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1975 8 of 8


DIARY 10295

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 24. Up about 10, type a dream page before I forget it, then meditate and exercise to make sure I do it, and type four more pages to catch up to date, having not done one day. By then it's noon, I have some cereal, then think to go down for the mail and decide to do OTHER things as well, so I read the rest of the Times, make up a grocery list, and take down the paper, take the laundry over to the Chinese place, and then see Key Foods across the street and think of whoever it is that shops there all the time, so I decide to try it: but there's no meat department there, the aisles are narrow and crowded, and the choice isn't as good (though they DO have confectioner's sugar, finally), and the prices for the MOST part seem to be the same (cocoa is 77¢, yogurt is 39¢, butter is about $1.35, though there's a discount on cookies which is nice), so I can't see much reason to KEEP going there, as well as the fact that it's farther. Back to phone Channel 13 and find that I should expect my TV guide by December 3-4 or I should call them back, and find in the mail that I'd left a stamp off Paul's letter and that the Society for American Travel Writers isn't at the address the library had given me. I call the number the library gives me, get National Geographic, then call information and THEN call them, and he says he'll send me the form, but I need the names of two people to REFER me to the organization. High class! Fix up the rest of the apartment, fertilize the plants, listen to more of Bill's tape, have lunch about 4 of tuna while listening, then decide I MUST trim my hair, so I step into the shower and take a LOT of hair off, too short in FRONT now, but long enough (maybe too long) in back, and Art calls inviting me to dinner, but I say I want to watch "Dr. Zhivago" and go to the baths, so he says OK, I should call him after the film. Listen to more of the tape, taking lots of notes, and put sausage on about 9, when "Dr. Zhivago" part 2 starts, and it's still watchable with the awful Omar Shariff, and Julie Christie is FABULOUSLY beautiful, and the settings are great, too. It's over at 11, not 10:30 as in the Times, and I phone Art and then the LAUGHABLE confusion starts to get me to the baths at 12, leaving at 3, home at 4, and to bed VERY tired (see DIARY 10296).

DIARY 10299

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 25. No one phones to wake me, and I get out of bed somewhat after 11 am, which sort of destroys the morning. Meditate and exercise with what feels like great strain, have cereal for a noontime breakfast, and plan to go out for various reasons like buying stamps and a bathrobe and hinges, but dawdle around until 4:30 without going out, so I just go down for the mail and come up with practically nothing. Type four diary pages, listen to the greater part of Bill's tapes before I have to respond, filling the first two sides of the tape, and then listen to the last two sides. Between this, I watch a new International Animation Festival at 4, putting Arnie off the phone---he's telling me about Bob Grossman's breakup with Jay, and that I should call Norma this evening to find out what time the Sands are going to Bayport. Have lunch of tuna about 4, then Bob Grossman calls about 8 and we chat, and then I check to see that I've seen the 8:30 animation program, then call Norma and leave a message with Arnie at 9:30 that he should call me and give me train information, since the Sands will be leaving at 9 am so that Roz can bake some pies for the Thanksgiving dinner. Make dinner of the rest of the sausage and watch the end of a dubbed "The Elusive Corporal" on Channel 13, and I can't quite see why they'd want to show it, since it doesn't seem like such a great film. Then watch an episode of "No---Honestly," which turns out by coincidence to be the one that I'd caught the last bit of before. That's over at 11:15, I've drunk wine with dinner so I go straight on to grass and bidi and reach a nice plateau of super-feeling at 11:45, and fuss and play and porno and bidi and rubber band and tap and twiddle and tweak until 12:20, when I come with enormous feeling, having tried again the ass-upwards, getting two drops of clear liquid with NO trouble and great alacrity, and then have a BEAUTIFUL feeling when I'm finished that permits me to clear off the porno from the bed and snuggle down to sleep WITHOUT EATING A SINGLE THING. Lie a bit delighting in the warmth of the covers, congratulating myself for not eating, and wake the next morning with a slight headache and a vastly empty stomach at 8 am, feeling strange from my change in stomach-filling.

DIARY 10308

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 26. Up at 8, meditate and exercise, have breakfast, type 9 pages of diary, mostly pages from "The Homosexual Matrix" (see DIARY 10300-10306) and a "Throwback" page from it (see DIARY 10307) after I finish reading THAT. Have lunch sometime in there, then out to find the coin place CLOSED, buy stamps at PO, and buy bathrobe at A&S and find it's a boy's and must be returned and in to Woolworth to buy hinges and curse myself for buying a $2 stamp bag that I now have to take the time to SOAK on Sunday! And Arnie had called to say that I catch the 11:10 train tomorrow, changing in Jamaica and in Babylon. I phoned Dror to find that he's not working at all, and try calling Byron to get the name of the fellow who was supposed to call me on Friday, but get no answer from him. Start reading "Auto-Erotism" when I don't feel like typing anymore, and then Bill Wolf calls to have me look at his pot plant, so I say I'll go over at 7:30. Watch the Animation Festival although I've seen it before, and get over to Bill's just after that, finding his plants to be dead, and then around the corner to the wine shop to wait in line for the big pre-Thanksgiving crowd and get a gallon of wine, and then back at 8 to watch the end of the President's press conference that cause the Tribal Eye to be moved off this evening, and I continue reading while listening to my recording of Tchaikovsky's Fourth Symphony, since Leonard Bernstein is going to conduct it at 9, and I eat roast beef hash and drink a lot of wine while watching the program from 9 to 10, delighting in the simulcast over WQXR in stereo, and when it's over I'm so stoned that the only thing to do is smoke and come with GREAT delight by 10:45. Then I get out into the living room to listen to some records, decide I want to hear the trip tape, and then get some STRANGE ideas that I want to follow through on tape. Talk for about 20 minutes and feel that I've MISSED a lot of ideas, so I jot down what I'd remembered that I'd FORGOTTEN on some sheets of paper (see DIARY 10309). Then, in the middle of a side, I decide that this is SO great that I'll send it along to Bill (see DIARY 10325-1035(2?)9). Keep recording for a long time---I don't really remember where I stopped, feeling that I'm getting a lot down which I'll just transcribe LATER. Feel talked out (though, thankfully, not self-conscious about talking to myself) about 1, and get right to bed, content with what I've done through the day, knowing that LOTS of loose ends are hanging around, but I'll clear them all up TOMORROW.

DIARY 10310

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 27. Wake, for whatever reason, at 5:45, but forget which side of the mirror the hands were at, but when I re-wake at 6:15 I decide that I'd wakened first a half-hour ago. Don't feel like staying in bed, my mind is full of thought, so I get up and go BACK to the tape, completing the first two sides, re-labeling "side 5" and making a note that I have to re-label side 6, and get started on side 7 up to #545 when I go to get some reference work, and am greatly surprised to find that the clock records 9:50, so I only have 1 hour and 20 minutes to catch the train, so I tell Bill that and get to shower, shave, and eat breakfast, and get out by 10:50, getting to the LIRR station at Atlantic Avenue at 11:05 to find HUGE lines in front of the ticket offices. Get onto the train BEFORE hearing the announcement that there'll be no penalty for tickets purchased on the train, and I'm reading "Auto-Erotism" which is quite fascinating. Change at Jamaica without buying a ticket, go through a train and then back onto it because it's going to Babylon, and then the guy charges ms $3.75 for the ticket, saying it was usually $3.50, and I "request" $1.50 back from my $5, but he says he can't do it, I get his badge number 913, and fuss about what I'll do with the problem I now have. DAMN civilization for idiocies like this! Also pissed by people smoking quite a lot in the nonsmoking car I'm in, but later Miriam, who was with me on the train, said that there were about five nonsmoking cars in a row, so they lit up wherever they were. Great. Into Sayville and meet Arnie at about 1, waiting with Lou in the Mercedes, and to the house to find it greatly changed from two years before, the turkey roasting, the pumpkin and apple pies just about done, and Norma serving a buffet lunch of cheeses, toasted bread and butter, celery, Icelandic salmon, hard-boiled eggs, cider, and a few other goodies I can't remember. Go for a walk to the bay for a BIT of sunshine toward sunset, and get back at 4 for dinner, good with GREAT gravy over good chicken, underdone sweet potatoes, good boiled onions, fabulous "Thousand-ingredient" rice, and good pies for dessert. Ginny and Kenneth come over from across the street for dessert, talking and laughing [Do you massage genitals? Yes. How much? Same as for Jews!] [Mrs. Murphy liked it so much she took it off my fence and hung it in her living room.] [And then I used HER boyfriend's name instead of my HUSBAND'S name, and she REALLY looked at me for taking the Mongoloid child to the Macy's Parade.], and at 8:45 we left, Lou driving OK, I get home at 10:15 to watch a bit of Python, finish "Auto-Erotism" Start G. Bed at 1 without coming (for Bob tomorrow).

DIARY 10311

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 28. Up about 9, meditate and exercise with GREAT strain, water the plants, Art calls to say that he's got a job tonight so I can't go over; Joyce's still ill and the Thanksgiving at his older sister's was OK. I decide I MUST do the vacuuming, so I dust and vacuum and then jump into the tub at 11:30, and then Bob calls to say he's running a bit late. When I get out of the tub at 11:55, I call him back and he says he's HAVING lunch, so I don't have to worry about it for HIM, have cereal for breakfast, and then get out to the grocery to get Pepsi for him and lots of groceries, getting back at 12:40, and put those and the dishes away, and he rings the buzzer EXACTLY at 1, and he's up to return the Soho Weekly News that I lent him, says that he blanks out whenever he's not looking into my eyes when he talks, and describes his revelations: he doesn't design embroidery, he rearranges threads on cloth to make patterns. He doesn't have sex, he does to bed to get a massage, not of the body, not of the mind, but of his LOVE, and we're smoking a joint of his and the flowers of mine, I put on WNCN so that I don't get programmed music, and then, after I've talked about how much I don't care about coming, we get entangled and he AGAIN gets very hard, and I'm OK for a bit, then go down and down, we stop for a bit, I get out the poppers, but finally HE comes with great delight, shouting out "I got what I came for," and then shouts "I get it! I get it!" just to get me OFF his cock, and I say, "See, you DID get what you came (orgasmed) for!" We're back in to chat some more about my "problem"; I read him sections of "Tripp," and then he leaves about 4:45, saying he's got to get home. Mailman brings my Xmas cards at 5. Azak calls, crazily, asking ME how to get to Pratt Institute! I put on bathrobe and don't quite know WHAT to do, but go into the bedroom and have a GREAT orgasm with MORE grass and bidi and popper---and then have a SECOND one when I'm laying around not quite knowing what to DO, since it feels so good. Watch Star Trek at 6 (see DIARY 10313). Drag myself out of bed at 7 to make some FABULOUS French toast with BEAUTIFUL yellow eggs, smooth butter, and lovely maple syrup, and then can't think of a THING to do with my fatigue, not even reading, so I crawl into bed at 8 pm with my earplugs in and the house rather a mess, after eating an ORANGE and YOGURT and TOAST and LOADS OF COOKIES beforehand so that my stomach's GROANING FULL by the time I get to sleep---but I have no trouble GETTING there.

