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1982 1 of 4

My journal from 1982 is not as detailed or day-by-day as before; I just want to get the BASIC journal pages on the website. For missing days, I've included LIFELIST at the end of the year to supplement journal entries. It starts after January 20, when I returned from my Italy trip.

THURSDAY, 2/4/82: AFTER THE ITALY TRIP: I've been back just over two weeks now, and am STILL not caught up. Got the bulk of the newspaper-magazine reading out of the way, as well as most of the bills and typing the journal, but still lots of things left, like seeing the doctor for my hemorrhoids, checking my IBM months, working on indexes to get desperately-needed MONEY (won't have any CASH to spend by the end of this weekend!), and showing the slides of Italy, and typing out three "Christmas" mailings: 1) a correspond-once-a-year sheet of 1981, 2) a "Merry Christmas I was in Italy" sheet of the trip, and 3) a journal for FEWER people this time. Still lots of movies and plays I want to see, but seeing "Pennies from Heaven," "Reds," "Sophisticated Ladies," "Days of Heaven," "Gallipoli," Riverside Dancers, "Taxi Zum Klo," and "Entertaining Mr. Sloane" in just six days, interrupted by an entire day spent organizing the Italian slides, is a bit overloading. And lots of little details like looking up Matta, writing to Paul about France this summer, finding the dates Don kept saying I should visit Atlanta, and putting Italian books on shelves, still bob up to be considered. So I haven't nearly gotten to "nothing scheduled to do, so I can just float," nor have I alleviated my tension about feeling that we should really be getting MORE business and MORE indexes from MORE companies. And writing and computers are still far in the distance, as is another lover. Sex great with Dennis for one whole time on January 20 for the month of January (and the year of 1982?), but I've been jerking off just a bit too much, feeling just a bit too horny and sorry for myself in the gym (which I've got back into the system, more than I can say about Actualism sessions), and would like to MEET someone to CUDDLE with, yet still can't say that I KNOW the Actualism guidelines for meeting someone outside the PELVIC BOWL. AND would like to get JJ's cigars and bidis for various "light" highs for entertaining times. But the main thing is MONEY, so I'll be getting to the two little ($235 + $332 = $567) for FEBRUARY bills, a bit late, though the $399 from McGraw-Hill any day should help with that, as should ANYTHING I can pry out of Andre NOW. And still ACTUALISM pages to type.



Don't know exactly HOW, but going through Healing Intelligence on the atomic level in the Mental Dimension makes me think of it, and I figure maybe the "love of my life" is waiting for me at Sal's this evening. Had been there LONG ago when it was mainly a dancing bar, and someone else had said it was mainly loud and for younger people, but I sort of pictured sitting at a dim bar next to someone humpy. So I put on my clean jeans, rolled INSIDE instead of outside to look smoother, and jacket and got there at 11:45 pm to find there's a $3 show-charge (with signs for a $25 membership card, entrance $3 for card holders, $5 for non-members). In for the empty seat at the curve of the bar in the extreme corner, so I can see everything---but it turns out to give a view of everything except center stage, where a white-creped gowned man in sequins is mimicking a woman's record to an enthusiastic audience that fills a white-walled enclosure. But since I decided on the moment to go out WITHOUT glasses, I couldn't see much ANYWAY. Awful older people at my corner of the bar, except for a constantly smoking smooth-eyebrowed fellow who rather looked at me, and an open-shirted jeaned fellow who appeared to be a bit too bulky in the middle, but he had a nice mustache and nice eyes and a nice-enough face, and I could have accepted an offer from him, but I felt frozen and expressionless in my corner, even when I left it for a moment to go in the direction of the men past a partition in the back, and the men's room doesn't even have a DOOR! Some of the "singers" were more than acceptable to the audience, who stood and applauded and demanded "One more" like sex-crazed crowds, and single men would even leap onto the state and, it seemed, stuff money down the front of the dresses while giving the "women" kisses to show their appreciation (and DEFINITELY establish that the sound was coming from the speakers and not from their mouths). Strange that I'd pick show night, with four performers, the last of whom, at curtain call, came out dressed as a nun, to the delight of the audience, and even I smiled faintly---and there are shows Friday and Sunday, too. So I left after 2 hours, at 1:45 am, feeling smoky, and vaguely "had" for $3 admission and a $2.50 Tom Collins that tasted awful and non-alcoholic, though I left a 50 tip for "Bruce," the droopy bartender, for "next time."



P. 127: J.P. Morgan and Henry Ford established "The Pyramid"?

P. 182: William James' "Inferiority to the full self"?
read 2/15-2/16/82

P. 7: (Houdini) was buried alive in a grave and could not escape, and had to be rescued. Hurriedly, they dug him out. The earth is too heavy, he said gasping. His nails bled. Soil fell from his eyes. He was drained of color and couldn't stand. His assistant threw up. Houdini wheezed and sputtered. He coughed blood. They cleaned him off and took him back to the hotel.

P. 52-54: Stand up. Evelyn (Thaw) stood up obediently and (Emma) Goldman with a nurse's expertise swiftly unbuttoned her shirtwaist and removed it. She unclasped Evelyn's skirt and had her step out of it. She untied the strings of her petticoat and removed it. Evelyn wore a light corset around her waist. The top of the corset pushed up her bosom. The bottom was attached to straps which went between her thighs. The corset was laced in the back. It is ironic that you are thought of in homes all over America as a licentious shameless wanton, Goldman said pulling the laces out of the grommets, loosening the garment and pulling it down Evelyn's legs. Step out, she said. Evelyn obeyed. Her undershirt remained stuck to her body in the pattern of the stays. Breathe, Goldman commanded, raise your arms, stretch your legs and breathe. Evelyn obeyed. Goldman plucked at the shift, then lifted it over her head. Then she knelt and slid Evelyn's lace-trimmed underdrawers to her feet. Step out, she commended. Evelyn did so. She now stood nude in the lamplight except for her black embroidered cotton stockings which were held up by elastic bands around the thighs. Goldman rolled the stockings down and Evelyn stepped out of her stockings. She held her arms across her breasts. Goldman stood and turned her around slowly for inspection, a frown on her face. Look at that, it's amazing you have any circulation at all. Marks of the stays ran vertically like welts around Nesbit's waist. The evidence of garters could be seen in the red lines running around the tops of her thighs. Women kill themselves, Goldman said. She turned back the bedcovers. She took from the top of the bureau a small black bag of the kind that doctors carried. A superb body like this and look what you do to it. Lie down. Evelyn sat down on the bed and looked at what was coming out of the black bag. On your stomach, Goldman said. She was holding a bottle and tilting the contents of the bottle into her cupped hand. Evelyn lay down on her stomach and Goldman applied the liquid where the marks of the stays reddened the flesh. Oh, Evelyn cried. It stings! This is an astringent---the first thing is to restore circulation, Goldman explained as she rubbed Evelyn's back and buttocks and thighs. Evelyn was squirming and her flesh cringing with each application. She buried her face in the pillow to smother her cries. I know, I know, Goldman said, But you will thank me. Under Goldman's vigorous rubbing Evelyn's flesh seemed to spring into its fullest conformations. She was shivering now and her buttocks were clenched against the invigorating chill of the astringent. Her legs squeezed together. Goldman now took from her bag a bottle of massage oil and began to knead Evelyn's neck and shoulders and back, her thighs and calves and the soles of her feet. Gradually Evelyn relaxed and her flesh shook and quivered under the emphatic skill of Goldman's hands. Goldman rubbed the oil into her skin until her body found its own natural rosy white being and began to stir with self-perception. Turn over, Goldman commanded. Evelyn's hair was now undone and lay on the pillow about her face. Her eyes were closed and her lips stretched in an involuntary smile as Goldman massaged her breasts, her stomach, her legs. Yes, even this, Emma Goldman said, briskly passing her hand over the mons. You must have the courage to live. The bedside lamp seemed to dim for a moment. Evelyn put her own hands on her breasts and her palms rotated the nipples. Her hands swam down along her flanks. She rubbed her hips. Her feet pointed like a dancer's and her toes curled. Her pelvis rose from the bed as if seeking something in the air. Goldman was now at the bureau, capping her bottled emollient, her back to Evelyn as the younger woman began to ripple on the bed like a wave on the sea. At this moment a hoarse unearthly cry issued from the walls, the closet door flew open and Mother's Younger Brother fell into the room, his face twisted in a paroxysm of saintly mortification. He was clutching in his hands, as if trying to choke it, a rampant penis which, scornful of his intentions, whipped him about the floor, launching to his cries of ecstasy or despair, great filamented spurts of jism that traced the air like bullets and then settled slowly over Evelyn in her bed like falling ticker tape.

