Sex and (non-sex) with individuals 6 of 7

DIARY 12887
4/7/78

RICK'S SUICIDE

Bob from Texas phones Dennis, sleeping, about midnight last night to tell him that Rick had committed suicide. He seems to have been planning it for a couple of months, getting rid of all evidence (and I have to confess a longing for his collection of films, dammit---with the fantasy that he HAD to commit suicide because he'd mailed the films to me and sent lots of money to Dennis) to his "lifestyle" as Dennis put it, and took "an overdose" which he wasn't clear about because he was scarcely awake when the news came, and when he started to hemorrhage and that didn't seem to be working he "dragged himself" downstairs and into the car and started the engine. His sister knows about it, but Dennis said that if it weren't for some IBM connection officially with Bob, he would never have heard about it. I asked how old he was and Dennis didn't know, suggesting "late 30s." Try to check back when he was last here, and I don't think it was this year. Dennis seemed very shook by the whole thing, saying he didn't know anyone who had done such a thing, and I guess it's the first friend of MINE who's ever done it, and the blame would HAVE to be laid to the door of his homosexuality, though when his sister asked pointblank if Rick had been gay, Bob said "Whatever the answer would be, it would have nothing to do with his suicide." Bob Souls (?) from Poughkeepsie called Dennis on Monday morning, to make sure he knew, and added that the house had been sealed until his sister came in from Michigan, and that as the Medical Examiner put it, he died on Saturday night, April 1, and wasn't found until Wednesday, the 5th, which then DOES mean that my letter from JOYI will be waiting for his sister to pick out of the mail, and I'll be curious to see if anything ever comes of that. Dennis seemed to be less affected about it than I was, when we talked about it on Saturday in Jentz's, and of course the fact that this sheet has been SITTING in the typewriter from 4/7 to 4/11 might have some subliminal influence on my thinking, too, since I haven't been scheduling the time for diary-writing and sort of knew that THIS was what I'd stopped on, to add more as details became available in the future.

DIARY 12945
4/27/78

DENNIS AND I TALK ABOUT VENICE TRIP

He'd phoned me to ask if I minded if Beatrice Ponds came along on the plane with us, and I said of course not, but then HE said, waiting for dinner, that he DID mind when I DIDN'T ask him if HE minded if AZAK came along! I was at first surprised, but thinking about it I got very depressed: he was right, And I hadn't thought about it. I was thinking of the rush and hustle and tourist orientation of Paris: as I said to Dennis: running down the streets between the Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower, stopping in a place for lunch on the way, if OK for sharing with three, but driving through romantic Italian countryside, dropping into a shaded restaurant for an intimate lunch, maybe following a stream to have sun-dappled sex, THIS was not the sort of thing that one wanted a third party along for, and I was sorry that I hadn't thought of it. Then my fatigue from doing two indexes to too-quick deadlines, caused by the trip, my concern about the third index to be done (I'd brought it along this evening, thinking to do it, but Dennis frankly said that he wanted to talk, and then filled my ears with the problems of Tree: the new system whereby he puts in ONLY the "first draft" which is given to an editor to finish, which I say just ISN'T my definition of a first draft, making my suggestion that his time on the "first and second draft" of each article substitute for his "two first drafts," since they wanted him to FINISH both articles in a week! I complain about how little Rodney seems to know about the business, he says how much the woman who came over from Time-Life is now convinced that most of their people are off the wall, and they even DID my suggestion to Dennis at that point that they reserve the right to SAY that questions from them are off the wall. So I feel that I have HIS problems on me, too, even SAYING that "Their saying that YOU are a good writer should be saying that WE are good writers," since they never would have liked what he'd turned in without MY corrections and revisions. This contributed, too, maybe some internal fatigue from the session tonight, but I felt TIRED, PUSHING, and so depressed that I figure it's worth at least another page (see DIARY 12946) and will be continued over there.

DIARY 12995
5/17/78

DENNIS AND ME ABOUT OUR RELATIONSHIP

He's used the word "safe" twice: he doesn't feel "safe" with me and in a relationships he wants a "safe" place. I ask him what "safe" means and he says, frustratingly, "I don't know." "Then why would you use the term?" "I don't know." And I restrain myself from asking, "Then why would you use ANYTHING at all?" He finally comes up with "unguarded" as how he'd like to be, and I agree that he certainly DOES seem guarded with me, but WHAT would I be trying to GET from him, or out of him, or best him in? Of course he doesn't answer. Then he asks me what I want in a relationship, so I can't say "I don't know" and think a second and come up with "something that lets both individuals be themselves yet gives each opportunities to learn something, try something different, grow; something that permits a sharing of past experiences; two people who have a lot in common so that they can share a lot, but who also have a lot NOT in common so that they can offer the other a lot that's new." He doesn't react to it when I ask what he's thought of that, and I praise the meal highly, giving it something like a 9.5, and he even likes the wine, giving it an 8 which I give it the highest 8.5, and we talk more: if he had to change one thing about me, he'd say that I'd no longer PREJUDGE something without giving it a chance to be something different from what I'd expect it to be. I try to get a second one out of him and he doesn't come up with one, and he doesn't offer me the chance to return the "favor" for him. He knows there's something wrong, and I DO admit that even though I DO like sex a lot, HE likes to have sex somewhat more often than I do---also I liked the weekend alone, and as a result on Tuesday he goes to a double feature at the Regency without even giving me the chance to come along: not that I would have wanted to see "The Killers" and "Kiss Me Deadly," but as I'd told him before I at least want the CHOICE. He wants to know if I want a second bottle of wine, and maybe he thinks that the "magical" transformation of me when I've had wine that he looked forward to so much in Venice hadn't taken place yet. "What's happening to the booze?" might be my O'Neill refrain. But we talked about love, too, and I said that I probably WOULDN'T be able, now, to say that I loved him, and that he might have trouble with it because he'd say he DID without REALLY doing so. No response from him on THAT.