DIARY 10312

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 29. Wake at 8, obviously having needed 12 hours sleep, and get up to meditate and exercise, have breakfast AFTER Fred Bassoff calls about 10:30 and says he's on his way out to shop, having just wakened, and he sees the stuff on the table and says "You even managed to eat breakfast already," and I "joke" about "Oh, that's left over from dinner three nights ago." HAHA, quelle jokque! Type four diary pages to catch up to date, getting ready for the end-of-the-month typing, and then down for a great load of mail that it takes me a long time to get through, and I read more of "The Teachings of Gurdjieff" and record more to Bill, and then watch "Superstakes" at 4:30, and Bob Grossman calls me in amazement after Dendlich, or someone (I guess Terry Kubicka), does a BACK FLIP on his skates, and he says we SAW him before, but I can't locate the program that lists who we saw (though I find it NOW), though I rated Toller Cranston highly and here it was John Curry who was so good, and the Protopopovs did their balletic numbers, as opposed to the Rodnina and Zietzev that so impressed me then. Bob asks why the dance possibility for this evening failed, and I said I got involved in reading, recording, and writing. Art called to say that last night was OK, but he's going to the country over the weekend, so I won't be seeing him. Whew! The skating goes on to 6, and then I tune in "Star Trek" again, and it's a better series, though they INSIST on a very PATRIOTIC idea of our advance into space (see DIARY 10313). Then get back to whatever I was doing, and make dinner in time for the 9 pm showing of "Trelawny of the 'Wells,'" which is silly at the start and then quite CHARMING at the end as the wine gets through to me and I like the actors and their parts, and my heart goes out to the "softening" of the grandfather to the son and the soon-to-be-daughter, and the self-sacrifice of Tom Wrench of his love, Trelawny, to her husband-to-be. Then think about getting the Times, but decide I want to smoke and come now, and so I do, getting out the film and running that through to get some excitement, and the come is nicely felt, and I've eaten dinner SO recently that AGAIN I can get to sleep without gorging myself with any more food, at about 1 am, thank goodness!

DIARY 10314

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 30. Up about 9, meditate and exercise, though the second meditation doesn't come about because Rolf comes over. Out for the Times about 10, passing Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Gray saying goodbye to their sister, and in to work the puzzles while watching Faubion Bowers and the Kabuki and some DOLLS of new men in Kabuki who ALSO do "Man of La Mancha" and "King and I" and modern dance with handsomeness and grace. Then soak the stamps, a double time to keep mine separate from the ones bought, and put on the trumpet music to listen to. Have lunch to have something to eat, back to sort out the stamps after finishing "The Teachings of Gurdjieff" and recording some more to Bill. Then Rolf calls at 6, to say that he wants to watch "Space 1999" if that's OK with me, and I've taken to baking the chocolate cake, which turns out just FINE, and I'm finishing up with the icing when he comes over, and we have two pieces each, finishing maybe 1/4 of it, and the plot's rather simple-minded (see DIARY 10313, bottom), and I don't find enough of interest in the Tribal Eye to continue to watch over his boredom, so he's willing to talk about Heidegger, and I get out the questions I had through page 59, and we go through it quite laboriously until about 8:30. He leaves, not taking the smaller Heidegger book with him and being reminded that I have the projector for the films, which he'd forgotten, and then John Woods calls to say he wants a bottle, and he comes over to say that Byron Nelson travels quite a lot. I finally get in touch with Byron's roommate, who says that he'll be flying back about 11:30 tonight, and I say to call before 1 am, but he doesn't. Call Arnie about the TDF offerings but he reminds me of the beginning of "The Laughing Policeman" and I tune in in time to see the busload of people shot, get engrossed (as the blurb says I will), and dinner of hamburger with wine, and watch the gay guy get shot at the end after a pretty good chase. Decide to stay awake to await the call that never comes, and take up "Beelzebub" again, reading a number of shorter chapters until 1:15, and then I'm tired enough to get to bed without smoking or coming, but I can't sleep until 2, when I find I have no Vaseline for my extremely dry nose, so I'll have to get some tomorrow. Finally to sleep at 2.

DIARY 10316

MONDAY, DECEMBER 1. Wake at 8:10 and up at 9:30. Arnie calls about the TDF, wanting two tickets [which I take the time to do NOW!], I get the laundry together which I never take out, read the last of a Sci-Am issue, read the rest of the second issue of Psychoenergetic Systems, find my notes for the rest of Bill's response, thank goodness, which had slipped between the chair cushion and the chair arm [and was VASTLY relieved when I called Stephen Waite in the evening to inform him that I had Arnie's projector in case he wanted to see his films, that I had LOANED him when he was here "6 weeks ago," and in fact it WILL be 6 weeks come Thursday that he has it; and when I jot the note on his page (see DIARY 10161) I recall that I even had to give him a BAG so that he could CARRY it!]. By then it's about 11:30, and I meditate and type four diary pages and then prepare to eat cereal, but I'd forgotten to exercise, so I do that, and then prepare to eat cereal, and decide I smell enough to take a shower, so I do THAT, and then, since it's about 2, decide to just have tuna fish rather than cereal. Then get to the stamps, since I'm very concerned about HOW MANY things I have to do (see DIARY 10315), and that continues pleasantly enough until it's time to watch "Star Trek" while giving Arnie the movie-trivia test, and this plot gives William Shattner a chance to overact as his "other self" when the transporter doesn't work and splits him to seduce his yeoman/woman, drink brandy, and cause problems, Finish stamps at 8:30 and put them away to a summarization sheet (see DIARY 10317), and then JUST about to turn on Culberg's ballet when Arnie calls and says it's "The Tribal Eye," which I want to watch, eating pork chops during, and then call him at 10 and he DOESN'T want to go, but he wants me to give him "The Homosexual Matrix," so I take it to him at the subway station at 10:30, reeling on flowers, and get to Man's Country for their $1 special and a LARGE line for the second time, and it's STILL not a very good place, so I can't see any reason for going back (see DIARY 10318), particularly during the time that the 7th Avenue is stopping only at Borough Hall: took an hour and a quarter to get IN and nearly an hour to get BACK, and since I was only THERE for two hours, it's just not worth it. Back at 2:45 and to bed at 3, without coming.

DIARY 10322

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 2. Up at 10 after having the dreams recorded on DIARY 10319-10320, coming after having wakened at 9, and again thinking of all I should be doing. Type 6 diary pages in all, then meditate and exercise, AGAIN not having "time" for the second one in the evening. John Terlesky, or someone, calls from ACC to say the index will be on its way today or tomorrow, and then I call Bob Rosinek to say I've "located" the porno drawing book that I'd been missing. Debate going out before the messenger comes, and decide to ONLY take out the Times to the garbage, take out the laundry so that I have underwear again, and pick up the sheets so I can change them, and mail Arnie's TDF ticket request. Back to have lunch, after talking with Bob Grossman about his flight to Florida over Christmas, and he ends up going with Michael, who says he'll be able to get him "something." Then get to plucking the grass off the plant that had been hanging there for about three weeks (after talking to Arnie on the phone for an HOUR and giving him the recipe for making grass butter, after he "jokingly" said that he'll be talking for only five minutes), and harvest the four plants that had been doing the poorest, hanging THEM up to dry, and then clean out the top drawer that everything's kept in, re-labeling and throwing some few things out and eating a piece of honey candy and a piece of marzipan, just to get it out of the way. Then watch a new Animation Festival, TERRIFYING thing called "The Fly" about growing fly who steps on a man and a WILD psychedelic "Adventures of Uncle Sam," from 4 to 4:30. Then listen to records while doing the dishes after cleaning out the pots from the grass plants, and have to put on the pork chops to broil at 5:40 to cook till 6:10, then eat quickly after having showered and shaved and leave at 6:30 to get to the Commodore at 7 to pay me $3 to Tirzah just before a long line starts, and Bob's in there already surrounded with friends from his graduation. I'm fairly bored with the data, and Michael Rosenbaum is a REAL loser (see DIARY 10360), but then at 10:40 Bob and I hunt for a hot fudge sundae, oddly walking to Fifth looking for Schrafft's, which is on 34th, dumdum, and back to IN FRONT OF THE COMMODORE for Howard Johnson's, and have a GREAT talk to 12:15 (see DIARY 10323) and I'm home at 1 to smoke and jerk off with DISTINCT-MOUNTS in inevitability (see DIARY 10324) to 2, then have a "cake sandwich:" big piece of cake "surrounded" by two toast-and-butters!

