dressed and caught a cab to 107 Greenwich Avenue. Her apartment smelled slightly of stale people, and the rugless floors looked dirty, maybe only because the previous black paint job was coming up at the cracks. She also smelled somewhat sour, as she came into my arms, rather trembly, resting her head on my chest for a short time, breathing deeply, trying to get her bearings under the small dosage of LSD which she took at 3 pm. She'd been angry at Ralph, but couldn't get to the bottom of it, and that frightened her. I asked why she was angry with him, and she launched into a story of a futile marriage to another gay guy, so that she could earn

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this wasn't so much a WOMAN as merely another PERSON next to me in bed, eager to stimulate and be stimulated, and still reaching no erection, I decided it was a not so good thing and shut off the slides. We lay there the right side up, talking more about lunches and people and her coming party, and finally we agreed that it didn't seem to be working this time, but that we would have to try it again. She stood up to dress and we kissed some more, and she remarked for about the fifth time that I had a nice body, and she would like to see me erect, and ended with "Come on, get it up, just so I can see what it looks like." With this final futile attempt, she dressed and I got into some sort of clothes to see her to the door. It was about 11:30, and I felt completely numb about the whole thing, rather capitalizing on this numbness by figuring that I really should come, and lying on the bed with the slides on, I whacked away at my cock with no real pleasure until I came. Then I dressed, feeling somewhat slutty with her perfume hanging around me, walking through the lobby, with Margaret still there, and bought the paper and got some of the last pizza from the stand, and got to bed about 4 am, having done the entire puzzle in the paper, much to my disgust.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 8. Up somewhat after noon, ate breakfast, and worked pretty nearly all day on finishing the opera programs, comparing data with the little black notebook I'd put so much into before. Also, I probably watched some television, but this is being typed three weeks later (a new unenviable record?) and I thoughtlessly threw out the television section which would tell me what there was to watch, and clue me on what I actually watched. Come to think of it, this must have been the evening I watched "Heidi" from 7:30-9:30, which later caused the ruckus because it cut off the last 60 seconds of the preceding football game. I may have continued to watch whatever was on following just through inertia, but I can't be sure. Certainly came during the day since this was a time I felt like coming, though the meditation periods in the morning were quieting me down to the point where I didn't feel I needed to come as much. Have the feeling I worked into the night on the program lists, feeling sorry that I started them, since it was taking so long to finish. Finally got in touch with Joe this evening, to find that his uncle had died and he'd spent the whole weekend driving parents and relatives around town. He said he thought lunch at Lutece for his birthday would be just fine. Got to bed sometime.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 9. Today's the day I finished up the opera programs, and typed out the opera list, taking literally hours figuring and cross-checking figures to make the summary sheet meaningful (though what meaning it could have other than a futile attempt to make my failing memories of the operas themselves more meaningful by generating new memories about the numbers and titles and composers of the operas). Finished up the play books, too, taking much time thumbing through the yearly Hallmark books trying to trace down stray titles which have no dates on the programs. The plays go on for quite a number of pages, and I felt a certain feeling of accomplishment when I finished with that particular list. Peter calls and we agree to meet for dinner at Yellowfingers and see "The Birthday Party," which I want to see merely because Robert Shaw is in it. I get to the restaurant on time, which is early as far as Peter is concerned, and we spend a fine time remarking about the relative beauties and appeals of the waiters and clientele, and we're out for the film, which Peter suddenly doesn't want to see, but I say we see it, and we do. It's rather disappointing, though the editing and special effects during the blackout at the party are effective in the picture version. All it does is reinforce my idea that Pinter is a lousy author, and that I don't particularly care to see anything he does in the future. It's bitterly cold as we leave the theater, but Blum's attracts our attention and Peter has an apple turnover, and I order a hot fudge sundae of rather dubious quality, I insist that Mayhew's has better, and for about half the price. Here again there are some rather nice customers, but we talk about them and leave, Peter walking me over since he's going to Allan's, and I get in about midnight, feeling braced up by the first really cold day we'd had all winter.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 10. Had set the alarm at 9 so I could call to see what time my haircut appointment was, and it's at 9:30, so I get out quickly to it, determined to stop off at Service Bureau to get the information that Cyndy wants to get a job here, which I have to do before I leave for Akron. Get the haircut and over to Service Bureau, and the first person I ask for, Judd (whose address I wanted to get so I could send him a Christmas card, but it just turned out that HE didn't send ME a Christmas card, so THERE), is tied up with Bill Korwan and some sort of proposal, so I chat with Daisy about Nassau County and Gene Bershatsky about creativity, trying to get through to him that you have to be creative ON YOUR OWN, since anyone at SBC who was in any degree creative either got out fast, or chose not to be a manager, so expecting to be "told how to be creative" was an impossible dream, and he had to do it himself. Talked a long time to Vinnie Gallagher, too, before I remembered his name, but he told me the news about Cathy's coming transfer. Then in to Bill Woolf, and he again entranced me with his wit, his good looks, and his intelligent puppy eyes and friendliness. How GREAT it would be to be "with" him, and does his wife realize what she HAS? Bob Katz stops me in the hall to talk about relatives of his who are writers and publishers, and I piss him no end by trying to pass him by with a curt hello. Stop into Gus Chas' office and it turns into a two-hour lecture on LSD and drugs, which he seems very interested in, and get back to Vicky to hear that Barbara Cope and Lloyd Moore are in California and won't be back. She hadn't heard about my book, so there was still new people to tell. About to leave at 3, I met Bill Woolf at the elevator and he told me Ann Jensen said hello, and I went to talk to her until 4, and her nephew is going to be in town with "House of Atreus," how lovely HE is. Finally leave the office, very hungry, and get home to get ready for the party. WANT Cyndy to call, and Patty calls, then Norma calls to say how great she thinks it is that I'm trying to become bisexual, then Phyllis Nash calls to say that she'd having a party on Saturday which I can't attend. Then, finally, the fourth girl, Cyndy, DOES call, and I crow about my good luck. She's coming into town somewhat after Christmas, and I encourage her to perk up, and to call me. Then Joe calls and I tell him about my day, and the house phone rings to say that Shoshana "can't go out" in the 20 degree weather, even though it's 34 degrees. She calls Marty, gets Jerri, and I call them after talking to Joe, and the party IS off, and my obligations to get the Sokols and the Shoshans together is finished, without the party. I take the chance to catch up with some things, and get to bed.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 11. The morning is spent with meditation, exercises, washing hair, showering, shaving, and getting ready for the lunch with Joe. He gets to my place at 12, and I find a check from Warren in the mail, which was just what I needed. We walk down to Lutece, and it's rather crowded in the hallway, but we're the first ones upstairs, except for the waiters rushing around preparing the small front room for some sort of party. The menu is still fixed price for $7.50, and Joe starts with the Brioche, which is the sea-food mousse in crusty bread with chive and leek sauce over it, and I have the assorted patés, which come out in neat slices, four of them, on the plate, one of goose liver, golden brown, two of veal and pork, pink and white marbled, and another marbled concoction en croute with small coverings of gelatin. Joe raves to the skies about his, and praises mine, and he goes mad over his Cepes Bordelaise, mushrooms in a wine sauce. My Beef ala Mode is great, lovely tender beef with carrots and onions and truffles and mushrooms and potatoes. The dessert is a fitting climax, Joe going mad over a Pear Tart, and I get the Bavaroise, a flan with a brandy flavored sauce. We linger and talk over coffee, then have the small pastries at the end, and leave the place about 2:30, quite enchanted by the meal, the wine, and the service. The bill is $15 plus $6 for the wine and $2 for the coffee, so the tax is $1.15, and the total bill is $24.15, and I leave $3.85 tip, and hand $2 to the headwaiter, so that's $30 for lunch for two hours, which far surpasses anything that Harvey and I had at the Colony. Home by way of the bank, pick up Chuck's slides, get tickets for "King Lear" which Joe wants to see for that evening. Home to type up what I can of the Nude Workshop, which is the first eight pages, and Joe's back from school and we walk up to get the car and park it near home and walk to Lincoln Center to a rather poor production with Lee J. Cobb neglecting to involve the audience in his tragedy. Back about 11 to move the car (going the wrong way up 9th!), and start packing, and get into bed at 1:30 with the alarm set at 6 am.