P. 70: Mother's Younger Brother was as lean and hard as a young tree. They made love slowly and sinuously, humping each other into such supple states of orgasm that they found very little reason to talk the rest of the time they were together.



I read Scientific American about quarks and galaxy-clumping. I jerk off and eat and clean the apartment. I write letters and pages for the notebook and type indexes. Dreams, DNA, cocaine, neuronal receptors, Actualism, mysticism, reality, hallucination. Am I overloading? Reading Burroughs, seeing "On Golden Pond," talking with Dennis, showing slides to Mara and her friends, eating at Baltyk, making my bed. Wanting to hold everything in my brain at ONCE, not sequentially---the ultimate AND or Both-And/Either-Or. Is that Enlightenment, to hold ALL AT ONCE or is it to empty of EVERYTHING FOREVER. Obviously partly a flight from Death: as long as I can DO and THINK and SEE, I haven't died as I fear I might, which will STOP doing and thinking and seeing. At least in this body, but the Life-After-Lifers say that "something" continues, something recognizably "me," something that can still watch what's going on on earth, as my "continuing" trajectory continued outside the plane crash in that long-ago dream. More and more (in time) I want to DO more and more (in space). Intermingled with touches of gladness for what I've DONE are the yearnings for what I WANT TO DO. But ANY wanting requires continuation in time and space. To wait for the solution of the still-mysteries of the very large and the very small. To SEE and EXPERIENCE with THIS mind and body the ultimate evolution (and dissolution?) of the human and soul-race. And from Race to Riace, what OTHER marvels wait to be discovered from the past, now that the Two Bronzes have been assimilated; what new larger bones from larger dinosaurs, what relics from other worlds, what communications from other galaxies? Life is a never-ending detective story through which I want to continue to find the solutions to all the puzzles, the answers to all the questions we don't even have words to ask yet. Read more, learn more, assimilate more, extract more essence, store it all up for instant usefulness, recall, savoring; battling against the freezing and stabilizing and rigidifying of age and petrifaction. More friends, more sex, more challenges, more thrills, bigger and better roller coasters, more untraveled land lighted by my spore of sight and hearing. Avoiding the pain which would EVER lead to the DESIRE for death, retaining the ENERGY for LIFE!



The sigmoidoscopy wasn't bad: had to take a laxative in the evening and a Fleet Enema in the morning---feel terribly stupid with my ass waving in the air as I fill my sigmoid with water and then rush to the john to eliminate it. Lying on the table (after waiting for an hour!) the doctor can't put on the electrical suction, so a nurse has to come in (TWO nurses!) and plug it in while I'm lying pantless with a paper towel over my crotch. He then tells me to kneel in "enema position" and he sticks in a finger, then a small instrument that makes me start a bit, and then he suctions for a bit and says I have tiny hemorrhoids, but nothing more serious to worry about: don't eat spicy foods. He says the liquid diet is VERY strict for the barium enema and that I CAN eat yogurt. I'm not looking forward to it at ALL.

But the four days of liquid diets pass; I don't take the Milk of Magnesia till the SECOND day, but I shit just about the same from all the tomato juice. Then take the castor oil and REALLY shit the rest of it out, actually spraying liquid brown over the back of the toilet seat and having the wash the seat cover! Then take two Fleet enemas and figure that yellow clear liquid is good enough. They take me in just a few minutes after 1 pm, change me into a paper coat with the slit in the back, take two or three X-rays with nothing in, then she puts up a bag with about a QUART of white liquid and tells me to turn on my left side. "Breathe through your mouth," she says, and probes, probes, probes, probes with the nozzle, getting a tiny bit deeper each time, and when it all slips in it DOES hurt a bit, but she just says to keep on breathing. Then she opens the petcock and I feel like I'm shitting in reverse, and it's rather uncomfortable. She takes a test picture and he says to fill me up a bit more, and then 5-6 pictures frontways, half-side, and full-side on each side, then leaves. I get a GREAT cramp, like having to fart but not being able to, and I grunt in pain. Bladder feeling like IT wants release. She takes me to the john, dumps in the bag, down about a pint, and tells me to take the nozzle out and dump it into the wastebasket. I pull it out slowly and am surprised to see a BULB on the end, which I guess they inflated after it was INSIDE. I shit a lot of pure white stuff which takes a long time to wipe off, and then she puts me BACK on the table and says she's going to give me air. "Air?" I gulp. This actually hurts more, bubbles coursing through my intestines, and I really almost feel that I have to shit out the nozzle while she's rolling me from side to side to take 5-6 more pictures with her ritual: "Now hold your breath; hold IT." Whir of machine. "Breathe normally." She holds the bulb while I extract THAT, and then shit a bit more and feel VERY uncomfortable, but figure I'll go home. The man says some people have NO discomfort at all, but if I'm sore, it'll go away in a couple of hours. I walk home leaning forward somewhat, like experiencing menstrual cramps. QUITE uncomfortable, like having a pregnancy, and I burp JUST a bit. Don't feel hungry, but he says "You're absolutely empty inside, so you'll be eating." Make soup, which doesn't help my stomach, and then fish goes down fairly well, but when I shit it's just liquid again and my asshole is really beginning to feel SORE. Pain-wrinkle lines engraved between my eyebrows, and I wonder what I'll do if the pain doesn't abate; what if they stuck it in somewhere wrong and that cramp was a trauma? Work with discomfort, fart a few times, burp a few more times, and feel hungry pretty soon, but after two hours, gradually, I wouldn't even know what I'd been doing, though my shit was still merely water. Hoped all those laxatives wouldn't leave me constipated at the end. Was tempted to phone Dennis and ask for commiseration at the beginning, but then I figured I'd better let the original trauma die down before talking to him, and then he wasn't there to take it in. When I got him in the evening, about 11, he had "a friend" there, so he couldn't talk long, and then when I phoned at 1, and then again at 5:30 on Friday afternoon, he wasn't in at ALL. So much for communication! It's not something I'd like to do again, though I didn't really STARVE during the liquid diet, but I sure got tired of chicken broth and consommé, though the HIGH point of the diet was the yogurt filled with honey. Nor did I feel SO starved, as on the second day, that I beat up raw eggs and added Kahlua to make a liquid potion to nourish and knock me out all at the same time.