DIARY 13001
5/18/78

ARGUMENT WITH DENNIS

I tell him that I didn't know he was so miserable with me in Venice: the first morning when I said I'd meet him at breakfast and he asked me to wait for him "Who am I traveling with, anyway?"; the meal in San Giorgio which he starved on account of not having; his annoyance with my calling him "dense" on the train before getting off at San Giorgio, which I don't remember, asking if I'd not been saying in HEAVY irony "DENNIS!" And then some mornings when he was hungry for sex. I said---searching for words and NOT wanting to say that I want him to "catch up" with me---that the more ways we're similar, the better, but now it seems like we're more DISsimilar than similar. Somehow the conversation leads to his shouting at me "I don't think I'll EVER take a trip with you AGAIN" with eyes blazing, and I debate leaving, but think VERY strongly about the lonely nights, the search for a partner, the lack of communication and sharing and discussion of delights, and I don't WANT the relationship to end, so I brush my teeth and crawl into bed. He joins me, saying nothing, and when he touches me I say that I'm interested to see that I'm getting the same reaction I got with John toward the end: I seem to be making all the overtures toward affection, which makes me wonder how I appear to the other person. He implies that he initiates sex most of the time and I make it clear I was talking about AFFECTION. We hug and talk, feeling rather close (and then Dennis calls this afternoon and says he's not sure why he should be, but he's sorry that it happened, and I said that I'm sorry that it happened THAT WAY, not so much that it happened, and that John and I had to go through MANY more adjustments than we've gone through yet, so it's MORE remarkable that our relationship has been as SMOOTH as it's been---he sounds pleased, but I'm not sure). We decide that SOMETHING has to change, but we're not sure just what. I say that I want more time on my own: explain to him that I'd been attracted to him BECAUSE of his childlikeness and enthusiasm (and he says that I should let my child come out MORE), but that I seem to want that child and ditz to GROW UP and be more productive, exempting his obvious productivity at Tree, getting more things done, mentioning the filing cabinet and the bed. Maybe being AWAY from him somewhat more will make me APPRECIATE him more.

DIARY 13050
6/8/78

TALKING WITH DENNIS ABOUT OUR APART-WEEKEND

He immediately started reading a restaurant review in the Voice, I started talking about my index, he jumped to his trip to Massachusetts today to talk to a collector of 40 inkwells, and there was the whole of the weekend to compare notes on, and I stopped him at one point and said that I LIKED this idea of having lots to talk about, that when we were together constantly we sort of sat like there was NOTHING new to say. He said something about his folks and I said something about "Our Town" and married-life talkativeness. Then I made sure a couple of times that HE wasn't disturbed by it, but he said that he liked the time, did lots of filing, met some tricks, did his Italian truck driver in Queens on Monday, and I ventured "on Tuesday you met someone in the subway," and he gasped and said that "on Tuesday I met someone on the subway who followed me into the john and we jerked off together and it was VERY nice." We talked about my "difference between feeling GOOD and FEELING good" (and the "feeling GOD" of the previous line is on DIARY 13055) as in the Actualism class (see DIARY 13053) and he seemed to know what I meant (see DIARY 13054). Then, lying in bed after sex, I AGAIN felt that I HAD to ask him whether it was OK with him, and the realization swept over me that I HAD asked him, and he HAD said it was OK, and it WAS OK, and it would be fine if I just let it alone right there, it WAS OK, and that "inner tickle" came over me a bit and I told Dennis about it and we felt very close that evening. Then I had leg cramps from straining toward an orgasm, and had some dream where I struggled and shouted, and Dennis patted me and said it was all right, and then in the morning I AGAIN felt lousy from the wine (and maybe from the dentist's appointment this afternoon), and he, seeming to sense that, made an extra effort to be cute and charming, trotting out old movie titles and telling me (or worse, asking me) who was in them, and saying that THAT will help in my trip to the Caribbean---and to China---and to Africa, and it was all I could do to restrain myself from telling him to shut up and AGAIN wonder about the perversity of JUST when I'd prefer him to be quiet and leave me alone, he constantly stares at me and keeps making childlike quips.

DIARY 13090
6/17/78

ANDRE'S INTRODUCTION TO FASHION

He starts with shirts: extolling Punch (so English, but from Italy) above all, moaning that they never discount the $75 shirts of Gianni Armani, or whoever, crowing that Punches will come down to about $30 with last seasons' fabrics, yet feel this roughness, and there's the outrageous shirt that his partner bought for $125 and it'll be out of style in 3 months, and it's a drab gray shoulder-sloucher in Chinese-coolie style that would look awful on most anyone. Narrow ties are coming back, and he can't find one he likes for under $15. Then to shoes: I must have a pair of yellow suedes, preferably with holes in the sides, with plastic bottoms, for only $85, and they'll just be SHEIK, not those standard things that anyone can buy and wear. Then to pants, and they have to be Renoma, which bag at the waist and accent his pot and curve to bags at the hems, and he'd love to wear them rolled up, the workman look, which I insist is what Mother told me NOT to like 30 years ago, and he agrees, saying it's just fashion, but he's teaching me and HE'S learned not to buy for 3 months, but for at LEAST 3 years. Then to sweaters, one for $50 he could kill for, a rather nice bush jacket that's $195 that he'd like, it's not TOO outrageously big on him, another thing, and he tries on OUTLANDISH Arctic ware that make him look like a pregnant walrus. Suits are out, just a shirt, shoes, and slacks for just over $200, it's not much to ask, but maybe this is too mass market, we should try some of the smaller shops with more INTEREST, maybe more expense, but more of a LOOK, and he doesn't agree that what I would consent to wear and what HE would consider fashionable might be a VERY narrow selection. I insist I want to look SEXY, and he says the rich are showing they can look devastating no matter WHAT they wear, and change every 3 months, as required. He tries on a "blousy" sweater: "Is this too faggot? I just love it," and it's Army fatigues with tenting material, and he extols a British firm for coming up with MARVELOUS detailing and NEVER discounting and being able to charge $95 for slacks where others are just $75. I try to show him how SILLY it is, but can only admit to "seeing another side of him," and being "eager to take advantage of his knowledge," and then HE insists he likes shopping with me because "Maybe you can keep me from too great extreme," and we BOTH watch the young kids with their form-fitting jeans. "Yellow, you need, you'll look FABULOUS fresh."