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 12. Look at the clock at 2 and at 3, but finally it's 6 and I'm finishing packing and eating as the sun brightens the sky, and move everything into the car, broken when my "Polish matched luggage" of shopping bags tears in front of Ben and Josie, and take off at 7 am, with 6060 miles on the speedometer. Coming up through Lincoln Tunnel the sun is just beginning to appear through the Manhattan skyline, and I say goodbye for the next two weeks. Rather frantic driving on and off the freeways and through the new construction areas, and get gas, and finally get onto 22 for the long straight drive through Jersey and Pennsylvania to Harrisburg. The day is cloudy, but brightens until finally I realize what I've forgotten on this trip: my sunglasses. It gets warm in the car and my feet are cold, but finally I hit a happy medium in the heating. Take the wrong exit through Harrisburg, and again get involved in construction and slow traffic, but still making good time and get to the turnpike, deciding to do a steady 75 mph on the 65 limit highway. About 1 pm I'm getting very tired, and terribly uninterested in driving, but then two little cars whiz past me, and two college students are playing tag up to 85 around the curves and hills and tunnels of the turnpike. It strikes me as fun, so I follow them, with the result that I get to the last food stop, finally hungry, at 2 pm and can't leave the turnpike, or they can see that I've been speeding, until 2:30. So I stop for lunch, take off at 80 on the 70 Ohio Turnpike, and get into Cuyahoga Falls at 4, finally getting directly home at 4:30, having no trouble on the city streets. Talk to Rita, and Mom gets home at 5, then we eat and Rita has to go to school, and Mom lets her hair down about how much she'd been sleeping around before she married Walter. "What do you think I put up with Mike for?" "Mom, I wished I'd KNOWN you were going to bed with him---I wouldn't have thought so much that you were wasting your time!" She tells about how she would go crawling back to Dad merely to have sex, even when they were fighting like animals during the day, and how a neighbor told her Mother about "The Strange Lady" who kept visiting my father during the night, and it was my mother. That was the reason she liked Jim so much, that was the reason she went out with so many younger men. She told about Delores and her adventures in motels with men who would pick them up in bars. True to form, instantly I learned my mother was as human as she was, my respect and affection for her rose greatly, and I almost wished I could tell her how much I liked to be in bed with someone who excited me, but I could only say things like "Well, I know how much fun I have in bed, and I figured I had to get it from somewhere, and I guess I got it from you." To which she replied in her typical way "I know, that's why you'll never get married. Why buy a cow when you can get all the free milk you want?" Then Rita came back at 9, and we laughed about how we had "nothing to talk about" while she was out. We three sat and talked about relatives, school, and current plans and animosities until I pleaded that I was tired at 11 and went to bed, with them still watching TV.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 13. I wake up at 10, amazed to have slept all of 11 hours, and Mom is still there, having stayed home from work. We talk and I unpack and get things in order, and Rita has to go to school to pick up her cap and gown, so I drive her and we tour the Student Lounge, where the large panes of windows held together only by a sliver a glass placed crosswise cause me some wonder, and the Auburn Science Center. Most of the rooms are open, and we have a gas in one of the huge lecture rooms, five TV monitors ranged down each side of the room, and I find an old grade book and two ROTC caps which she wants as souvenirs in the cabinets under the lab desks. The elevators are running and we tour one of the four towers, looking in at the dark laboratories devoted to two students, rows of gleaming microscopes for the biology classes, bottles of living and dead Drosophila, and we stare through the door at the greenhouse gleaming greenly in the magenta sunset. Across the windy walkway to Schrank Hall, and I agree with Rita's comment that the color coded floors are poorly colored: a kind of khaki orange, a revolting purple blue, a blinding yellow, and a bile green. Back through the walkways, admiring the few students still striding through the cold day in their well-thighed trousers, and to Memorial Hall, after we talk to Mrs. Myers and Clinefelter who tell us that Helen isn't in the Library, where I glimpse chesty basketball players and follow Rita to the door where she screams "Donna!" and introduces me to two of her friends. In the parking lot we pass Dr. Selby, but I'm sure he wouldn't remember me, so I say nothing to him. Back home to eat and watch TV and talk, and out comes the Scrabble board and Rita re-teaches Mom Oh Hell, and Mom teaches us Swick, which is hardly interesting with its drawing of three cards and need to take two tricks. With many people it might be interesting, but three is marginal. It's after midnight by this time, and we all get into bed about the same time.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 14. Wake at 10 and do nothing in particular except argue with Mom and Rita about what to do to have the house presentable for the catered party tomorrow night for Rita's graduation. Greg has been working for Helen all morning, and Mom wants him for some reason, and he comes over at 2, after we had lunch (Oh, yes, on Friday I re-fixed the plug in the waffle iron: Grandma has patented the secret of wiring a plug so that there's a huge harmless spark that blackens the outlet when it's first plugged in), and his face has changed somehow, and he's a young man, and not a boy anymore, though he still has a skin problem. Maybe the 6'3" of height adds to the effect of manhood. He wants me to see his dune buggy, so I wisely don boots and my duffle coat for the afternoon, and we drive out in his truck. The black dog hates my guts, and barks continuously whenever I'm in sight. Greg gets the machine started, and we take off with a roar over the back paths which surround both sides of the road. It's exhilarating and chilling, and quickly we bounce through an enormous puddle that sprays the windshield, the open area at the side of the car, including my face, coat, gloves, and chest. Nothing is said about it. Down to the road construction, then across Sourek to the other side, looking in on their fort on the crest of the hill, and finally back home, chilled through, ready for some of Helen's bread toasted. Marion comes home from her auction, showing off her two purchases, and Henry comes next, moaning about her not buying the table she wanted, giving me some delicious Widner's Lake Niagara wine, and then it's dark and Marion drives me home, sitting at the curb for forty minutes talking about her dislike for the changes in the Catholic liturgy, people in the family, my writing the book, and other things, which gets Mom mad since I'm late for dinner. Eat and watch TV, then out comes the Scrabble game and again we play Swick and Oh Hell, ending with fatigue about 1 am, but the family is nice together, if only Mom weren't so eternally impatient, niggling, bitchy, complaining, and fault-finding. But maybe if it weren't for that, she wouldn't have anything to talk about. Rita seems to tolerate all of it: she just ignored it.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 15. Up early at 9 because I have to wash my hair, and we pick Grandma up for mass at 11 at St. Vincents. Back home to eat and drive Rita to school at 1, leaving her off at the door in the high winds, and back to pick up Mom, who forgets her earrings, and we're back for the prolonged services at 3. The talks are dulling, and I'm sure very few of the graduates appreciate all the lecturing and the news that "school goes on forever." See Helen in the procession, and at the end Mom waves across to Jimmy, so we all take off across the blustery campus toward the Student Center. Helen joins us on the way, and we sit around the lobby, going into the hall just as Rita joins us. There's tea and cakes, and I get over to talk to Doc Sumner, looking determinedly drunk and chatty, though we have little to say except that I like New York, and he never sees Larry Ball. Also talk to Dr. Selby, but again the talk is forced and awkward, so everyone's glad when we leave about 6. Home to the reception with grandma, Mom and me and Rita, Henry and Marion and Greg and Gary, Helen and Jimmy and James Edward, and Mr. and Mrs. Crosby, a nice party of 13 clustering around the tremendous cardboard filled with seven or eight kinds of cold cuts, pickles and olives and other condiments, and potato salad. Much of the conversation was rather strained, but James Edward made a very nice impression by taking up with Marion and being nice to Greg and Gary. Rita broke down into tears again when she discovered the $3000 check, and the group talked about nothing much after that. Slowly the group dwindled until there was no one there but us by about 11, and we watched TV for awhile and went to bed about 12.