DIARY 10364

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 3. Wake at 7 to hear COUNTRY-WESTERN music coming, I think, from below, and get pissed at THAT, put in earplugs and go back to sleep, wake again at 9, and out of bed at 10. Up to type one diary page before meditation, so that I won't think of what happened yesterday DURING meditation, and then think to call Pope at 10:30 to tell him about last night, and we end up talking for NINETY MINUTES, and he stops for coffee and a match, and we cover LOTS of things (see DIARY 10362). Then dial my own number and meditate until 12:30, then down for the mail---and it was only a letter from Bill yesterday and only an ad from Newsweek and Channel 13's guide TODAY, so where's the porno and personal letters and other goodies? Eat cereal and read MORE of the Scientific American, getting into science again, and then decide to record more tapes for Bill, reading him what I thought about "Beelzebub," "Teachings of Gurdjieff," "Views from the Real World," "Center of the Cyclone" and "The Natural Mind," but that gets to be a real turn-off. Pope calls BACK to talk for half an hour about his reaction to Pete Hamil's review of the book, I watch a lightweight "Star Trek" where some new virus causes lunacy on the ship, with Sulu taking off his shirt to show a NICE body as he fences and Kirk AGAIN overacting as he goes drunk and even SPOCK crying and saying "I could never tell my mother I loved her!" until Bones finds a cure and they go backward in time "and may use it later" and get away from the planet that's crumbling beneath their ship. Big deal. Art calls from 7:15 to 7:35, going to "American Musical" tonight with Nancy, which stars everyone he hates, and he's having dinner with Lee tomorrow and leaving for the weekend on Friday, so so much for HIM, and he said my phone was busy ALL morning! Joyce has colitis and is taking est in March. Then I decide to start TYPING the tape to Bill, since I have nothing that I REALLY want to do and threaten to slump into total indifference, and start at 8 pm, getting through the entire first two sides on the first 10 pages and getting well into "side 5" to finish about 10:45 at 15 pages, beginning to take lozenges for a sore throat I've had since Saturday, feeling good about THAT, and then debate what to eat and decide on scrambled eggs that are still of a LOVELY yellow color, and then finish skimming through the December 1974 Sci Am until 12:15, making me tired enough to wash my face and clean my teeth and get to bed with earplugs in at 12:30 without smoking or coming.

DIARY 10371

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 4. Up about 8:30 and again decide that I MUST put things away, so away go the sheets from the laundry, the dishes from whenever, and the chipped wine glass FINALLY slips from my hand and SHATTERS on the floor into a thousand tiny pieces which I pick up with a wet paper towel. Stephen Waite calls about 9:10 to say that he's had a cancellation for dinner and would I like to come, and I say yes, and I later call Arnie about 12, and he's talking to Bob G, so that's the chance to say I'm going, he'll be going from town unless he calls me, and LATER he tells me that Bob G and Jay messed up their "dinner engagement" last night because Bob called Jay at 7:30 and he was EATING already, so they didn't see each other. BOTH are playing games. I water plants, thinking about washing the kitchen curtains but don't, meditate about noon, don't exercise or second-meditate AGAIN, and call Dror to find his friend WANTS AN, so I arrange to meet them at 12th Street at 7:15, and he's VERY paranoid about it, which makes ME paranoid about it! I type 7 REGULAR diary pages and then 6 pages from the tape to Bill, and then decide I MUST get out to exchange the bathrobe, so I get out at 4 to take down an empty wine bottle, return the bathrobe for one at the same price but have to go to a total of four checkout/ exchange/ refund/ checkout counters in all, pick up some wood, pick up the laundry, and get home with the mail, including the index which came priority mail today, after John Cerneska said he'd mailed it when I called. Then shower (oh, had pork chops for lunch since I was afraid they'd go bad, having gotten them a week ago, and was VERY hungry when I got to Steven's), wash my hair, shave, watch a Star Trek with Mudd's Women being beautiful when they WANT to, not REALLY because of the Venus Drug, neat, and leave at 7, drop off two bottles at 7:20, up to Steven's to be delighted to find Guy St. Clair the dark-haired sexy one, have a delightful time talking, telling jokes, drinking bloody marys and wine, having his "party casserole" and salad and cake and coffee for dessert, Arnie knocks over wine and then SMASHES down on the glass table, and Guy's hands are ALL OVER ME, very sexy, and his singing of "Largo al factotum" turns me on too (the IDEA of it, AND the idea of his singing "Avant de quitter" from "Faust," ANOTHER of my favorites). Home at 2:10 with Arnie, who buys a bottle, and I smoke and come MOST feelingly, spasming 51 times! Feeling FRABJOUS and SEXY!

DIARY 10372

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 5. Out of bed about 10:50 and have the ECSTATIC MORNING described on DIARY 10365, which I type, followed by three Throwback pages and one on Guy St. Clair. Then I meditate about 1, and exercise and have lunch of tuna, and then get back to typing from the tape to Bill, and at last get past the notes that I have to transcribe verbatim for "Throwback," and start listening to tapes for content only. Thought the tape was an hour on each side, but I time it and find that it's 100 minutes or MORE, so that explains why it takes so long! Type 14 in all today. Stop about 5 to meditate again, shower, make dinner of the last of the smelly pork chops, and eat them while watching the first 3/4 of "Star Trek" about the boy who came from a people-less colony who knows how to change matter around and melt chess pieces by crossing his eyes. He looks like a young Robert Walker, but I don't think the series is THAT old? Leave at 6:45, almost DETERMINED to be late for the About Sex #4, telling myself that I'm tired of listening to Lew give that stereotyped talk to the guests, but I walk quickly to the subway, swaying with the white wine from the dinner, and the train comes quickly as I read Beelzebub, and I get to the Commodore about 7:13 and quickly up the stairs to get into the room at 7:16, but it doesn't even START until 7:18. Perfectly horrible session totally DESTROYED for me by the films which were VERY poorly selected, and I even have a talk with Lew about them and take a Communication to Staff form to fill out (see DIARY 10373). Telephone Arnie at 10:45 and hear his message that he isn't going to any of the bars this evening, but I want to see them anyway, so I'm onto the shuttle for the first time in ages with a WHISTLING maniac, then down on the local to 18th Street and walk across to 10th Avenue and the Strap. See Paul Bosten walking across the floor, and then while I'm talking to him, there's John A., in his "meeting-me" costume, and he says that the show at the Anvil starts at 11, I should see it, and that he's going to give two portraits, of Bartok and someone, at ATL in March sometime, and he's VERY surprised to hear about Joe Campbell's seminar next weekend, so he may BE there. The Strap is awful (see DIARY 10374) and I leave at 12:30, teary-eyed, and so tired that I fall into bed without smoking or coming at 1.

DIARY 10375

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 6. Wake about 8:30 and don't even hear her moving around upstairs. Up to meditate and don't want to exercise until after breakfast, and get back to listening to the tape and recording what's left to be put on paper. Paul calls and says his friend might NOT be getting tickets tonight, so why don't I just go over to his place at 10 and we'll drive down to the bars, so at 5:40 we verify that's what'll happen to the evening. I type the last six pages of what needs to be kept from the tape, and then move the stuff back to its place, THINKING that I'm finished transcribing from the tape (little do I know that I'll be adding more to be transcribed on SUNDAY). Out to get groceries since I've been reduced to eating CREAM CHEESE from the fridge without cookies and bread to toast, and get another rain check on ANOTHER bargain item they don't have in stock. Bring up lots of junk mail (and Travel Agent HAS stopped, thank the lord) and go through that, then watch a Star Trek that's getting pretty stereotyped, this a "war" segment about war with the Romulans, who call each other Decius and Proteus, who are descended from the Vulcans, and everyone's very gung-ho, and they wrap the silly episode up with someone ABOUT to be married, and then of course the husband-to-be is killed, and it's sort of a waste of time. Have a late lunch in here, do a few other things, and somehow the day passes until 9:15 when I'm out to Paul's, having drunk wine with my hamburger dinner and taking grass along with me. The Third Avenue exit of the Lexington stop is LOCKED when I get there, and they're just locking ANOTHER as I leave at 10:15, so I'm pissed when I get to Paul's. We talk about the fiasco he predicts for Roosevelt Island, Jim up in Buffalo, and other things of his while finishing his cherry brandy and he rolls some joints for us to smoke in the car. He smokes cigarettes and says we'll leave when he finishes, but he KEEPS on smoking, and I figure he'll end up having SEX with me, which is OK, but then we leave about 12:15 and drive down, smoke two joints, and get in to the Anvil for $3 apiece, not impressed by the crowd on line. BUT INSIDE IS MADNESS, and I freak out (see DIARY 10385) and leave at 7:05 am, beautiful sunrise colors in the sky, home BLEARY eyed and TOTALLY freaked by the evening.

DIARY 10376

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7. Home from the Anvil at 7:35 am, having been shifted from one Brooklyn-bound train to another at Wall Street, and I'm hungry enough for two scrambled eggs and toast, and get to bed not experiencing anything wrong with my eyes at 8 am, feeling somewhat silly to pull down the shade blocking out the BRIGHT SUN coming over the rooftops. Wake at 11:15 with irritated eyes, and get out of bed at 11:45 to find that my eyes ARE blurry and VERY sore, and I use some Visine which "gets the redness out," but the soreness and blurred vision are still there. Can't read, so I phone Arnie to tell him about last night, and he's about to go out; Paul calls and says he'll be by at 4-5 to pick up the amyl I forgot to take him last night, and I call Bob G at 12:15 but he's still sleeping, so I get back to have cereal and look through the magazine, then work both puzzles for a couple of hours, and then Bob calls at 2:30, and I record half a side of my experiences last night at the Anvil on the tape to Bill AS I talk to Bob, without telling HIM about it, of course (see DIARY 10376). Hang up about 3:30, then read more of the Times, and Paul phones from the St. George at 5, saying that he'd tried the buzzer but it didn't work. He comes in and I shut off "The Three Sisters," the prologue to which I'd watched from 4 to 4:30 and I was rather bored with it when he came in. We talked about all kinds of things, mostly about him and last night, and then I tried calling Don at 6:20 and then again at 7:30, but he wasn't checking his service, and Paul said he didn't FEEL like sex, but I said "If I got out the grass---" and he said he'd probably be persuaded to stay (he'd gotten ME ready by saying how sexy he always found my body, as he did a few other friends he kept going to bed with, and I said I LIKED that kind of thing), so I DID get out the grass and we smoked, trying the pipe for water for the first time in ages, and then I showered after putting hash (to eat) in the oven after laughing about it, and I put on the radio, then came out and we started playing, having an INCREDIBLE time, and then he reminded me about hash, we ate from 8:45 to 9:15, finishing with cookies, then he started looking at porno again and we REALLY went at it (see DIARY 10377). He left about 10, I listened to music and watched the last of "Ascent of Man," watched "Twilight Zone," and got to bed at 12.

