1974 3 of 8
DIARY 8432
TUESDAY, MARCH 26. Up about 8:30, getting up and eating breakfast for the first time in ages, and then go to the store and find I don't have enough money with me: have to put some things back, but I'd anticipated and knew that I didn't HAVE to have the aluminum foil, so I didn't actually go over, but had only a dime left when I left. Moved more and more things around, finally getting into the storage room and putting the stamps from the open table into the chest-drawers that John had emptied of his stuff. Put some things by the door to take across to John, and started making a list of things that I wanted from him, but it was really quite a clean move. Just shoved things into closets and drawers, knowing that I'd have to wait for a better time before putting things into PERFECT order. Take over the drawer that he vacated in the filing cabinet, load lots of stuff onto the shelves over the desk, try to plow through to sort things out, but the GROSS work is still so great. It's about 2 when I stop for lunch, reading at the same time, and debate about having the good table in the kitchen, but there just isn't time to think of an alternative. With the closet pretty well cleared out with John's linens gone, I can get all the stuff out of the kitchen, leaving more room for that, and move the dishes down to where I can get at them. Just work and work and work through the day, moving around the speakers as I go from one room to another, wrinkling my nose in displeasure at the smell from the toilet bowl, though I won't have time to get to that for another week and a HALF yet. Stuff jammed onto shelves and into closets and there's the pain of opening and shutting the bed every night and morning, too. Then out to the travel class (see DIARY 8433-8434), where we go over insurance and the travel books, and as I leave he sneaks me a dated copy of the Eastern Airlines 1973 Travel Agent's Vacation Planning Guide, just to let me have what it is, though I'm still looking forward to getting my FIRST outdated copy of the International OAG, so that I can actually SEE what towns WHERE are connected by flights and how OFTEN. I know they change, but it'll tell where AIRPORTS are. Gas turned on during the day, and I make a note that John has to turn the pilot down. Proofread Seal-Singing from 10 to 12:00. Exhausted to bed at 1.
DIARY 8435
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 27. Wake on the dot of 7, but I'm too tired to crawl out of bed much before 8. Settle some more things in the apartment, and get out for work and breakfast at the 494 place, where they don't have jelly for one day, the next day they have a JAR that they drain for each customer, and then the little packs are back. Get to work at 10 but mark down that I got there at 9---if he didn't give me a raise I have to give MYSELF a raise! Work till 5:30 at various things, talk with Nick for a long time, and call Marion Skedgell to tell her about John's wishes for a party for the book. She says they don't usually do such things for publicity, but I insist that John wants it for all the good people at DUTTON who have been so interested and so helpful with the book. So she sounds brighter about it, saying that she'd intended to take him to lunch on publication day, just a day and a month from now---well, I guess it was the 29th, since the 28th is a SUNDAY. But then she said she'd think about it, and at least I can get ONE thing crossed off my DO list. I've been wanting to get to the diary, knowing that I'm falling farther and farther behind, and not wanting to let the TRANSITION go without recording it, but there just isn't any TIME, though due in large part TO that, there won't be anything wrong with my record of the time, since it's mostly circumstantial. On the way to work I read a GREAT line on page 142 of Jung's Memoirs, and I get to work to jot down notes about it, which I transcribe on DIARY 8436. Think about the insight, want to share it with John, but some mornings he seems annoyed when I knock on his door, and one morning there was the voice of him talking quite loudly, and it didn't SOUND like he was on the phone, it SOUNDED like someone was there in bed with him, but I couldn't be sure. But once he was so abrupt that he MUST have been coming, or something. After about a week I don't even bother to tell him I'm going: If I don't answer the phone, I'm at NC, that's what I assume he knows. There's not even the contact between NEIGHBORS. Home at 5, pant pant, eat fast, and get out to travel class (see DIARY 8439-40), getting a GREAT map of Europe and a GREAT national park plot of the center of Africa for the trip. Home at 12 and FALL asleep.
DIARY 8441
THURSDAY, MARCH 28. Up about 7:45 and do the usual jobs around the apartment, which take quite a bit of time, then get to NC by 10 after breakfast, deciding to charge that I've come in at 9. It appears they're trying to get everything published, and I'm looking at the blues of the Skinner readers, greatly impressed with the crotches in Reader 9 where the kids are stuck in the cave with adorably vulnerable "love-me" looks on their handsome faces and the artist's foreshortening techniques give their thighs enormity and their calves gigantuosity, while their arms and chests and thick necks are quite edible. Also, there's a piece of art missing from the reader, which gives me a chance to sift through the pieces there, listening to other comments about the style, and only Tom has the courage to mention crotches, after we have our strange talk next Monday. Work until 5, and get into the supermarket again to buy groceries, sure I've got enough with $12, and AGAIN I have to count the prices on items to make sure I don't get more than I have money for. Frying things quickly in the pan, or broiling them, and the dishes are piling up, but I guess it was Tuesday that I went out shopping and bought a spatula and more rubber gloves and a dish drainer and a sink stopper and various other things that I needed, including a clothes rack for socks, since my last sock-washing session was traumatized by the socks falling into the tub TWICE, from the hangers because there was no secure place to hang the hanger. John's decided he HAS to go to his class, even though NO ONE has signed up at the Open Eye, and he and Jean Erdman console each other through the evening. I get off to "Kathak" and manage the ticket sale quickly and easily (now all I have to worry about are all the Hurok tickets that I'm not using because of the travel class and because of the unimaginative programming), and in to a rather disappointing evening of dance (see DIARY 8442), which I tell John he could just as well have missed, and home to smoke a bidi mixture that's gotten into one of the plastic vials, and get VERY dizzy when I jerk off, having to flail away at the cock before it comes, and bed almost nauseous.
DIARY 8443
FRIDAY, MARCH 29. Wake at 7:30 to find there's a snowstorm outside, quite a surprise, and upstate there are many inches, and in the city it's necessary to wear rubbers, and it even lasts on the ground through tomorrow, but not through Sunday, though we AGAIN have a brief snow flurry during the SECOND week of April, surely one of the latest, delaying spring as much as possible, particularly THIS year when I NEED it so much. Busy with getting lunch together and out at 9 to have breakfast early at 9:30 and get to work by 9:50, saying it's 9:30, and they seem to be saying they'll have work for me indefinitely. Work through until 5, home worried about all the work I have to do during the weekend, finishing "Seal-Singing" and doing ALL the NASA work. Ask John if he wants to do some typing for the 36 things I have to finish, and he thinks about it and says no, I should have given him more advance warning. Dinner and really don't feel like doing anything after I have some heady wine with my steak, and so I get out the slide projector from the front closet, wrestling with the storage boxes blocking the entryway to the closet, cursing them, and get out the box of slides FORGETTING that I'd excerpted some of the best into a smaller yellow box. But I miss some of the best ones while I'm sifting through the others, decide there MUST be another box somewhere, and seem to see that they're so out of order that John might have been looking at them, but when he wanted a slide projector to look at his slides for the Open Eye presentation, he didn't know where the projector was. Smoke lots of bidi to get high, but I just get dizzier and dizzier, so that I have to lie down for a bit before I throw up after I come. Set the alarm for 10:30 so I can watch "Feasting with Panthers" about Oscar Wilde, and get over enough of my nausea to at least LOOK at the screen, sickened by the color changes, confused by the plot. It was fairly effective, but I guess I'd have to see it again to really evaluate it. It seemed a bit pat and overly dramatized. It's over at midnight and I can barely move out of the chair to turn it off and get into bed, miserable at being alone, even COMING doesn't stop THAT!
DIARY 8444
SATURDAY, MARCH 30. Up at 8:45 am finally to the desk for some work, and proofread "Seal-Singing" from 8:45 to 12:45, then have lunch, then do it from 1:25 to 4:15, a total of only six hours, because John comes over and we move some more things back and forth, though he says I can keep the blue wine bottle, and he wishes me a happy birthday (yeah!) and suggests we have dinner together on Monday night. I'd wanted to keep next week reasonably free, but very quickly I commit myself to Monday's dinner with John, the Tuesday and Wednesday travel classes, Thursday a play with Avalon, and Friday the Brazil fiesta with Arnie---so much for THAT week! Joan calls and wishes me a happy birthday, which is sweet of her, and we try to get together but there isn't any time, so we mark down next Friday AFTER next for dinner, which she finally can't keep. Then Avi calls (and I'd gotten cards from Grandma, Helen, Joe and Bob, and Dror who I called from work to thank, and two books from Rita, who jabs my heart again when she says that the books on dance and mushrooms might be more for John than for me and a check for $15 from Mom---without even a note!) and we talk for about 40 minutes while I tell him about the breakup, which I can hardly believe took place a WEEK AGO now. Part of my mind KNOWS that I'm keeping busy so I won't have time to think about it. And the diary is TOTALLY out of date by this time, and I'm increasingly concerned about catching up EVER. Then I go straight to working on NASA from 4:30 to 6:30, and the first two are very difficult, taking about half an hour each, and I'm wrecking my fingernail edges, but then they seem to get easier, and after I have dinner I DON'T know what I do for the rest of my birthday---possibly something as simple as sitting down and reading science-fiction stories---but I'd hate to think that I went to a movie, or something, and forgot to record it. Went out for the Times later (or got it on my way back from somewhere), and read it all through, and got involved in the puzzle and worked and worked on it until it was FINISHED at 2 am, feeling silly for doing it with one head, and happy that I was doing something that I wanted to do, with the other head.
DIARY 8445
SUNDAY, MARCH 31. [God, the last day of March at LAST---only TWO WEEKS behind now.] Up about 9, feeling like lazing, but I force myself into the typing chair and once I've done that, it goes fairly well. Go solidly from 9 to 12:30, with about 15 minutes out trying to see a discussion of homosexuality on "Sunday" at 10:30, but it's a magazine program that doesn't announce WHEN it's going to have certain segments, and I don't care to watch all the other junk on with it. Eat lunch, and work from 1:30 to 3:35, when something happens I've forgotten, then again from 3:40 to 4:25, when I stop, weary but well-accomplished, to watch the Wide World of Sports, which doesn't have the swimming and diving championships as announced, but it DOES have Evel Knievel jumping 17 trucks, which is sort of fun, and they say they'll have the Foreman-Norton 2-round fight from Venezuela for the world's heavyweight championship on, and they do have SOME swimming on, with a hoarse cute Mark Spitz as an inarticulate commentator, with absolutely fantastic bodies, but the shaving of the skulls for speed is too bizarre to be attractive. That's over at 7:55 and I get back to work until 7:30, when I get back to TV, having dinner on my lap, to watch "Life of the Cuiva" on Nova, with a lovely soft-spoken filmmaker moving along with them from place to place, looking at the Spaniards who are moving their farms and grazing lands in on the gentle people, and sympathize with everyone involved, and then watch the first part of "The Movies" from 8:30 to 10:30 (see DIARY 8446), and then BACK to work to FINISH NASA from 10:35 to 12:15, not really caring about bothering clubfoot UPstairs, but concerned about someone knocking on my door from the quiet couple DOWNstairs, but nothing comes to the door, and I chew on my fingers and knead my stomach to keep going, alternately amazed that I'm DOING such a job as this, synopsizing things I REALLY don't know ANYTHING about for some technical audience. Finish tired enough to get to bed without jerking off for a change, crawl into bed exhausted from the cold which is STILL around, and now it feels like it's coming BACK, though the awful SMELL I'd been having seems to be gone, and from the emotions of the first week apart---not to mention all my jerking off.