DIARY 13114
6/26/78

BILL'S TAPE OF NOVEMBER, 1977

"Dennis boyish---no, boylike, boyish is the pejorative, or uncomplimentary. I must say, when you got down to casually mentioning the size of your friend Dennis. You said Bob R. had 10 or 11 inches, and Dennis had 9 to 10 inches. When I was in New York, the longest I ever encountered was on the body of a young man from the Dominican Republic, and I hopped right out of bed and measured it, I was so impressed, got out a ruler and it was 8 inches, and said "Wow, now I know what 8 inches it." Now you say 8-9 or 10-11, well, a man has really got something to be proud of, no question about that. And you are very fortunate: it's one thing to HAVE 9-10 inches oneself, to play with, but it's another thing to know someone who has that, because, as you well know, there are things that you would like to do with your own that you cannot, but you can with someone else's. And it's one thing to stroke one's own thighs or ass, almost an entirely different experience. So you are well favored, I would say, to have one such person as this---and of course they're well favored with you too---and to have such a group therapy session as you described you were going to have with both of them, well, you know once in a while that would be nice, if you could just step out for an evening and playing in any old which way that pleases you, I could see that it would be EXTREMELY relaxing, very therapeutic, and would definitely lead to a person taking a few deep breaths by way of an expensive feeling of well-being. I don't know if you can make anything out of that, but I think probably you can. VERY impressive. Heh heh. That reminds me about David G., whom I never saw in a state of excitement, but I asked one day how much he had. I thought of him as a person a bit under average: delicate thumbs and 7 or 8 show size. Article, with pictures, in American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, from 72-73, on zinc therapy in correcting terribly underdeveloped penises, Here was this poor guy who was 20 years old with hardly more than a button between his legs. He ended up at Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center on 300 or 400 mg of zinc per day for 3 years, and it grew to 4 inches limp, which is pretty good seeing as it wasn't done during the formative years. (Me: if you had to choose between a too-small cock or a too-large cock, you'd surely choose the greater of two evils.) David had always thought of himself as undersized, and he and Elizabeth took a course in sexuality, and learned average was 6-8 inches (Bill: I had always heard it was 6). So he went home and measured, and it was just a hair under 7---maybe he measured from his asshole, when you'd have all kinds of inches. David wanted me to come down to Bridgeton, where he'd entertain me in return for what I'd done for him. There was no hint that he wanted me to come down for anything other than just sightseeing. Of course I assumed I'd be sleeping in his apartment---but I know from past experience that what I THINK a person is saying he's not necessarily saying at ALL. There's no interest on his part in getting it on with me. Being aware of this failing of mine. reading things into people's good nature, I thought it was better to have a specific tangible objective in going down to Portland, so I settled on the metric scales. If I hadn't anything to show and didn't get it on with David, I would have thought myself a victim of the old donkey-carrot thing that I was a victim of before, and I didn't want that. He wanted me to sleep in the bed in his room, and I sort of got the feeling he wanted a skin show: the mirror and my bed and his bed were placed so that when he was turned away from my bed, facing his dresser, he could see everything else in the room. When I came in to get undressed, there he was turned away from me, but it seemed (I didn't turn to scrutinize) that he was looking into the mirror. I thought he might want flattery. Frankly, I wasn't horny, and I had an ache in my teeth to dampen my sexual enthusiasm, so I was there 3-4 days and nothing happened. He likes constantly to be appreciated but constantly to keep his hands off him, so the hell with him! He took care of me right royally as far as food was concerned; got the scales, went to a Peter Sellers movie, walked around, so I enjoyed that. Actualism: the girl who can see our organs is a very valuable talent, I would say. Adele Davis died of cancer of the bone, and investigated LSD to see how it could alleviate pain, and wrote about her experiences under another name. Dr. Atkins and ketosis, burning repulsive deposits of excess fat on their bodies. For, oh, mercy, I would say 15 years, maybe longer, I remember noticing these doggone things on my sides called love handles, a very kind, maybe even romantic term for repulsive rolls along one's side. The rest of me is all right, I'm nowhere near obese, I'm not by any stretch of imagination fat, but I know 15 years ago I did a certain side exercise in order to get rid of these damn things. I rationalized it wasn't important that I had these. Even though I'm not having sex with anyone, when I take my clothes off at night, there I am, standing in my underwear, and the top of my underwear is cutting into these deposits of fat, and they're kind of, you know, grossly, and squishily, and flabbily, sticking out---well, you wanna know somebody who's vain? You're listening to him! Just came from Thanksgiving dinner, but I did NOT overeat. I like what Dr. Atkins has to say. NO carbohydrates: only meat, even bacon, but none with fillers; fowl, no stuffing; jello with no sugar; broths and bouillon, coffee, tea, fish, even oil-packed; eggs of any kind (lecithin good against cholesterol); 2 salads, only leafy greens, oil-vinegar-herb dressings; butter; oils; mayonnaise---convert body from carbohydrates to fat burner; lemon or lime juice; hard, aged cheese; 4 tsp heavy cream, no milk, not even skim milk. Get ketostix, shows in 48-72 hours, turning purple. Stomach muscles are hard as concrete, but you'd never know it with 3/4 inches of fat over 'em. Flab, I detest; it's completely repulsive. Edgar Cayce recommended the almonds, not Adele Davis. Cayce said red meat twice a week was a limit biochemically. Eat fish, fowl, or lamb. Atkins: carbohydrates INCREASE hunger, which is GREAT to know---cookies eaten, still hungry! As soon as the fistfuls go---I'll probably have great hanging dewlaps of empty flesh!---I'll go back to normal eating. Sometimes I feel downright horny just feeling LEAN, and I stood on my head for awhile and feel GREAT. I ate sardines and felt no more like having cookies than the Moon in the Man. Ha. Side 2: same person, back to thrill you again. Keep carbohydrates down roughly to 30 grams per day. No focus on calories. Sugar and alcohol destroy all B-complex vitamins, which lack causes nervousness, irritability, and gray hair. Riboflavin (B-2) is most common deficient vitamin in America. Must have enough liquid so if you OD on vitamin taking, your body can get rid of it. He has no colds, before that only one every two years. Poor Gordon Poole, who changed his name to Cess Pool, and he LOVED it; he was kind of a pathetic guy, he wanted attention and acceptance SO much he'd do anything to get it. He was not the sort of person that drew people; he'd wait around for someone to throw him a bone that he could chew on. HE seemed to think that Dianetics was great stuff. Still lacking reading "The Commentaries" in reading "Beelzebub." You don't seem the type of person to settle down into one thing and PENETRATE it. But maybe you think est or Gurdjieff or Actualism would be it. You're not amenable to anything "getting inside" you, in relation to your reluctance to getting fucked. As far as that goes, I don't blame you, I don't like getting screwed either. "You're not really looking to something to which you'll absolutely commit yourself---don't say "This thing is for real, I adopt it, I'll be a member of the family; I'll put myself out for it; it's real; I'll sacrifice for it." In New York, this bundle of energy rose up from my solar plexus, through my chest, in a twinkling of an eye, caused a slight choking sensation in my throat; my ears burned a little and there were some tears; this bundle of energy went right up to the top of my head---I was full of light is the only way I can describe it. It happened all at once: two seconds later I was in a state of an entirely different quality. B-complex lets him sit in a 62E-65E room without extra clothing and feel warmly comfortable. Big bottoms are NOT from sitting, only from too much eating and lack of exercise. I was happy to hear I wasn't going to get wider and wider and wider. Sent stamps 1975, December, insured, not got by November, 1977! Per Harris: 6-cent stamps should be saved, gone up more than 3, 4, and 5's. Here was this beautiful, blond-haired youth in soccer shorts, asking if there was a room to rent. I said, "Honey, you can have the whole house, as long as I can have you,"---of course, I didn't, but the extravagant fantasies began right at that moment. I said "Yes, I did," so he came up the stairs, one beautiful magnificent leg after another, and his Prince Valiant-style haircut moving this way and that, and his nice trim young ass moving this way and that, and everything. His name was Michael Clothier, from Blairstown, N.J. SEXY! My God, I never had anyone living in this house with as much sex appeal as he had: wore close-fitting trousers and had narrow hips and narrow waist and wide shoulders and fanTAStic hair, and maybe just soccer shorts, and he would sprawl, and he would drape himself, and he would uneasily move from this position into that position. It was a veritable show, on a par with the Dance of the Seven Veils, but honestly Bob, I don't think he was showing himself off; chronologically he was 23 but psychologically he was 13, just couldn't sit still, ants in his pants. Low energy level, he'd slouch on the couch, legs spread apart, boloney to love handles, he sure didn't have any. The kind of thing you'd like to take a flying leap into the middle of all. I had some really hair-raising thoughts: how can I get to see him without any clothes on? He was VERY private about everything between the small of his back and the upper part of his thighs. One day he was yawning and putting his arms up over