DIARY 10378

MONDAY, DECEMBER 8. Up at 8 and out of bed at 9, throat still sore, having made up sleep from the weekend, and I meditate but don't feel like exercising so I don't. Type 6 pages during the day, Art calls and we talk about an hour about how great his "Trip to Nowhere" was on the Doric and how they were going to name the theater the "Art Ostrin Theater" because the audience was so fond of him, and then Arnie called to catch up on information from the Anvil and to say that Bill Wolf fell coming back from somewhere on Sunday, and his eye was all swollen up and he almost missed the "Sweet Bird of Youth" by taking Bill to the hospital emergency room at 1, and he was finally seen at 4. I water the plants, and then in putting away the stuff that Paul and I left out last night, I sort through all the stuff and hunt for duplicate brochures to send to Bill, since I'm obviously not going to be sending him the tapes immediately. Down for the mail and read it all except the New York, which I save to read during lunch at 3, and then I watch a fairly boring Loren Eiseley on Book Beat from 3:30 to 4. Call Don and make a date for Thursday. Put on records and wash dishes from 45 minutes. Then watch a Star Trek from 6 to 7 that AGAIN seems to have been cut from two hours to one, "Miri," about an earth-like planet (totally unexplained) where the "grups" or grownups tried to extend life and managed to exterminate themselves, and the crew catches the disease, which makes them get angry at each other, and then they're all saved, sending a "truant officer" to the planet to take care of the kids, who now age only one month per hundred years. Then watch the Jacques Cousteau special on the bird life of an island, and he's REALLY getting Disney, but it's ASTOUNDING to watch a mother tern letting her weaker youngster STARVE because he deserved to die. Nature is SOMETHING! Then was talking to Rolf and he's amenable to the baths, I shave and shower and wash my hair until 10:20, writing a letter to Bill and sending a travel resume for an ad in LAST Sunday's Times, and then get out at 10:35. Haven't had time to do ANYTHING around the apartment! Buy him a Times, mail my letters, and get to the Club about 11, saying we'll meet at 2, and I have a great time, except that no one I like does anything for me (see DIARY 10379), and we're out at 2:45, find Studio Bookshop closed, eat at David's on Canal and Broadway, good bacon omelet expensive at $1.75, and home at 4, getting to bed dreadfully late AGAIN.

DIARY 10381

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 9. Up just before noon, feeling awful about that, drawing up the blind after the sun's gone for the plants, and water the plants again after meditating because they seem to be so dry. May be REALLY getting a cold, but I think of it as bragging too much about not having HAD a cold since est. Want to get down to typing the tape and finishing it up, and catching up with the diary, but decide to do some OTHER things first, so I go down for the mail expecting Christmas cards and haven't gotten the FIRST one yet, feel too weak to exercise, and then decide to wash the kitchen curtains that are dark and heavy with cooking grease and solidified smoke, and the water instantly turns dark gray. Then get out the paper towels and the Windex and do the center windows, and then Rolf calls and asks if I want my porno back now, so I say OK, and then put on some records, move the curtains around, and continue with the windows as he comes over and reads the other reviews and the response to the Times review of the "Homosexual Matrix," and I finish up the windows and then decide to rinse the curtains thoroughly and then wash them AGAIN, I start really sneezing and sniffling, and Rolf decides to stay around till 4 to watch the "Day after Tomorrow," obviously a pilot for a series called "E=mc2," but Arnie says no, by the same people who make "Space, 1999," with the same "science look" and the same special explosion effects, though the talk-down and ignore-plausibility is quite fierce. Rolf watches the news at 5, I finish the curtains, John Moltner calls for two more bottles, Rolf and I talk about his labeling problems and the possibilities of expansion, and then it's 6:30, I've meditated a second time, and I shave, don't shower, and get out with Rolf for me to get to the Lexington and get to the Waldorf at almost exactly 7:15, but again Michael Rosenbaum's late. The seminar "Liking For" is FAR more interesting than I would have thought, and I figure to even make a reservation for Werner (see DIARY 10382). Bob's there, and we sit together for the second half, and then go to the Summit for ANOTHER hot fudge sundae and long talk (see DIARY 10383), and we leave feeling VERY high, and I get home HAVING A COLD and smoke, but can't get a hard-on, so I shut out the light and go to sleep at 1, not even having anything but the sundae for dinner, having had tuna with Rolf for lunch at 4 while watching TV, and an orange.

DIARY 10384

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 10. Up about 10, even debating staying in bed longer, as my cold's really here. Up to meditate, feeling somewhat better, then type six diary pages, Pope calls and agrees that Michael may be the perfect empty type to be filled with Werner, I get stuff ready to take to the bank, but after having breakfast, putting up the curtains and dragging them down with EB books at either end to make them long enough, then Eddie calls JUST after I'd tried to call Richard at 1, and he comes over about 2 and talks for about an hour about how depressed he is, and he really doesn't think he knows enough people to become a dealer, and then Fred Bassoff calls and wants THREE, so things are really going, as I'm down to 6 left! Bring my list up to date, write a letter to Rita, and then decide at 4 that I'm not going to the bank today, so I go down for the mail and read all THAT, and then make out some checks, then remember that I had no LUNCH today, so I put on the last of the hamburger to eat while watching "Star Trek" and I start cleaning out the bedroom closet while waiting for 6 pm, and it's a silly plot about how Spock is in charge and is too "machine-like" to think about bringing the dead man back to the ship, and *HORRORS* would even THINK of leaving without BURYING him. Ultimate in silliness, made no better by a growly yeti-type monster and a "needle in five billion haystacks" being finally found when Spock jettisons the fuel and they see the streak, and they end with everyone breaking up over Spock's admitting to being "a stubborn MAN." Feel so awful that I smoke and come VERY nicely from 7 to 8, with attractive porno, and then doze until I'm nudged awake at 8:57 and turn on TV just in time to see the FABULOUS John Denver special from the Rocky Mountains, with no mention of est, with great mountaintop photography, a plastic dome that permits flowers and humidity inside in a snow-covered field, a funny thing about him and Valerie Harper meeting on a ski-slope, sharing a fantasy about their marriage until he runs off with someone else, and when they meet she slaps him with a "You cad!" and they part. Back to bed at 10, instantly asleep, but up at 3:30 to drink some water, blow my nose, spray with Chloraseptic, and take a lozenge, and back to sleep until up at 9.

DIARY 10390

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 11. Up at 9, feeling pretty ghastly, meditate and feel better, but just too weak to exercise. Eat the last of the cereal. Type two diary pages, make out some checks, see Mrs. Johnson about the apartment and find that it's not really very immediate, and then get out to the bank about 11 to get and mail the check for my checking account and take the Lexington subway to the Unitrex place, waiting about 10 minutes, and surprised to have to pay $18.30, since the basic charge went up from $12 to $17.50 in October. GREAT! Lug it home, buying a gallon of wine on the way, and pick up lots of mail, up to read it. Had ALSO made up a new "do" list in the morning, since the old one was too crowded at 41 items, and delighted to find 19 items on the list and one crossed off with the picking up of the Unitrex. Determine to finish Bill's tape today, so I get to that before watching Rona Barret at 3-4 with James Caan, Michael Caine, Elliot Gould, and Burt Reynolds, and ALL had delightful parent-caring childhoods, had first sex about 13-15, had kids and marriages except Burt, who wanted to adopt a kid and DIDN'T want to remarry, saying that he didn't like to be thought a homosexual just because he didn't want to get married, or immature either. Talked to Arnie, too, who's had a number of sex calls, as Ed and someone ELSE did, and he's meeting two blind dates tomorrow. I finish recording the tape at 6, watch a good Star Trek by Robert Bloch about a doctor's making himself into an android on an old-civilization planet, but when he finds he can't love, he kills himself and his beautiful Android Andrea. Fried the enormous steak during this, drinking my new wine, and then type five pages about the Anvil from the tape to Bill, watch "No-Honestly," "Monty Python" and "Animation Festival" until 12 while listening to Bill's OLD tape from 1966 that I send him, and then I record "Tubular Bells" on the end of the Irish tape while filling up a tub with hot water and making THREE cups of orange matte tea with a swig of lemon, a teaspoon of honey, and a shot of Grand Marnier, and then finish recording, smoke, get into the tub and finish the tea, and lay for about a half an hour, getting out VERY sweaty, and fall asleep IMMEDIATELY, but wake VERY wet later, coughing, and sleep until 6:45, awake coughing.

DIARY 10403

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 12. Wake coughing at 6:45, back to sleep, up later to feel awful, and get up quite late to meditate and eat breakfast. Get the one page typed that I needed for yesterday, and that's the last time I'm up to date for about a week, since I'm scrabbling NOW to catch up, but there are a LOT of pages STILL to go! That probably takes until noon or after, and for the rest of the day I essentially do NOTHING: put away the tapes and stuff from recording to Bill, packing the four tapes (his old one, his Third Testament with "Tubular Bells" riding along, the Scotch sides 1-4, and the gray sides 5-8) and looking forward to a LONG wait, but surprised to move in and out quickly (and I'd made up MORE checks to send out, too), and then get to the drugstore to stock up on Q-tips, cough syrup and lozenges, and vitamins both multi and E. Then to the grocery store, getting stuff that I'll need for the weekend, and back to wash dishes, cleaning up the last of the mess before the weekend. Have lunch and dinner in here somewhere, too, but it WAS 6 days ago and I HATE pages like this! Shower and out about 6:10 to make sure I get there in time, and it's a long walk across to the elegant townhouse which houses the Jung Foundation, and the money is snapped up quickly, Jean Erdman is there to listen to her husband, beaming about how "The Open Eye" is now occupying TWO premises with its activities, and in for the seminar whose notes I've transcribed on DIARY 10391-10395. DIDN'T have dinner, now that I think of it, and the sandwiches at the end of the break tasted pretty good, as did the wine, but I couldn't find anyone to really "sympathize" with during the breaks, so I felt silly after I asked all the questions I could think of, and then left. Got home in time to watch the David Frost Guinness Book of Records special that I'd marked, but I was feeling so lousy I really didn't feel like watching it, so I filled up the tub again and made three cups of tea again (two, actually, this time), and smoked some and got into bed to try to come for a bit, but it just didn't work, I felt too drained from the physical exertion of the day and the mental exertion of the evening, and fell asleep about 1:30, setting the alarm for 8:50.