DIARY 8449
MONDAY, APRIL 1. Up at 8 and get out to get the "Find Your Way Home" ticket from Arnie for Thursday, but forget to take him his ballet ticket. Back and work around the apartment until 10, when I call Gross and find he's in and take the stuff to him. Sadly, he finds 11 of them inadequate and gives me them back to do, saying that he'll pay $6 for each of them, and that an hourly pay-scale can start when a new contract is signed with NASA on May 1. Then take "Seal-Singing" back to Betty Borger and we go through the flags and find nothing wrong, and she has nothing more for me, so that's ONE trouble out of the way, anyway. Down to NC by way of Jack's Nest, which had been written up in New York, and I find that it's the strikingly fronted place that Susan and I had seen on our way down to eat at Goldberg's pizza on March 11. The fried chicken is good and the clientele is interesting, though the sangria isn't quite worth the price. To NC at 1:15 and work until 5:30, then leave to get down very quickly to meet John at 6, but he's not in the French place (Bientot?) opened by Mariano Parra, so I stroll over to Mattachine, see John sitting outside the park with his growing beard, and find Bob Burdick there, Bill West not, and he tells me that Bill LIVED with him for a couple of months and stole his checkbook and wrote a number of bad checks with it! He's seemingly on the run from somewhere else, and might be running TO somewhere NEXT---what a pity. Then out to the restaurant, John's brought wine, the paté and onion soup are very good, his chicken and my veal cordon blue are good too, and the salad is so big there's no room for dessert. Anna Sokolow comes in with some dancer's first wife and everyone chats about everyone, and then we're back at 8:10, so that I can get in to watch "Mystery of the Maya" from 8 to 9, not very impressive and VERY phony film of finding the long-lost temple B, the rest of "The Movies" from 9 to 11:15 (see DIARY 8447), and then quickly turn to "The Battle of Culloden" where the winners acted more awfully in raping and stabbing and killing than the losers, the poor Irish, and it quite turned me off, and I was tired, not tired enough, sadly, to get into bed until jerking off again with the GOOD slides and staying up until 2 am.
DIARY 8450
TUESDAY, APRIL 2. Wake at 7:15, then again at 8:15, and up shortly after, still tired from too little sleep. In to work at 10 after breakfast, saying I got in at 9:30, and Tom's working on a list of theory versus Math Achiever actuality, and we talk and talk about it, and finally about 1 he drags me off to Barnes and Noble, where we pull down lots of books, and I get the same feeling I get when I'm working with NASA, who am I to stand here and say I KNOW something about this sort of thing?? But I select some books that look pretty good, and we get back into a taxi at 2 in the rain to go to Monk's Place for lunch, I have a Bloody Mary to start with, and the fish and chips are pretty good. We chat for a bit in general terms, and then the conversation takes a strange turn when he tells me that he's GAY! (see DIARY 8451). We're out at 4 pm, appalled by the lateness, and I'm still fussing with his tables when I say I MUST leave at 6, getting down directly to the D train for the next to the last class, which I'm desperate to be early for, since I think we'll be having my client to Walt's agent presentation first, but that's not the way it works (see DIARY 8452-54). But I'm gratified to find that when I get out at 9:10, there's plenty of time for me to get home by 10, and even time to wash and start a steak on the stove before the Academy Awards come on at 10. What a DAY it's been: rushing from one job to another, hardly time to eat (and I say this from a two-hour lunch hour??) but my head is SPINNING. Then Burt Reynolds is a rather silly (but sexy) host, and it goes slowly, particularly where Walter Houston "chews out" the industry for being down on itself, and for the HIGH sex of the evening, behind David Niven, PERFECTLY from the hairline up, comes a STREAKER from the back, and Niven says he "showed his shortcomings." A radiantly beautiful Liz Taylor presented the best picture award, and Katharine Hepburn brought the audience to its feet when SHE "gave up being selfish" and appeared for the FIRST time, having won three Oscars. She was marvelously characteristic, weeping and throaty, and the whole evening for TV was a great success. Crawl into bed at 1:30, exhausted.
DIARY 8455
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 3. Again wake promptly at 7:15, lounge to 8, up and out by 9, to work at 10, work to 5:30. But the day was broken up with telephone calls to a few places to find how I can put up travel posters, talking to Litton, Macmillan, and HBJ, and during an over-an-hour lunch hour, I do the homework for class tonight (see DIARY 8456), and borrow colored felt-tip pens to mark up the map quite spectacularly. Show NICK where my trip last summer went, and he's very impressed, as are people from the class. Linda, particularly, says that she'd love to have me working in the office with her, since I have such a good mind for details. But I shoot back that I'm just like the black girl who said they didn't PAY her enough, and I crowed over the fact that I had three jobs ALREADY which paid anywhere from $7 to $12 an hour with my technical background. Steve, however, floored me by saying that THE job I should get is as a writer from a big agency to stay in the hotels and write up the trip. "Good ones pay $35,000!" But when he tells me HOW to find these, he can only say that I should look in the "Travel Agent" magazine and then phony up a resume, as he did, to get a better job than he actually deserved, and then he sold HIMSELF (see DIARY 8457-8458). Get home about 6 and whip myself up some peanut butter sandwiches to hold me until the class is over, and zip out at 6:30 to get good connections to everything but the final bus, whose wait gives me enough time to get ANOTHER pretty-awful quality Carvel double-dip ice cream for 354 and finish it before the bus comes in the cooling weather. Always 10E cooler out at Manhattan Beach walking on the old torn-up grounds of Kingsborough College. Home at 11:30 and finish "Sci-Fi Hall of Fame" Volume 2A, and think to get to sleep, but I want to come, so I get out the vibrator and start playing with that, trying it no hands, but it hurts rather than gives a good sensation, so I return to actually jerking it off with it on the hand, and the come squirts out in white shiny jiggles, and I wipe it off without ceremony, probably eat quite a bit (popcorn with the sci-fi, I'm sure), and get to sleep at 2, no WONDER I'm tired during the day!
DIARY 8459
THURSDAY, APRIL 4. Wake and actually get out of bed at 7:15, and go through what is a DREADFULLY involved morning routine that takes a terrible amount of time (see DIARY 8461). It may be that I even took some time out before going to work to finish a few odd unread pages of Jung's "Memories, Dreams, and Reflections" that I finished reading today, liking the freedom of schedule that permits me to do such things. {At that moment the phone rang and I took off with Arnie to the Club Baths---freedom it is!] Get to work at 10:30 after forcing the eggs and scrambling bowl to come back out of the kitchen where they'd optimistically put it at 10:15, and chat endlessly with Nick about auras and his publication AUM that he reads and Actualism and other facets of mysticism. Out at 5:30 and get home and begin to broil hamburgers, but I look at the ticket for this evening and see that the curtain's at 7:30, and not at 8. Pluck the 1/8 broiled stuff out of the oven and have some toast and peanut butter, and dash off to the theater, finding it almost empty at 7:25, wondering about how such a successful play has so few in the audience. Then Avalon arrives and tells me that the curtain is at 8, the tickets have been printed wrong. We sit and chat rather awkwardly about Arnie and his shop (she's been there both before and after it was finished), "Ulysses in Nighttown" and various other productions containing all three of the Mostel family, the ballet, my travel possibilities, TV, movies, and finally the curtain goes up. We're in the back row with Arnie's TDF tickets for $3.50, which is the only reason I'm there, and we're sitting on the edges of our upraised seats when a nice-looking fellow says "You can move down if you want," and when Avalon asks who he is, he says "I'm the producer." We thank him, breeze past the usherette who tried to stop Avalon, and we're down to the side of the SECOND row, eyes about calf-level, almost as if we were lying on the floor in the living room where the action in "Find Your Way home" takes place. I'm not too happy with the play (see DIARY 8462), but Avalon likes it because people ARE that way and the acting is good. Out at 11, get home to read some, and actually get to sleep without masturbating at 12:45.
DIARY 8463
FRIDAY, APRIL 5. Up at 7:55 and get into work by 9:55, the typical two-hour turnaround time, with the hour's preliminaries described on DIARY 8461, plus about 15 minutes ordering, waiting for, and eating breakfast at the 494 place. Put in a bill yesterday, the third one, for $315, or 45 hours, for a total of $672, or 96 hours, plus the 15 yesterday and total, a total of 111 hours worked in the MONTH since Ron Tiekert called on March 5 and today. And it looks like there's going to be NO end of what I'm doing for them. Leave at 5:30 and do some more shopping, saving the receipts to see how much I DO spend on food, and arrange to meet Arnie at the corner of the St. George at 9:45 to see the "Fiesta Brazil" that's appearing at the Felt Forum next week, but which he'll get us cheap tickets for tonight with his student ticket. I have wine with dinner, which sets me off into a "feeling-sorry-for-myself" mood, and I don't feel like working on the rewriting of the 11 NASA which I have to have in by Monday, so I get out the slide projector, putting down the shades in the still-light room, and get into such a rousing erection that I can walk around with it swinging back and forth, clear fluid shining at the tip of it, getting the used poppers out of the refrigerator to suck at, using the bidis to get quite a dizzy buzz on, and I tease myself into such an erect state that even after I come, having grappled with myself in the beam of the projector, I'm still hard and excitable, so I tease myself to a SECOND erection, playing with myself even longer in the ineffable state of prolonged agonies (see DIARY 8464) and finally squeeze it off for a SECOND time, gasping, throat dry, totally drained, and Nick said that he was going to do some curing for me this evening, and I felt so ecstatic that I actually thought I entered into a new state of being at about 8:30, marvelously sensuous, at the peak of bodily feelings. Recovered in time to get to the corner, but the 10 pm performance has been cancelled, we see about half an hour (I'm smoking again and totally stoned) of some chanteuse singing poorly, some dances that don't get very sexy, and a festival at the end is quite skimpy. Leave at 10:30, back to have popcorn and start "The Pyramid," getting to bed at 1:30.
DIARY 8466
SATURDAY, APRIL 6. Up About 8:30, looking forward to doing a lot, and get to the bookcases right away. But before that I have to move the record stuff off the shelf, and before I do THAT I have to fix up the record cabinet top to support all three pieces nicely, so I take out the bottom records, taking the opportunity to dust them, take out the spare shelf (which I'm sure glad I have) and put it on top, where it works nicely, and then put the records back, clear off the broad bookcase, and decide that the fiction should come down the front and the nonfiction down the back. But first I have to hammer out the supports to make the shelves more even, and then see that I can move some of the smaller oversize from the narrow shelf to the broad shelves, which means I can TOTALLY equalize the narrow shelves, and then begin to think of the narrow shelves as the NONfiction and the broad as the fiction. So I sort out the additions in order, and separate out the nonfiction, and the more I do the more space it makes, so much so that I end up sorting out poetry and plays as well, and still have room for a writing reference shelf right next to my typewriter. With the added shelves there's a LOT of room, which makes it great. So the fiction goes down five shelves in the front and not even four shelves in the back, giving a whole shelf-and-a-half for expansion, which is great, and the nonfiction takes not even four shelves, with the fifth above for oversize books, and then sort of run out of steam and stare and stare at the pamphlets and the travel books and the souvenirs, and then grip myself and put THEM away, too, and the place is lovely. Sort through closets and put things away so that I can get AT them, happy that the front closet can STILL hold the clothes bag, and clear out the rest of the bedroom stuff, too, hanging the mirror, putting lots of stuff onto bookcases in the study, and it's all done in a GREAT way, though the rugs are FILTHY from the dust from all the books and shelves, dusted for the first time in over 20 months. Then, tired, have dinner and call a couple people, none of whom wants to see "Walking Tall" and "Save the Tiger," which I see (see DIARY 8467) and get home with the Times, which I read until 1:45, being able to get to bed without coming.