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 16. Woke at 10, and set the timer for meditation, which Rita wisely understood when Mom phoned at that time, and said that I was "out," which of course Mom wouldn't have understood. I'm bored enough to want to read something, so I finish Watt's "Wisdom of Insecurity" by lunch at 2, and then Rita calls Dayton to arrange for our visit there the following two days. Mom said she wanted me to meet the people at work, so I drove up to Wallhaven about 3:30 and she introduced me to the colored girl who works with her, and we went across the hall to Evelyn Thornton and Delores and two other squealing girls, then down to the computer room for a lively Millie and two keypunchers, then I coaxed Mom to come across the street with me to meet the other girls over there, starting with the basement, quickly going through the main floor, where everyone was preparing for the convention somewhere else, and then to the second floor where there was a girl who had worked for IBM in Yorktown and lived in New York, so we had a lot to talk about, and then we found Mrs. McClurg and had a lively conversation, as she was coincidentally writing out the Christmas card from the company that Mom was supposed to get. Back across about 5, and she took two more sets of the outmoded stationery, now that President Mitchell had died. Home to dinner, and I joined them in watching "Laugh-in" and finally persuaded Mom to join Rita and me at Summit Mall for "Great Catherine" with the great cast of Moreau, O'Toole, Mostel, and Hawkins, but Mom didn't like it at all, while Rita and I found it amusing in spots. The theater was almost completely empty, which made it rather grim. Home by 12, and quickly to bed. One of the nights I was so desperate for some sort of release, made difficult by people around all the time, that I came into my hand and licked it off so that the smell wouldn't permeate the house.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 17. Up at 10 to meditate again, but don't get around to exercising, and in fact never exercise in Akron for the rest of the trip. By noon we're ready to leave for Dayton, and looking at the maps of Columbus as we pass through, with Rita driving for an hour or so, I see the sign for the Art Museum and decide we really don't have to get down to Dayton before dark, and why not stop in Columbus and see what they have at the museum. But there aren't any street names in proper places on the map, so we get off at what looks like the right exit, but we find ourselves in the middle of the colored district, and no matter how we turn and change direction, we can't seem to shake Shadesville. To add to the difficulty, we're getting very hungry, and can't find any place to eat. Debate getting back onto the Freeway and leaving town, but as we near the next entrance, it seems like a terrible waste of time if we don't see ANYTHING, so we stop, finally at 3, to eat lunch and I check the Yellow Pages for Museums, and they don't list an art museum, but there is a Museum of Science and Industry near where the dot may have been on the map, so we set out for that. It takes us awhile to find it, but there it is, and we get in at 3:45 when it closes at 4:30, this after paying 50¢ for parking already. Nice nationalistic Christmas tree exhibit, and the old-time street is fun, but the rest is scientific stuff on ears and heart and exercise and birth and nutrition and teeth, and the lower floor is full of industrial things about the gas, plastic, fuel, lighting, underwater plundering, etc, stuff, so we're ready to leave by closing time, the girl even letting me shout for Rita over the public address system. Get lost again leaving town and have to retrace much of Main Street, but finally get on the right road as dusk falls. The driving isn't difficult, but the road through Xenia isn't very straight, so we rise and fall with the hills and get to Edwards just a little after 7, after having to retrace part of the Dayton route because the road sign was missing. Ann has to leave immediately for David's cub scout party, so the three of us eat dinner alone, good pork chops smothered in goodies like raisons and mushrooms, and we're talking all the time. Ann gets back and we talk about the results of LSD in my life, the Nude Marathon especially turns her on, and we talk on into the night and morning about my adventures with Esalen and Aureon-type encounter groups. There's a bit of self-analyzing going on during these talks, and Ann just seems like a thoroughly nice person. By the time one o'clock rolls around I'm tired, fearing to keep them up too, so I go to bed, and they quickly follow. There aren't any shades on the windows in my downstairs room, so I'm gratified in the morning when it's sleeting, and there's no sun to be seen in the sky to wake me up before 9.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 18. Edward's still around, busily making breakfast, and the phone takes Ann for the next hour as the meal is cooked and eaten. Again we settle down to talking about Christmas and New York and the families and various travels and adventures, and finally at noon we decide we really must leave. Again the Ohio roadmap steers us wrong, as we can't find the place where we should have left the highway to get to Piatt Castle. We go way out of our way, the fog starts to close in, and at about 1:30 we pull up in front of one of the castles to see the owner on his way out: it's been five years since he's had a vacation, and he's leaving, and we can't see anything, though we're free to walk around outside. We do that, and take off to the next castle, but that's closed for the winter, even though it's bigger, and we're off to Ohio Caverns. We're the only ones on the tour, and Rita feels free to say that she's scared silly to enter her first caverns, so the man goes nice and slow, making jokes about the lighting and the water and the depth in the ground, and when she gets into it she feels better. I tell him I've been to Carlsbad, Mammoth, and Wind Cave, and he starts being more literal in his descriptions of his own cave. But he has nothing to worry about in the area of comparisons: the huge white carrot of the Crystal King, the intense colors of Fairyland, the lush growth of fern up to three inches long almost waving about the lights, the living wetness of the cave, all these were almost unique in my cave experience, and I told him that. The $2 admission charge per person seemed steep at first, but we were alone, had his constant attention and services, and we were beneath the ground for over an hour and a quarter, getting a ride back through the now blanketing fog from the top exit down to the car. Ask about eating, and he says "Best place around is LeEdJo's, or something like that, in East Liberty, so we're back there to a fancy hamburger stand, eating lunch between 4 and 4:30. The fog doesn't clear and the ride back is creepy with the rain and the snow falling on the almost invisible highway. I got impatient and drove about 75 down the center, following the center line, confident that I could follow the turns of the road, and could detect lights of any cars ahead with enough time to react safely. Home at 8 to a worried Mom, and we eat separately, describing our respective days, and I call Anita, who's uncooperative, Milton, who doesn't seem to be able to help me, and Larry, who invites me out the following evening, and the Seavers, who fall over themselves with gladness to hear my voice, and ask me out for Friday. Talk more with Mom and Rita and to bed at 11.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 19. Up at 9:30 to meditate and have breakfast, and fill out Christmas Cards from snowy Ohio from 11-1. Rita's back from shopping with Grandma to say that she wants me to come over, so after lunch I get to Grandma's at 3:45, hopefully after her TV serials, and we chat about old photo albums and her children, and Helen and Dixie interrupt two or three times and I have to see the Arnett's 15 year old Christmas tree and refuse an invitation to dinner. Home to dinner at 6 with some of the cookies Grandma just baked and decorated, wash my hair and read the papers and leave for the Ball residence at 8:30. He arrives in a two car caravan at 9:15, I talk for a bit to his parents, then up to his room for hours of talking about his fish, and he hasn't ANYTHING to talk about, and I don't feel particularly interested in repeating my conversation with Edward and Ann with him, so we chat about mutual friends and he asks me to get in touch with him the start of May, so we might have a vacation together again. I'm bored finally by 12, leave for home, getting to bed, quite tired, by 12:45.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 20. Up at 10 and finish breakfast by 11:30 and know that I have to buy the kids gifts, so I get a clay fun factory for the girl and a set of building blocks for the boy at Click, and get up to Elyria by 1, greeted by a poster on the front window and John the college student, who takes up the conversation about his girl for the first hour, then he leaves, we have lunch, Craig gets home from school, and the fun of exchanging Xmas gifts begins, they giving me a stocking packed with sundries: a packet of pencils for my writing, a red Bic pen, a pair of brown shoelaces I assure them I can use, bottles of her produce: catsup, grape jelly, and strawberry preserves, a Philistine publication from 1908, an orange plastic twirling game with pennies, a spray bottle of Hai Karate, the top of their tree (which I end up leaving in Akron), a bell for luck, a package of orange Life Savers which I brilliantly share, and when I leave they push on me a tin of cake and candy and fudge. Nancy is silent and loving, but Craig is a problem with his alternate charm and broken-hearted sobbing over nothing. The baby is obediently silent most of the time, except during the lavish dinner when he had to be held by Janet through the meal, when Nancy and Craig whitened their roast beef (at 39¢ a pound) with garlic salt. Talk of Christ, the girl in Yale, the possibility of a fourth child, my life in New York, the nude workshop, Bob's teaching and church duties, Janet's enthusiasms for buying sweaters and skirts for 10¢ and making them into clothes for the children. We play with the twirling toy, the blocks, their pool table and darts in the basement, and I tour the house with the children's rooms, then there's the Christmas pageant, including donations, before the kids go to bed, and they do so surprisingly docilely, only returning for long kisses and hugs and passionate gazes into their eyes. I'd said I had a date in Cleveland at 10, hoping both for an escape clause and for the feeling of going to Jack's which Milton so kindly told me about that morning. But at 9:45 I'm just exhausted, so I leave and drive back home, regretting not seeing the Cleveland bars, but looking forward to investigating the Akron ones tomorrow with Milton. Home by 11 and discuss the evening with the folks, and fall into bed.