DIARY 10404

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 13. Alarm wakes me with a jolt at 8:50, I crawl out of bed and have breakfast and figure I don't have enough time to meditate, so I just get out and get to the Jung at almost exactly 10, but of course everyone's downstairs eating up coffee and coffee cake, which I enjoy very much during the SECOND break, and the notes I take I've transcribed on DIARY 10395-10400 for the whole day, since he's somewhat getting out of his stated starting point of the goddess, I'm not taking so many notes. Even the sort of cute fellow from last night isn't there this morning, and the place is filled with more and more unpleasant people who block the slides with their late-coming bodies, chatter together right under his nose, and at least gasp at the right times: when JC wants to impress. But he strikes me as VERY repetitious even in the TWO seminars I've had from him, and he gets all his information from books that are so old I could have read them myself. We break for lunch and I head east until I remember Zum-Zum, and go up to have their platter and chat with a woman who tries to get a plain cake and has to end up with brandied peach shortcake, and she gives me some of the whipped cream and peaches, so I end up pleased for having talked with her just to SHOW me that I CAN talk with someone (though not the people at the seminar) and someone CAN share with me (even though it's only dessert). Back and read lots more "Beelzebub" and then when we break at 7 I'm not hungry enough to go out to eat, so I FINISH the first volume of the book and start reading the SECOND, starting to feel droopy-eyed about 7, and try to meditate, but by then there are too many people coming back so I come out of it in 10 minutes and continue reading. The thing is finished at 10, I have some sandwiches and wine, STILL no one to talk to, and then leave, picking up the Times, working on the puzzle while waiting for Dylan to come on Soundstage, and he does "shit" and "son of a bitch" in "Hurricane," which I think is a first for me on TV, and he's certainly INTENSE, though he seems unsure of himself, as does his white-gowned violinist. That's over at 1, I'm even too tired to take a bath, so I crawl into bed and sleep about 1:30.

DIARY 10405

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 14. Alarm again jolts me at 8:50, I take a quick shower and have breakfast, get there at 10, and during the morning take the notes recorded on DIARY 10400-10402, and then when I'm free at 1:15---he doesn't seem AT ALL amenable to questions, packing things up and saying goodbye to everyone, and I walk up Fifth Avenue to find they have closed it for a "parade" and look at the basketball/volleyball/ping pong setups, the roller-skating concession, the puppet booths, the pretzel salesmen, and the female choir singing Christmas carols before turning down 55th to the City Center and the Alvin Ailey. Buy a $2 ticket that's far enough back to allow me to snuffle and cough without feeling guilty, and the performance is quite typical of his (see DIARY 10406). Out at 3:58 very quickly so that I can make it home for "Playboy of the Western World," meeting Fred Bassoff for the SECOND time in two days (yesterday coming back between drugstore and supermarket), and get in JUST at 4:30 and it's beginning, and it's quite good, with Cyril Cusack's daughter convincing as Pegeen Mike and someone Hurt as the Playboy. Try to get Joan on the phone because she's been calling me, but she's not home, and then Art calls and asks how things are and says he's in town because an uncle died suddenly and is going to be buried tomorrow. That goes on until "This Britain," a TV special by the National Geographic, and it just follows a couple of Brits around their day, including the Dame of Sark who later died at 90, but it's not very good. That's over at 7:45 and Art had put me on for "Notorious Woman" from 9 to 10 with George Chakiris as Chopin, and I called him after to say how awful an actor Chakiris was, but Art seemed somehow to like him, excusing the AWFUL appearance of George Sand as being true to the fashions of the times from portraits and photographs. I'm feeling tired enough to get into bed about 10:30 without doing much of anything, and maybe THIS is the night that I can't really go to sleep quickly because I haven't smoked, or it's cold and I keep getting up to get the handkerchief, snot-glass, cough drops, glass-of-water, telephone, ashtray with pot, and the heat control all together with possibly cookies at the base of the bed. Crowded there with robe and slippers and porno and bidi and poppers, if I'm into THAT. Don't feel like doing ANYTHING!

DIARY 10407

MONDAY, DECEMBER 15. Up about 11, meditate, get an idea about "sausage making" that I note down and never type up (see DIARY 10410), then phone the Olympia Theater to see what the movie schedule is for "Nashville," and debate stopping off with the Mattachine stuff first, and then at Dror's beforehand, but as time passes when I eat breakfast, and then lunch, and then read the mail, and then sort out notes, and then read the rest of the Times and don't even answer the two ads I clip out to answer. Dump all the clippings onto my desk and get out about 3, knowing that I usually get to that theater early. It's true again, and I sit in the same park across the street (after buying cough drops since I'd forgotten to bring my own) and read more of "Beelzebub" before going into the theater at 3:45. "Nashville" has too many mediocre songs (but it's a kick to see that the people in the MOVIE wrote most of them) and too much senseless action (the wreck on the highway which must have taken GREAT risks with traffic going the OTHER way getting involved and chancing another set of REAL collisions!), to make the GOOD scenes (beautiful Tom's singing to Lily Tomlin, Barbara Harris's singing at the end) stand out enough. A potpourri with some good seeds. Out at 6:20 and walk slowly down to 79th, standing on the corner watching pretty people pass by until 7, and then into the ornate building of 316 W. 79th and up to the 12th, top, floor to a door LADEN with Christmas stuff, and Don strikes me FIRSTLY as being MADE-UP and PHONY and OLDER than he was there. He's talking on the phone, I browse in his tchatchkas, then take some of his brandy, we talk about what had happened before, about his loneliness, then get out about 8 to Tony's and go dutch as I have sweetbreads and he has only an antipasto to slim down for the part of a 21-year-old in a play whose name he won't tell me, and we're back to drink more in candlelight, getting to bed about 11, and I can't come up, so I say it's because I feel like there's no tension between us, which he believes, and we roll over to sleep about 12:30. But I can't sleep: too hot, too close, satin sheets are LOUSY, and I'm thinking about him and us (see DIARY 10408). See the clock about 2:45 and then don't remember anything more.

DIARY 10409

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 16. Wake at 8 something with an erection, but by the time we get together, there's nothing left of it. He's still very cuddly, and I use spit to lubricate him, and he comes off with a great deal of groaning, and then I grapple with myself until I come, and he doesn't go down for it or anything, and quickly goes for a towel. He offers something for breakfast but I only take some orange juice, remark about his making apricot brandy, his maid comes in, and I leave about 9:30 to get home about 10. Meditate (oh, also took his offer to shower there), have breakfast, and can't force myself to get down to any typing at all, so I start reading "Immortality, Inc," by Sheckley, and get through a lot of it before I just don't feel like reading at all. Have lunch and read some of Scientific American, go down for the mail for a couple more cards, feel guilty about not sending cards or working on the index, and then get back to reading. But I just can't concentrate, so I finally fall into bed, pulling the covers over me, at about 2, fairly miserable, wondering whether my cold may have gone to be replaced with something more serious. Conscious of the passing time, but doze off for about an hour and wake in time to turn on the Animation Festival from 4 to 4:40, something I'd seen before, and then just out of sheer laziness continue watching "Sesame Street" on TV from 4:30 to 5:30, and then watch the end of "Dinah" with her guests Neil Simon, the "Sunshine Boys" George Burns and Walter Matthau, and Richard Benjamin passing time totally innocuously. Then at 6 turn on "Star Trek" eat hamburger and it's a silly thing about a middle-ages duke who gets his mirror blasted, and then I'm not interested in the climax, and decide I MIGHT AS WELL go to est, though I'm not terribly turned onto the thought of doing ANYTHING. Out at 6:40 and manage to get to the Holiday Inn at 7:10 in time for a total chaos outside in the hall, and Bob and I agree that it was the worst of the lot (see DIARY 10411). Out at 10:28 and walk to the Sheraton for a hot fudge sundae, and he's telling me about his early sex life, quite interesting (see DIARY 10412), leave at 12:20, I'm home at 1, almost too tired to go to bed, which I do about 1:30, too weary even to have a hot bath or tea.

DIARY 10413

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 17. Up about 9:45, thinking to do lots of things today, at least start on the index, but Arnie calls and says he might get tickets for this afternoon, and I meditate and then HAVE to type out the strange thoughts that I have (see DIARY 10414-10415) and then record Dror's lovely message (see DIARY 10416) after trying to get him a couple of times and not succeeding. Decide that I HAVE to keep on typing, so after I eat breakfast and wash my hair, I type some of Campbell's notes and manage to get some of the day-pages finished so that I won't FORGET what's been going on, and then it's 1:10, I call for reservations at the Oyster Bar, then call Art and find that Joyce is still sick and might not be there, and then get out for the play at 1:25. Get there quickly at 1:50 and we're in for a GREAT play of "Travesties" that is so good that I'm determined to get a copy of it as well as of "R&C Are Dead" (see DIARY 10417). Out at 4:30 and he decides he'll come home too, so we subway together and get home at 5:15, he to get back onto the subway at 6:15 to his sex counseling, me to get home and get a letter from Bill that he got both my letter AND my tapes, and he's overjoyed with both of them, and I STILL think about sending out my Christmas cards. At least get out the wreath and put IT up in the hall for a total of a week before Christmas and a week after. Had tuna just as I came in, for a VERY late lunch, watch "Star Trek" at 6 to see I'd seen it, then watch Animation from 7 to 7:15, and then left at 7:30 to get there at 8, and they're there already, Joyce looks fine though she's feeling terrible still, and we have a good dinner and chat (see DIARY 10418) and they take me to the subway at 23rd and 7th, where my penny doesn't work, so I have to use a token and then sweat out their finding me, which they don't, and I'm reading and drowsy, getting in at 10:45 and filling up the tub and using almost the last of the Grand Marnier and calling Art to get me some new, which he might or not, depending on the price, and I smoke a pipe and drink the tea and soak in the hot tub until 11:45, wondering whether to call Arnie and get Pope's doctor's name on Fifth for an exam, totally zonkered.