DIARY 8468
SUNDAY, APRIL 7. Up at 8:45, finish reading the Times, managing to not do the puzzle, at 10, then have breakfast and do the dishes, stacks and stacks of them. Keep remembering that John said the federal tax forms needed another form for self-employment, and that I didn't have one of the sets of forms, and decided I had to find out what was what before doing my tax NEXT weekend, before the 15th on Monday. So I get all the stuff out and pore through it all, thinking I need a self-employment form until I FIND it in the packet they sent (since it WAS on the contents on the cover), but then find I don't need it AFTER all, since my income is under $400 after I take out all the rent and phone and electricity and newspapers and professional dues and supplies. The first quick time thought think I owe them money, but then recalculate and find I'm owed about $250 from the government, but then I can't find what I need from the city since I don't have the city's forms. Finish this at 2, delighted that it's turned out so nicely---but I should have done it sooner so I could get my refund sooner (except that it might have disturbed my bank balances for getting food stamps, which have finally started coming in, starting on April 15th, though it was dated April 30th, and then I got a SECOND one dated April 30th, which must be the way they start, and I get $21 worth of tickets for $16, so my five hours will be paid for ONLY after 7 or 8 cards, or N cards, for an hourly rate of $N). Have lunch, and start typing diary pages, getting finished with a little less than a week but doing 20 pages, with one extra one back further, but I'm STILL 2 weeks behind and it's STILL preying on my mind, though I'm looking forward to a whole week without travel classes as a time to catch up in the evenings. Finish reading "The Pyramid" not totally successful, funny and silly in equal parts, and have dinner and then FINALLY get to scouring the toilet and bowl and tub, to get rid of the pissy smell and the reddish crust that's been driving me up the wall. Type until 11:15, shower and wash hair, and then come GREAT until 12:30, and then EAT like a maniac, really the worst night, inventing the "Whip-Up Dish" (see DIARY 8469).
DIARY 8470
MONDAY, APRIL 8. Wake at 7:10, but convince myself that under 6-3/4 hours is too little sleep, so I lay till 8, fuss until 9 with the morning chores described before (see DIARY 8461), have breakfast, and then rewrite the 11 NASA items that Graham gave back to me (which are due TODAY) from 9:20 to 1:20, and then I call him after lunch and take them right in, and he assumes they are going to be OK without even looking at them. Then says that they are going to have to evaluate some of the indexes they've been turning out for NASA, and that I might be involved in that job, maybe doing a sample indexing of some works for a couple of months, and we discuss various theories about KWIC and abstracting. Meet Pat Teller on the way out, who is willing to go through me to get information about an Octoberfest trip she and her husband are meaning to take, so for the first week we DON'T have class, I have something that I'd like to TAKE to class to research (or have someone from Claridge research). Back to do some small errands, like shopping, and back in the apartment, and start going through all the mail that's just been piling up. Throw lots of things away, file other things, increase the list of things I have to do to make it more practical, and things like typing Elaine's stuff and the Mattachine paper seem horribly behind schedule, and I haven't written to Rita to thank her for my BIRTHDAY presents yet! Then I skim through "New York" at 6:40 and remember that I wanted to see the double of "Pound" and "Greaser's Palace" at the Elgin, and find they start at 7, and I want to watch TV tonight at 11:30, so I quickly dress and get out, shortless in case, and it DOES happen (see DIARY 8471), with a black named Darrell Valentine who comes twice to my once. A Villella-faced guy on the subway with a shock of hyacinthine locks looks at a Gun Digest on his thick thighs and shows seven-barreled pistols to blacks across the aisle, then studies the fatherly open-faced officers with their manly hands on a private's (privates?) broad shoulders in an "Eight-Week Challenge" ARMY book. The fantasies THAT invoked! Home at 11, eat quickly, and watch Gary Cooper in "The Virginian" where he has to hang his buddy Richard Arlen while his finance Mary Brian wrings her hands and throws her slender form onto Coop's silent manly chest. It SAYS from 1929, but it's probably 1939: it looked pretty GOOD. Bed at 1:30.
DIARY 8473
TUESDAY, APRIL 9. Wake at 7:10, and manage to get out of bed a bit earlier, at 7:55, though it's STILL only 62 hours sleep. Go through the usual thing of breakfast at the 494 place, which is starting to get more crowded now that it's catching on, and get to work at 10, but start billing as if I got in at 9:30. Adding an extra half-hour in the morning, one in the afternoon, and a half-hour for lunch, and a half-hour strictly talking with Nick and on the phone, gives me 2 hours "free" (in exchange for the extra ADDED hour on the subway) out of the typical 9:30-5:30 (1/2 hour for lunch) 72 hour day, so I get $7 x 72 , or $52.50 for essentially 53 hours work, or an ACTUAL rate of $10 an hour, which isn't bad at ALL! (And now I've figured what my MARKUP will be when I work at HOME: I'll WORK at $10 an hour. This puts the proofreading I did for Macmillan (nominally at $4, actually at $8) as the CHEAPEST work I do, so I'm just as happy that I gave Betty Borger's name to Alice Duskey. I guess the least-well paid work I do NOW is for McGraw-Hill, nominally at $6, I'll probably increase by 50% to $9 for a start, in order to get the experience and the McGraw-Hill NAME into my resume. And $9 isn't bad for the LOWEST, and it went up to about $15 per hour for the "Nuclear Reactor" article, which is much BETTER. But I'd suppose, with the WEIGHT of New Century work, that my AVERAGE is not much better than $10 or $11---BUT if you go by 2000 hours a YEAR, 50 weeks at 40 hours per week [which I'm SURE Steve Goodman puts in], that IS the $20,000 that seems to be his border between the slobs and the "haves.") Start "Breakfast of Champions" on the way to work and at lunch, get VERY tired, almost to the point of feeling like dropping off to SLEEP at 4:30, and get home to glance at the New York puzzle at 5:45 and get SUCKED in, working on the Snail-spiral interlocking puzzle until 10:15, when I FINISH it, and walk to the post office to MAIL it---maybe get a free year to the mag for it. Back to dinner, come, have popcorn, and read more of the Vonnegut until 1:50, not tired NOW, though I'll be tired AGAIN tomorrow about 4:30---Didn't take me long to get back into MY timeframe of activity!
DIARY 8474
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 10. Wake at 7:15, up at 7:50, making the two times come closer and closer. Debate about not going in to work today, since I want to watch the TV at 3:30, but I have lots of work on the R and S Teacher's Manual Data Sheets which should have been finished yesterday, but Tom gave me other stuff to look at which of course took priority. So I figure I can come BACK and return in time to meet Nick for his "aura cleaning" this evening. Get to work at 9:30, literally, and work until 3, when I'm delayed in leaving and the subway is very slow, so I don't get home until after 3:35, which is a pain, but the Villella-choreographed "Harlequin" is quite good, with a doll of a Dermot Burke as the other boy, and Villella has a few scenes with his shirt off where his chest is gorgeous, only slightly marred by the enormous veins standing out on his deltoids and biceps. His crotch is adorable, and the crotches on some of the chorus are positively edible in their orange and lemon and lime tights and tousled afros. Nothing outstanding in the dancing itself, but he doesn't stint on his own athleticism, probably because the effects are needed for TV, can probably never be done on a regular stage, so he could rest, then shoot, then rest for his series of spins and turns and leaps which he probably couldn't hack in a continuous stint on the stage. Back to work at 5, feeling pleasantly iconoclastic in the schedule (and of course I don't take it OFF my hours!), and work until 6, then up with Nick to the Symposium restaurant, on 113th between Broadway and Amsterdam, and it's quite good, though rather expensive, but the mixed broil of kidney, sausage and sweetbreads was good and lemony, and the avgolemono soup at the start was positively ACIDIC. It's 7:55 when we leave, and I keep forgetting Nick has a sore foot from his ingrown-nail operation, so we WALK down to 93rd, getting in quite late at 8:15, but they hold the start for us, and it's a fairly unpleasant evening (see DIARY 8475) that's over at 10:30. Home to FINISH "Breakfast of Champions," wacky and good, at 12, and fall into bed to try to catch up on some sleep so I won't collapse in the middle of the afternoon.
DIARY 8477
THURSDAY, APRIL 11. [God, I've actually managed to hack away until there's only a WEEK left to do!] Up at 7:45 after AWFUL dream of MOM sharing a HOUSE with me again, and my TRYING to excuse myself for having gotten into it again. Wash hair and do things around the apartment, getting ready for the Buzz-Off directly after work, another of the days when I leave the apartment at 9:30 and don't get BACK until somewhat after 9:30 that night. Work from 10:25 to 6, and then walk up Park to get to the new "Who, What, Where"---no, on the video cameras is RGP, the Ron Greenburg Productions offices on 40th (see DIARY 8478) for a silly worthless evening talking about "Toss-Up" which has been renamed as "The Challengers" and will be taped AT CBS'S EXPENSE (so they DO invest in shows that are only POSSIBLE as new shows), including the building of an elaborate SET, on April 20th and 21st. Cynthia had called me many times last week and this to arrange my times both for the final show AND for the Buzz-off, and finally it seemed I was stuck late Sunday, where it would conflict with my Harkness tickets. But CBS is close to Harkness, so I won't miss much, and of course it NEVER starts at 8. Out at 7:45 and decide to walk along 42nd, but AGAIN I'm struck by the CRUDDINESS of the street---and I DON'T think it was like that when I used to LIKE it: there used to be a CROSS-section of people, rich and poor, black and white, sexy and old, strangers and New Yorkers, but now it seems to be PRIMARILY poor, unsexy though not old, New Yorkers who prowl with a sense of KNOWING what's there, rather than with a sense of exploration. Shops are forts, dirty book shops are closing, there are papers on the streets, and everything is a quick-lunch shoppe. Home by 8:50 and eat while watching "An Evening with Champions" with SOME good skaters, but the lack of competition produces rather colorless performances from 9-10, coast through the end of "Much Ado About Nothing" (stoned), and watch "The Contractor" which is far better than I thought it would be, AGAIN emphasizing the dichotomy: rich against poor, workers against nonworkers, dedicated (if only to THEMSELVES) and wanderers (too self-conscious to be dedicated to themselves). Watch "Circles II" with Doris Chace and dance and sculpture, and turn the TV off wearily at 1, crawling exhausted and eye-weary into bed after a quick come and eat at 1:30.
DIARY 8480
FRIDAY, APRIL 12. This morning I dreamed I reached into the closet for my old bathrobe and put ON a new one of blue, yellow, and red chenille stripes before I even THOUGHT it was the present from John from Christmas. THAT led me to recall the awning sampler book I played with and loved the colors of as a KID (VERY young), AS I remembered I had a moveable-type stamp pad that I had NO idea what to stamp with (as I wanted an "able to work" stamp for NC to replace the "familiar" in the Teacher's Manual prerequisites for MACH units)---and the "Renfrew of the Mounties" buttons! Wake at 6:45 and up at 8:10. In to work for the usual hours, but that's changed when Camille Ames comes around at 3 to say that the place is closing early because of Good Friday. Now I know why the subways weren't so crowded this morning---even Nick didn't know it was Good Friday. I tried working longer, but about 3:15 I began to feel the old malaise, so I just packed up and went home. Slave through only 4 days of diary writing with 10 pages of typing, still more than two weeks behind, and feel now that THIS task is the most pressing---after movies, of course. Don't really feel like sitting around, so when Bob Grossman called one night this week to give me his phone number, we compared free times and decided to see "Conrack" tonight at Eddie's theater, and I called Eddie and had a rather strange talk with HIM (see DIARY 8481). Bob wants to eat out, so I get ready rather slowly and when I should have been at his place at 7:30 I didn't get there until 7:55, so we gulped down a drink, dashed out to the Upstairs Chinese place on the corner of 59th and Third, then down to the movie, just getting in during the credits, it wasn't bad, HE was good, just not EXCITING. Then out at 11. Walk down to his place trying to find Baby Magic, but there were no drug stores, let alone any open, so we had to do without. Up to a drink and a rather awkward evening (see DIARY 8482), but it's still better than nothing, and I leave and get home at 1 to AGAIN gorge myself with things to eat, having a muffin and then slices of toast and THEN munching on Granola. Just manic about it, will be happy when it's over. Bed just after 1, looking forward to the weekend.