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 21. Up late and Mom insists that I go Christmas shopping with her. Rita's suggestion of Akron store gift certificates had me convinced but then Mom's talk led me to make up my own shopping list, giving Rita $20 there at the table for records she wanted, and Mom said she definitely wanted dishes. Get to the Summit Mall and I see a great lionhead chain and tell her to buy it for Rita to give to me, and I buy a candy bowl for Helen and Jimmy, shoes and a scarf for Dad, and a bird and cage and all the accessories for Grandma, again thanks to the brilliant idea of Rita. Home by 4, and get dressed for dinner at Anthe's with Marion and Henry and Gary and Mom and Rita, and the filet mignon is truly superb for $6.50, and the décor is New York unoriginal Christmas cheer, and the "Happy Birthday" lady is truly incredible with her clarion dirge of sung insipidity. Cover up my tracks by saying that I'm going over to Milton's at Brittain Woods Circle, and leave at 10 for the Robin Hood, the worst of the three Akron bars, and it's pretty bad, indeed. There are four or five people at the bar, one a roaring drunk who keeps trying to talk with me, but I ignore him, except when he uses his voice-throwing powers to make conversation with the jukebox. Down the bar is a bearded blond of sultry good looks, and the white sweatered guy behind the bar is lovely and crew-cut and soft-eyed. Milton comes in, identified only when the bartender says "Hello, Milton," so I wave at him and we laugh that I hadn't thought to tell him I'd shaved my beard. He describes the bar situation at greater length, and berates Joan for not telling him I was gay, and at 10:30 we leave in his car for Mother's, and he erases the white sweater

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his stepmother was going to have quite a bit to say about his coming in so late. I figured Mom would be mad, too, and I had the Sunday dinner to look forward to. We decided that Rick would try to get out and get to Bob's by 9, and if it was OK, he would call me at home, and I would try to get out.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 22. Finally we left the house at 8:30, and I drove home in a sort of numb funk, liking the guy enormously for the bed-fun, but not really caring for it to go further than that, though, as I kept telling myself, "He's just like everyone else in that he wants love, and he's just as deserving of it as anyone else is." Home to an angry Mom, and I say the party was over at 4 and I slept from then to 8, hardly caring if she believed me or not. Tried to lay down on the sofa, but it was awfully uncomfortable, so I undressed and crawled into bed about 9 am, knowing that everyone was going to 12:15 mass, and that I certainly had to take a shower. Woke at 11:50, realizing that Mom was perfectly capable of letting me do what I wanted, then making the rest of the day miserable for me. I got up, took a very quick shower, dressed and got the car ready even before she was ready to go, which made her feel like all her arguments had been removed. Went to Grandma's right after church, and the dinner was great, though Mom insisted on alienating everyone by remarking that the beans were cold when everyone else was intent on praising what was good about the meal. Finished about three in time to watch the live TV coverage from the moon, and talked about the bird and school and sundry other things until 5, when I got too tired to keep up the semblance of conversation and begged off to go home. Home to again switch into pajamas and crawl into bed, and I slept until about 8, when I was up to watch something on TV, and sure enough Rick called at 9, and I was dressed and ready to go, turning off the wrong exit, or rather turning back onto the wrong entrance to I-77, and getting back to the former exit and returning to take the correct turnoff, getting there about 10 pm, telling them about the terrible wreck on the highway. We got into bed again, and I don't think I was up for one moment, and it turned into a fiasco of conversation and worry and fatigue until thankfully Rick said that Bob wanted to go into the Mustang in Canton that evening, so we dressed and left the house about midnight, I driving to give Bob the kick of going somewhere without driving his own car. The Mustang was a barn-like place out in the open, with again three or four ugly drag queens with beautiful boys as dates, and the same sort of crowd as Mothers. Bob and Nick knew a lot of the people, and there were assorted scenes of no real import, but Bob and I danced somewhat nicely, except that he was much too big and bear-like, and Rick and I still danced dreamily together. Left at 2:30, and back to Bob's where Rick made the big farewell speech, saying that he was never going to see me again, that he was sorry to leave, and then not leaving. It turned into a hideous comedy of effortful errors, and finally Bob and I got him down on the bed, got his pants off, and I did him again while Bob kissed him to death, and then he was ready to leave after exchanging addresses. Bob and I went back to bed very self-consciously, and I did see that his cock was big, but finally I knew I wasn't going to be able to do anything, and I said I really had to go, which I did about 5, making sure I had everyone's address, and got into the car ABSOLUTELY NUMB and drove back home at about 5:30.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 23. Sleep until 12:15, and am surprised to see that Mom's not stayed home from work, but she says she's going to go in tomorrow to the party, and has to get her hair fixed today. Very tired from the last few days, but I eat something huge like two eggs and two slices of cut up bologna and two slices of muenster cheese for a goopy breakfast, and wash it down with a couple of sugared donuts. But then yesterday I only had one meal and quite a few drinks last night, so it's no wonder I feel a bit strangely. Know that I have to get to Dad's soon, so I wrap his present in tissue paper and take Rita's maps along to see how to get out to East Avenue. It's snowing again, and I park in front of the house and ring the bell. Mama answers, not recognizing me, but I shout in "Hello, Grandma," and she opens the door so I can kiss her. She goes into the sun porch, but comes out with a worried look on her face and says she's going upstairs to see if "Ed-you" is awake, and she talked to him in Polish, and I hear "Bobby," and Dad's voice, and then she says I can go up. Dad's lying in bed, looking pink colored in the face, but when he sits up his neck and chest skin is a sallow yellow color, hanging off in wrinkles, and though his body is heavy, he doesn't have a healthy look. He has phlebitis, but he says he can't stand being in bed: in Harrisburg, or somewhere, he was in bed for seven weeks, got better, could walk, but then had a relapse and stayed in an Akron hospital for four weeks, but he couldn't take that, so he walked around every day. His dad, he said, was even worse: just returned from the hospital: his liver and kidneys are no good, and his ulcers are causing him enormous pain, but his diabetes causes such a high blood sugar level that they couldn't operate, so he wanted to come home. A few weeks ago Dad got $350 from some sort of disability award from the Veteran's Administration, and he gave $250 in back rent to his Mom, and his Dad was so amazed that he even talked to him: "Ed-you, Tata wants to see you." And then again last week this happened, and the old man sat and talked to him about Poland and the old days with tears running down his cheeks. Dad left then to see if I could see his father, but he came back to say he was too sick, his jaw was hanging and he was saying "Bwa-bwa-bwa" and drooling. The slippers didn't fit, so I went to Miracle Mart, which didn't have any, then to Lucky Shoes, and took them out Hawkins, which connected so many places: St. Sebastians, Delia where Larry lived, Copley where Grandma lived, Wooster-Hawkins where Diagonal goes now, and the Zolnierzak's. These still didn't fit, but Dad, with a rheumy voice, said "Don't worry about it." So I didn't. Give him candy for Grandma. He told me about his TV set fiasco, so I went to the East Avenue Tavern to talk to Harriet, who was nice, but Bill Longfellow was nowhere to be found. Home by 6 to dinner, and try Joan and Anita and Milt and Grandma for "Doctor Doolittle," but they all say NO. Sue comes with three gifts to Rita and stamps for me, I see the show, with LOUD audience, and back to bed at 12.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 24. Mom's really sick in bed with a cold from having the car stop on her last night, and Rita and I get out to buy the toboggan for Greg and Gary. Call Marion to ask if it's OK, and can we bring it, and she says Yes and No, respectively, but we can't get it into our car, so we have to call her back and she comes with the Chrysler and it just fits, and get into her driveway as Gary's driving out in his tractor and his jaw drops and his eyes widen and he beams at us as we follow the car down the driveway. Henry's just in, too, and he laughs "What's dat?" and we're all in for some wine and some tea and look at her fantastic handmade tree decorations, and she'd going to give me a wreath, and she shows me the box she's been working on for me for two Christmases by now, and we get back to Click so Rita can go grocery shopping, and we're home and eating early so we can get off to catch maybe the end of the penultimate show of "Yellow Submarine," the last show of which starts at 7:15 on Christmas Eve. We see all the shorts and a great cartoon by the Beatles, and I'm home to find that Joan called from Maris Doll's and wants me to go to their party. I watch the moon telecast at 9:30, and leave at 10 to get there, in the driving snow, at 10:30, and we get chased out at 11:30. The party is deadly dull, everyone talking about Marxist, Leninist, Trotskyian anarchy, and the school problems, and Joan and Freddie and I talk about Milton and their acting careers. Home at 12.