DIARY 10419

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 18. Wake at 9, feeling AWFUL, really starting to be concerned about what I might have, and decide to meditate laying right there. I DO it, but it doesn't feel quite right. Out of bed at 9:30, eat breakfast with the last of the milk, debate going to the store, but decide to getta quarta milk from the store tonight. Torn by the immediacy of the index, but determine to at LEAST finish the Campbell notes, but when I get into typing, it goes quickly and smoothly, and I decide I just HAVE to finish up to date to make my BUSIER days between now and next week less AGITATED, so I type 17 pages with GREAT relief by about 1:45, opening the PENULTIMATE pack of 100 sheets! Down for the mail, read it, have lunch, and then FINALLY get to the index at 2:45, scanning and making a table of contents till 3:10, then indexing from 3:10 to 5:30, taking time out to call Michael and arrange to pick up his pot plant tonight, catch John coming in at 4:50, tell him I'm keeping his hall picture and he agrees and say I like his balls downstairs and he smiles a grin, and then Rolf calls to say that he's manufactured again, and brings over 25 just before 6, saying that I SHOULD get to $10 per bottle and make the DISCOUNT price 10 for $80. I guess I agree, but don't quite know how I'm going to tell everybody. Fry up smelly steak and watch "Star Trek" to find that what I'd seen YESTERDAY was the FIRST PART OF A TWO-PARTER, and I got to watch BEAUTIFUL Jeffrey Hunter returning to the zoo-planet where he could have the illusion of being whole after some accident left him a ludicrous futuristic basket case who could only blink yes or no. Shave and wash my face and get out at 7:25 and buy two tokens and get hung up THE SECOND TIME IN TWO DAYS with a penny that doesn't work, IN FULL VIEW of the older black elevator operator, so when I confront HIM I'd better drop in the TOKEN in the future. To West 73rd in the 23° cold that feels like the coldest it's been yet, and TO ME Len Orr looks worse, but everyone says he looks younger and younger, and Steve Schweigert is STILL phenomenally beautiful of eye, skin, and ass (169 Allen, hm?), and I take LOTS of notes (see DIARY 10420), list an Actualizations party for 12/23, get a "loan" of a tape from Len, get to Michael's from 11:45 to 12 and pick up two plants, and get to the A train to get home at 1 to watch PRECISELY the flaming end of "In Old Chicago" and then can't RESIST "Land of the Pharaohs," which I watch until ITS end at 3:25, and then wash my face and crawl into bed unstoned.

DIARY 10425

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 19. Wake at 9, but back to sleep and up at 10:30, feeling OK after 7 hours sleep. Type what MAY be the PERFECT diary-day (see DIARY 10419) because of the EXACTNESS of my memory and the fit on the page and the addition of the two afterthoughts that came while I was meditating just afterwards. Eat breakfast, water the plants, start the humidifier, and then type the other five pages from the rebirthing seminar (see DIARY 10420-10424). Then Bob Grossman calls and chats about my thing with Don and his going to Florida, and he refuses to take Joe and Bob's names because he has no way of getting there, and doesn't even want me to look up Julian Hodges' number. Then I call Pope and we agree to meet Sunday at 2 to hear the Orr tape, and by that time it's 2 pm and I have lunch of the last of the tuna and the last of the oranges, having eaten them two at a time the past few days to get some vitamin concentration going. Then get back (after looking at the mail, spending lots of time with TWO issues of Soho Weekly News that come together) to the index at 3:40, after leaving a message with John Cernusca to call me, which he doesn't. Then I get involved in listing the most common languages, the largest populations and largest areas of countries in the World Almanac, and that's SUCH fun, but it's not doing the index. Then Fred Bassoff comes over about 4:40 and I give him 4 for $32, then I shave and wash my face and meditate for the SECOND time for the first time in ages, put on the last of the smelly steak and watch a good "Star Trek" based on Frederic Brown's "Arena," and they acknowledge him for it, and have dinner and really don't FEEL like going to est, having been there 4 times ALREADY this month, once this week, wanting to watch Michael Parks as Adam in "The Bible," but it's over at 6:55 and I figure I CAN make it, and I'll also miss the guest part and the "Be More Here Now" process, so I quickly change and get there at 7:25, PERFECTLY TIMED (see DIARY 10426). Out at 10:30, glad that it was a BETTER rather than a WORSE one, home to chat with Arnie going into Bill's, phone Art to say goodbye because he phones me, and smoke even though I don't FEEL sexy, but GET feeling sexy from 12 to 1 and come VERY smoothly and nicely and feelingly, have some cookies, to sleep at 1:10, so I feel a bit strange when I wake at 9 and get out of bed at 10:10, sleeping 9 hours.

DIARY 10428

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 20. Wake at 9 and up at 10:10, having slept 9 hours. Meditate and water plants and type 4 pages and have breakfast of the last of the cereal and fix up things in the apartment, and that somehow takes until 1, when Joan calls, thinking we'd settled on Sunday, and decide that I can go to her place at 5:30. I decide I MUST get to the Christmas cards, and start in on them intending to do about 13 of the farther away and more "Merry Christmas" cards, but I find that the first ten are done in no time, the second ten are quite easy, and I'm into the third ten before I really know it, so the fourth ten are easy and I end up writing out 48 of them by 3:30. Down to mail them and find a card from Stephen Browning Waite, Jr., which makes it 49, and I get to the post office to find that they're NOT going up to 13¢ quickly, which I hadn't heard, so I get two 13¢ Independence Hall and two Madonnas to finish off Peter's envelope and get the last of them sent off, all hopefully reaching their destinations by Wednesday. Then buy fish emulsion, a large teacup for my illnesses, and groceries at the supermarket, home about 4:30, and then put the groceries away, give $2 for whoever does some of the work around here to Mrs. Johnson, who says that SHE'S doing the exterminating, and she'll be up tomorrow, which she isn't, before 2, when I leave for Pope's, and then at 5 call Joan and find we're having dinner later, and I shower and meditate and have some French toast to simulate lunch, and then I'd washed dishes somewhere in there, too. Out about 6:15 and to Joan's at 6:45 to start proofreading her play. Paul comes in looking not NEARLY so attractive in shorter hair and a too-active face, but he's got a nice crotch. It's slow going because Joan's made so many typos, and then we stop for dinner of great Paul-roast chicken and frozen vegetables and tomatoes and tea and toasted Italian bread, and then I finish the play about 10:30, we smoke quite a lot and get chattering away on nonsense, Joan gets the shits somehow, and Paul and I leave for the party at 11:15, into the snow-mist falling coldly, mailing letters for all THREE of us, and it's a FUNNY party (see DIARY 10429) that Paul leaves at 2 and I leave at 3, getting home on the BMT (having forgotten to get a free transfer past 6 pm on Saturday) to find that the newsstand is CLOSED, bed at 3:30.

DIARY 10430

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 21. Had gotten a weepy-voiced message from Don last night on my recorder, but don't feel like calling him. Up at 10:30, beginning to smell that "smell" that doesn't exist except in my mind, and I'm worried about my HEALTH. When I sprayed the plants for aphids yesterday I thought I might be SMOKING that poison, or ingesting crap with my grass, or might be succumbing to almost ANY modern poison, depressed that I don't know what it IS. Watch an incredible Ryszard Cieslak (Ri-CHARD CHEESE-loch) reinventing the spine with CONVINCING floor exercises from the repertory of Jerszy Grotowski. Then out for the Times and try to struggle through the puzzles with not much luck, and after a pleading call from Pope, get over there at 2:45 after stopping at Arnie's for all SORTS of junk, and Arnie gives some of his cheesecake, Pope serves cider and peanuts, shows me his color-organ Christmas-tree lighting, and we talk about his depression the past few weeks, Leonard Orr, and listen to some of the tape, which is sort of the same thing. There until 5, when I dash home to watch "Mrs. Warren's Profession," which is more interesting as something which was banned for 25 years (because of a happy prostitute who says she did RIGHT not to have her beauty exploited by anyone but her, which was obviously what irked the censors) than as a play itself, and then I just don't FEEL like doing anything else, so I watch "Space 1999" until 7:30, watching them kill a "space spider" that lured ships into its cosmic web that didn't register on their instruments so "how could we be sure we killed it?" Read more of the Times, debate going to bed, try calling Don but his line's busy, try reading more Gurdjieff but can't concentrate, watch part of "Six Million Dollar Man" with of all people, Sonny Bono singing, get turned off by a Shakespearean presentation from Stratford, Conn., for money-raising, have dinner, listen to "Tubular Bells" after smoking at 9:30 and coming FABULOUSLY at 10:30, then watch "The Honeymooners" at 11, Burns and Allen at 11:30, and "Twilight Zone" about a submarine commander who's condemned to ride on a fear-ridden steamer for the rest of his death, and get to bed at 12:30 exhausted enough to fall asleep with earplugs in and the humidifier still going to counteract the waves of heat coming up from all THREE radiators to keep out the SNOW-COLD outside.

DIARY 10432

MONDAY, DECEMBER 22. Wake at 9:30 and really find the snow coming down with thick, fluffy flakes outside. Sweep through the apartment fixing things up, meditate, type four diary pages, and then actually EXERCISE for the first time in a couple of weeks, determined to look as good as possible for my rebirthing, which is surely naked, on Wednesday. Appalled by the quantity of blood in the tissue when I blow my nose, but the smell hasn't intensified and the snot-glass seems somewhat less full, so maybe I'm coming out of it. Have breakfast, go down to check the mail about 11:30 and find nothing there, Mrs. Johnson comes in to smell up the place by spraying for roaches, and I keep refilling the humidifier. Get back to reading for the index from 12:25 to 2:25, then stop for lunch, then again from 3:15 to 5, when I stop to meditate, talk to Pope about meeting for TM tonight, shave and shower and wash my hair, and put on the large lamb chop for broiling. Also, Jim Moultner comes over to buy two amyls, and doesn't seem at all disturbed that the prices are going up to $10. Watch what turns out to be the second half of a double "Star Trek": about flying through a time warp that puts them back in the US in the 60s, and there are some funny things with them fussing with current-type people, but then they fly into the past toward the sun, put everyone back before anything happened, and got back to their own time themselves. Dress warmly in wool pants and boots and get down with the garbage to meet Pope outside at EXACTLY the agreed-upon 7:15, and walk to the subway where I proofread two pages of his for lucky and unlucky days, and we get to a room with only four attendees for the Advanced TM lecture at the Commodore. Jay Marcus can't make the tape go, so we chat through the 100 minutes of the session (see DIARY 10433) and leave at 9:45. Transfer to the 7th Avenue when the Lex only goes to South Ferry, and I get BACK to the index from 10:30 to 11:30, then smoke and come with a SHOOT WITHOUT holding onto the back, and it's GREAT, and then finish the peach pie, finish the cookies with butter while waiting for the corn to pop, eat the whole thing of popcorn, drink water, and get to bed stuffed with food and experience and fatigue at 1:30. Out of BED at 9!