DIARY 8483
SATURDAY, APRIL 13. Up at 9, without really remembering waking any earlier, and my routine seems to REALLY revert back to early WEEKS and late WEEKENDS, which I HAD thought I'd come beyond. Fuss to 10 with odds and ends, sort of always making the apartment presentable in case John ever happens to want to come over, and I type 10 pages from 10 to 1, FINALLY getting finished with the month of March, but STILL two weeks behind! Have lunch and stare at the walls for awhile, and then force myself to do ten MORE pages from 2 to 4:30, a really horrible rate of 4 pages per hour---really rock bottom. I don't feel that I have the SKILL of typing that I used to have! I type 8448 about how I yearn to be caught up, and I finish only ten days late, the best in AGES. Type the last of a whole pack of paper sometimes in here, and put lots into Volume 34, Unsorted Pages, and put a new pack of 100 sheets into the hopper. Endless. Sit and agonize about what to do next, WANTING to vacuum but not having the energy, WANTING to do dishes, but not doing them, WANTING to write letters, but tired of typing, WANTING to read, but afraid of wasting time, and finally I WRENCH myself out of the chair and do the dishes, and then start working with the three pictures that have been lying on the bedroom floor for about a week, and glue them into place rather than retaping, a job that has to be redone every year or so. Lay them out on the coffee table with various books to hold them down, and then there's not enough TIME to do anything but shower and shave and cook and eat dinner and get out at 7:15 to the Harkness Ballet. The evening is characteristically long and filled (see DIARY 8484), and I meet and talk with Shelly Dobbins and his friend Sid about the ballet and about the trip to Africa, and the thing is OVER at 11, and I take the subway in the wrong direction, get off at 72nd and work my way down again, and home at 12, getting the Times AND the Voice, since I'd forgotten it EVERY day this week since Wednesday, and read them until 2, then watch "Six of a Kind" with W.C. Fields, Burns and Allen, and Mary Boland and Charles Ruggles going to California, inadvertently taking along stolen money, and Burns and Allen and their DOG, and staying in Fields's hotel, funny but I'm SO tired that it's a relief that it's over as early as 3:15. Tumble numb into bed.
DIARY 8485
SUNDAY, APRIL 14. Up at 9:15, but that's only 6 hours sleep. Finish the Times and the Voice by about 10, when I start watching TV, but the "Feast of Life" features a boring Vija Vetra acting Christ dressed in Spanish-widow black, and I type three pages from the diary, strictly travel stuff, before watching "The Feast of Love," the Greek Orthodox Easter Service of Agape, which is a total bore also, with only a cheek-kissing with the congregation at the end. A gay church has more agape than THAT. Then see that "Mississippi" is ending today, and I'm into a W.C. Fields kick, so I call for that schedule, and call for the OTHER Village movie schedule, and have lunch and get out at 1:30 to get to the St. Marks Cinema for the end of "A Doll's House" with Clare Bloom as a VERY good Nora, though I thought the husband was a bit overly hysterical, and the Dr. Rank of Ralph Richardson was a bit popeyed. "Day for Night" is rather Goddard-like, disconnected, showing Truffaut as a rather simple workman, totally serious, and hard of hearing, while Leaud acts and SEEMS TO BE his surrogate, going to movies, falling in love with any woman, totally irresponsible---better, Truffaut's SON, and I thought they were showing a scene from "400 Blows" when they showed him stealing stills from "Citizen Kane" when he was about 10. Then to the corner of Doll's House that I'd seen, and walk to the Bleecker Street, picking up an ice cream and a slice of pizza on the way, and "Mississippi" is probably not shown on TV because of the patronizing attitude to the blacks, though Joan Bennett was very pretty and W.C. Fields had a GREAT scene with a card game with 17 aces. Bing Crosby as a killing singer took me back to "Walking Tall." Out at 6:50 and watch the end of Nova, about the Crab Nebula, not very exciting, though there were some CUTE investigators, watch a funny "Thursday's Game" with a GREAT Gene Wilder and Bob Newhart and Ellen Burstyn and Cloris Leachman as respective wives, though CL's SCREAMS when BN wanted a divorce were a BIT much. BN's "being a fruit" to get a divorce was questionable. Come gloriously, though the slide lamp burns out, and at 11:30-1:30 watch "Cannibalism---How We Survived 71 Days in the Andes," and David Susskind was stupid, the boys were GREAT, and ANYONE who had their SENSE would have done the same thing. Bed tired.
DIARY 8486
MONDAY, APRIL 15. Up at 8:55 and do income tax on the final forms, and mail them out, having breakfast at 10 am since I'm not getting to breakfast before they stop the special at 10:30, and into work about 11, getting some more odds and ends to do, and tell Ron that since I'm picking up a big job this afternoon, my time here will be about cut in half, will that be OK with them? I also say that I won't be in tomorrow, and I'm finally DETERMINED to give myself some free time to do what I want to do---though I've been doing quite enough of it all the time ANYWAY. I just want MORE. Arnie HAD thought he was taking his car in to see the tapestries at the museum, and I thought I could see them AND his shop, but was glad when he cancelled out (since the water was going to be off in the SHOP on Wednesday, so he took THAT day off), since I couldn't have seen him in the shop since it wouldn't have been OPEN. Work through---having called Linda earlier to make sure she's THERE for the meeting at 3:30, and get some delays in what I'm doing and think I'm leaving at 3:10, but when I see the clock in the hall, it's 3:40! My watch had STOPPED for half an hour! Call her with great embarrassment, and obviously she doesn't believe my story, but says I should come in anyway. Decide to catch a subway up to save time, but it takes more than it saves, and I'm in about 4:10, and read the cover letter while we're waiting to get in to see Reilly. They give me a "Reference Manual for Stenographers and Typists" which embodies the McGraw-Hill style, and we thumb through the pages to see what some of the answers to his questions might be, and usually they accept my suggestion, so I'm not too concerned about it. But I'll have to finish the first two volumes by the end of next week if I want to get all SEVEN volumes done by the week of June 3rd, or maybe the previous week. Leave at 4:35, late for them, and get home to shop WITH food stamps for $11.50, getting in at 6. Then Arnie calls, after I type two diary pages, and page 8460 is a BIT prophetic, in that I said I should go to the baths, and Arnie WAS going to the Beacon, but I tell him about the 2 for 1 at the Club, so we arrange to meet at 7:45, I gulp down food, get there at 7:50, and we're to the Club for a GREAT evening with Ricardo and Paul and two others (see DIARY 8487). Bed at 1:45!!
DIARY 8490
TUESDAY, APRIL 16. Up at 89:55, go through the routine, even eating breakfast, and start typing at 10. Type five pages, to the section prolonged orgasm on 8464-8465, and having gotten out my cock, I go into the living room in the bright sunlight and COME from 11:15 to 11:30 am, and then dry off and go back and type the 6th page for the day, STILL 10 days behind, but with the days I'm intending to take off this week, I SHOULD be finished and up to date SOON. Call Arnie, who'll be at the shop until about 6, so I can go to the Museum first and then to the shop, and then get back to the D train to go directly to the travel class before having dinner. Bob's willing to do almost anything, so we agree to meet on the steps of the Met Museum at 2:30. I eat and dress and go out to A&S to see if they have anything about foam, but they don't, and I price innersprings and box springs to see if I'll do something half-assed with the bed, but all their stuff, even the cheap stuff, IS slapped together, so I decide to get a REAL set, waiting only to check the Workbench (which is right near NC) to see which bed I'll order. Out about 1:45 and catch the local all the way up, reading "The Night Country," and the steps are loaded with people enjoying the first REAL day of spring (since we had snow even in the SECOND week in April), and Bob arrives and we're down to look at the fashions from the 20s, 30s, and 40s, and the best by far is Schiaparelli, though the entire display area is very skillfully done, and then up to look at the tapestries, which we really don't care for. See the movie at 3:40 after waiting in line, and then wander around looking for what else, then out to Arnie's, where they've just ripped off his outside sign, and we sit around and Bob chats with Arnie about starting his own business (though in what he doesn't know) and we have cheesecake and mousse and coffee, and I volunteer to wash dishes in Norma's place on Saturday. Out about 6, I'm fearing to be late, but the D is fast and I get to class at 7, but Steve's not there yet, so I ask for travel information for Pat Teller (called her from work yesterday to ask more info), and she said come back after class. Class is long (see DIARY 8491) and shop is closed at 9:45 after I buy popcorn, 6 cans of it, talk with Moe back on the subway, home to eat, and finish reading "The Night Country" in bed at 12:15, but say that I finished it today. Right to sleep.
DIARY 8494
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 17. Up and out of bed at 7:30; 73 hours almost perfect for sleep finally. Clean off desk to 8:30, putting lots of things away, feeling good about getting everything organized for typing the last two weeks to catch up on the diary, and pack lunch and get off to breakfast of two FRIED eggs, over easy, for a change, though they're too much of a fuss, and to work about 10 as usual. Alice is in for some proofreading, and I finish the data sheets FINALLY and give all the stuff to Ron, and meet with Tom to find that I have ONLY the audio scripts to write for D-H, and the front matter for the Teacher's Manual to look through, so there IS an end to it! They both say 1/2 time is fine, and when I find that the Diagnostic Test formula is simple, I ask Ron if I can do it at home, and he says yes, so I say I'll work at HOME for Friday and come back here on TUESDAY, and they say that's fine. Give Alice Betty Borger's number for taking that proofreading off my hands, and DIARY 8473 summarizes my current situation on hourly pay. Patty Leach is using Ron's Selectric, which I take over at 5:15, chatting only briefly with Nick, who's had acupuncture for his seriously disabling bursitis, and type the cards for the itineraries for class AND type a poster-flyer for the Africa trip. Leave at 6:30, fearing AGAIN to be late for class. And this time I AM. Subway gets to Sheepshead Bay just AFTER 7:15, I buy a peach ice cream cone and wait and wait until 7:45, and the driver says it comes AT 7:15 and 7:45, so NEXT time I'll go on to the BRIGHTON station and catch the FREE KCC bus I should have been getting all along. Steve's pretty low again for this class (see DIARY 8495), but it lasts until 10, Moe drives us back into Brooklyn talking about a graduate course, his group to Nassau, his vitamin C potencies that he gets into a hassle with Norman about, and his hopes of getting a lot of business. I'm home at 11, fry steak, and at 11:45 remember that I want to watch television, so I turn on "The Great Bank Robbery" with Kim Novak eating peyote and undressing Clint Walker (who, sadly, never DOES get undressed) while Zero Mostel and a gang of Chinamen rob the Bank of Friendly and take off in a balloon. Bed tired at 1:30.
DIARY 8497
THURSDAY, APRIL 18. [THE FIRST DAY I TYPE "YESTERDAY" SINCE MARCH 10TH!] Wake at 7:30, up at 8:30, and I feel like clearing up odds and ends before getting to work, so I finish the last chapters of "Bullet Park" while eating breakfast and afterward until 9:30, and then start typing at 9:45. Type 12 pages until noon, then have lunch with John (see DIARY 8479) and then finish typing 20 pages for the day, getting up through MONDAY OF THIS WEEK, which makes me feel great, and I THINK I have less than 10 pages to do today to finish, but THIS is the ELEVENTH page I've typed so far and I'm not finished YET. Then finish reading "Flight of the Wild Gander" to get THAT out of the way, and the next book in line to read is "Maurice." Should go shopping, should see Stewart, should work on McGraw-Hill, but I feel like clearing up some OTHER things first (and not typing), so I dust and sweep the newly-arranged apartment THOROUGHLY for the first time, even getting into never-before (since day 1) swept corners of the bedroom. Hang the last of the pictures on the wall and put the last of the junk into the poorest closet: the one in the bedroom, and then add more items to the TO DO list and phone Avi and Bob Grossman to try to DO something this evening, but Avi wants "Blazing Saddles" next Thursday, is busy tonight, Bob is tired, so I decide to do something that's been on my list for AGES and never got done: going to the Metropolitan Theater. Debate for a long time about showering and shaving just for THAT, but excuse it by thinking I'd probably shower and shave ANYWAY before going, and today it's BEST because I haven't done it YET. STILL plagued with that SMELL (whoops, page missing---see DIARY 8498). Do the dishes first, and then smoke at 9, smelling the smell of the ashes of the bidi, it seems, and out to the subway in the 70E weather for 14th Street, singing songs in my own head, and get into the theater for $3 at 10, sorry that the show ends at 11:45. It's just DREADFUL (see DIARY 8499) and the shows end at 11:15! Home at 12, eager for coming and popcorn, and do both in an incredible orgy-evening of coming, eating, and TV until 3:30---truly sick (see DIARY 8500).