his head, and exposing this fantastic midriff and I just reached over and kind of gave it a little squeeze. He sobered up right away and said "Don't do that." I thought "OK, the hell with you, I won't do that." He was very defensive in other ways about his masculinity; I'm sure he felt very insecure, very inadequate about his masculinity. I was talking to him in his truck and he said "Wanna go for a ride, sweetie?" and I said "Sure anytime." We were once roughing it up in the kitchen and I called him dear. Again, he sobered up right away and said "Don't call me dear." I looked right at him and I said, "If you can call me sweetie, I can call you dear." I've learned THAT lesson from Stevie F., all 15 years of him: he could have his hands all over me, but I couldn't touch him. I'd had that course, so I was alert to that double standard, and I wasn't going to put up with that bullshit from Michael C. I found out that initiating something without words, such as touching his bare midriff, so long as you don't use the word gay, or homosexual, or anything, you kind of do it in a fantasy-like situation. So, well, that didn't work. We'd talk about homosexuality, but he'd been approached and he'd tell them he wasn't interested in that sort of thing. I sure would have liked to have gotten it on with him. I would have been willing just to have him STAND and let me go over him with my hands. He wouldn't have to do anything, or let him lie there on the couch and let me go over him, or let me run my hands through his hair, or SOMEthing. Accept me this way, a little bit, anyway, he'd have none of it. Unless we were horsing around, when HE was in the mood, so I could squeeze him, or semi-wrestle, and he'd just laugh, but when HE wasn't in the mood, he was back in the All-American image that he sacked around with him all the time. He's a classic Leo, with Pisces rising---I know what it's like, he said, you just go around all the time saying "Where am I? or What the fuck is this all about?" The only time he wanted me was when he couldn't by his own rummagings find what he wanted, like my tools. He'd have been much happier had I gotten a room in a motel and let him have the place to himself. I thought he might like me, would seek me out, because that's the way he came on initially. He saw that I read a lot and said "Maybe you could help me get my mind back in shape, since I've been away from college for two years." So I'd almost run home, thinking "Boy, I've really got something here." I'd come where he was watching TV, he MIGHT look up, and he might not; and if he looked up, he MIGHT say "Hi," and he might not. He probably felt terribly distant from me: he's 23, I'm considerably older than 23, he's going to college for the second time, I'm an instructor. But I was in no ivory tower: chopping wood in torn jeans, washing dishes, but he didn't handle it. What do people like him do for a good time? 23 years old, attractive, sexy, pretty much a lightweight intellectually. Friends call, they go to a bar, have a few beers, there's a lot of noise, there's no conversation, just remarks, utterances, half-sentences, that kind of verbal interchange. Maybe slaps on the back, no talking about anything serious. I'd say "Do you know anything about..." and he'd look at me with this "Oh, God, is HE talking again?" and I'd be competing with the TV, and his attention span was limited, his interest was negligible, and he couldn't wait to get back to an uninterrupted scene with the television set. Our lifestyles really weren't compatible. It was uncomfortable for me because I was SURE attracted to the guy, no doubt about it. He'd complain about how immature and foolish the Ricker students were, but I'd think "Go look into the mirror if you want to see someone who's immature." He'd turn to me in the MOST charming and delightful way, with this youthful smile on his face, and say "Would you like to have some coffee?" Whether I wanted coffee or not, I for damn sure would have some, hoping that they'll see what a wonderful guy you were, but I don't believe in that anymore. They may think you're a wonderful guy, but hands off. Once we had some beer someone had given me. I was beginning to get ideas about putting knockout drops into his milk or his coffee, just to zonk him into absolute blotto unconsciousness, and THEN, I could do as I damn well PLEASE. I could feel here, I could feel there, I could caress, I could grope, I could kiss, I could, you know---on and on and on. In the fantasy he was going to be out for at LEAST two hours. But that was just a fantasy. Then I had erotic fantasies in which he had my LUST, the things we could do! My lust and his body, we could go places. He seemed to have no lust at all: I never heard him talk about chicks, or ass, or pussy at all. He was born, apparently, without any sex drive at all, at least he didn't show any of it around me, in any way. Well, I was relieved when he left (though he "borrowed" two books as he left). He didn't say "So long" or anything; I might just as well not have existed. He comes back periodically to get his mail; I don't know why he doesn't send a change of address form, but he doesn't. He'll come up, we'll have coffee, obviously trying to make conversation, but there isn't a lot he and I have in common. He doesn't open up easily, he doesn't put out, conversationally. But I'm always glad to see him when he comes back. Of course, it crossed my mind to say "Look, I'll give you $20, or $1 a minute," and I probably would have given $60 to find what was under his clothing, behind that crotch. I thought of rigging up one-way glass in the bathroom, or something in his room, but I now believe he never undressed unless the lights were out, and I don't think he came out of the shower without putting something on, very jealous of his body and extremely sensitive of anyone seeing his body. Who knows, maybe he has a 20-inch cock or a two-inch cock or feathers in his pubic region? Man, he sure got under my skin. He had me going. There were times I felt like DIVING from the chair I was sitting on onto him and getting into a fistfight or a brawl and gaddammit make him respond like a human, rather than an icicle, but those were sure rich fantasies. I concluded, "Lord, it certainly is not fun to be Michael C." Legitimate excuse, $17 extra for oil not worth only $20/week rent. Next was Jim C., cooperative, helpful, not loud, from Halfway House, who got drunk, fell down the stairs, blood all over the place, beer all over the place, he came back saying "I really love you, Bill," I wasn't sexually inclined at all, but he said "Let's go to bed, Bill," "No, I have affection for you." He kept asking, I kept saying no. 40 years old, part Indian, he said, flabby and drunk all the time. Then Todd and Mother S. may move in: I realize Todd WAS 10, now he's 14; big difference in that period of life. I'm not looking for anything, but it would be fun for them to be here, a challenge to accommodate people without feeling cramped and crowded. Maybe you can sell this tape to people who have insomnia, I know it would put me to sleep if I had to listen to it again. He insists on the value of DISCONTINUOUS evolution, while I rely more on continuous change. Maybe there IS a group therapy session on the other side that lets you decide "I need to learn more about this and that," and you decide to come back as the Hunchback of Notre Dame. He AGREES with my idea that hardly anything zaps a person into here-now than an orgasm! My own penis: that is the part of my body which is capable of being most intensely alive, reactive, sensitive, it does this magnificent, fabulous thing, this orgasm. I must say that some of the fun has gone out of it, but I say that between the ages of 14-40 the orgasm was an "all through my body" experience, so I agree with you. May sex be an escape of some sort for me? I'm not trying to crucify you for enjoying your body or for enjoying sex, but maybe there IS something more real that THAT---if you died right now, you'd be content you had experiences as real as you needed them to be, you don't require the sur-real. It's OK by me. Haha. Let's say I find hang-ups offensive in myself and others. Maybe you'll come to a different position and Gurdjieff will turn you on. Just don't let any PART of your life take you over. I have this impression of you as being clever in solving problems, so it surprises me that you have difficulty with parables and symbols. I thought you liked the challenge of unscrambling the puzzle. I agree: you have to have first tastes, first steps, toward enlightenment. HURRAH!! But the flash ALSO exists. Though G. says self-remembering IS gradual. BZ, you cannot RESIST judging. (I agree!!) Why can't you just HAVE an experience and say "All right, that was an experience," and leave it go? No, you go off, you devious, wriggling, squirming, evasive critter you! I think, you know a lot of things; I think a lot of what you know is useless; I think you pride yourself as being a walking compendium; but I see some things that you come up with as trivia: so what? I don't know whether you know anything IMPORTANT or not. Not WISDOM, a kind of special something; G speaks of "special knowledge," helpful in his entirely other area of evolving, getting out of the labyrinth, enjoying freedom far above what we know now. Does any of est or G or Actualism lodge with you and become permanent? I'll hear about this, maybe around 1979. Emerson's "Oversoul," just reading "Roberts: Education of Oversoul 7." I'm sure ESP IS part of a higher plane of consciousness. Still have the farm. I thought the sound of the Anvil was absolutely decadent, like ancient Rome. My estimation of you doesn't depend on your estimation of the Gurdjieff material. David Gordon and Elizabeth broke up for about the 6th time, though he suffered AGONIES. He went to her, asker her to marry him, which she had wanted, and she turned him down. Vitamins A AND D work better to diminish symptoms of common cold when they're used together, and to me that means cod liver oil, drinking half a cup at a time; I CRAVE it, it goes down easily, and the symptoms of the cold are much diminished. I'm not EXPECTING to have another cold. My nose gets stuffed up when I eat large amounts of carbohydrates. Maybe it applies to you, you strike me as a phlegmy sort of person, maybe if you had less carbohydrates, you'd have less colds.