She phones to tell me she got a Raven index; I say I'll try blackmailing the others (no more indexes!) to get letter in, and then we start talking about what we say on the phone to these companies. We accomplish both tasks together: MAIN POINTS ON PHONE CONTACT:

1) I do indexes: a) good quality, b) on time, c) price range 40-50/line; $1 and up/page, depending on indexing density; 500 lines for 500 pages yields LOW density: high line-rate and low page-rate. 1000 lines for 100 pages yields HIGH density: low line-rate and high pager-rate. If pressed, say $8-10 per hour, or EVEN by finished index page or MS page.

2) I'm one of a number of indexers in an indexer's cooperative, which means: a) MORE indexers for large jobs, b) availability of various specializations, c) personal availability at any time, d) likelihood of RUSH-job accomplishment.

3) Letter will follow with specific titles of my work and work of others. OR, as Barbara adds, an appointment to meet them, and then TAKE the letter. So I talk to the people on the phone and tell them what me and Marge decided:

1) Tentative cover letter by Friday, 3/5 (without the threat, only encouraging).

2) Marge buys LMP (for $35!) from Bowker and we share costs. She coordinates people calling NEW companies. FOR these companies, the CONTACTOR does the first and subsequent indexes, unless there's some REASON to use others in group. Though Barbara says it's better to have someone ELSE call and say "how was index?"

3) If anybody WANTS to phone a company, phone them and let Marge know. If not, Marge will assign from LMP, alphabetically, starting with medical lists. Call about 3/week, or get the whole LIST and do it ASAP.

4) Talk to head of production (manager/supervisor) and report back to Marge.

5) I talked to everyone but Dennis by this afternoon and everyone seemed OK.



Word Processing (WP) is adaptation of BUSINESS packages. About 12 of about 38 of us HAVE use of WP. They're really automated text-editing systems. An innovative use is to test for READABILITY, using the Fog(g?) index, which relates document clarity to sentence length and word frequencies.
WP is a NON-programmable computer. Microcomputers EQUIPPED with WP systems is WP.
About 24 WP companies. $8,000-$18,000 for a floppy-disk system with TYPE printer & CRT.
2-8 workstations with HARD disk and SHARED logic: 4 stations for $35,000.
PRINTERS: 1) daisy wheel for $2-4,000. Diablo or Qume. 300-550 words/min.
2) Dot matrix: $400-500 for 5x7 dots; about $2,000 for 9x11 dots. 2500 wpm.
3) Proportional-spaced daisy wheel, which gives about 20% reduction in BULK of output.
4) Line printer (200 to 1000 lines/minute); not all WP supports these two last.
5) Page printers with lasers and xerography, with italics and boldface, 1-5 pages/sec. (he's crazy to even MENTION these: IBM 6670 or Xerox 5700 are $75-100,000; IBM 3800 or Xerox 9700 are about $350,000).
6) Wang OIS, which gives phototypesetting.
SOFTWARE is all for BUSINESS applications, NOT for indexing. It gives document assembly, pagination, etc. "Not enough product differentiation."
SORT is optional on MOST, though "subheadings may require custom programming."
"If your requirements VARY from time to time," you need COMPUTER, not WP.
"SORT tends to be rather disappointing," taking 15-20 minutes/job.
Micros are usually only up to 64K bytes, of which 2/3 is used for program space.
$12,000 system over three years must EARN MORE THAN $4,000 WITH system than not!
"You'll get same lousy service that the BIG customers get!"
You MAY have to carry your APPLE III into the factory with cheaper maintenance contract.
Obviously he wasn't going to get more interesting after saying only THAT from 6:15 to 7:15, so I left for "Ivanhoe," getting in EXACTLY as it started, and I can always phone Elliott Linzer to find out if anything interesting FOLLOWING my departure is worth noting down.



Now that I've managed to vacuum the apartment, catch up with doctors and dentists, almost finished with correspondence, having the indexes under control, though still with a stack of notes on things to do, I recall how depressed I get when everything IS under control: when I DO a session daily, go to the gym every other day, make the bed and wash dishes and eat and type pages just when I SHOULD perform these tasks, how I yearn outward for something DIFFERENT: to get involved in stamps, reading, entertainment absorption, planning a trip, writing a book, meeting new people---as if the urge to GET "caught up" turns into an urge to get "MESSED up" when I exist as "caught up" for a week or two! It seems to symbolize lots of cycles of excitement and boredom that I find myself caught up in; it even seems to connect with relationships: as long as they're in the "can't get enough of you" stage they can't fall over into the "got too much of you" stage that leads to "can't get enough" of someone ELSE. Even with ACTUALISM: after I do two or three weeks of sessions EVERY day, I seem to have some excuse, or inertia, or reason, to AVOID them for a week or two, and then feel I have to catch up with THEM. As with friends, as with correspondence, even with something like washing windows. But am I putting the wrong words on things: I can't wash windows until they NEED to be washed, maybe I "can't" do Actualism until I "need" to do Actualism, can't "get organized" until I'm so disorganized that I NEED organization; conversely, get SO organized that I NEED SOME DISORGANIZATION. Without judgmentalism, could it be that DISORGANIZATION is as much a need as ORGANIZATION? Disorganization with a better name might be FREEDOM, or SPONTANEITY, as against the negative color of RESTRICTION substituted for organization!! How great: rather than CHANGING what I want to be, just put good WORDS (and opinions and FEELINGS) on what I AM, and it seems to switch around---which is the ENTIRE point of est and Actualism: see what is ACTUALLY true, and live with entire happiness in PRECISELY THAT. This idea was NOT complete in my head when I started this page, and it seems to be SO revolutionary in IMPACT (though the idea ITSELF is trite) that I'll have to think about it awhile (which I hope DOESN'T mean: forget about it)!



I've finished the Chemical Dynamics subject index by 10:45, then put stuff away and counted to make sure all pages were there from incoming indexes (finding two ADDED pages for McGraw-Hill Batteries and two chapters missing from Raven's Endocrinology), and then try to figure how much money I'll be getting in and come up with $5700 before my trip on March 23! Talk about magnetic-dynamic! I think of a $6000 month, with $200 days, thinking I COULD get to $300 days, making $9000 a month, or $108,000 a year! Think of the possibility of actually DOING that! Don't really worry that I CAN do it, but fret about the possibility of getting sick, or overburdening my body so that something breaks down, or (horrors!) of the companies finding OUT what I'm doing and taking everything AWAY from me! And WILL the Garland Cell Biology (Garland cell?) come in; and WILL I be able to take the vacation drive; and WILL I have enough to PAY the tax that even the DELAY necessitates paying, AND fill up the Keogh and IRA accounts, AND pay for the dentist---and when IS he coming in with my appointment? So I get to bed at 1:45, vaguely hungry after dinner's ended at 8:30, and just can't sleep. Turn from side to side; debate jerking off except there's no real impulse to do so. Take Valium? Remember before that I'd take a toke or two of grass to relax to sleep; will I get into the same frenzy when I'm doing THIS edition of Pediatrics? I sure hope not: I should make it a BIT smaller, a BIT more under control with OKs for no-cross-checking needed, and a BIT faster. Money, time, entertainment, investments, personal sexual relationships, the problem of physical beauty, which I think of the men's seminar as being a good place to discuss. At least THINGS have been taken care of: correspondence caught up with (I can always XEROX a sheet of index work I have to do and send it as an apology if I DON'T go on the trip NOW, and when I MIGHT go later), apartment is in reasonable shape---when WILL I get rid of the books on the floor? But I STILL need a haircut, and stamps, and to give Dennis a body session, and dentistry to do, and an appointment with Dr. Daoud to set up, and indexing business to develop, and FINALLY get to sleep about 2:30, then wake at 8:30 feeling vaguely un-rested. Hm.