DIARY 8503
FRIDAY, APRIL 19. Up at 9:15 and get into typing, finally doing 16 pages to CATCH UP with the diary, and typing NOW on DIARY 8502 to celebrate the fact. Get information about plant stuff from John, and after calling to find that the guy from Latham was sorry about not calling me, but he'll call me on Monday, and calling Darrell Valentine who'll call me on Monday, and calling Bill West at MATTACHINE who'll call me on Monday (Monday will be a busy phone day, as today was, talking with Susan and Alice and Bob Grossman for a long time) (but nothing like the call THIS morning that John got from "Madame," saying that rehearsals for the Gloxinia will start tomorrow and John's going down to try OUT for it!), and about 5 decide I MUST get out for groceries and stuff. Get a new fixture for the study lamp, and a new lampshade, and three luminous lamp-pulls (one of which doesn't seem to be luminous), and the fish emulsion and the plant spray, AND all the groceries I wanted to get, almost going through the first batch of food stamps, and get back at 5:45, delighted with having finished EVERYTHING. Eat hamburger early in order to leave for the Dance Theater of Harlem at 7, and at 7:30 they have ONLY $8.50 orchestra seats and NO student rush. Think they might be selling tix for half-price, so I walk down and incidentally see that "The Golden Voyage of Sinbad" is still playing at the Trans-Lux West. No tickets. Back up, thinking to buy someone's spare for less than $8.50, or at least buy for another performance, and two gals are selling a spare $2 seat, for which I'm grateful, again marveling over the mind-over-matter quality of the experience. Up for the first number, then down to the fourth row side for the rest, and it's pretty good but not splendiferous (see DIARY 8504). Out at 10:05 and call Eddie from a payphone, and the box office gal gets him RIGHT on the phone, he thinks they're showing "The Last Detail" (which indeed they should be, per the Voice), and he giggles and admits to being high. I get down, wait for a moment, and Kung Fu experts let me in free. It's not as bad as the posters look, rather good special effects, but John Phillip Law (whom I'd forgotten was one of the lures to see it in the FIRST place) only shows a shapely tit once. Out at 12:15, through decaying Times Square, buy a Voice, and bed at 1:20.
DIARY 8505
SATURDAY, APRIL 20. Up at 8:30, start exercising again, settle in to read the Voice completely, then write a letter to the Voice, type 2 pages, and send in for a subscription to Scientific American, wash my hair and shave and have lunch and leave at 12 for Arnie's. Get there at 12:45, to find that the business has been very slow all morning. The sink is loaded with molds that I wash, then there's some little business and I catch up with the dishes and cups and saucers. Lots of people are repeats already, even though he's only been open 5 weeks, and he shows me Pope's astrological reading for the first piece sold at noon on March 13, 1974, and it looks VERY good, both financially and socially. The social part is the best: three people, two VERY groovy hairy guys and a quiet girl, come in and buy two cakes and a tee-shirt for $27, one cake of which is being taken to Atlanta, and one this morning was sent on its way to Grosse Point. A tee-shirt has already gone to Arnie's cousin in Denmark, and cakes have been eaten in Berkeley and other Western cities. Andy, the 22 year-in-business banker who's selling his co-op in Chelsea and buying a restaurant in Aspen for $70,000 in a month, who wears the soft contact lenses that he can mush out with his fingers, even wearing them to bed though they have to be sterilized each evening, though he has NEVER gotten any grit under them because they're sealed (and 60% water), and who enjoys meeting the people, offering them tea or coffee, and asking people in the hall to come across. Tom Kron comes across and spreads some of his dislike of his customers, and a delightful couple from Hunter College come in with a kid and I chat about Mary Lefkarites, and another book-collecting couple come in and I talk with him about our trips to India, Ceylon, and Nepal. Great fun of a place, and we put up the window grate, talk to Leslie, discuss the Surprise Club for Arnie, and leave at 7:20 by subway for Arnie's for dinner. Watch the end of Nova from 7:50 to 8:30, then the first part of "War and Peace" until 10:30, confused and not TERRIBLY good, then "White-Haired Girl" VERY good by the Shanghai Dance School, and eat fish-tasting chicken breasts, good frozen green beans, a little of the lot of rice, and soured champagne and then Mateus with Molossol caviar on toast. Arnie sort of rubs against me, but leaves me go unasked at 12:30. I buy the Times and glance through it while getting absorbed in the end of "Suddenly Last Summer" until 2.
DIARY 8506
SUNDAY, APRIL 21. Up at 9:30, feeling truly relaxed, and read the Times until "The Shroud of Turin" from 10:30 to 11, where they spent the whole time "proving" it wasn't a painting and said nothing at ALL about whether it actually has wrapped CHRIST! Then Camera Three had Bob and Ray about the radio, and I went back to finish the Times, type a diary page, have brunch of tuna fish after showering and shaving after exercising at, sort of, level one-and-a-half (level one with twice as many pushups and situps, about half that required for the next level). Then watch the Sports Spectacular, with a hard-to-tune Channel 2, for diving championships and ice skaters, then I leave at 2:15, getting to CBS early for a rather depressing afternoon on "The Challengers" (see DIARY 8507). Not wanted around for the second of the tapings, so I wander uptown, makeup still on, to eat tempura and tea and shigi-yaki (eggplant with chicken in soy bean sauce) at Sakura-Chaya for $5.75, not bad, next to a thin gray woman who kept muttering to herself. Out at 7:10, and wander over to Central Park West to look for the greening of the leaves on the trees, bits of cherry blossom, and a radically altered skyline---maybe that's why they don't show the skyline, at least from there, in films so much anymore: it DATES so quickly. I feel tranquil and peaceful, wandering slowly, dreaming upward at the terraces on the Century, glad I don't live in the neighborhood anymore, so I feel no envy at their richness, don't fantasize about getting lots of loot to spend redecorating a fancy penthouse. To the crowded theater about 7:45 and read the program and a bit of "Angelic Avengers," and the evening is a good one, not to mention Rebekah Harkness, David Bowie, and Rudi Nureyev as centers of three circles, Eliot Feld part of Nureyev's. Again it lasts until 11, interesting pieces (see DIARY 8508), and I subway to get to Arnie's at 11:45, meeting Manny and having the last bit of cock cheesecake (the head and some of the white "come" he added) and talk over the evening, then home to come with NEW cullings from the pornography box until 12:45, and manage to get to sleep without eating ANYTHING! Great! Notice that when I STARTED with five even lines, I did the PAGE like it!
DIARY 8509
MONDAY, APRIL 22. Up at 8 and have breakfast reading "Maurice" and I decide to finish the book, so that takes about an hour. Exercise, up to level 2 already, then get to typing the three letters to book dealers requesting the seven missing Sheckleys and Dinesen's "Anecdotes of Destiny," and mail to Colt Studios for $10 worth of drawings and photos, and in celebration make up a new DO list with 27 items on it, not THAT bad, and then type three diary pages to keep up to date. Read through the underlined sections in "Child's Garden of Grass" when I put it away after Arnie returned it to me last night, and then it's time for lunch, mildly kicking myself for not doing much during the day (and I put away the travel pages from the last class, too, clearing THAT up), and I go down to pick up lunch reading of "Out," which prevents me from picking up "Angelic Avengers" and finishing THAT. Then get to the desk drawer (also, one of these days I just couldn't resist and went through the stamp album, thinking to separate out all the pages past 1969 and put them into a new album, but I get halfway through when the impracticality of THAT hits me, so I simply put the pages back and divide the letters of the alphabet in half at M, and the second half is much smaller than the first "half," and they BOTH fit into the covers EVENLY.) and take out a bunch of check stubs that I file away, the 1973 income tax report, which I make room for by throwing out the PAGES of the reports up to seven years ago, the stack of Tempositions receipts into the receipts box, since I won't be getting any more of those, and then file all the letters in "To be filed" and all the scrapbook stuff in "Miscellaneous," and retype the file cabinet labels, making one whole drawer for travel, putting in the TWO boxes of stuff that were in the closet, and it's almost filled ALREADY. Then get to an hour of NC typing from 3:15 to 4:20, but it's VERY boring and I really can't stand to do more, so I call Arnie about tonight, and call Bob Grossman about tomorrow, and settle down at 4:45 to eat Arnie's dessert and listen to his record about the "Themes Like Old Times" and finish at 5:30 to prepare to eat, Joe Easter calls, and I get out at 6:40 to GET to the Club at 7 to meet a late Arnie, talking to Sergio while waiting for him, and out at 10:35 (see DIARY 8510) to get home at 11 for "Future Shock," with Orson Welles, not very good, and get sucked in by Frankenstein's sexy body to watch a mod "Horror of Frankenstein" till 2; then bed.
DIARY 8512
TUESDAY, APRIL 23. Set the alarm for 8:30, but get up at 8 after 2 am bedding, only 6 hours, which explains why I was drowsy in the car afterwards (at about 4:30!) Get things ready to go, shut the alarm that I forgot about off at 8:30, out to the car at 9 to find Arnie not there, back for sunglasses, and pick up Alice in the Village, who's a prim-faced spinster type who's had two husbands and a couple of children, was my wife for the Modern Art membership, and constantly snipes at Arnie. We're up to pick Bob Grossman up at 10, hurrying him along to follow a maroon and tan convertible Rolls whose driver (on the right) sits up higher than the tops of the nearest CARS, then up to Bruckner Boulevard and out to Hunt's Point, where we walk along the docks for trucks and stare at enormous yams, onions, watermelons, and tomatoes from Mexico, finger carrots, horseradish, white squash, leeks, mustard greens lacy and detailed, fruit and even nuts and grapes and dates for sale. Out to the Daitch commissary where Arnie drives the wrong way all the way around, incurring Alice's wrath; then we get gas, look at Tiffany, Fox, and Simpson Streets, where the buildings that depressed Alice so much have been torn down, and up the Thruway in the greening hillsides to the Cross-County down to the Connecticut Turnpike to exit 6 and the little town of Stamford at 1, where we park and eat in Andrea's, I having good veal parmigiana for $4.50 in all, no dessert, and we're out at 2 and Arnie turns around and around and finally finds United House Wrecking, a real Fellini place of concrete statues (I take a broken top of St. Francis), sleds, fire engines, broken dishes for 54, type and type boxes, horrible paintings, and quantities of supplies and equipment that I tire of rapidly, standing while they look, and we leave at 3:45, deciding it's too late for the Bronx Zoo, and leave us off at Bob's at 5:30, where we talk about Kron's (see DIARY 8513), go out to look at the gas-exploded building on a glassy intersection of 2nd and 45th, eat tasty dinner at Mr. Teriyaki for $4.00, still talking, and he's tired (and there's still the SMELL) so I'm home at 10:15 to watch the end of "Larry" on TV, about a mental patient who's NORMAL and leaves the place, NOT assisted by his "nurse" who want him to stay forever, then Arthur M., extremely effective on "Day for Night" to 12, watch 51st State on the gas-exploded building (water pressure pipes burst, breaking gas line) to 12:20, bed and sleep.