DIARY 13124
6/27/78

TAPE TO BILL OF FUND, 1978

Started by referring to wanting to WRITE him, but then re-listening to his tape and enjoying it so much that I'd tape SOME sides to him, and referred to my (unanswered) letter of December 15, in which I said I'd just had a revolutionary session about my mother, so I went back to my notes from the class of 12/14 and read them to him, then brought him up to date with the pressure I felt to get a body session, and how I felt Actualism WAS something I could commit myself to, even to the extent of moving to Escondido, and how it seemed to say the same things as Gurdjieff, Ouspensky, the Tibetan Book of the Dead, Tantric Yoga, and other means to enlightenment, even though I found some of their terminology and practices rather bizarre. Went on to mention B-15, ketosis and love handles, my exercising, Ram Dass's new thing in New York Times Magazine, stopping thought in Actualism, and the idea that even now I thought about cutting down on judging, and that Dennis and I were cooling it on sex, though JOYI was still going strong, and he could still send his answers if he wanted. How was he on roomers, were the Snyders there, was he living alone or with someone else? Told about catching up with things, doing spring housecleaning, writing letters, and about my aunt's asking about Aesthetic Realism and my talking about gayness.
Read him my list of indexes, talked of making yogurt, then got out the sheet of notes about the islands and covered more than half the second side with a description, very brief and name-droppy, of our trip, then a more brief section on Dennis's and my trip to Venice, mentioned Larry Ball in connection with Eastern and with Mexico, Azak and I thought about Pan Am's $999, I thought about Alaska, IW's Budapest and Dakar, and Edgardo's Mexico possibility. Then figured I WOULD end at two sides, talked AGAIN of clearing the decks for writing, but that I'd believe it when I'd done it, and how HIP was getting me into glasses, physicals, and dentists, and how I moved the desk into the air-conditioned bedroom, buying EBIII, needing more bookcases, had reading shelves all lined up for me, and how New York was ceasing to have the hold over me that it did, though we're doing dance scenes and just got $25 restaurant coupon booklet and he's doing Anthropology index. Ended with a flurry of good wishes and said he'd answer when and with how much he wanted.