DIARY 10434

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 23. Out of bed at 9 and fix up about a half an hour's worth of mess round the apartment, then meditate and get a call from Don, who invites me to a New Year's Eve party, which is JUST what I wanted, and then John Cernusca from Appleton calls to say that they're not OPEN on Friday, so I'll have to bring it in on Monday, and THAT'S exactly what I wanted, too, so I'm feeling GREAT. Tried to exercise before 10:30, but I didn't quite make it, so I did the last bits of exercising during the performance of "The Nutcracker" by Ballet West, under the choreographic direction of Lew Christensen, and Klara's Nutcracker was a HUMPY NUMBER who didn't really know how to dance, but he had marvelous legs and a HUGE up-cocked crotch that was lip-smacking GOOD. Also had lots of fairly humpy numbers for the variations, but in general the dancing wasn't that good, the stage at the University of Utah was VERY small for such a spectacle, and the names went past for the credits SO quickly it was impossible to tell who was who even if I WANTED to find out. Type two diary pages, have breakfast just after noon, get down to the mail to find not much of anything except TWO letters from Mike Schaeffer, and then decide to start typing the cards for the index, and get through 723 cards for the first 300 pages in just two and a half hours, 1:25-3:55, but I'm not pressured because I now have the WEEKEND for that. Arnie calls just before I watch the "International Film Festival," which turns out to be a rerun of the FIRST program, which I watch again, and I call Arnie and Michael and Avi and NO ONE wants to go to the movies with me this evening. Get out to the post office to pick up my Christmas sweater from Rita, tell John that she's being married on his BIRTHDAY, January 24---just a month from today!---get $125 from the bank for Rolf, who wasn't home, pick up groceries for the cake, including a cake tin, and get home to put the stuff away, wash out the pan, meditate, and watch the beginning of "The Return of the Archons" on "Star Trek," but leave at 6:30 after smoking to see "Pinocchio," "Treasure Island", and "Pinocchio" (see DIARY 10435) from 7 to 11:30 at the Rivoli for $3, then get TWO Whoppers at Burger King for $1.20 (after buying TWO popcorns for $1.30, an ice cream for 50¢ and a Chunky for 75¢, just because I was hungry without dinner) until 12, home to finish reading "Beelzebub" Book Two at 2 am, and get to sleep without having to come or smoke AGAIN.

DIARY 10437

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 24. Up about 9:30, start the day by mixing the batter for the cake and shoving it into the oven for 45 minutes, meditate, shower and wash my hair, and then decide there isn't enough time---I guess I exercise in here, too---to make the icing, which I figure I can do between the time I get back from rebirthing and the time I have to leave for Paul's. Then remember that I haven't had anything to eat, so I scramble a couple of quick eggs and gulp them down while reading an article about "Nothing" in Scientific American, and take some notes in the back of "Beelzebub, Book 3" about them (see DIARY 10438). To Robin Condon's about 12:05, and after an INCREDIBLE series of events (see DIARY 10439), leave there at 9:30, hail a cab, tell him Paul's address, and then say that he should find a place where I can buy a cake, as I'm obviously not going back to Brooklyn NOW, and I can't see myself entering SO late WITHOUT something. He says he remembers that Stein's Deli is open 24 hours at 70th and Second, and we drive down there to find it closed. I'd recalled passing a restaurant (Star) with a display of cakes in the window at Lexington between 76th and 77th, so we're back up there, he waits, I see a lovely chocolate cake which they sell me about 10/19th of for $8, but don't even have a box to put it in, so they cover it with aluminum foil and the cab driver suggests I probably paid "an arm and a leg for it," and I agree. Chat pleasantly down to Paul's, give him 55¢ tip for a total of $4.50 (QUITE a day if the $60 for the rebirthing is included) and get upstairs to find FOUR people having finished their meal, and they're all DELIGHTED to get the cake, chatting while I catch up with them (see DIARY 10452). Out at 11:15 to Paul's car in the Annex of the garage, and we all squeeze in for the drive to the Church of Saint Mary the Virgin (or "Smoky Marty's" of Laird Ward fame) for Midnight Mass, where we find some of the LAST seats equidistant from the crèche, the pulpit, and the altar, see Leonard Orr and Mike Shamus, who sits next to us, and go through an INCREDIBLE service until 2 am (see DIARY 10453). Down to the subway almost PARALYZED with experiences, wait until 2:30 for a train, home at 3:15 to fall into bed and toss and turn and TOSS and turn for a LONG time before falling asleep.

DIARY 10454

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 25. Up about 10:15, feeling somewhat strung out from the experiences of yesterday and lack of sleep last night, watch the end of the Anderson story, then watch the Berlioz "Requiem" from Minneapolis, or somewhere that I'd watched it from BEFORE, and follow it for a while until I get tired of if, and turn it off about 11:45. Call Michael Blackburn, who'd called last night. Sprayed the plants for spider mites the other day, but decide I MUST harvest the rest of the grass, so I clean the old stuff that was hanging for about a month and cut down the new stuff and hang it up, just in time to watch "The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T" from 1 to 3, and it's TOTALLY delightful, a real gem with some bald spots and some GAY spots with the kid and Peter Lind Hayes, and some dances between PLH and Hans Conreid as a campy Dr. Terwilliger, and a good Tommy Rettig as "Bart Collins," coming down from Bartholomew Cubbins, though Seuss wrote the somewhat horrible songs. The SETS were SUPERB. Rolf calls and asks to come over, and comes over at 2:35 to watch the end, then I unwrap his present, with a card to "Keep those cookies moving ... R," a lovely Irish Whiskey fruitcake that I open and make coffee to share. Tell him about yesterday, and he's not making labels anymore, until 4:30, when I put on "The Blue Bird," severely cut, but I'd missed the INCREDIBLE forest fire/ lightning-explosions scene in the middle and the Land of Luxury, too. That goes on till 6, when I watched a bit of the cartoon about "The City that Forgot about Christmas," rather poor, with a TERRIBLY faggoty mayor who kept the city repressed, then watch the news before realizing that "The Hindenburg" clips won't be on until 6:55, shower and wash my hair, cook dinner, and get over to Pope's at 8 with records and the rest of the fruitcake. He's made wassail, fabulously good, and popcorn. He plays the three records I take over for his color-organ tree, but the variable levels of volume make him CONSTANTLY get up and down, so I'm relieved when it's over---he doesn't really care for ANY of the music. Then we play three games of Scrabble, and HE is delighted to win the first two, though I win the third, and leave at 12:30, sorry it's so late, but have no real trouble getting to sleep, since I don't feel sexy at ALL. Smoke a bit and conk RIGHT out.

DIARY 10455

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 26. Wake a few times and check the clock, then set the alarm at 7:40 and get up then to meditate, water the plants and then exercise, then shower and have cereal for breakfast, hoping that it's not too much, and leave at 9:05 to get to his place at 9:45, surprisingly early, and sit and read until he walks into the entrance hall at 9:58, surprised since he didn't hear me come in. Into the bedroom for my first rolfing session (see DIARY 10456) and it's VERY interesting until 11:30, getting home at 12:15 to stop by at the supermarket in the rain to pick up quite a lot of groceries for the next week, type 7 diary pages, not NEARLY catching up with the rebirthing writing, but then I have lunch about 2, and get involved in re-scanning the Gurdjieff books that I'd read before, to see what they DID say about the reading of "Beelzebub," since I'm now well into book three. Re-scan "Herald of Coming Good," "G, A Very Great Enigma," "Views from the Real World," and "Teachings of Gurdjieff," almost REREADING the Orage section of the latter book. This takes easily until 6, when Rolf calls and I tell him a lot about Rolfing, and he almost gets me HOT telling me (I'd called him at 12:45 but he was in bed) about the incredible short muscle builder he found at the baths and had played with, wrestled with, teased and massaged until "we were both ready to do ANYTHING to come," and he talks ENTIRELY THROUGH the "Star Trek" that I have on, with Ricardo Montalban as Khan, who seems to be very strong, carrying "The Seed of Space," and then I get to making dinner and watch "The World of Magic" (sort of disappointing, since I know how MOST were done, but for the TIGER!) with Doug Henning after talking to POPE for a long time between 7 and 8, then watch it with dinner of the smelly lamb chop---or was it the sausage?---and at 9 decide that I'm REALLY going to smoke and come GREATLY, though I'm a little disturbed about a puffiness about the nose, as if I'm getting two or three BIG pimples on the side and end, and a BIT of a cold-sore-effect under the nose. Smoke and come VERY nicely, VERY strongly felt, and then up at 10:30 to eat, finish the fruitcake (and leave the beginnings of a HUGE mess), watch a Monty Python special from 11:30 to 1, and write some VERY odd notes while listening to the trip tape (see DIARY 10459), and bed about 3 am, feeling WHACKED OUT!