DIARY 8515
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 24. Up at 8 and bustle about until 9, phoning Arnie to see if I can come over and get St. Francis and talk about Kron's, and talk with him about an hour and a half while he eats his breakfast and dresses for work, and I help him down to the car with stuff for his cooking class tonight, he'll ask Tom about selling the place, with the thought that even ARNIE might be a partner, and I have lots more information about the possible deal (see DIARY 8516). He needs to shop, so I ride with him while he parks the car, we watch the fire engines roar down the street to a smoke that no one can find the source of, and I decide---hair messy and face pimpled, to go see Mrs. Stewart then anyway, She's fairly pleasant, says she doesn't need anyone to work there now, but wants me to write her a letter about my proposition. I do it right then, stopping for lunch, and actually take it over and lay it on her desk at 3, when her assistant says "Wasting a 104 stamp; you couldn't be from New England." Type 6 pages to the diary, then call Arnie about 4 to find that he's talked to Tom and he just doesn't want to sell the business: that he'll be doing the mail-orders during the week and have the shop open to retail business only on Saturday. The next night I check and find that he HADN'T told Tom he had a prospective buyer, so I said that, just for luck, he should DO so, and he said he would. Also, I guess, sometime during the day I worked about 4 or 5 hours finishing up the New Century Audio Scripts for Diagnostic Tests D-H, which I charged about 15 hours for! Then have dinner and get out to the travel class, deciding to risk going to the Brighton Beach Station for the free school bus, and it's RIGHT THERE LEAVING at 7:09, thankfully late, and I flag it down and get to the class before everyone else, and again it's not one of the most gripping, mainly because his main heckler wasn't there (see DIARY 8517). It ends at 10 as usual, Moe doesn't have his car, so we're all to the station with Eli and Ina, ride home chattering away about travel, and I'm home at 11:15, and read the ENTIRE Village Voice with MY letter in it by about 12:45, by which time I'm tired enough to fall right asleep without coming or smoking.
DIARY 8520
THURSDAY, APRIL 25. Up at 7:30 feeling GREAT, exercise, finish a bit of typing on the Diagnostic Tests, get a briefcase together with shopping list, food-stamp form, checks to cash, and VV letter to xerox, and get out at 9:10 to cash checks at bank, get to BedBetter at 9:45 for a $150 frame, then check Loftcraft, try to get food stamps from "full service" Chemical and fail, buy a GE DAK bulb, mainly for the box, and find a DISCOUNT place for MORE than a dollar less, check Workbench, and get into work at 11. Ron answers the questions I had left, I work on it until 1, have lunch, talk to Nick and Doug and Erik and Patty and some paste-up gal who's in, then Ron says the 12th floor is being cleaned out tonight, so we go up and STRIP the place, loading a WHITE CANVAS CARRYALL with stuff, and I call Arnie, who'll be picking me up at 6:45, so I go up for ANOTHER load for HIM. Clear the metal boxes with Camille Ames when the elevator man suggests I'd better check on the stuff from Walthur's office; check with the starter when Nick suggests I need clearance with him; start on the front matter for the Teacher's Manual, and then see Walthur at the elevator with my load, Gil in the lobby with my load, and everyone else between-times. Ron and Nick and Doug help me down with the stuff, Arnie comes at 7, suggests I get MORE metal boxes, back up to find the starter who suggests I take a drawing table, says neither he nor I was there, and down at 7:10 with a carload. To Arnie's at 7:30 and the red Cadillac of the Mystery Club people from Spring Valley is there, so he goes up and services them while I finish "The Angelic Avengers" until 8:55, growing dark, watching the people, and he drives me to my place at 9:15, taking some of the stuff himself, and I put some of the things away, have dinner, wash dishes, and decide to start on the McGraw-Hill stuff (also, Murray calls, will call tomorrow and come over, guy who put ad in Voice about quitting job and having free time, though he's been out of work 5 months), and called Avi to postpone "Blazing Saddles" until next week sometime, and then at 9:50 Ricardo calls, making me VERY happy (see DIARY 8521). Then I work from 11:15 to 1:15, having 284 pages in two volumes and LOTS of editing to do, bed TIRED at 1:15, happy I can hold off coming until the orgy tonight!
DIARY 8523
FRIDAY, APRIL 26. Up at 8, feeling a slight lack of sleep, and water the plants and get to typing after exercising, and then get out to buy groceries, and all that takes until about 12, including looking at the Colt photographs that come in the mail. Much of the morning was occupied in putting away the stuff that I brought in last night, which I had to clear off the floor even before I could exercise. Ron sends over xeroxes of stuff for me to work on, and after lunch I get to the McGraw-Hill COBOL book from 12:50 to 4:20, and I'm appalled at how LITTLE progress I make in it, and there just WON'T be enough time in the WORLD for me to finish the first two volumes by Monday, so I talk myself into the "benefits" of taking on only the FIRST volume, providing I can finish THAT! Murray called about 3:50, so I shaved before he got in, but didn't wash my hair or shower, as I should have. He enters at 4:20 and he's younger than the 44 he actually is, but not by much, and his amorphous beard and flurry of gray-brown hair doesn't help much, nor do his little eyes and the lumps on his forehead. But he's a fairly engrossing speaker when he's talking about the 20-year-old who "exploded with pleasure" when a 40-year-old stuck his cock up his ass during a private nude-body-feel session at a male consciousness raising session. He's not had very much to do with girls, though I had the FIRST impression he was straight, but after I told him I was gay, he seemed to swing around from wanting to be held and caressed by men to a positive LETCH on ME, which I found increasingly uncomfortable. We talked about family, his Primal Scream Therapy, my Acid House, and at 7 we went to a too-crowded Chinese restaurant and ended in the Mexican place, which I forgot had SUCH small portions that I wasn't really FULL. Eat until 8:15, too late, and home to take a quick shower and put in my contacts and JUST miss a Lexington subway while we talk about rubbing legs, which he loves, on the subway, and I leave him at 9:20 and dash down to 345 E. 56th and Jim Garrison's apartment on 17C for one of the poorer Tsi-Duns (see DIARY 8524), even though I caress LOVELY boys in the too-dark bedroom. Out about 12:15 and home at 1, eat loads and come, bed at 2:30, disgusted with myself and totally worried about finishing McGraw-Hill.
DIARY 8525
SATURDAY, APRIL 27. Up at 8:20, feeling groggy from lack of sleep, less than 6 hours, and work for an hour until 9:20 on the McGraw-Hill Cobol book, then leave for the all-day ASI meeting. It's not terribly interesting (see DIARY 8526), but Phil Lockwood's name as the manager of a "stable" might come in handy. I glance over the shoulder of the vote-counters while I'm getting my second roll of the morning to see that Peter has about 50 votes to my 5, though I'm rather amazed that he HAS five people who DISLIKE him enough to vote AGAINST him. Talk profitably with Jim Pattison about becoming something in travel with WSDG, and Barbara Preschel remembers enough about me to actually call my NAME when I say something during one of the discussion periods. Lunch in the CUNY cafeteria is pleasant, but disturbed by the vibrations from an air conditioner. Out at 4:45 when it's all over, feeling the day's been rather a waste, and it's QUITE warm outside. I go over to the library to see if I can scout up more Heinlein and Sheckley titles, but I have about twice whatever UNION catalogs seem to list, and there's nothing new that I can find. Then home about 6:15, get back to McGraw-Hill from 6:15 to 8:15, decide I don't even want to watch the TV I'd scheduled because I'm so DREADFULLY far behind on the Cobol, but decide that I can make the excuse of too MUCH work on other things for the past two weeks. A REALIZATION that this will take longer than I thought, and I wanted a chance to check what I WAS doing to make sure it was OK. Thought, then, it would be sufficient to get through only the first 2 chapters, which, along with the preface, would be 1/6 of the total 17 chapters and preface, and I DO have five weeks to go, so with that I stopped work and ate dinner while reading Guy Pene DuBois' charming "The 21 Balloons" that I remember so well from childhood that I picked it up from ACC's 12th floor, and then FINISH reading it until 10, when I watch the first hour of Benjamin Britten's "Owen Wingrave" on TV, but I'm DROPPING with sleep, so I stop at 11, tired of his monotonous running up and down of the male voices, though the timbre of his old woman is rather chilling, and fall into bed. Oh, I also failed to catch up with the diary, doing only a page and a half before leaving for ASI. Whole day of work needed tomorrow!
DIARY 8527
SUNDAY, APRIL 28. Up at 7:55, feeling I NEEDED the almost 9 hours sleep, get out for the Times and look at the week's schedule, and it's pretty darn full with 20+ hours, with this Saturday scheduled from 7 pm to 4:40 am! Look through a few sections while having breakfast, and then DETERMINE to get through with chapter 2 of Cobol, so I work from 8:40 to 12:40, going VERY slowly and having LOTS to change, and then have lunch while reading more of the Times, and get back to finish chapter 2 from 1:45 to 4:15, which is 15 full hours worked, and to get me up to a $9/hour rate that's 22 hours for 87 pages, less than 4 pages per hour, which is VERY poor, though I'll be going faster from here on out. Continue working, and then Ricardo calls just after 5 to say that his mother practically forced him to go to a concert with her that evening, and with dinner afterwards he won't be coming over tonight, but how about 2 pm tomorrow? I say OK, rather happy, actually, about the chance to work and watch TV this evening, and I work straight through to 8:45, getting to page 135 which makes 47 pages in 42 hours, so the average is up to 10 pages per hour, quite a SWITCH. Then make dinner and eat it (hamburger again) while watching a special on Siberia from 9 to 10, and I didn't realize that ALL of Russia to the east is known as Siberia, and Irkutsk, right on the southern BORDER, goes down to -60E during the winter, and almost everyone lives along the Siberian railroad, which I'll have to ride one of these days. Back to work from 10 to 11, almost finishing with the third chapter, making me very happy, and watch "Taj Mahal" on channel 13 to find it's not the building, it's the ROCK STAR, so I shut that off and get ready for bed, feeling tired from a day of work, and decide to finish while I feel like it, polishing off the end of it from 11:20 to 11:50, making a 122 hour day, and a quite respectable packet of questions and corrections to take in tomorrow. Called Linda at home, but she said she didn't know the schedule, so I have to call her at 8:45 am tomorrow. Bed at 12, looking forward to an END to pressure tomorrow! And the day revealed ANOTHER facet, and a troublesome one, I hope NOT, about growing old (see DIARY 8528).
DIARY 8529
MONDAY, APRIL 29. Up at 7, have breakfast and EXERCISE for the first time in a number of days, but it's still easy at level 2 (sub-13, meaning I do level 2 but with 13 pushups and 23 situps, working easily toward level 3), and water the plants and type the glossary for Cobol from 8:15 to 8:45; Linda's not in YET, and I call again at 8:55 and she says to come right in. Get on subway with smell of smoke and woman almost panics the car with her comments about fire, delivered in a sharp voice, but then a young guy says "I just smell perspiration," and she shouts "Don't SAY that." Amazing where people's heads are. In at 9:45, and they seem to accept my "lateness" and my handwriting, which is an enormous relief, and they seem to be quite happy with everything that I ask them, so they say they'll look it over and get back to me this afternoon or tomorrow, and at 11:30 I'm about finished, chatting about various things of handwriting, colds, and Betsy Feist, who used to work THERE. Call Dick Sime for lunch and he'll be ready at 12:30, so I count the pages in Volume 3 and sit outside reading Sheckley until 12:30, chat about his Macmillan proofreading on the occult in Germany, then down for a beef stew lunch until 1:20, dashing home JUST at 2 to get a call from Ricardo, who arrives at 2:40 after I wash my hair and shave for the second time today and fix up the apartment for his coming, and it starts an INCREDIBLE string of interruptions at the door and on the phone (see DIARY 8530). Also he gets into the most INCREDIBLE personal statements, so mind-swirling I hardly know whether to credit them (see DIARY 8531). He leaves about 6:15, and I have a great feeling of relief from EVERY obligation. Should do the diary, but feel like reading, so I finish Sheckley's "White Death" with an atlas to see that he's goofed on some place locations in Iran, then sort out books and skim Hoffman's "Sculpture" in about an hour, talk to Sergio about his cheating travel agent, and cook steak to start watching Queen's Bench Seven ("QB VII"), and Nixon comes on to say he's not giving TAPES but TRANSCRIPTS to the judiciary committee, and I hope he's KILLING himself. QB VII goes on from 9:45 to 12:45, lavish but NOT very good, Hopkins as Adam Kelno (or whoever) is just so GOOD and Gazzara as the writer, Abe Cady, is just so BAD that it's not very interesting. Bed at 1, tired.