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 25. Wake up at 9 because I have to wash my hair, and Mom and Rita argue about how and who's going to fix the dinner which is to be served while Mom is in bed. We get Grandma for Mass at 11, and home for a bit after dropping Grandma off to change dresses, and we take Helen and Jimmy's stuff over and they love mine a bit more than I like my U of A glass that they got me. Grandma gives me an English Leather "Lime" bath set, and Rita has the chain with $17, which I say is for "Die Walkeure." Dinner is fine, even with Mom undercutting her own cooking, and the ham is lush, and Grandma fills me in on "The Doctors" and another serial that she's watched for years, and at 3:30 we're over to Marion's for another exchange, and I get, of all things, a wood-and-marble tic-tac-toe set and Marion's wreath and the sick Johnson's are there, too, so there's all sorts of conversation, and I decide to leave about 8 so that I can get to Joan's. Call and find that Anita will probably be there, too, and get there about 9:30, and immediately I arrive Mrs. Sumner suggests a table-tipping, so we try it, and the only coincidence is that as Corky (or someone) is asked for, the telephone rings and it's Corky's wife and family calling from St. Louis. Anita arrives and is being very snotty about everything, especially putting down Milton for his phoniness with the women of the town in his put-on séances, though she says, he's good at "reading," which is the receiving and interpretation of vibrations from possessed objects, which is pretty good to start with. Joan has a cold, and Mom has one, so I hope I can get out of Akron germ-free. We talk until 11:30, and there's nothing much to talk about, except the three women jabbering about how terrible the male situation is. Joan tried to get me to say something good about her to Dick Balin, but I refuse, and she's coming back to New York about January 3. Leave there and take Anita home, and am stopped by a cop who says I went through a stop sign. I play it cool and he lets me off with a warning. Back home at 12:45 and spend some little time packing, preparing for the next day's trip, and get to bed about 1:30, setting the alarm for 7 am, and thankfully, I fall asleep.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 26. Up before 7 and put last things together, eating breakfast, but the car doesn't start. Said hello to Dennis last night, and today I see the "older" fellow in back, and he's nicer than Dennis. He suggests the starter is bad, but I call two stations and he jumps the motor and it only has a dead battery, possibly when I left the lights on at "Yellow Submarine"? Leave at 7:45, and the traveling is easy, and I keep postponing lunch, and even risk leaving the Pennsylvania Turnpike with a card showing an average speed of 70 on the 65 limit. Stop for gas and the thing doesn't start again, and he charges the motor for no charge, and thankfully the turn signals work OK again, and the loose fan belt is what makes it not work, and what caused the squeaks. Decide to drive straight through without eating. (GOT to get cracking on this thing again, or I'll forget EVERYTHING.) Let's assume this page starts somewhere in the middle of Thursday, December 26. Into the apartment at 4:30 to see Joe's painting of the fellow that Pete admired so much beautifully framed and hanging on the entry wall. Utter surprise. Get everything in from the car and try to call Joe, but there's no response. Take the car back and get charged only the weekly rental and nothing else, getting a refund of over $50 from my deposit of $215. Walk back home by way of Avi's and Joe's, no answers, and CPW, which is bitterly cold. Decide not to get groceries and pick up pizza and the newspaper, which I read and eat, irrespectively, look at ALL MAIL, and Pete calls and we talk and I finally get in touch with Joe at 10:30, but he's in bed, working all day in the cold Door Store, so the talk is short. I watch a going-downhill "Journey to the Unknown" from 9:30-10:30, "Girl of my Dreams" with a good Zena Walker. Then get out all the pornography and come with the sheet deliciously, so deliciously that I'm still hot and come again when I get into bed about 12:30. Disgusted with that, but otherwise, things are fine and I'm glad to be back.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 27. Wake at 8 and decide that 8 is a lovely time to waken every single day into the future, and resolve to type a schedule, and I get right into it by meditating for the first effective time (didn't even do it last night), and exercising without too much discomfort, but my throat is still marginally sore, which may mean I'll still get whatever cold my mother and sister had. Mom calls to ask if I got back alright, to say that Rita HAS a cold, and that I left the strawberry jam behind. Fine. Almost start the day off really right by going out to get groceries, but I potter around the apartment until noon, when I get groceries and shop for a bowl, getting dirt and humus at Woolworth, but they have no bowl. Very gradually put things away, skirting the piles of mail I stacked up last night in my reading orgy, and nothing really gets done, and I have lunch at 5 pm. Come again after watching that crazy guy on the roof of the Blackfriars, and start putting stuff away in earnest. Talk to Pete and Joe and Marty, and Azak and Doug and Avi aren't home. (These following two pages typed on Sunday, December 29, finally having gotten disgusted with my lack of typing, and I even left perfectly good things to do in order to GET down to typing). No one wants to do anything, so I prepare dinner and settle down to an evening at home, and watch "Queen of Atlantis" with Trintignant, which I'm sure I've seen before, but I can't predict what happens, and I can't shut it off, so 9:30-11 pm passes quickly, watching the must-be-phony lump in the front of Jean's loose trousers. He must have something to make up for his shortness. Get involved in coming again, and get into bed for good about 12:30, still taking cough syrup for my sore throat.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 28. Up at 9 and meditate and exercise, and Avi calls in the middle of the exercising and talks for over half an hour, finally hanging up at 12, and my attempt to eat breakfast before noon fails again. Finish the exercises and eat, and wonder where the morning's gone, but then I DID watch the last few minutes of Spiderman, part of "Fantastic Voyage," and a large chunk of "Hercules Meets Cyclops," for a second resisting the temptation to jerk-off watching the lumbering muscles, but I DO jerk off anyway, but the exercises are coming very well---tired, but not too terribly tired, but then I'm taking something like 16-17 minutes on them, so I again will have to work to get them down to the desired 13 minutes. And then I can go on to level five. Breakfast at 12:30, then get the mattress cover and rugs into the elevator to wash them in the basement, to find that the washers are not working, so I dress and go down 9th to wash them, and buy a fish bowl for a lovely 62¢. Back about 2 and begin in earnest to clean up the apartment, putting all the junk on the desk, then proceeding to wash dishes, scour the sink, scour the bathtub, scrub the kitchen floor and cabinet top, then the bathroom floor. Dust all the furniture and vacuum the floors, to be interrupted by Peter calling making arrangements for the movie tonight. Finish sweeping, then take a shower, first since Wednesday, and shave and wash my teeth, first since Thursday, and wash my hair, and feel very good during the meditation, except that my throat is still sore. Fix dinner and find that refreezing vegetables makes them rotten, so I throw out frozen moldy okra and stinking slimy carrots and end up with chicken, a fresh carrot, and a section of cucumber. Just about ready to change at 9:15 and Peter and Allan enter, Peter bearing "Imago" as my Christmas gift, and I change into bell-bottoms and boots, and we meet Kevin at the theater at 10:15. The "World of Fashion" is terrible, but the "Magus" is amusing, giving the new idea that Conchis might really by Urfe's psychoanalyst, particularly since someone wants to talk to Ann after he treats her so terribly---and then he DOES go back to Ann, which seems a switch from the book. But it's rather nicely done. Out at 12:30 and I get cough lozenges and the Times, and debate going to bed early, but the paper is so small I'm tempted to read it all that evening, and I do. Get to bed at 2:15, setting the alarm for 10, so that I can meditate and exercise before the "Histoire du Soldat" on Camera Three, but out of bed to put Vicks up my nose and gargle with salt water, since my throat is even more sore, and get out of bed again when I start rubbing myself and growing hard, so I'm out to grab the sheet and frottage myself to bliss, finally getting to bed at 3, which leads me to change the alarm to ring at 11. If I'm going to hold off this incipient cold, I'll have to get the sleep. Have no trouble falling asleep after all THAT.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 29. Surprisingly enough, I wake at 9:30, and feel like getting out of bed. Meditate, read a bit of the paper, and exercise in plenty of time to watch Camera Three, James Clouser really stunningly built, and Norman Walker has a most engagingly bearded smile as the Devil, and even Christopher Walken is fetching as the narrator. Read the paper some more, and again it's after noon when I finally eat breakfast. One of these days I really WILL have to eat breakfast before noon. Ready to get down to taking care of trivia, but I'm determined to get something typed, and finally settle down to typing these last two pages. With all I have to catch up with, it's going to be weeks before I even start thinking, again, about the LSD novel, but then I'll have to, won't I? Finish these last two pages at 1 pm.