After the gay men's seminar (ACTUALISM 218) I'm so frustrated that I stop off in a cigar store and buy Sher Bidis, longs for $1.35, and read alone, saying "Hi" to Arthur at the station since he was on the same train, and make two hamburgers on two muffins with two slices of bacon each AFTER eating a whole packet of crackers with butter, then some wine, then smoke a bidi-part and get into the Falcon catalog and smoke again (maybe 6 puffs at first and 8-10 puffs during), but it doesn't have the same effect: it's not as much a "high" as before, which leads to the "practice makes more effective" result that seems to be the case with grass, poppers, cocaine, and now bidis, though there IS the possibility that since I now DO take more than a once-a-year puff on a cigarette (smoking the Danneman Pierrots of JJ, for instance), the "heady" effect is now diminished from only a single bidi-puff. At least I have no trouble with getting to sleep after filling myself with food and emptying myself of semen, as opposed to NOTEBOOK 464. But, frankly, the orgasm ISN'T as intense as the one the other night, when I just SPURTED out a lovely jet that landed just below my chin. So it doesn't seem as if BIDIS were the smartest things to get, though I might take them along to dinner and try puffing on them THERE, instead of spending the three dollars for a SMALL Danneman's Pierrot that I priced in the same cigar store. Must admit to feeling vaguely disloyal to Bruce and his group by getting into myself like that, but I honestly feel he DOESN'T understand what it is to be gay, as Dennis suggested on the phone just now. AND since I don't think I DO relate that much from the pelvis, even in the now-defunct J/O group, let me TRY to see what the baths are like (coincidentally getting a $5 coupon with the Advocate ads that Dennis gave me yesterday, good for Wednesday at the Club), AND see what it's like (after I get some cash about me) seeing what it's like to send for a model, AND take pictures the way I like to photograph, and see if I can't get some lovely guy (I can feel myself getting excited NOW) to tease himself to the brink and then HOLD it there "to get a good shot of him" and let HIM beg to be allowed to come! HOW MY CROTCH LIKES THAT IDEA!!

ATLANTA TRIP - March 27 - April 4, 1982

SATURDAY, MARCH 27, 1982. Got to bed about 1:30 so I'm rather surprised to wake at 6. Up at 7 and eat and pack and wash dishes and shower to COLD water and get out at 9:15 at last with apartment in perfect order. Car starts reasonably quickly and I'm on my way at 9:30, brilliant cloudy day cold and windy for driving. Across Brooklyn Bridge and over Chambers and to long line for Holland Tunnel and in to STOP for stalled car in other lane. To Jersey at 10 with only 17 miles on car in half hour. Along 1-9 and then 22 to 78 through Jersey and spend $13.95 for gas in AM to fill up. 10 for bridge at Easton into Pennsylvania and make large curve through state averaging a bit over 60 mph. Through 16 or so miles of Maryland and into West Virginia for moments to stop at 2:30 for HUGE liver and onions lunch with enormous baked potato and mediocre corn for $6.15+ $1 tip. Gas self-service in cold (usual) for $16.07, getting 12.87 gallons to 264 miles, 194 miles for a rate of only 15/gallon, at $1.24/gallon. Down into West Virginia and then Virginia, singing to myself to keep my eyes open after too-heavy lunch! Trucks really cruise at 70 so my rate increases, thinking to drive longer, but get 14 gallons for $15.50 at mile 472 for just UNDER 15 mpg. Car does that funny "rev and speed without pressing on pedal" that needs me to shift into neutral to STOP it. AND I find that when I START after filling it, it JERKS as if it's MISFIRING because of FILLED tank. Drive a bit farther but it's getting dark, the pink-litmus sky alkalining to blue as I get off south of Roanoke to check Days Inn for $25 and she calls Econo Travel for $17.95 and I go THERE to chat with Indian manager and his father about Madras and Bharat Natyam and Mahabalipuram and Tirupati. Huge room that I put heat on in and down to Waffle House for three chewy pork chops and two hot chocolates and nice waitresses for $6.00 including tip, and cross to the Outpost for two white wines for $3.85 and fall in love with sexy blond-curled Kent the busboy and three nice girl managerettes and "Howdy" from entering guests and SEXY teenagers with folks, in short sleeves in freezing-water temperatures. Happy and full of love across road at 10 to watch bit of "Wizard of Oz" and jerk off rather quickly with knotty sperm and bed to SLEEP at 10:15!