DIARY 13193
7/16/78

PLUSSES AND MINUSES IN OUR RELATIONSHIP

PLUS MINUS

Independence given Independence wanted

Companionship Differences of opinion

Food SAMENESS of sex

We ARE interested in each other's lives:     We both seem to want TOO
relatives, "Collections (cookbooks, cock     much (more than the other
works), working situations                    wants to give) of each other.
                                        We defend our OWN needs FROM each other.

1) I like doing things with SOMEONE Those based on separate APARTMENTS

2) I PREFER you to many others 1) You can't "drop by" my place

I think it's better HAVING it (even as 2) I "use" your place as "city" base
it IS) than STOPPING it 3) It takes TIME to travel to and fro

I (honest to God) feel PLEASED when I I get exasperated at your not DECIDING
see our landing EMPTY not DOING (Hi-fi, answers, insurance)

I like your intelligence and objectivity I dislike your "forced" humor and
at times and conversation at times.

You DO write letters, I DO bring things up     "You've asked---not PUSHED
(I THINK this is a plus): I'm willing to     You don't push DIRECTLY ("See Anita
be bored with YOUR events if you'll          O'Day, dammit!"), you push
CONTINUE being tolerant of ME.               indirectly (letter)

Swarm Saturday Night Fever

"Going to dinner" is much MORE than
merely eating (Theo, Arnold).

MY NEEDS: I need to DO---sometimes when we're together we don't DO anything!
I need to WRITE, which means I have to have more time ALONE at MY place.
I need to have YOU do things, which means YOU have more time alone, too.

DIARY 13256
8/7/78

FEELING SORRY FOR DENNIS

He keeps staring at me, seeing without understanding, rather like a dog that appears to love hopelessly without any possibility of having the depth and extent of his love requited. He tries to cheer me up and I get more irritable; he insists that I let myself go more and I rein myself in more; he insists I get more out of sex and I circumscribe it more and more closely. He comes to me now, touches me first now, but only with a hand or an arm, almost seeming not about to risk a closer embrace that I might push away. The pup who puts his paw on your lap without REALLY expecting to be cuddled. I just feel the sensation of pity welling up within me, trying to keep it back because it's "not the way it should be," not wanting to indulge in it for fear I'd cry, or look even more morose, as I must look to him, yet not wanting to get angry with him, asking "What do you WANT?" when he just stares at me like that, hoping that his mind's gone on vacation while his eyes happen to be resting on my face. If I say I want less sex, it would be sure to hurt him. If I say I want to watch movies, I'll be sort of confessing what Paul confessed in the Promenade this afternoon: that after a while he just doesn't get EXCITED by Isao any more, he wants something NEW and different. Movies would be substituting a 2-D bit of history, tiny in comparison, and calling it more exciting than the full-life Dennis, which would probably make me feel even MORE sorry for him. If I say I find his sexuality boring, it would hurt him as much as it hurt ME when John said it to ME, and am I falling back on this to hurt only because I was once hurt like that? Don't even really want to type the page: it had come to me a few times before, but I didn't type it then, and it's only when I seem to have come to a BETTER solution (see DIARY 13257) that I can get THIS one out of my system. If I'd say I want the relationship over, I wouldn't be telling the truth, but then I AM using him, I AM getting only what I want from him and not taking him as HE is, which is what I say I want from HIM. But it's getting WORST as it is, and I'm only kidding myself if I think it can resolve itself BY itself---and Dennis's taking or not taking Actualism has nothing to do with it.