Pages 135-156 missing

I was quite CLEAR (and that word from Scientology seemed very well chosen) that it didn't make ANY difference whether I had a nice body or not. I thought of the similarities between being born and fucking, and thought this might be a marvelous time to try to go to bed with Cyndy, but then, again on analysis it turned out to make absolutely no difference, and a sort of dizzy lassitude won out, and I didn't do much of anything. I even got up from bed last night to try to type a few pages, but the nausea overtook me, and I couldn't go beyond eleven lines. At a certain point, everything made references to the alphabet: a dog would lead me to a dog in a play, Albee's "Zoo Story," and Albee would stand for A, as if I had to think of a playwright with each letter of the alphabet. I thought of New York in terms of "West Side Story," and that was Bernstein, for the B. I could go on for the rest of my life like this, I told myself, but did I really WANT to?? I could go on for the rest of my life doing whatever I WANTED, but what was it I WANTED? The past didn't mean anything, the future was closed to my vision, I had the present, the WHAT IS, to use Krishnamurti's locution, and I could do whatever I wanted to do with it. At a certain point last night I got up from the sofa and got to sleep. At this point today (7:30 pm Monday, as if those numbers matter) I get up from typing and get ready for dinner, because that's what I want to do NOW. Cyndy kept insisting she felt better and better, which I sort of didn't believe, but it didn't make any difference, either, and I got into bed somewhat after 3 am, feeling exhausted, and fell asleep.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 30. Cyndy has to go to an interview at IBM at 11, so she's up and out by the time I awake, but I have this thing about going right to the typewriter and typing (also not to mail letters, go to bank and buy $40 headphones at Goody's), and through the day I type what eventually becomes DIARY 136-157, and the twenty-two pages feels good, though I still have a sort of hangover. She's back at 4, and we chat while I eat lunch, and I read the paper, then type some more and we're out at 8 to walk to Muggs on First Avenue to meet Tom Leahy and Yalka, and I'm talking about Mimsy and the girl at the next table joins in, and so does John Barber, and the girl asks, "Did you ever hear of Hal Boyle?" "Sure." "What do you think of him?" "Well, I haven't read him recently, but from what I remember, I liked him." "I'd like you to meet Mr. Hal Boyle." "How do you do, Mr. Boyle, I'm Bob Zolnerzak." Then John Barber astounds me by saying I should telephone Roland Paine at the National Science Foundation in Washington, D.C. and inquire about the writer they need for the current work in the Seychelles. I'm pleased and amused with the conversation, and Darwin enters about 11, and is very pleasant, and at 12 I leave to drop the deposit for the 85th Street Brauhaus, which isn't there, and thus I ask in Little Finland, and it turns out to have moved to the Hofbrau, and I give him $20 and walk home through the park at 1 am, feeling terribly illegal, but I don't pass a single person all the way home. Cyndy and Darwin are there, and I get to bed about 1:30, I'm still tired from pot.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 31. Up at 10 and eat and shave and just get out to the haircut at 11, which is now taking only 15 minutes. Back and get a call from Jim Maher, who's just out of the hospital from another heart attack that had him down for four weeks, and he agrees he'd BETTER take it easier. Then Avi calls and we talk for about an hour about sundry matters, and he's going to the park, smoking pot, for New Years Eve. And Marty calls and I tell him it's at the Hofbrau, then Paul calls and says that he's going to be in town from Thursday through Sunday, so I call up Walter Joseph and WE talk for quite awhile, and he said he'll see if he can get tickets for the 7 pm showing of "Boys in the Band." I call Joe yesterday and talk to him about New Year's Eve, but he's not doing anything. Then Cyndy's back and Darwin calls, and they talk, and I show her the slides from the trip, which takes too long, so we're late to the Hide Restaurant, at 8, and eat Kushikatsu, still good, Shabu Shabu, which is disappointingly dry beef in water and mooshy noodles, and Yoni ono Shohibiani, or something, which is broiled chicken in salt, which isn't bad except there isn't much chicken. Out at 9 and go to Shoshana's since she called and said Marty's coming over. That's so much for the "Come Back, Little Sheba" that I wanted to see between 9 and 11 tonight. We stay there till about 10, talking about operas and singers and people and agents and recordings and art in general, and then we're up to my place, and down to miraculously grab a cab to the Hofbrau about 11, where they hit us with a $8 minimum. The place is brighter than it was last night, now that it's full of people, and Cyndy and I get out for a dance, and she clings to me and enjoys herself mainly because she's with me. Regina Fiorita and Mike are a welcome addition, since Harold and Lois and Harold's sister aren't saying much of anything, and Jerri's not too talkative, either. There's a bit of a show, with a jumpy matron, a bearded tenor who sings without a microphone, and the manager, Jimmy, who sings when he's not being punched in the jaw by a huge bruiser of a trouble maker, or being pushed by other combatants, who shout at each other in unintelligible German, which makes it hard to follow the argument. We get hats and noisemakers and horns, but midnight comes too quickly and I dutifully kiss Cyndy, and that's that. The time drags as we dance and drink, and I'm getting tired, and finally at 2:30 I decide we DON'T have to use up the minimum, give Marty another $10, and get $15 from Cyndy at home, and since there seems to be no taxi service, we subway home, I still looking at the guys, much to Cyndy's chagrin, and bed at 3:30, kissing each other lightly and wishing each other a "Happy New Year." Sleep at once.

1 Arno and Don Leventhal over, I have Don, Azak and Al and Joe to Peter's, home at 1
2 With Joe to Orvieto, "Ipheginia in Aulis," bed at 12:30
3 Don over at 6, dinner at Cedars of Lebanon, to Azak's to 12 with everyone, Don over for
   sex till 2
4 "Hamlet" at Public Theater after dinner at Five Oaks, good, home at 12, Joe here to 1,
5 Claudia calls, Lilian and Wallis over with Stu for lobster tails and MADNESS to 12, and
   to THEIR place to 1 and bed at 2
6 Up at 11:30, watch TV to 2, Avi over 3-5, dinner at Joe's, "Exterminating Angel,"
   "Accident," sleep at 1 at Joe's
7 With Peter and Ken and Jack and Joe to Brooklyn Museum, Fedora's, home, phone Avi 11-12
8 I put TV into closet, Azak over 10:30-1, talk of Dwayne
9 Jamian off Goody's, with Don to preview of "Tonio Kreuger," pizza, sex, he leaves at
10 To Joe's for paper with Sharon, eat at Victor's, here to TV, talk, kiss, clasp to 11,
   ugh, SWEEP 11-1
11 Dwayne and Bob and Azak and Jamian and Pete and Joe and Arno over for "Topkapi," I type
   Joe's paper and bed at 1
12 Azak and I to dinner at Tom Thompson's, drinks, talk, cruise, out at 1:30, Azak and I
   home alone at 2
13 Don over to sun 1-5, Arno over to gape at our nudity, we sex, to Joe's for dinner,
   "Gunn," "Bonnie and Clyde"
14 Home at 11, watch "Samson"*, fix apartment, record all records for Rita 6-12PM, bed at
15 Overtime to 6:15, put stereo and tapes and speakers into one system, call Azak, Joe,
   bed at 12:30
16 Met for "Martha," meet Azak, he and I talk to 1AM
17 Dinner at Joe's, see "Family Way," "You're a Big Boy Now," funny, bed at 1AM
18 Met for "Carmen" after dinner (fast) at good Biarritz with Doug
19 Doug over to watch Megan Terry's "Home" on TV, listen to music, he leaves at 1
20 Grandma's birthday, to WORK 3-7, dinner at Wienerwald, to Gate and Electric Circus with
   Sharon, bed at 3
21 Drive to Cloisters and Coney Island with Sharon 2-10, talk to Avi, bed 11:45
22 "Magic Fire"*, make 55 restaurant types list 7-10
23 Joe Fratiani over to get sofa and sex, wild, from 6-11, then I eat, fall into bed
24 Watch "Laura"* on TV
25 Write long letter to Rita
26 Dinner at Bernstein's, all day in Poughkeepsie 6-6, then to Bernstein's, here with
   Ellen to play Monopoly to 1:30
27 Shopping for sweeper with Pete, then he and Alan and Joe over for Claudia's turkey
   Tetrazzini, TV, Joe leaves in a huff
28 Drive Queens and Fair, Ellen's Poulenc concerto, to Jahn's, I tell Sharon I'm gay,
   watch "The Dwarfs," awful play by Pinter on TV
29 Wash dishes, "Luther"*, "Passage to India"*
30 "The Price" by Arthur Miller with Joe
31 "Cool Hand Luke" with Don Leventhal, overtime till 7

1 "Hello, Dolly," after Pantheon with Joe, after driving lesson