SUNDAY, MARCH 28. Wake at 6:15 and up at 7 to shower in HOT water and eat GREAT ham and cheese omelet after figuring I took $607.20 with me, spending $19.07 for room. Omelet has the quality you'd accept for $10 in a fine Parisian restaurant: smooth, light, filled with ham and cheese, like made with essence of eggs. Pack and return key and take off at 8:15 with mile 497 on car. Drive through ANOTHER lovely day and get 13.9 gallons for $14.85 in North Carolina, playing leapfrog with various drivers and faster-moving trucks, then $14.40 for 13.3 gallons at mile 893, about to Atlanta, and zip around the periphery on 285 to get to route 20 for Six Flags over Georgia. $2 for parking and get jitney past Mindbender and for some reason (Wendy's $3 off for everyone? After 3 pm?) the $11.95 entry is only $8.95. Phone Anne and Ed, agreeable to anything; O'Shea's, rather busy this evening and not wanting to come to park; and leave message on Mike's machine, spending ANOTHER quarter to call Anne back and say I'll be there about 11. In at 3:30 and start rides at 4, putting list on the back of the ticket that says I parked in section G, including picture-titles which I transfer to the back of the book when I really get started. Well, THAT note says I started at 4:30, so I guess it took me about half-hour to park and just get INTO the place! 1. Log Flume 1 out at 4:35, fairly small-scaled ride, but didn't get very wet in the cold-windy afternoon. 2. Long Flume 2 about the same, out at 4:40, lines obviously small. 3. Mindbender out at 4:50 is GOOD, going around two loops, and going SO fast over FUN hills that the ENTIRE ride from starting down the first hill to pulling up the last level section into the "terminal" is exactly one minute! Don't ride the Pirate Ship, though it's certainly popular, and have a slice of awful $1 pizza, lukewarm and not tomatoey. Off the 5. Great Gasp Parachute at 5, frankly RELIEVED (I was REALLY HANGING ON AND IN FEAR) that it's not REALLY freefall but controlled, from 200 feet high with view all around everywhere, to Atlanta. Onto 6. railroad but get off only at the halfway station at 5:10, not good, and eat a foot-long dog with chili that fills me a bit, but still not HOT. 7. Mine Train off at 5:32, LOWER hills than the runaway train at Great Adventure, but longer and rougher than that one, including a couple tunnels. 8. Sky Bucket across park is short, taking a few pictures at dusk at 5:37. Take great picture of sexy asses spraddling up the Rope Climb turn-on game. 9. Scream Machine to 6 pm, good, but the hills don't QUITE take my breath away as the Cyclone does, and then I have a good rock-salt pretzel for 75, too much. Climb the treed hill to 10. Carousel which is AUTHENTIC to 6:10, must be nice shaded in summer, wonderful carved up-and-down horses. 11. Horror Cave funhouse is rather mediocre till 6:20 but 12. and 13. in the Monster Plantation is just fabulous: critters a combination of Koren and Monster-muppets supposedly designed by Jim Henson, warning NOT to go into the swamp a NEAT trick, and GREAT colors and animations till 6:40, riding twice out of sheer exuberance. Still hungry so have a hamburger, then 14. the Rock and Roll show FABULOUS with images on three screens and beaucoup audience-recognition of EVERYONE from 1955 to 1982, wait in line from 6:50, out at 7:30 and in to 15. Chevy Show which is about the same at Cinema 180 with Mt. St. Helens, the rollercoaster from Texas, the great road race, and a tacky pitch for Chevy that people sit docilely through; that goes to 7:50. Then back to the Mindbender till 8:20 for the second time, 8:25 for the third time, 8:35 for the fourth time in the FRONT seat, and then try the BACK seat but they won't let me alone there so I have to try the NEXT to back. Grand ride. Back to the Great Gasp for a last shot, just to prove I'm not afraid of it, and look around for more shows, but everything's closing down and I'm getting tired and cold. Leave at 9:15 and jitney back to car and get LOST on map and phone Ed and get in at 10:30 and talk about trip till 12 and bed, nice.

MONDAY, MARCH 29. Wake at 7 in lit room and shower in cold water AGAIN till 8:30 and they're making ham and fried eggs for our breakfast. We all compare pill-piles. I look at maps and papers and brochures and plot my plans for the week, trying to fit in "Someplace in Time" and another movie on HBO, too. Mike arrives at 1:30, as he said he would, and drives me down Peachtree (don't ask me which one, every other street in Atlanta is Peachtree) to Wraps for a spicy chicken and sauce wrapped in pita WITHOUT a pocket, wrapped in turn in paper that's peeled down the side as you eat. It's good, with a good wine, and lots of nice talk, and he's REALLY sweet, with the GLASSIEST clear blue eyes, probably helped by contact lenses. Out at 3 down a LOVELY Pace's Ferry Road, past Governor's Mansion and Toy Museum and GREAT azaleas and dogwoods and redbud, and to their FABULOUS plans for a detailed development of their house: to a two-story cathedral living room with a balcony on either side of a fireplace, with another peaked roof and windowed master bedroom with a pink marble Jacuzzi bath (that they leaked 45 gallons of water down into the garage from) and even a hidey hole behind a bookcase where Rennie can hide with a gun and clobber a burglar if they're robbed. In the basement goes a sauna and a pool in the back lawn so they don 't have to mow, and a steam room and bar and walls here and there around entryways and stairways and a stereo room. He glows as he talks. I sit to read some books on Atlanta he recommends and Lorene's in about 4:30 and they're off with themselves for a bit as I drink stuff and we all leave after I take pictures of him mooning and her groping him, yet! We're out at 5:30 to return to Ed's and he's put in the roast and we sit to potatoes and vegetables and eat till 8, drinking HIS wine and eating HIS bread, and then watch Pavarotti whom the women love and then the Academy Awards, rather normal until Hepburn wins best actress for the FOURTH time and "Chariots of Fire" is best movie at 12:15. Surprise! Bed at 1, tired.

TUESDAY, MARCH 30. Wake early again and lay, counting the days LEFT, not a good sign! Up at 9 and shower in HOT water, make my own juice and boiled eggs and beat Edward's delicious rolls (SWEET roll he made for YESTERDAY'S breakfast was good, too), and look at TV schedule at 10 to find nothing interesting on H, M, or C, and leave message with Don and Hetch about agreeing at 7:30 at Petit Auberge on Thursday and coming over there TONIGHT, since I want to see them before THEY meet the relatives on Thursday. Phone rings for Ed and I get HIM out and he eats and shows me his basement and electrostatic generator and freezer and altimeters and photos from his various reactors, and about 11 Anne returns from the dentist and moans about the work she needs and we're off in MY car since his green Ford doesn't work too well, and we drive to Stone Mountain, driving around it while he gives short history of it being 10,000 feet UNDERGROUND to start with, and we stop at "War in Georgia" for $1 and I decide to buy two $5.75 tickets for "everything" and walk through the train displaying the Heritage Museum and drive around to Animal Farm, nice, after having a fish sandwich and tomato juice for lunch there. In at 2 and find deer to feed, raccoons, ducks, geese, bears, owls, burros, fish, and other nice animals till 3, when we drive around to Skylift to walk around hazy top and look over the city under shifting rays of light, then down at 4:40 to drive AROUND the Plantation, which appears to be closed already, and out at 5 to get to Don's at 5:35 to follow HETCH license into driveway! She's driving Sean, who doesn't remember me, but Kathy remembers the window seat on 57th Street. Sheila's cute and talkative and Patrick breathlessly interrupts to put in his two cents and they're SO like Don I ask Hetch if she minds and she just smiles. She makes her "chicken Maison" with cream sauce and almonds, just DELICIOUS, with her heated homemade bread, delicious vegetables, and Girl Scout cookies for dessert, marred somewhat when Kathy spills her glass of milk across the table. We can barely talk over the punning, and when I get off a few the kids remark they know why their daddy and I are friends. Don's back (oh, Kathy and Sheila walked me down BEAUTIFUL Lullwater before dinner) from HIS dinner about 8:30 and we sit around talking and then he takes me downstairs to introduce me to his Apple II with Pacman, Apple Panic, Space Invaders, and many other games I don't quite get the hang of, but I write out instructions for my day-in-basement playing on Friday. Times go VERY fast and before I'm quite ready, it's 12:15 and he has to drive me back to Ed's. Almost constant talk, very pleasant, and I'm in with Ed's top key and look through more brochures and get to bed about 1, tired.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 31. Hear them in the kitchen about 8, so I shower, again in hot water (so I thank them for not showering while I've been here) and out for their somewhat mediocre pancakes while I announce that I want to see ATLANTA today, since Mike suggested Callaway Gardens tomorrow and I'm moving to Don's tomorrow night after dinner. Ed shows me MARTA maps and tells me to eat at Rich's 6th floor restaurant and leads me in HIS car to the 94 bus station, telling me how to drive back and giving me an umbrella for the predicted thundershowers today. Ride down on 11:53 bus VERY pleasant on narrow tree and flower-lined street, and I begin to think I MUST see some of "backdoor" Atlanta or I'll think it's paradise. Past the reconstructed Fox theater, elaborate, lots of Civic Centers with hotels and restaurants, and into Five Points to try to put the PAPER transfer into the machine until a conductor comes along, buys my confusion, and gives me a bus-to-rail CARD that I insert in slot and enter subway. Ride way WEST and there are the slums: streets WITHOUT flowering trees or shrubs, less than $100,000 homes, broken-down cars, weedy fields, dirty window glass. Ride is fast and smooth, some extremely sexy jeans making me VERY horny, and I write some of the previous days while taking notes on passing misspellings: WAOK: It feel's so good; Special zed hauling meaning to be specialized hauling; and Your and mines food. Yummy landmines?? Started about 12:50, out to end about 1:20, up and over and back to OTHER end for more underground and less interesting views to the east, lines to north only finished to three stops the bus LONG passed, south finished only to next one, and back in center about 2 to ask how to get to Rich's, and buy three books for about 1/3 list (Faberge eggs, ballet, "Immortal Heroes" with sexy drawings), and have GREAT lunch for only $6: The Seine Application with a cut brioche filled with ham, spinach soufflé, and cheese, maraschino cherries and peach slices over RAW kale, tough and tasty; and crisp vegetables like celery and lettuce for dipping into the wine-and-cheese dip with a glass of white wine; and since they had no marguerita pie for $1.95 I had to settle for a huge chocolate-cake log with whipped cream and three DELICIOUS strawberries for $1.75. Great place to eat! Down to ask directions from the pleasant woman, search out the "Gone with the Wind" museum and pay $2.50 for not much except the top window from Tara, foreign editions of the novel, lots of dolls and paperdoll books and flags and spoons and plates and programs and foreign posters and piped-in sound from the soundtrack---from the first recorded soundtrack records? Warming about 4, so I'm in to center of town and take pictures of tall buildings and gape at City Center Club and look into "the world's biggest merchandise mart" to find nothing much of interest outside the lobby, and then back to follow a quick cruise to oblivion and sit on the bench watching people until 4:20 when the bus at 4:23 came at 4:30 and went up Peachtree to sit for 10 minutes broiling in the sun in the rush hour traffic and get back to car and Ed's at 7:30 to remember that dinner with Don was TOMORROW night. Have two beers and sit on porch and chat about relatives and reactor maintenance and New York and Atlanta, and then about 7:30 leave for Po Folks where I make the mistake of ordering chicken and dumplings, thinking it was ROAST chicken and potato-like dumplings on a plate and get a SOUP. The pre-plate of gizzards were gristly and underdone, the iced tea in Mason jars a trivial ploy, and I was too full for dessert after lots of baked potatoes, cole slaw, and corn bread. Could Pippypat's Porch, which they said was for tourists, be much worse? Drive back to their place about 10, Anne goes to bed, and Ed turns on the back lights and talks about expanding the house, where the boys are (one in Okinawa sends futons and jackets home to himself; one in Alaska asks them to come visit him and his wife), and ecological madness and how he LIKES Reagan if the media would only leave him alone. Bed at midnight, tired enough.