DIARY 8532
TUESDAY, APRIL 30. Wake at 7, dazzled at getting up so early, then up at 7:30, fuss around the apartment, exercise, put things away, have breakfast, read magazines, get 7 diary pages typed, phone the Museum of Modern Art to see that "In Old Arizona" IS really there, and reminded that I want to see the end of the 2 pm showing, too. Try to call Bob Grossman but he's not home and then his line's busy. Call Eddie about Thursday and ask about his friend, and he smiles over the phone and says "He's here now." John comes over with a grinning face to say that he's just been called by the Village Voice, who want to print his article "Homage a Sobechanskaya," and he's delighted about it. Phone in a "night-letter" for $2 for Mom's birthday. I read the Nutrilite stuff not being able to decide if it's a hoax or not, throwing it all away except for a page on the "fantastic" ascerola cherries as a source of vitamin C, then actually get to typing the stuff for Issue 31 of the River, appalled to find that it's not really THAT much, and I should have done it LONG ago! Write a two-page letter to her, too, apologizing and telling her about me and John, and then test the slide-projector bulb one last time before sending it back to GE, and it WORKS, much like the MICROPHONE worked after I'd tried it a few times! Something MORE strange going on here??? So now I have an almost new bulb IN the projector and TWO spares, a Sylvania and a GE. How's THAT for backup? Have lunch at 2:30, trying to store up food for the straight-through stint at the museum and the ballet. Out at 3 and into the Museum at 3:35, finding the movie quite empty because it has only Italian subtitles, but at the end they maybe haven't learned how to work with models, because everything that collapses is REAL, and it's sadly almost junkier than with models, since all the construction is so light, slat-filled, and temporary (and how they got the chicken wire for the Coliseum set is beyond me, though the actual shots of a volcano going off were effective. Wander an astoundingly boring museum (see DIARY 8533), chat with Chuck Choset who's about to see Joe Easter, walk the chilly walk to Chicken snack for $1.17, meager, and up to the ballet at 8 with John Boyle, sitting in for Azak (see DIARY 8534). Chat with Bob Sorvino, former SBC mailboy who went to Arizona to study art and will open his own shop in Park Slope, pudgy and bald, saying how YOUNG I look. Home dashing at 11:15, watch end of QB VII, Kelno GUILTY of crimes (Verdict: innocent; award for damages 1/2 penny), THEN have popcorn and watch "The Lady Vanishes," STILL not terribly memorable, bed at 2:30!
DIARY 8537
WEDNESDAY, MAY 1. Up at 8:30, jerk off with the awful lotion, rubbed sore, putting everything away, watering the flowers, catching up on marking the Academy Award films seen with the "In Old Arizona" of yesterday, and thumb through the book and generally waste time until John comes in with the Village Voice with his Homage a Sobechanskaya in it. Depressed about mooning around the apartment, so I type three diary pages, later adding two pages from the Voice xeroxes that I slip under John's door, asking if he's interested, and without another word he slips them back under MY door. On Friday he tells me he gave the letter back because he thought I might want to show the page to someone else. Nothing like appreciation! Decide that I want to listen to Bill's tape, and it's only one side him and three sides Baba Ram Dass, whom I don't like, but SOME of his statements are thought-evoking, and I write down a set of notes (see DIARY 8538-8539), tempted to write something out formally before responding to Bill, but plug in the microphone to record the answer and the damn things doesn't work! Fuss around with it after a late lunch at 2 pm, but it just doesn't work. That depressed me, too, and I can't decide whether to start on any other projects, so I call Ron and he says that he's sitting in MY seat since someone took over his desk for financial matters, and I blow up and say that WHEN Tom Aloisi OR Charles Walthur call me and GUARANTEE that I'll have a place to sit, ONLY THEN will I condescend to come back into the office. That gets THEM off my back. Then I call Linda Schaffner, and she says they're still waiting for the author to respond, so I can't get anything from THEM. Then Harriet someone calls from Dell and I decide to TAKE "Dr. Hips Natural Foods and Unnatural Acts," for indexing, and she delivers it by messenger. Start typing a letter to Rita, but then decide I want to eat dinner BEFORE class, calling Arnie to arrange to pick up his microphone AGAIN this evening, after class. Shave and also wash dishes before dinner, then eat and get out to class (see DIARY 8540-8541), again at 14, pretty much a bore, and he's asking questions and I got STONED before the class (but never again) and smiled my way through the subway and class, no one knowing, really, and out at 10, ride with the cheating Moe, and get to Arnie's at 11, Mal's there, and we're down to HIS apartment to look at the neat nude male centerfolds of Playgirl magazine, and I THINK Mal wants sex, but I don't care for it, tired and grungy, so home at 11, decide to COME with only bidis and poppers, and do rather nicely, so exhausted to a pleasant sleep.
DIARY 8542
THURSDAY, MAY 2. Up at 8, exercise, eat breakfast and get right to recording tape to Bill, starting at about 9:30 and going up just past noon, getting lots of nice things into it, so good that I tell him to listen and send it BACK to me, with HIS comments, later, on a 7" tape, if he will. Then have lunch while thumbing through the May 2 Travel Agent Magazine that arrives, strangely, on May 2, my FIRST ONE! Then finish typing the letter to Rita, and while I'm in the rhythm of typing, get down the letters to answer from the shelf and write to Mom, Grandma, Helen and Jimmy, Mike, and Paul, and then send off for a new passport. This is AFTER I watched "My Sister Eileen" on TV because I fondly remembered how much I laughed and laughed with Larry and Dave Feld and Bernie in Akron when it came out in 1955, laughed till I CRIED at the dancing in the apartment. Well, sadly, watching it almost 20 years later, it no longer seemed THAT funny, but I teared at the FINALE, which I DIDN'T remember, when Jack Lemmon finally kissed Betty Garrett and said he thought she was real and genuine and beautiful. Sort of a waste between 1 and 3. Had lunch just previously, so I didn't feel like popcorn, but I did nibble on some peanuts. Then did the letters until 6, when I shaved and had dinner and got out at 7:15 to the subway for the Trans-Lux 85th and Avi waited to see "Blazing Saddles," which DID make fun of blacks, Jews, Indians, Chinese, and NOT Poles, along with a bean-chorus of farts, breaking in on a faggot-dancing set, using every word in the dictionary to surfeit, along with Mathew, Mark, Luke and DUCK, and the hymn that sweetly ends "Our town is turning to shit." Mel Brooks was BOTH the Indian chief and Governor le Petomane, which I had to explain to Avi. Left Norma's BOOK on my seat when we left at 9:30, walked across Central Park for my first time in ages (see DIARY 8543), met Arno "Who was last there over two months ago," and bought a pizza and said hello to Joe, who was doing needlework while we ate, I phoned John at the theater, who'll keep the book in his dressing room, and left at 11:30, forgetting I wanted to watch TV, but when I get in at 12, Dick Cavett's guest isn't Jan Morris, the transsexual, but Groucho Marx, which I watch until 1 am anyway, getting tired to bed.
DIARY 8549
FRIDAY, MAY 3. Up at 8 and eat and exercise and type 7 pages of diary, then work from 11 to 12 on the indexing of "Dr. Hip's Natural Foods and Unnatural Acts" (one and the same, reading the book discloses), and eat lunch, then back to work from 12:30 to 3:30, taking some of that time to call Bob Grossman and ask him if he wants to come to the Museum of Modern Art with me to see the films, but he says he doesn't care to, will meet me after to see the free films (with my passes) at the Park-Miller, however. Well, all right. I call Joan to find the dinner's cancelled AGAIN, which disgusts John. I shower and pack up the grass and poppers and get out to the museum at 5, finding no trouble getting into the program of films before 1900, and there's no program, but I take notes in the back of Dinesen's "Last Tales" (see DIARY 8550). Scheduled for 80 minutes, they take barely 60, and I sit and read while others get their coats, and then the place closes at 6:40, but Bob's there quite quickly, wearing a raincoat in the slightly drizzly weather, and he says he doesn't want to eat this early, so I drop in and have a slice of cheesy pizza while he has a Coke, and we walk down to the Park-Miller for some rather dreary footage except for "The Insatiables" by Jaguar Productions with four GREAT guys, and a DREADFUL audience (see DIARY 8551). Out just after 9:30, and he's hungry, complains about walking through Times Square to get to the Paradise Restaurant that was recommended to me, at 345 W. 41st, and it's almost empty and there's a three-piece band of accordion, saxophone, and bass going, and I have the mezedakia with only a few pieces of kidney and lots of gristly sweetbreads not very well done, and the Roditis is a rosé without too much taste, but for $3 who's complaining? About $6 each, with a $1 tip, and out to hear Bob say that he's not feeling very well, sleepy, though he's told me ALREADY (after telling me how awful he was finding the transcription of the Nixon tapes in the New York Times, and I say he should save it for his jury duty sitting next week) that he's been with Zacharias Rosner yesterday and is going again tomorrow, so I suspect THAT'S it. To the subway and home about 11:15 to watch the end of "Feasting with Panthers" again and smoke stonedly for "The Pink Floyd" on 13, rather good with 2001 landscape and color effects but a not very attractive group, and come nicely, to sleep at 1, sad about not SEXING.
DIARY 8552
SATURDAY, MAY 4. Up at 7:30 with the idea for "Tell-Manhattan" almost fully in mind, and type those four pages quite quickly, finding an incredible article-paragraph in the Brain section of EB on Page 5, saying men would have developed MORE fully had we had wings! Look through the Voice and New York for information about then OOBA (Off-Off-Broadway Association) parade today, and Bob doesn't want to go, and John might go later, so I take off at 10:50 after exercising but NO breakfast, and get out at Broadway, seeing nothing there at 11:20, and walk over to CPW and see the parade-end coming out of the park, waving and cheering, and I can't figure why they're going Uptown, figuring they're backing out, and settle down to eat my two brownies---for 754!---From CakeMasters for brunch, then see they're going across 81st St! I dash up, going along the line of march with them up CPW to 81st, across to Columbus, down to 75th, west to Broadway and then down to 64th and Lincoln Center. The HEAD of the parade reaches Lincoln Center at 12, just as I do, and the tail ends at 12:30. Young beautiful people do NOT an interesting day make, and on the whole it was rather disappointing (see DIARY 8553). Stay till 2:5, then down to Christopher Street for the Gay Rally, but it's over, so I go into Mattachine and don't even recognize Bill West, but talk to him, and he's not gotten ANY of my messages, so we set up my research at 2 pm on Monday---so I don't get away with ANYTHING, even though I'm very LATE. Out at 3:30 and home about 4, getting to the end of the reading and the typing of the index from 4:30 to 7, and then at 7 starts the TV marathon---probably the LONGEST EVER. Watch the third episode of "War and Peace" from 7 to 8:30, and they haven't even gotten to the BALL yet, then "Nana" starts at 8:30, interspersed with money requests from Channel 13, and I've seen most of it, but STILL can't tell her younger suitors apart, and it goes on until 1:10. I'd gotten the Times during the intermissions, as well as eaten (I'd baked a cake this afternoon, too) (while having lunch, reading two MORE issues of "The Travel Agent") cake and peanuts (shopped this morning, too) (Leo Hollister arrived at John's this evening, and I didn't even SEE him), read the Times until 1:40, start of "The Greatest Show on Earth" and ONLY the train wreck was a spectacle, bed at 4:35!