2 "Joe Egg" after dinner at Joe's after driving lesson
3 Shopping for blinds, buy TV table with Peter, to Philadelphia Ballet after dinner at
4 Sleep over at Joe's, meet Sharon at 11 for Staten Island Zoo, ferry, to Pennsylvania
   Ballet again
5 Bernstein's and Sokols over 8-1:30, fire outside and Scrabble enliven evening
6 Up at 5AM for Optimization section in Compiler Writing class, and Joe over 8-11, bed at
   11:30, tired
7 Watch TV, overtime to 7, catalog stamps
8 Write "SciAm," Mom, EB, Bill, Paul, Whew
9 Buy three books, read "Gift of Prophecy," TV three hours
10 Read "Sleeping Prophet," go to Joe's for dinner, read, sleep
11 Read lots of "Atlas Shrugged(AS)," and Joe over for "Now, Voyager" and dinner
12 Shop for records with Peter, feeling woozy
13 Sick, read AS one hour
14 Sick, read AS 3-4 hours, "Condemned of Altona"*
15 Sick (but better) read AS 3-4 hours
16 Driver's test, WORK 12-3, finish "Atlas Shrugged," TV 5 hours
17 Shopping with Peter
18 TV all day, end of winter Olympics on TV, Joe watches "Shane"
19 TV and loaf, tired from sickness
20 Home from work at 3, temperature, "Bride of Frankenstein"* and TV
21 Still weak, tired, feel AWFUL
22 Off work, go to Moorman's for checkup, get blood test
23 Get Chest x-ray
24 Fly to Houston 2-5PM, to Shamrock Hilton, dinner at Trader Vic's
25 Tour Galveston and Sea-Arama, NASA all day, Re-meet Teitel, Pete Graham, dinner at
   Charcoal Room
26 Share, dinner at Valian's, lunch at Towers
27 Share, lunch at Trader Vic's, dinner at Brennan's, GREAT
28 Share, tour NASA again, dinner at Maxime's, "Candida" at Alley Theater
29 Share, Fortran project general meeting, dinner at the Stables

1 Sleep to 12, move to Sheraton Houston, zoo with Herman, eat at Valian's, Van Cliburn
2 Rodeo all day, dine at Cheshire Cheese, National Ballet of Canada in awful "Swan Lake"
3 Flight problems, fly home at 4, RELAX
4 To Poughkeepsie for Carnegie Symposium, Steak and Stein with Gladys and Sharon
5 Pete and Joe over for S. Hurok Presents, Arno over later for talk
6 Flower Show with Joe FREE through Don Leventhal
7 "Ergo" at Public Theater, almost FORGOT this one
8 Joe over for Merce Cunningham, LOUSY, and Villella on TV, bed at 12
9 Loaf about apartment, to Joe's for dinner, to Magic Shoe and Dirty Julius's
10 Joe's in AM, home to fuss, to Avi's with Richard and Ray to yet and sex and chess to 12
11 Fix apartment
12 Cadmus opening and Dick Brundage and Dick Peck and Allan and Peter over to 11
13 Ballet matinee, dinner at lousy Samovar
14 Buy 21 records at 69¢ shop
15 Joan in town! "Diamonds in the Night" and "Strike" after dinner in Shanghai Gardens
   with Pete
16 Dick Hsieh's in evening, "Carmina Burana" in matinee
17 Mike Rosner over 11-1, then Joan and I'm up to West Point for Project Management
18 Up to 3:30AM, wake at 6:30, Climis talk in PM
19 Catch up some on sleep
20 Tour West Point, play Hearts, Bridge all evening
21 Wander point in fog, tired
22 Home at 7PM, talk, TV, talk more
23 Tell Joan about fact I'm gay, to Baths with Joe 10:30-2:30AM, FANTASTIC
24 To Liz and Joan's party, and to Peter's, "Guys and Dolls"*
25 "Portrait of a Queen" with Joan
26 Alvin's Opening, to Avi's with Mustapha and Tom and stay to 12:30
27 "Throne of Blood," "Men Who Tread on the Tiger's Tail" at Bleecker Street with Joe, eat
   in Cuba Chinese place, awful
28 Joan over for dinner, ESP fun with figures and color-guessing
29 Joe over for typing form and talk
30 Dinner at Joe's with Don, Avi, Peter, Allan, Kevin 8-12, I STILL have diarrhea,
   "Strange Door"
31 Peter over 11-12, Sharon over 12-2, Doug over 2-9, 3PM to Philharmonic Hall

1 Type jottings
2 Overtime to 7, TV 8-11
3 Records at 69¢ shop, dinner with Joe at Chauveron, see "Best of Laurel and Hardy,"
   "Planet of the Apes" till 1AM
4 "Bomarzo" at NYS, Martin Luther King shot, Rosey Sheik 6PM
5 Metropolitan Museum premier with Jean and Peter and TV cancelled and dinner at Angelo's,
   bed at 12, sore throat
6 Clean apartment and read "Eustace Chisholm." to Peter's for dinner, to "Whore of
7 Walk in Central Park, soak stamps
8 "Once More, With Feeling"*, catalog stamps
9 "Luisa Miller," King Funeral on TV, catalog stamps, off work for funeral
10 Netherlands Ballet
11 Drive to Poughkeepsie 12-2, work to 3AM
12 Work 11AM-3AM
13 Work 12 noon-3AM
14 Work 1PM-3AM---and this is Easter Sunday
15 Work 1PM-5:30, drive back to NYC for Mozelle's leaving SBC 7-10
16 Drive POK 11-1, drive NYC 6-8, "Persona" and "The Whisperers" with Joan
17 Netherlands Ballet after dinner at Joe's
18 Send Income Tax returns, overtime to 7:15
19 To Bernstein's for dinner---they're MOVING
20 Catalog stamps, to Joe's with Joan at 5:30, see "Antony and Cleopatra" and "Last Days
   of Pompeii" at Thalia, both silents
21 Sleep at Joe's to 10, walk CP 11-2, to Met for Visionary Architecture, home to Don,
   sex, Tony Awards
22 Overtime to 6, dinner with Don, to "In Cold Blood," "Free," bed at 12:45
23 Overtime to 8
24 Royal Ballet's "Romeo and Juliet" with Park and Nureyev
25 Mom's birthday gift?, to "The Hour of the Wolf" with Joe, lunch at Bernstein's
26 Clean apartment
27 "War and Peace," thanks to Don, afternoon and evening
28 To "Man in Sport" at Hartford with Peter, watch Smothers Brothers, Joan over with boy
   and to Hudson Hotel
29 To Poughkeepsie, work to midnight
30 Home to eat at 8, Royal Ballet's "Romeo and Juliet" with Fonteyn and Nureyev

1 Mom's birthday, Royal Ballet
2 "Boys in the Band" with Don, Marty Warshall, Avi, Peter, Allan, Joe over for pineapple
   banana drink, talk to 12:30
3 Write Gene, Franco, Helen, Dad, Kash, Marian, Grandma, Joan over about Murray vs Bob to
4 Write Seavers, Herman's wedding and reception, home at 10 for papers
5 St. John's for Berlioz "Te Deum," read "Stuart Little," "Charlotte's Web," Joan over,
   Bonny, Adam
6 Help Joan and Bonnie and Harrison and Miguel all move 7-12
7 Royal Ballet, overtime to 8, Joe misses first act of "Fille Mal "Gardee and hates
8 Overtime to 10:15, home starved, eat, to bed
9 Public Theater's "Memorandum" after Joe and I eat at La Groceria, shop in Village
10 Dinner at Joe's, over here to type applications, watch TV, I watch "My Gal Sal"* to
11 Sell hi-riser, shopping for shirts at Wohlmuth, to library and museum for clothing,
   dine at Cattleman with Pete and Allan till 12
12 Scrub bathroom, and stamps ALL day
13 To Doug's at 8, home at 10, come to 1
14 Royal Ballet's "Swan Lake" with Sibley and Dowell
15 Royal Ballet's "Swan Lake" with Nureyev and Fonteyn, Mustafa, Avi over after to 1AM
16 TV 7:30-9, eat with Joe, move bed to Shoshana's
17 Joe over for application, talk, eat at Italian place, home, TV, "23 Paces to Baker
18 Pete calls, we buy Italian shoes, I get sport coat and pants at Alexanders, bed 7-11,
19 To New York Historical Society, roam park, here for pizza to 7, Joe and I to "The
   Producers," bed at 12
20 Wash dishes over 1 hour, with Don to "The Red Mantle" or "Signe and Hagbard," home at
   11, come till 1, bed late
21 "Electronic Nigger" with Joe, "Clara's Old Man," overtime to 7:15
22 Overtime to 8, play Don's tape at Arno's
23 MMA for "Farrebique," to Allan's with Pete, Joe, Alan's brother, and his roommate
24 To Pat's at 9 for party with Joan and Donna and Peter Welch and Arlene and pot, and
   talk to 3
25 Sleep there to 10, loaf to 12, walk park with Joe, to Liz's at 83rd, party till 5AM,
   with fist pounding on floor to someone's "Tell-Tale Heart," and "Stop, it's a blow job"
26 Up at 12:30, exercise, sun on roof, eat at 6, put paper up in bathroom to 12
27 TV, Joe over, retype "Ultimate Mandate"
28 Bolshoi Ballet with Joe
29 Bolshoi Ballet
30 To Jones Beach with Joe, Peter, Allan, Kevin, Bill Loman, back to SLEEP
31 Lunch at La Fonda, "The Wrong Box," "Closely Watched Trains" after dinner at Joe's

1 Sweep and scour tub, to The Square at Public Theater with same 5, eat at La Crepe, bed
   at 3
2 Write Claudia, Mimsy, Copyright, EB, DSI, AMA, IRS, others, New York City Ballet
3 Write Paul, send "Ultimate Mandate" and "Not Improbable," good luck
4 Cyndy over, to Jelka's for talk and booze and to Rock and Rye with Jorge and Cyndy,
   GREAT talk, bed at 1
5 Bolshoi Ballet, dinner with Cyndy and Jorge at Kobe, alone to Bolshoi
6 Look at shades, cut one to size, talk to Avi on phone
7 Shopping to 8, buy $46 clothes at East Fifties, "The Pearl"*, bed at 11 without dinner
8 Buy love seats, exchange shirt, wax wooden things, walk park 8-10, to Joe's bed at 12
9 Martha Graham, New York Ballet matinee, walk park REST of day
10 Fix apartment, phone people
11 Bolshoi Ballet
12 Talk to Cissy 8-11:05!! on phone
13 Read "Rosemary's Baby"
14 Read "I Never Promised You a Rose Garden"
15 Sun 1 3/4 hours, see "Space Odyssey: 2001," read "Times" to 2
16 "Sky Above Heaven"*, finish "Once and Future King," feel LOUSY, talk to Cissy 2:30-5