DIARY 13257
8/7/78

DENNIS AND I TALK ABOUT OUR NEEDS

On Friday night, here, after I showered and he smoked and we were both high from wine, I felt "sexless as usual" and he, probably at some level mindful of my oft-repeated hideousness that "I might not feel into sex, but if YOU get into sex it may turn ME on," kept staring at his cock, wanting it to get hard, wanting to please and excite me, but it remained soft, possibly because of his concentration on it for something OTHER than direct pleasure, and more probably because of his acute awareness that I was NOT turned on at that moment. And it stayed soft. Finally, in desperation to please both of us, he grabbed at the popper and stuffed it into his nose, then, with trembling fingers and chest, he'd pull forward on his foreskin, trying his "last trick" to excite himself (thinking heaven knows what, if anything at all, which would make it even HARDER to get excited), and when that didn't work he firmed his mouth and grabbed the base of his cock and SLAPPED at the soft tip, hoping to excite it with pain, possibly; but I took it as, at SOME level, a momentary hatred of this, his most beloved cock, for letting him down, for letting me down, for letting us down, for ruining the idea of sex for this evening. I couldn't stand it any longer, let my fatigue come through, and clasped him in my arms, drawing him close so that he could only touch his cock without judgment, and held him firmly, kissing his neck, until he drifted off into sleep. Relieved, I moved away, he adjusted in bed, I took back the popper, and we may have chatted about how tired I was, and we went to sleep, and I wanted to write a page on how sorry I felt for him (see DIARY 13256). Then again Sunday night, index out of the way, food nice in stomach, sangria warming the blood to thoughts of sex, I again felt not at all sexy, but he started playing with his cock, giving me his smile which is too boyish and genuine to be sexy, merely saying "Look at me and like me for what I am; here I am giving you my best; won't you take and love it?" And again it didn't get hard. I tried sucking on it, but when it got hard he tried to ram it down my throat, which feels so good to him, and I didn't feel that I wanted to take it, and rolled away to stare at him and play with his tits. Still he didn't get hard, and he grabbed it and SQUEEZED the cock, again hoping with pain to awaken it to sexuality, but again I saw a component of anger in it that broke my heart, and I felt that I had to say SOMEthing about it, and thought way back to the old ploy, used so often with Ralph and Jean-Jacques and Sharon and Sheila, of taking the blame on myself, that it was something wrong with ME that was causing some current problem. So I started tentatively, "I don't feel sexy," and he looked at me, saying something about how he wanted me to give in to myself more, and I pushed through with "and you probably remember that I said you could MAKE me feel sexy even when I didn't start out feeling that way, but that puts the burden of the sexuality on you for BOTH of us, and then when your cock doesn't respond exactly the way you want it to, you get angry with it and frustrated with it and feel that it's failed you." No, that's not what I actually said, but I said some few things in that direction and he looked interested and said he'd never thought of that before, but it might be true. "Why is that?" he'd ask, and I'd try to give more information about it, and then he accused me of being angry. I angrily said that I might be getting angry at his insistence that I was angry, but I wasn't otherwise. But I immediately brought up his "I won't give any more than you give," which not surprisingly I couldn't think of a good way to express, no more then than now, and he told me what he meant, and I tried to say that if HE pushes with A and B, one of which would HAVE to be sex, since we'd surely agree that most of the push for sex comes from him, and WE push evenly with C (I tried to illustrate with fingers, but he got confused, so I PUSHED the understanding through), and I pushed more with D and E---I would CONTINUE to push with D and E, we would CONTINUE to push evenly with C, but if he STOPPED pushing with A and B, I would be pushing more than HE was, and THAT wouldn't be even, EITHER. He then got onto the tack of myself demanding a lot of myself, and I said it was because I WANTED a lot, which he said was a negative way of talking about it, and I warned him that this was going to be soupy: "OK, then I think I have a lot to GIVE, and I want to start GIVING it." He said something about himself and I saw uncomfortably we weren't exchanging ideas, and I hastened to add that I wasn't talking about giving to HIM, but, embarrassed, giving to the WORLD with my writing. He said something about ego, then wanted to know what I thought of HIM, where HE fit into all this. I said that since I demanded so much of MYSELF I ALSO demanded a lot of people I was WITH: asking him to witness my disgust with Bob G., Arnie, Theo, others who didn't challenge themselves, try new things, get involved with something. "What do you want in a relationship with me?" he asked again, and I said "I think I'll tell you again the same thing: sharing things in common, learning new things, and maybe something I didn't say before, moving AHEAD together." He didn't pick up on this, though at some point I said something about Actualism and he got annoyed. "I think we're getting father apart," he said. "I don't think we're having more SEX, but sex and understanding are independent, and I think we UNDERSTAND each other better than ever before." He didn't believe that, and I said he was experiencing fatigue, lack of understanding, and some bit of frustration, and he had to admit that was true. I challenged him to do the same with me, and he said I was feeling pushy, and I smiled more broadly; and smug, and I almost laughed aloud; and very intelligent, and I said that HE was absolutely right, proving my point precisely. Some time later in the conversation I said EXACTLY what he said he was going to say, and later than that he said something and I went over to him and said I was going to say exactly those three words, and AGAIN clinched that argument. I even said, the next morning, that there might be MORE to be said about movies and other things, and I can see NOW that I can talk about the movies as simply TIME to get our minds out of OURSELVES into SEX, even letting him in to how I'm helping to frustrate HIM by laying on HIM my lack of sexuality. I insisted that there were times in the past when I absolutely SAVORED the three-time-a-day routine we could get into, as at Dana's, and that I valued him as a person and as a relationship and wanted it to get even BETTER, but that it couldn't be a DECISION on my part that the relationship had to change in some way, we had to TALK about it and come to some sort of NEW AGREEMENT about it. He said that if THIS relationship didn't offer enough sex for him, it just made him look forward to having more and exciting sex OUTSIDE the relationship, and I felt he was hoping to make me JEALOUS, as if he thought that (as he DID say) I should share almost ALL of him, which I just never felt that I HAD to do: part of my enjoying him WAS his enjoying others, which made me feel even BETTER---and, no, without any discernible feeling that I'd be kissing his mouth that sucked others off, or ideas that the fact that others found him more attractive made him more attractive to me, just that he RETURNED to me even though the others might be more momentarily exciting. I said that if HE wanted sex THRICE a day and I wanted sex ONCE a day, I've got no CHANCE of getting to a point where I wanted sex (though he knew full well there WERE times when I demanded sex, and it was fun, too): he's ask once, I'd say no; when he'd ask a second time, I'd let him excite me because I'd feel guilty about saying no TWICE, but since it wasn't my "third time," I wouldn't feel GREATLY sexed, and then when he'd ask again it'd be easy to say no, but then he'd want it AGAIN, and I'd force myself AGAIN (forcing myself is hardly a good term, but "following when I'd rather not come, rather than leading when I'd rather come" is awkward), and I'd NEVER get to my time. But if he could manage those two OUTSIDE our relationship, I'd be as hot as HE'D be for the THIRD one. AND maybe I'll tell him that he's not so instantly hot because maybe HE demands a bit too much of HIS cock!!! AHA!!! I wasn't pushing for dance, or movies, or opera anymore, and found myself catching up and IN A WAY being easier on myself, and liking it, too (and then hearing echoes from JJ at Dr. Hsu's!---see DIARY 13262), but that he'd have to understand where I was going. I STILL wanted more time to write---I was finishing up JOYI because it was taking more time than I thought and I didn't WANT more of that---and didn't admit that Actualism bodywork and acupuncture and est reviews take up SOME of that time I'd freed for myself by not going on vacation or not playing at absorbing entertainment so much.