THURSDAY, APRIL 1. Alarm wakes me at 7:25 as set and they've got ham and pancakes all ready for me and we marvel at the clear blue sky (supposed to rain today, and I DID ask the Deva for clear weather, so it WAS nice to have it) as we drive to Mike and Rennie's at 9, and leave at 9:30 after talking about their great dinner planned tomorrow night and we're all invited after Ambassadors (they wanted to get us tickets to "Murder in the Cathedral," but Kathy got the last two for herself and her steady boyfriend, so Don decided I'd want to see five Atlanta women singers in the restaurant we didn't have to eat in). It's 90 miles and Ed drives according to the 55 limit ALL the way (having told me my 65 CAUSED poor mileage), so we don't get there until about 11:30, by which time EVERYONE needs the john. Temperature's up to 80. Passing the restaurant Ed decided to eat, which I thought was silly, but when by 12:15 there was a line waiting for tables, we all said he had a GREAT idea, too bad we didn't get a porch seat outside overlooking one of the FOUR golf courses the place sports. Out at 1 and great drive to Azalea bowl, fabulous with flowers and colors, excepting only the wait for the sun to come from behind huge fluffy white clouds. Around the various lakes and drives, stopping for two or three trails, the old log cabin, the hollies, then more azaleas, more driving, and finally at 3 we're to the store for a "few minutes" which stretches into a half hour while Anne shops for her bridge-club gifts. Mike tells me cooking hints: put ROSEMARY on rolls for a delicious baked taste and savor; and camera hints: get a VIVITAR macro-zoom for about $150 as first "second" lens, and add that to your wide angle 28mm lens. Buy a $4-5 UV filter and LEAVE it to protect lens; if IT gets scratched, buy new filter, protect LENS. I buy three bottles of barbecue sauce trying to find the one from my great barbecue at lunch, and a jar of the Muscatine sauce I couldn't have a sundae of at lunch. Then drive back 4:30-6, everyone canceling out of the O'Shea's invitation to drinks at 7, and I have to call back because Sean says they're walking on Lullwater! Dress and arrive at Petit Auberge following THEM in my suitcase-laden car, keeping the Rich's bag to put all my NEW stuff in, about 7:40, to a waiting Don and BEAUTIFUL Hetch, and a few minutes later Rennie and Mike arrive, so we're to a back table where Don talks a bit too loud, Ed and Anne and Mike don't really open up, Rennie strikes me as a shallow ass, and Don tries suggestions of wine that I finally suggest we try the house wine, too sweet for everyone, but they DRINK it when Don orders a drier white Burgundy that only he and Hetch (and I, of course) have! I don't think they liked each other. Food's not bad, though we laugh at how THIS place violates our newly found "the shorter the menu the better the food" corollary. Second bottle of house wine and third bottle of wine and desserts for everyone bring bill up to $158, plus $22 tip makes it a VERY easy $180 for me to leave with them, and no one says very much but thanks. Ed and Anne go home at 11 but Mike and Rennie and I made a THREE-car parade to Don's, fortunately close, and they show off the computer to them, Hetch nods off to sleep on the sofa, and they leave about 12, helping me make my bed in one of the many playrooms, and get to bed REALLY tired about 12:30.