17 Clean Apartment
18 "The Queen" and "2" with Joe
19 Write Mom, TV 8-11
20 Write Rita, EB, DSI, Cyndy, "SciAm," Dad $75
21 With JJ Lewis and Pat and Stan to Mahonoy City at 10, eat at Lobster Pit, bed at 3
22 Swim, sun, watch rehearsals, eat at Scroffords, "Odd Couple," LSD-like POT HIGH!!
23 Amusement Park, drive 2-5, to Pat's for HIGH
24 Joan and Murray here 6-8, Avi and Mustapha 8-10, bed at 10:30
25 Overtime to 7:30, TV 8-9:30, talk to Avi and bed at 11
26 Overtime to 7:30, Joe over for "Mask of Dijon"*
27 Overtime to 7:30, TV 8:30-10:30, buy records
28 Pat's party 8-1AM, overtime to 7:30, with Tom, Joan, Bonnie, JJ, Paul, Kundy, her
29 Sun for 2 hours, horribly cut "Thief of Baghdad"*, and clean apartment, bed at 12
30 Sailing on Oyster Bay with Chuck and Pat and Joan

1 Overtime to 6:30, "Song of the Loon," walk to Thalia for schedule 10:30-12, HOT
2 See "The Graduate" after work
3 To Poughkeepsie at 7PM, dine at Steak and Stein and drive and bed at 12
4 Breakfast and to Saratoga for matinee, drive to Plattsburg, eat in Roman Gardens, bed at
5 Up at 8, drive to Montreal: US, Sculpture, Kaleidoscope, Canadian Pacific, Telephone,
   Poland, Austria, Humor, La Ronde, out at 10 after fondues
6 Up at 10, drive back through all of Adirondacks, dine at Saratoga, to IBM for fireworks
7 To Taghkonic Lake, train back 7-9, TERRIBLE cold
8 Read "LSD," "The Private Sea," great "Lost Youth"* from 1-3PM
9 Send out six checks, overtime to 7:15, come greatly
10 Continue to read "Zen," come greatly
11 Come thrice over new books, SRI symposium on Optimization
14 American Ballet
19 Rita and Mom arrive
20 "Hair," dinner at Rapoports, Jefferson Airplane at Fillmore East, Mom home
21 To Brooklyn Botanic Gardens
22 "Rosemary's Baby"
23 "Cabaret"
24 "2001"
25 American Ballet
26 Mom leaves, I pack, lunch at Farm Food
27 Pick up camper, pack, to New York Thruway
28 To St. Catherine's
29 To Mississagi River
30 To Fort William
31 Stu and Claudia and Cyndy in St. Louis

1 WRECK CAMPER, "Twelfth Night"
2 St. Paul, Les'light show
3 St. Paul to St. Peter
4 Badlands, to Interior, South Dakota
5 Wind Cave, to Mt. Rushmore
6 Flat tire, to Moorcroft, Wyo.
7 To Brooks Lake, Wyo.
8 Tetons, sleep at String Lake
9 Tetons, sleep at Coulter Bay
10 Yellowstone, Chuck arrives, Avi and Cyndy leave
11 Tetons, walk to Lake Solitude
12 Yellowstone Canyon, water overflow at Tower Falls
13 Dodge City drive, to Lewis and Clark Caverns
14 Through Caves, to Flathead Forest, Montana
15 Glacier Park to Okotoks
16 Banff to Marble Canyon (Kootenay)
17 Kootenay to Glacier and Yoho
18 Banff, Lake Louise, Jasper
19 Jasper, to Whistler's Campground
20 Jasper-Vancouver drive, Chuck flies off
21 See Hollywood people, dine with Lisa and Susan
22 To Pacific at Kalaloch, Olympic
23 Pick up Chuck in Portland, lovely O'Dell Lake
24 Crater Lake and south
25 Lassen and Lake Tahoe to 2AM
26 Nevada to Cathedral Grove
27 To Bryce Canyon
28 To Grand Canyon after Zion
29 The Gap, Arizona, have Chuck, Grand Canyon, Sublime Point
30 To New Mexico after Petrified Forest
31 Mesa Verde to Rockwood, Colorado

1 Durango-Montrose, Black Canyon, Royal Gorge
2 Drive to Dorrance, Kansas
3 Jefferson Arch in St. Louis
4 Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, West Virginia, Pennsylvania
5 Get camper back by 9PM, home to Joan and Don
6 Spend all day fixing place up, to Penthouse and Rat Race
7 "Numbers," "2001," "Myra Breckenridge," "Biorhythms," all books in one day
8 Don and Hetch and Cathy and Shawn over 3PM to sleep
9 To work, hand in resignation, sweep place, Joan and Milton and Anita over
10 Clean place good (with Avi), "Thomas Crown Affair" and "Sebastian"
11 Anita over, "Without Love"*
12 "Daddies"*, fix apartment
13 Fix apartment, see "Father" and "Railroad Man" with Joe
14 "Petulia," to Rat Race with Peter and home at 3
15 Read papers, watch Streisand with Joe and Pete
16 Buy "Gay", TV 8-10, buy typewriter, come from 6:30-7:30 at Plateau 45 MINUTES!!
17 Lunch with Dick, talk to Madge, "Boom" and "Charlie Bubbles" with Joe
18 "Toni" and "Immortal Story" at Film Festival with Joe
19 Clean apartment, "Tarzan of the Apes" (1918 )*, "Olympia"*, (Nudes first in Part II)
20 Joe Smith, Toni, Bob Friedman, Chuck, Ed, Barbara Brimberg, Cissy, I party, then all
   but Ed and Chuck to dinner, and Cissy sleeps over!
21 "L'Argent" at 5:30, Joan over at 11 and spend day in CP in boat, cruise 11-2AM, Kent
22 "Sense Relaxation," type and TV
23 "Tropici," "Partners" at Film Festival with Don
24 Joffrey Ballet at 8:30, "Signs of Life," "Two or Three Things I Know About Her" at Film
25 "Beyond the Law," "Les Biches," "Nazarin," "The Stranger" at Film Festival and New
26 "Artists Under the Big Top," "Perplexed," type
27 "Naked Childhood," "Fireman's Ball," slides at Avi's
28 Type, Azak's for dinner and evening
29 Riis Park, Whitney Museum
30 Katunda Concert at Carnegie with many people, "Gaslight Follies,"*, Met Museum
   Frescoes, party here 11-3AM       Week 1 - Film Festival; Week 2 - Correspondence