DIARY 10461

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 27. Up at 10:15, meditate, try to call Michael to ask about exercising, but he's not home, and get back to work on the last 60 pages of the index from 10:40 to 12:40, reading the last pages, typing the last cards, finding I have about 950 of them, with an aim at 1200 lines! Stop for breakfast, rather depressed about the pots drying to be emptied from the harvest, sausage-wrappings all over, fruitcake tin and paper in the kitchen and the living room, a real mess. Down for the mail and get all SORTS of things, again that I leave beside the chair, and then get back to the editing of the index from 2:40 to 6, being interrupted for a while when Art calls to say that the first trip was a DISASTER because someone demanded his show-closing spot in the theater, and he almost didn't go back, but he decided he would. Invite John to the party, then call Don and he says it's going to be mostly STRAIGHT, so I call Stephen, who'll still go, and he's coming over tomorrow night (but I'm worried about the cold sore below my nose, which is now really THERE), as well as a pimple RIGHT on the center end of it, and John decides not to go when he gets back from bicycling---sadly, the rain last night did away with ALL the snow that had been on the ground for the past few days, making it rather nice and Christmassy. Watch a disgusting "Star Trek" in which anger negates the "goodness" of certain flower pollen, letting Spock say "I love you" to someone, smile, and hang from a tree!, another example of the AWFULNESS of earthlings and the possibilities they'd constantly WRECK. Index from 7-10, then watch "The Lady's not for Burning," with a good Lady of Ellen Atkins and the BEAUTIES named at the bottom of DIARY 10460 as brothers, particularly Stephen McHattie. Then watch Simon and Garfunkel back together again on Saturday Night from 12 to 1:30, reading all SORTS of unrequited love into Simon's yearning looks at Garfunkel: "He was always the one with the good voice," and then his songs are SILLY re-dos of oldies that he adds NOTHING to, and Simon's funny winning "one-on-one" basketball against some Globetrotter giant. Smoke in order to get to sleep quickly, but don't come, saving for Stephen tomorrow. OH, even worked on MORE index from 1:30 to 2:10, total of 9 hours. Find I have 1091 lines, so I need about 100 more!

DIARY 10462

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 28. Up at 10, flick on the TV to see what I'm missing, meditate when nothing's on, flick on TV at 10:30 for more nothing, then out for the Times, skim the TV section, work on both puzzles while listening to "The Carnival of the Animals" on Camera Three, Pope calls and I listen to Hilda and Ram Dass and Joya on WBAI from 11 to 11:30 and call him back to talk about it, then finish the puzzles while eating breakfast, then get down to typing the final pages, after filling up the needed number of lines by copying, and type from 1:30 to 4:30, from pages 1 to 40, even though I took some time off to call Stephen and warn him about my cold sore, which is OK with him, and then at 4:30 I just MUST take care of the apartment, so I put on "The Messiah" while I'm washing the dishes, which really needed to be done, and I'd in fact intended them to DRY in time to put them away. Then change the sheets on the bed, put on the Indian coverlet for the first time this winter, pick up most of the dropped leaves, get rid of the junk from the living room, shower and wash my hair, talk to Don again to get the schedule of people back into order, and he said he was harried yesterday because of all he had to do, and then I pushed on hamburger to broil wile watching "Space 1999" as they think they've found a way to become immortal, as they are on the planet Thule, where some space probe seems to have crashed, but when they're taken off the planet they decay instantly, so it doesn't work. Finish eating while watching the start of Mahler's Second with Seiji Ozawa, Arnie calls and talks from 7:45 to 7:55, and then I'd shaved and am JUST about to clean my teeth when Stephen, who said he'd be LATE, rings the bell at 7:58! I take some Binaca, he comes in, watches me while I make the icing for the cake, we watch the end of Mahler's Second TOTALLY zonked out on the grass, I put on "Lost Horizons" which looks like an AWFUL bore, and we get to sex on the sofa so easily that we BOTH jerk ourselves off after a VERY short time with his one popper, didn't get into the liquid, and then we lie together and watch part of the movie, he asks me to scratch his back, which feels like it feels good, and he leaves at 11:30, and I get back to the index, proofreading the pages I've typed, from 11:30 to 12:30, and then I fall asleep NEATLY.

DIARY 10463

MONDAY, DECEMBER 29. Up at 8, feeling rather decent. Meditate and water the plants and eat breakfast, then get back to typing the final ten pages of the index and proofreading them from 9:20 to 10:35, typing the bill for $396 as the last bit, and then call Unitrex to say I'm bringing that in, call John to say I'll be there about 11:30, phone for the schedules for "Snow White," and then leave about 11:15, getting to a cruddy guy in Unitrex who doesn't want to keep my briefcase, and I say I don't want it, either, and then up to ACC to meet John Cernusca at 11:50 and he's gay, obviously, and I hope I'm as obvious to him, and we talk about my IBM and my Polishness and my travels on bus and around the world and as tour escort, and he talks about how well he knows Manhattan and the city and how he likes it, and he's 26, thought I was 19 from my voice, is amazed that I'm "more than twice that," which I'm silly enough to say, and we both look forward to working with each other. Out at 12:30 feeling good, canvas all the bookshops up Fifth looking for the Universe Macro Art calendar, get two datebooks effortlessly at Hallmark, thankfully, across to the Bookmasters, stopping all along the way, trying DOZENS of places, no calendar. Get into "Snow White" at 2:15, buying popcorn, not enjoying it dreadfully much (see DIARY 10464), and out at 4:20 to walk quickly down to 37th at 4:50, stopping and STILL not finding calendar, pick up things, down to shop in Macy's and Korvette's and Gimbels and Laurel bookshop, still no go, and back on the BMT to shop some places in the Heights, home at 6:10 VERY tired, and plunk on hamburger and watch a "Star Trek" that has a Mother Hortas looking like a meatball pizza mind-swapping with Spock to say she only wants to protect her silicon-based eggs, and the doctor patches up her wound with silicon cement and everything's just fine. I hook up the Unitrex and it WORKS, at last, read the Times, disappointed that a Channel 13 special is preempted by basketball, read another 50 pages of Rolf's investing book, smoke at 11:45 and come until 12:30, eating three pieces of cake, and getting to bed, glad that the index is out of the way, looking forward to catching up with the index, making sure I have time to hear the TAPE before movies and the Physical Immortality Seminar with Leonard tomorrow evening! BUSY DAYS!

DIARY 10466

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 30. Up at 8:30, meditate, have breakfast, water the plants, clean out the humidifier which impressed me with its dank smell when I came in last night at 6:10, and I'm gratified to see how much more nicely it works when it IS cleaned out. Get to work on catching up with the diary and go fairly well through the whole thing, getting finished at 2 having typed 20 pages, feeling that I've done something. Then put on the second side of Leonard Orr's tape, taking some notes on it, and getting a number of ideas about how to produce his books (see DIARY 10467). Have tuna and orange listening to it, and finish at 3:05 and quickly get out in the rain to the Carnegie Hall Cinema to see "The Tsar's Bride," which stars a LOVELY Grigori of Koboridze, TERRIBLY sexy, and the intriguing line "His boyars and servants never age." "Boris Godunov" is one that I don't think that I'd seen before, with a soprano as Feodor with a mustache being quite funny, and Marina is played by L. Avdeeva, who sounds familiar, and her performance in the 1954 film here takes me to the Bolshoi Opera program to see that in 1975 I SAW her as the Grandmother in the "Gambler," the Queen in "Queen of Spades," and in a third opera. What CONTINUITY! The 1954 film in COLOR (but what can you expect from Riga in 1966?) had choreography by L. Lavorvsky, too. Very bothered by people eating and talking, feeling very annoyed at things in GENERAL (see DIARY 10468) these days, and out at 7:30 to find it raining HARD, so across to Chock Full for their fish and chips for $1.55 with the tip, then subway up to 72nd at 8, but Leonard doesn't start until 8:30, with a fairly repetitious program (see DIARY 10469). He still wants me to send him something from the book, saying he'll send a transcript or the book if he can, and his PERSONAL life is becoming more clear (see DIARY 10474), and he's not had a very good life. It's over at 12:38, I walk over to 72nd in the drizzle, wait a LONG time for the local since there doesn't seem to be an express, and I'm reading lots of ABSURD "Beelzebub" in America, down to Times Square and wait for another long time for the BMT, getting home at 1:55, taking 70 minutes by subway! Feel chilly getting to bed after eating toast and cream cheese, instantly asleep at 2:25 am.

DIARY 10473

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 31. Up about 10, meditate with the service on, and it rings, and it's Arnie, who's talking on the phone so he'll have to call me back. During the day Paul calls to say he has no plans for tonight, and I put him in touch with Paul, Rolf calls with no plans, ditto; Wills calls and comes over to buy one and borrow one, paying with a traveler's check and saying he'll send by mail, but it COULD be a $30 shill: $10 change from the check and two bottles; Bob Rosinek calls to wish me a happy new year, and then decides to come over Friday afternoon; and then Stephen calls to make sure tonight is still on. I have breakfast about noon, lunch about 4, and type 9 pages in the meantime, having in the MORNING gone through the old calendars to see which I HAVE, and I DO have sheets for all this year, so I don't have to buy a calendar! Polly Bergen stars as a mission lady Captain Kirk falls in love with until Spock finds her DEATH necessary and Kirk lets her be run over. The "Guardian of Time" is a fake computer too. Still don't quite finish the number of pages I SHOULD do, but put everything away and shower and wash my hair and phone Stephen because it's raining outside, saying that I'll meet him in the subway station so I won't have to walk over to his place, and I take my LAST bottle of wine from the fridge as a house gift. Out at 8:40 and, sure enough, DO get to the 79th Street station before 9:15, and it's still raining, and then Stephen confuses the two sides, and we're up to the apartment with a woman in russet-glitter, and she's a single, and we're the first three to arrive, Don not even being dressed and his wig looking worse than ever. He LOVES my jacket, saying that the jewelry would be too busy, and Stephen looks rather funny in his tux, and then the NEXT guest (after Eileen comes in) takes OVER for the start of an OUTRAGEOUS party (see DIARY 10475). I flake out on the floor about 1:15, smiling and waving to people who come to look at me (some of them sent by Don!), and then he's into the room at 4 and something to put ME in bed, but he doesn't join me, and in the morning he says that he'd joined STEPHEN in the living room for sex, which he hoped I wouldn't mind, and then Stephen couldn't sleep and left for HIS place at 10 am. I woke about 10:30, then dozed back off and got us both out of bed by the time the clock read 12:05, FIRST DAY OF 1976!