FRIDAY, APRIL 2. Wake at 8:20 to hear the last of the family leave (after getting out of bed stoned at 6:20 to piss), and out of bed at 8:40 to make a direct trip downstairs and try a few failures and then get REALLY enamored of Apple Panic, then up for a quick cereal and juice breakfast about 11, then down to try his suggestion of "The Prisoner" and I take all kinds of notes and get almost nowhere, compared with Kathy who's heard of "The Brotherhood" and knows lots of things about the "Town Square" but says no one will TELL anyone about it since it's more fun to find out YOURSELF, as I found to my delight when I found (1) you could go INTO the square and get sent somewhere else, (2) that "Know thyself" was a good way to get past the "Who Are You?" that you should answer with #, (3) that you could go BELOW the four corners of the town square and hit one BELOW that---and maybe to SIDES, it dawns on me NOW, too, except that built-in pauses like the Room #1 maze (I told Cathy I didn't think it changed much, and she wryly commented that probably then I hadn't gotten very far) and the two or three minutes of "square-filling" before getting bombed out of the system being essentially told to "come back tomorrow." Cathy's home at 2 and takes me over to Emory to show me the BEAUTIFUL campus with modern marble buildings, the new library that has to close its overhanging 8th floor so more students won't jump off during test week with its Egyptology collection on the ground floor and local authors like Joel Chandler Harris and others on top floors, the chapel where the play will take place tonight, the building where Hetch works, the graduate schools of medicine and law, and squares and quadrangles and MORE sexy jeans. Then at 3:05 over to Hetch to find she's ALREADY out of her meeting, out at 3:20 to take Kathy home and I try to phone Rolf to get only a busy signal, and then she takes me to the Farmer's Market, quite a kick even WITH its "No photography" signs: busy aisles, cheerful attendants at the fish, cheese, and vegetable stands, quick checkout of $27 of food, racks of boxes and bales up to the 20-foot ceiling, and samples of sausage, melon, watermelon, and other things. VERY nice. Back about 4 and Cathy said she'd take me to the bookstore for her 10% discount, but when I find we'd have to SIT to eat, I decide against pizza to fill my hungry lunch-less stomach and the only book I'd WANT is Golding's "Rites of Passage" which I can get for 15% off at HOME. Search and find nothing, then back to play with the computer more while Hetch cooks, and Don comes down and we try practicing for the Olympics (GREAT game!) until dinner at 6:30 of good scallops in her Coquilles St. Jacques, more home-bread, somewhat tough broccoli and peas and carrots, and good wine. When we get too comfortable and Don finds that the 10 is for DINNER and the 11:30 too late, Hetch suggests she can make bananas foster and we can spend the evening IN, so Don and I return to the basement and play MORE games, and then about 10 he sets up the slide machine and I show Russia-China to a rather head-nodding audience until 11:15, when Kathy arrives for the finale, the kids go off to bed, Hetch MAKES the flavorful dessert and we four listen to two episodes of "Hitchhiking through the Galaxy," which they're very hot on, and we chat until just after 1 am, when I REALLY fall into bed after looking at sexy Boy's Life (only one issue, though) and other kids books on the john until 1:30.

SATURDAY, APRIL 3. Up in time for the kids to watch the Smurfs at 8:30, and I'm down to the basement for a bit again before GREAT pancakes for all at breakfast until about 10:30, when I get Don and Hetch out for some photographs at the front of the house (the kids took me on a tour of the BACK of the house my first minutes there), and then we take a LOVELY walk up Lullwater and Lullwater Parkway until just before noon, at which time I finish packing and lug everything out to the car and tell everyone what a GREAT time I had, even to thinking of moving there, and they'd welcome that, they say, and I back out OVER their border a few times as Don follows me to take Patrick to his soccer game at 12:30. I see that I'm on mile 47 at noon, pay $11.53 for 12.56 gallons at mile 48, then find the odometer is stuck at 49.9 at some point, so I have to reset to zero as I enter route 85, figuring I'll go 85 to its END in Petersburg and find how well 95 continues into NYC, as the EconoTravel brochure says it does. In North Carolina I get 13.1 gallons for $14.25, at mile 197, SAY mile 207, which comes out about 16 miles per gallon, at 3:45 pm, and it's VERY windy. Lots more traffic than before, and trees stay fairly green throughout. Sun sets about 6:30, I get 13.3 gallons for $14.50 at mile 412 at 7:30 pm. But tiring fast, so I drop off at Henderson at 8, stopping at the Lake Side Motel (with no lake in sight) and ask price of room: $25. I whew and wow, but she says it's the cheapest in town, so I sign I'm from Brooklyn and she lets me have it for $20.72, including tax! Nice! I ask where I can have wine with dinner, knowing I'll have to "relax" to sleep, and she says the Howard Johnson's, so I'm over there in cold breeze for good fish filets and awful peas and potatoes and GOOD wine, so good that when she says "Taylor white" I insist on seeing bottle to find that it's Taylor Lake Country White. Turn on TV and watch end of a silly Clint Eastwood-orangutan epic with Ruth Gordon dragging a VW to dust, then find Cousteau in Lake Titicaca and sit with my peepee hanging out watching that from 9:15 to 10, THEN jerk off nicely and get to bed at 10:45 after cleaning teeth.