DIARY 8554
SUNDAY, MAY 5. Up at 9, feeling dreadful after only 42 hours sleep, but I don't feel like exercising, so finish the Times, finish alphabetizing the index cards from 10:30 to 11, and have to wait until I talk to her before I finish the number of lines and typing it, then have two eggs for brunch (three eggs), since there's no frying pan CLEAN for the bacon I'd wanted to have. John borrows the bike for Leo, looks at my ACTUAL BLOOMING GARDENIA and says that the plant that's sprouted should be LEFT dangling like that, and that the avocado can be cut to spread more to the side, and then I get to the New Century TM Front Matter from 1:20 to 3:20, but get SO tired doing it that I flop onto the sofa to take a nap, looking up at 4:30, and at 5:30 I'm wakened out of a SOUND sleep by the phone burring through my earplugs (which I have to wear because of leadfoot upstairs, with a boyfriend and record-player sound, too, and the screams from the damn first-floor front apartment), and it's Arnie calling to chat about the Nixon tapes on WBAI (but it's only money-marathon when I turn it on), and we talk until 6, and I get back to the New Century work and start typing at 6:05, going through until 8:35 when I'm hungry, and have spam, again because the frying pans are dirty, still reading the Travel Agent magazine, and one could get VERY paranoid, since each ISSUE talks about the possibility of "the commission structure and the business" changing completely because of some conference, someone's recommendations, some proposal, or some government probe into rip-offs. Thousands of ads for trips and plans, and how can anyone really CONTROL all the information??? Then wash the dishes, so I WILL have some things left, and put on TV for "The Bolero," winner of the short-subject Academy Award, and it's Zubin Mehta conducting it, with close-ups of the wood and wind instruments at the start, ending in a flurry of plucked and stroked strings, banged gongs, and a plump Mehta having an orgasm. That's over at 11, and I'm so tired I don't even work any more, so I get into bed and read for about an hour in the science fiction book, but get tired in the middle of a story and shut off the light to sleep at 12.
DIARY 8556
MONDAY, MAY 6. Wake at 6 for the steam perking up, then again at 7:30 and up to exercise and eat breakfast and type four pages, then get to work and finish typing and proofreading for New Century from 9:15 to 12:45, deciding to charge TWICE the number of hours, for $14 per hour, not bad, and call Tom, who says to call a sick Ron at the hotel, and he says he'll call me tomorrow before I come in to make sure I have a place to work. Then Bob Grossman calls ME later in the afternoon to chat about his first day at jury duty, sorry that his friend who's serving with him was called for a case on the first day, but that the 10% of gay people, 30 out of 300, are VERY obvious and cute and cruisy, and he laughs at the sign in the john "Make sure your clothing is adjusted," so I say I'll call him for dinner (no, he'll call ME for dinner) Wednesday from work, before "Manon." Then I have lunch, call Mattachine, and get down there at 2:30 to talk to Bill West and get the letter AGAIN for details about the research, get to it, typing on their awful typewriter until 4, when I'm down to the Hudson Park Library at 4 for four movies (see DIARY 8557) until 5:10, then back for more work until 6, getting back on the subway to get a GALLON of Gallo Straight Sherry and a GALLON of Gallo Rhine Garden wine and a QUART of their house vodka, and find that the refrigerator shelves are ADJUSTABLE so that I CAN use all the shelves AND get the large bottles standing up JUST UNDER THE FREEZER. Marvelous feeling! Call Arnie, who wants to go to the Club tonight (baths, that is), and I work on the Gay Guru idea a bit, later typing DIARY 8555, and put on the steak to eat during Alvin Ailey on channel 13 from 8 to 9:30 (see DIARY 8557), and Arnie calls at 9:40, saying to meet there at 10:30, and I'm almost thinking of saying no, but HE wants to go, so I put in the contacts and get there at 10:35, five minutes before him, and the evening AGAIN is a disappointment (see DIARY 8558), leave after watching the end of Bette Davis in "Dark Victory" at 1:30, and he wants to eat, so we go to Joy Park, or something, in Chinatown and have sweet and sour liver, kidney, gizzard, heart, testicle, and fish for $3.50 until 2:15, and I get home, disgusted with myself, and fall into bed at 2:55, almost 3!
DIARY 8559
TUESDAY, MAY 7. Wake at 8 and lay until 9:15---have to get AT LEAST 6 hours sleep or I'm noddy through the day! Water plants and forego exercises since I feel so lousy, type 4 pages, and then start looking at the Mattachine article. Stop for lunch, then get to finish the index from 1:10 until 3:40, deciding on over a 22 times hour-markup, which makes me feel pretty good. Call Basic Books and find they want to give me proofreading, easy to turn down. Then get back to the article, and decide to call Irwin Strauss for a meeting on Thursday to talk about the history, call Curtis Dewees and he's in business for himself now, so I'm invited to dinner with him and Kenny on Friday, and I can use his name. Then decide to tell everyone about Mattachine, so I call Alan, who predicts disaster for Mattachine, and that GAA will fold in a year if Intro 2 is passed, Henry isn't home, but he calls back later to say that they ARE planning to hold elections; and I call Mark Williams, who's worried because his name is on the lease. [Oh, forgot---in the morning I spent AT LEAST an hour going over the lists on DIARY 8555, the Gay Guru draft.] I'd eaten dinner before this, reading the new New York, and had wine, which made me dizzy through the early evening, even contemplating spending the evening listening to music and jerking off, but I thought of my flaccidity last night and decided not to, after talking on the phone till about nine wore off the wine fumes. Nothing on TV, just great---but I sure have filled ALL the rest of the evenings in THIS week with something to do. Also, I called Marge Dumond at work, and by COINCIDENCE Mary Lefkarites called to set up a Hunter series of classes next week. Then get down to typing the draft for the Mattachine article, 9 full pages, which I'll have to cut AT LEAST in half, but maybe I can do THAT at work, too. Ron called about 11:30, and I thought it was a BIT late, and said I'd be in tomorrow, and called Harriet Orcott, who'd been replaced by Nancy at Dell, to say I'll bring in the index at 9:15. A busy day tomorrow, an accomplishment-ful day today, though I only worked 32 hours BILLABLE, but since it's over $40, that's OK. Bed after a shower, as early as 11:30, tossing, thinking about 15 minutes, but sleep WELL before midnight.
DIARY 8565
WEDNESDAY, MAY 8. Wake at 7 and feel so rested that I actually get out of bed, water the plants, exercise, just below level 3, shave, pack lunch, pack the briefcase full of things to do today, type 1, and get off to the E train, jammed, at 8:30, to Dell precisely at 9:15, Nancy's not there, but comes in a few minutes later, and this is her third day on any job in publishing! So we chat about how I got started, she takes the index, and George Ryan comes past to say that "Ego on the Threshold" will be wanting an index very quickly in a few weeks, and I say to get in touch with me. Then walk down to NC, stopping in the 694 shop to see they have no records or Baby Magic, and in to work about 10:15, to hear Ron say today's the day for Stuart Margulies to clean out HIS office, so I seem to zero in on "junk" days. Nick's left a "welcome back to earth" sign on my TABLE, the third desk in a month, and Ron gets me the L-level pages to finish out the front matter of the TM with, and I work through the morning, talking with Larry Catalano, the gotch-eyed one, and have lunch at 1, leave at 1:45 with some goony gal and Ron to walk down to 14th and 6th, I pick up three books and a roll of tankas, Ron gets a huge box of books for Tom, and we taxi back to work, about 3. Nick's in and we talk about men from outer space, I finish up the work, most leave at 5 except Ron, so I xerox the Historically Speaking (see DIARY 8560-8564) and the IATA Ticketing Manual, even through Ron looks on, and at 5 I call Bob Grossman, arrange to meet him for dinner at the corner of St. Patrick's, and walk up to find that he's LATE for the 6:45 date, rather inconsiderate of him, but he IS good-looking, and he DOES know rich people, and he IS happy to think of calling Tom and talking AGAIN about the chocolate business. Leave at 7:35 and walk quickly, briefcase getting VERY heavy, to Lincoln Center for "Manon" and why doesn't MacMillan just DROP the idea of full-evening ballet (see DIARY 8566)? (Oh, and Bob Grossman was so POP-eyed to hear of my keeping a DIARY!) Talk to Chuck Choset, Shelly and his friend, and Chuck MIGHT have contacted buyers for Tuesday's pair of tickets, which is good. Out at 11, talking to Marcia Siegal on the train, home at 11:30 to catch the last 15 minutes of Nikolais' "The Relay," repetitive and NOT nude in this section, and set up the slide projector, grass, bidis, and come uncounted times, bed at 1:45, a bit headachy.
DIARY 8575
THURSDAY, MAY 9. Up just before 8, feeling still sleepy, and spend a lot of time just putting everything away, including typing DIARY pages onto the tops of the Historically Speaking articles that I xeroxed yesterday (see DIARY 8560-8564), and then I type two Diary pages. Tell John about the call I'm to get about selling the ballet tickets (she calls and says she doesn't want them), and that I called the Open Eye this morning and they mailed out the announcements for Campbell's seminar two WEEKS ago, but that most of it is a duplicate of the one last time. John says he can't go because it's too much money. I call Irwin at 10:45, saying I'll be a bit late, and get there at 11:20. His place is small and sparsely furnished, the bed still unmade, and he complains about the cold, while the sun shines on the plastic flowers on his bare windowsills. Talk with him until 12:30 (see DIARY 8576), not getting much, and Dick Leitsch is out of town until Monday, and Irwin says to call HIM back, to introduce ME to him to talk to him. Down to Mattachine at 1, and Drew and Bill are both there with about five other people, and I get to scanning One and STILL don't find more information about Mattachine's coming to NYC, and decide to do SOMETHING, so I hack away at the nine pages of the Mattachine draft (see DIARY 8577-8585) and come up with the four pages of "Mattachine" (see DIARY 8586-8589). Leave, starved, at 3:30, subway home to get a haircut next to elevator for $3.50, AWFUL, gobble down three eggs at 5, after subwaying home and shopping for Baby Magic and groceries until 4:30, and then get to the desk and determine to write the letter to the New York Times Travel Section about "North to Nordkapp" and "South to Hammerfest" and actually DO it, and THEN get out the old "Therapy Parody" and actually type up a revised eight pages entitled "The OIs Have It" (see DIARY 8567-8574). Feel great when I finish at 10:15, but tired, and decide to look at "Man of Destiny" on Channel 13, but they have on a replay of the House Judiciary Committee Inquiry into Nixon's Impeachment, and it DOES look pretty bad, commentators saying the last 48 hours being the worst, with many staunch REPUBLICAN supporters saying Nixon should resign. WELL! "The Man of Destiny" by George Bernard Shaw, is marvelously witty and clever---pas de deux for Strange Lady (Samantha Egger) and Napoleon (a handsome but hare-lipped but GREAT Stacy Keach). Bed at 12:30.
DIARY 8
FRIDAY, MAY 10. Up at 7:55, exercise for the first time in ages at level 3, then proofread "The OIs Have It" and telephone Meredith to [and at that moment I recall I hadn't sent the CHECK for $50 to them!] find what the rate is, and then start working on "The Gay Guru" for Out, and then get to work on numbering all the pages I've typed, typing in page numbers from DIARY 8567 to DIARY 8592, all of 26 pages. By then it's about 1:30 and time for lunch, which I'd delayed because I'll probably be eating late at Curtis Dewees's tonight. Bake a cake while eating lunch, then work on the McGraw-Hill Cobol book from 2:30 to 6:30, when I have to stop (also took a shower this morning and washed my too-short hair during one of the brief times in the last few chilly days when the radiators were on) to shave and get out to Curtis's, debating taking some wine along, but finally don't. Get there just at 7:30, and the plasterer is coming out of the basement apartment, so he's down there inspecting while I sit at his kitchen table in front of the picture window over his garden, the total-flowers-all-year-round garden next door, and his lower apartment-dweller's neurotic dog who turns quickly in circles as he barks at something out of sight. The houses along the back have black children peering out of top-floor windows, but that still doesn't thoroughly explain the parched-earth look to the back yards, filled with gray-black mud and not even any WEEDS, and the doors look boarded shut so that no one but the cats can roam through them. The side table has very stale popcorn, nuts, and potato chips, and Victor comes down to talk on the phone and everyone sympathizes with him for his cock-pain from his circumcision yesterday. Kenny is far younger and faggotier than I would have thought, and finally at 9 we get in to dinner, hot bean soup, then shrimp and mushrooms and onions in a sour cream sauce on rice, cold brussels sprouts, and Kenny's brought a fabulous dessert that involves heating oatmeal with brown sugar and peach slices, and putting ice cream on top of the whole thing. Then the evening gets into conversation (see DIARY 8594) and I finally HAVE to leave at 1, tired, and get home to TRY to find the "Best places in the world" page, then make up a NEW list (see DIARY 8595) and finally get to bed at 2:50, annoyed as hell (earplugs) with cats yowling.