SUNDAY, APRIL 4. Wake at 6:45 and up at 7:05 and out at 7:30 to Waffle House across the way for bacon omelet and grits (just space-filling like noodles and potatoes and rice). No thought save to get back SUNDAY night, to have all day Monday at home. Can see OTHER things OTHER time---how's THAT for a change? (I write again in meager notes.) Spent about ALL the time wanted with PEOPLE, ONLY machine would have enticed me to stay longer! $130 left, even enough to STILL buy a tire, though Ed said they looked good for 5-6000 miles, good tread, no need to worry about them blowing. Oil light came on at 5:30 yesterday and I piled in two quarts of oil, then another quart when it was down last night. Will check BOTH times I get gas TODAY. Start at 8 am at 413.2, full tank. Pay 20 on leaving route 85 at mile 500, 25 on entering 95 at mile 510; again 25 on mile 518; 25 on mile 527; and I get so sick of THAT that I drive off to Virginia information to ask how MANY MORE tolls there are, every 10 miles to NYC? She says only ONE more of 10, so I get maps and find I'll be passing King's Dominion, and I WANNA GO!! 10 on mile 530, and get into King's Domain 210 miles north at 10:30 for $9.45, being given a $3.50 discount ON LINE!!! 1. Dolphin show is pretty bad to 11:05, 2. Big slide is fun to 11:10; 3. Galaxie to 11:20 is a good 8-people car Wild Mouse with lots of neat sharp turns. 4. Grizzly runs two trains, one leaves every 90 seconds---I settle for SHORTEST line for SECOND car. Getting hungry ALREADY. Eiffel Tower closed for high winds. Button on-line: I'm not as think as you stoned I am. Over at 11:45 (25 minutes on line!). Grizzly's a nice non-"back-and-forth" line winding on a boardwalk through pinewoods, after crossing train track. All wood, nice sound, all DOUBLE all around (with tunnel) and much longer than indicated on map. 5. Rebel Yell IS re-entrant line and fairly long; I take shorter LEFT line, but ride is SINGLE double-train, 140 seconds. Good ENOUGH, but Rolling Thunder is BETTER, uneven rides HELPING. Off at 12:15. Hotdog with shredded cheese gulped partially down to stave off hunger and shoved into pocket to board 12:30 train to Tumble Gulch, with a small TUMBLING skit (wonder how many on JAMMED train realized that pun?) by four sexy-enough guys to photograph. Past cabins and Civil War cannon and burnt-out mansion and cemetery, but not really much for ALL people. Off at 12:40 and see that the 7. Grizzly line is SHORT, so I'm on line (finishing hotdog) at 12:45 for second car again. Out at 1 pm, having had neat partner. 8) Flume ride is alongside blazing forsythia---INNER line (left) moves faster than outer, of course! Off at 1:15. 9. Yogi Bear's cave NOT very good to 1:30, BUT BLT for $1.45 very TASTY. Lots of kids' rides, but most are EMPTY, but good to see a nice MIDDLE-sized "intro" rollercoaster and even a little PARACHUTE jump that looks so terrifying that only one kid's on it. Then a long line for the 10. Safari Monorail MOVES quickly when the cars finally arrive. Ride's held up. As usual (though there are no shirtless wonders as at Atlanta, since it's forbidden here) the GUYS with nice faces and arms and chests and blue jeans (though CROTCHES are rare) are MOST nice to look at---until they look at YOU! Onto train at 1:45 and past lots of SMALL groups of animals: oryx, eland, waterbuck, 4 tigers, 20 lions, 2 camels, 2 ostriches, 1 crane, 1 emu, 4-6 elephants, 6 zebras, 2 huge white rhinos, 2 Siberian tigers, and other small things; delayed by train in front of us---finding that "lost world" is THREE rides, one a FLUME. Pause and write at 2:05, getting hot in coat, but it's still VERY windy outside. In at 2:10. Buy 75 of cherry flavored ice and get on line for 11. Haunted River at 2:15, largest and slowest line yet. GREAT people to watch and start downstairs at 2:37, and onto ride at 3:40. Out at 3:50, GOOD, but not as great as Monster Plantation EXCEPT for MANIC man in whiteface projected onto CONVEX surface, which makes the head look VERY real! CUTE guys on "Land of Dooz" train! Got wet down sluice!!! Down SLEEVES, too! Drums getting louder and louder were GREAT, as were PLUSH spiders descending from Amazon ceiling, but TOO many skeletons a bore. Waiting on "Land of Dooz" not reopened at 3, told 15 minutes. To 12. Time Shaft and hear "Please don't lean against the wall" and rock music as we go through "stone" tunnel for AGES. Woman turns to man and asks "Is that SCREAMING I hear?" and it IS. Intriguing. Out at 3:15: it's a floor-drop spin, so I put up hat which helps head-back and it goes QUICKLY enough that I don't get dizzy, though I panic a second as the backs of my SHOES get wedged into the rising floor space next to the wall! Pretty boys in lines and on rides. Onto 13. King Kobra line at 3:19. WARMER now. On a T-shirt on a HUMPY chest: "Dumber than a box of rocks." Off at 3:35---and sitting in the front seat I can tell you it DOES look like you're going up TOO far!!! Into 14. Land of Dooz at 3:41 and it's cute with the little critters working volcanoes, gravity, oil wells, earthspin, jewel mines, tides, and everything else. Wander looking for more thrills, but find the john and get another hotdog and out to car at 4:10, at 551 miles; so it's 300+ to go in 5+ hours! $10.75 gas and "down 1/2 quart of oil" at mile 552 at 4:20. Pay 75 for the Baltimore Tunnel, $1 US 95 toll at mile 727, 75 for Delaware Turnpike at mile 740 and it's COLD out there! Headlines in North Carolina papers about destructive winds through the state yesterday. Now dark, but I feel good enough to continue: lots of traffic but it moves at a nice steady 60 mph. At mile 750 I pay $17.65 for gas @ $1.25/gallon and get another quart of oil (4th so far). AMP light is on and repairman looks at it from 7:40 to 8 (with 10 minutes off on phone) and charges me $10. He says the valve cover gasket needs replacing, though the attendant didn't replace the fitting properly. Pay 60 for the Delaware Memorial Bridge, "wind" sign on, and get shunted to the NJ Turnpike easily. $1.30 for the pike, getting off at Outerbridge because I see at LAST from map how 278 IS easy when I'm going west in BROOKLYN, and why I don't have to worry about the Belt being repaired in the south since I don't need to TAKE it. Pay $1.50 for Outerbridge, $1.00 for Verrazano, and get in at 10:15 to drop luggage off at Dennis's, return to parking lot and put it away at mile 890, feeling GREAT to be back and that nothing's happened with car! Dennis feeds me MY tuna in his casserole, I have applejack, bed at 1 for touching but he's come three times today and I'm turned off so we're to sleep. I'm REALLY BACK!


SAT, MAR. 27: Long line for the Holland Tunnel at 9:30 am after I crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. Through New Jersey and loop southwest through Pennsylvania, across a bit of Maryland, and lunch cheaply and well in West Virginia. Hard to stay awake to drive after a heavy lunch. Stop in a Days Inn south of Roanoke, Virginia, just after dark and get my first touch of "southern hospitality": when I say $25/night is too expensive the attendant calls Econo Travel down the street and finds they're $19! DINE on pork chops at The Waffle House and WINE at The Outpost nearby.

SUN, MAR. 28: Start driving at 8:15 am, down through North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia. At Georgia's border I find that Six Flags over Georgia is only open on weekends, so I drive directly there to enjoy a great evening in the amusement park (the Mindbender, with two loops, the fastest and best metal roller coaster so far) and then drive to Ed and Anne's to chat for a bit before sleeping in their comfortable guest room.

MON, MAR. 29: They make a great breakfast as we compare piles of pills. I study brochures to find what I want to see, and Mike drives me through part of downtown Atlanta for lunch, then out dogwood-lined Pace's Ferry Road, past the Governor's Mansion, to the Cahill Mansion, in Smyrna, where Mike develops his house and basement right before my eyes, complete with swimming pool. Lorene arrives and takes over while Mike flies off somewhere, and she drives me back for Ed's great pot roast and the Academy Awards.

TUE, MAR. 30: Quiet morning in Ed's basement (basements are well used in Atlanta, it seems), then we drive to Stone Mountain for "the world's largest stone carving" of Confederate generals, various museums, and a clear view over forests of trees to the towers of Atlanta in the distance. Get to the O'Shea's for dinner with four puny offspring just like father Don, and mother Hetch (she likes the nickname for Helen so much it's her license plate) is just as good a cook as ever with her Chicken ala Maison. Don takes me to the basement (see?) to introduce me to his Apple II computer and then drives me back to Uncle Ed's.

WED, MAR. 31: Good breakfast this morning (everyone seems to eat well, too) and I drive to the bus that takes me to a ride on the subway that shows me more of the city of Atlanta---some streets actually don't have azaleas! Great cheap lunch at Rich's, and then too-expensive look at the "Gone with the Wind" museum. Sightsee in center of town and return to Ed's by bus and car for some beers on their screened-in back porch before going to Po' Folks for dinner selected from their typically slangy suth'n menu.

THU, APR. 1: Fabulous trip south to Callaway Gardens in 80 sunshine with the Vallishes and the Cahills. Magnificent banks of azaleas of all colors, good lunch, lots more dogwoods, and shopping in the country store. Back to recuperate before dinner for all of us at La Petite Auberge. To O'Shea's.

FRI, APR. 2: I wake after everyone's left and become addicted to "Apple Panic" and other computer games even before breakfast. Try my luck (not much) at "The Prisoner" and Kathy's home to tour me around the beautiful Emory campus where she's a freshman, and then we liberate Dr. Hetch from her Director of Nurses' Training office and she takes me to the cheerful colorful farmer's market to shop for her extraordinary Coquilles St. Jacques dinner tonight---everyone in Atlanta seems to make their own breads, too. More computer games, this time "practicing" for "computer Olympics" and I show my Russia-China slides and we dessert on Bananas Foster till 1 am.

SAT, APR. 3: Leave at noon after photographing flower-laden Lullwater Road.