DIARY 13295
8/14/78

ERNIE H. AND I TALK FOR 4.5 HOURS

He welcomes me with a hug, tanned and somewhat wrinkled, with too-blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and baggy fashionable shirt and trousers, and bare feet. Later, in the gloaming, he reclined on the sofa with BOTH hands to his head like a pitcher leaning over, and took on the appearance of a fading female blond beauty trying to seduce, but later in the conversation he seemed to make it clear that "he was for Don only" while he realized that he should love Don so much that even if someone better came along that he would be happier with, he should be able to let him go. Then started comparing "parapsychological" happenings when he asked me what the word meant, and he told me about Audrey Flax in Long Beach who with ONE two-hour hypnosis session with the mantra "control" got rid of his alcoholism and overeating, mainly by clenching his fist when he'd be tempted by a piece of junk food. Then he went back for a rash and sinus, and the rash is almost gone now but for a few patches, but then Don got angry that he was using her as a "crutch" and demanded they break off, so Ernie sent her a letter and NOW is looking for something ELSE. So I describe est at some detail, Actualizations mainly by referring to the New York article which he has somewhere, Joan Ann's article and psychic surgery (Audrey Flax first, at 13, removed a "permanent" scar from her father's forehead), Arica, and Actualism, in which he was so intrigued by the NSH treatment that he was willing to coax Don into listening to the intro ("You read my MIND") so they could BOTH get the session if they wanted. He talked of his 21-year liaison with a man he didn't much care for, and when Ernie got better in alcoholism HE got worse, and now he wants to work on his relationship with Don, wanting to be more entertaining in small talk among friends, wanting to have more "stimulus" to Don, who demands it, not saying that he could do it alone, not admitting that DON might be wrong to DEMAND such stimulus. He said he appreciated it, hugged and kissed quite virginally at the end, said he'd love to talk more, and then Monday noon said that he'd already phoned for information from Arica, est, and Actualization. I told Dennis he WAS somewhat solemn, as he said his medication made him (and he used to pop pills by the handful, washed down with quarts of scotch), and he seemed somehow touching in his desire to be everything Don wanted him to be.

DIARY 13350
8/31/78

TALK WITH DENNIS ABOUT HIS EMOTIONALITY

He does seem close to tears, and I say "You think you're doing everything wrong?" and he says it's more than everything's coming DOWN on him, and I say "It's only because people see that you CAN do great things," and he takes out his contacts and we sit on the sofa, and he makes the incredible statement "I seem to get emotionally PLUGGED IN to every situation," and I immediately think about the Generative Energy and how it was used in Atlantis to make people for processing, and now Dennis is doing MY processing! I tell him a bit about it, and he talks again about his job, describing all the things that have gone wrong, and I say that he should write a memo to Rodney about it. He even phoned Andrea last night to apologize to her, and he'd told her "What do you THINK it means?" when she questioned what "obscure but accomplished jazz performers" meant, but she supports him, says he's doing a good job, that the people at Time-Life are bloodless, and that she likes working with him. And he's only been writing for them since last August, starting "Chalkware" freelance while he was still working on the clippings, and being hired full time in MARCH, so I said that in LESS than half a year he's learned LOTS about business procedures, administrative difficulties, managerial incompetence, book publishing, public relations, scheduling, researching, writing, and lots of other things, and if the NEXT 6 months are productive, he might be in a completely DIFFERENT job there. He said he LIKES indexing, and I say he might try a 4-5 day Tree week with a 2-1 day indexing week to see how it works REAL time, not worrying about OTHER jobs and time pressures, and he's sure his current index could have been better had he not been so pressured. AND he's despairing that he's not using his ACTING talents, not thinking about a cabaret-type job for a place like The Bushes, sort of like Art Ostrin, since he likes people-contact, and he wants more tryouts and possible acting jobs, too, and I say it's a question of PRIORITIES (saying I know the place well, with writing and travel and indexing and Actualism and reading), and of saying NO to things, and he might have to say no to ME on indexing, to RODNEY on Tree, or to HIMSELF in acting. But he said "the end of the series is 2 years, and I'll be 34, and WHERE will I be?"

DIARY 13383
9/13/78

DENNIS DEBATES TAKING BASEMENT APARTMENT

He keeps looking at the amount of SPACE and I keep thinking that the $220/month rent is OVER 1/3 his $650/month take-home pay, and he phones me on Wednesday to talk about it, and I keep saying it has to be HIS decision, and he gets angry with me, so I phone him back and I tell him to make a list of things for and against EACH apartment, and we decide that, FOR THE OLD ONE, it has the good points of being an interesting space and having low rent, but the bad points seem to outweigh it: it has lack of space for a good big bed (and I'm sure the double bed ALREADY PRESENT in the basement apartment has a lot to do with his decision) and a big refrigerator-freezer, and it's accessible to robbery, though I keep telling him that a good alarm system would increase his rent less than a more expensive apartment, that $70 a month would buy a LOT of stuff. AS FOR THE NEW ONE, it has more space, but has a lack of light and high rent. But there are more questions than anything else: WHAT ABOUT the heat: is there ANY in living room, and how HOT will it get with pipes running through that can't be turned off (and that might be inaccessible since she's going to drop ceilings in BOTH the bedroom and bathroom, and maybe even the kitchen, but I guess not). What about a sink in the bathroom (when she says she's PUTTING in a new tub, I tell her about the possibility of a bathroom sink, and she looks at me in disgust for not having mentioned it before) and a cabinet, what about new linoleum, what about taking out the rug, what about the security of the windows THERE, where the air conditioner appears to be protected by cardboard. He keeps talking about the $1000 he's getting in checks over the next month in payment, at last, for his articles, and how THAT would help, and we talk about it lots on Wednesday (see DIARY 13371) and he phones me on Thursday (see DIARY 13376) to say that he's decided to take it, and then has to come over on Monday the 11th to pay $420 (he got the rent down $10 a month, which isn't bad) rent and security, starting October 1, and sign the lease, and Mrs. Johnson makes me laugh when she has to get his phone number 3 times, once after it "flew out the window," and they seem to like each other, and she says "Mrs. Robertson can just fire me, but I'm spending the money you give me on things for the apartment," and I hear construction this week loudly.

DIARY 13393
9/13/78
ROLF'S COMPUTER-PURCHASE IDEA

His interest in computers for stock options centers around graphical displays of their "life averages" (since most of them are issued for only 90 or 180 or 270 days) or real-time displays of CURRENT activity, hooked into the trading tapes. He felt he could get a good PAK or PDP used computer with 64K storage, the current general maximum, with contracts with the manufacturer to maintain (and possible friend who could get software when the salesmen might not want to get them for such a small operation), for $3000, and then a disk-pak for another $3000, and then rent a device for his display ideas, maybe for as little as $35/month, and he was looking into telephone charges for setting a terminal over telephone lines in my apartment so I wouldn't have to come to his place when I did an index, and by that time I'd have Dennis and maybe some others working on it, since the more that would amortize the cost of the initial programming, the more profit there would be. He said there were good 160-character/second dot-image printers available now for about $3000, which could turn out a 60-page index in half an hour in acceptable typography, but he cautioned me that I would probably have to be the one who programmed the indexing program in FORTRAN for the computer. I wasn't terribly happy with that, but would do it if no one else would and it needed to be done rather than not improving turnaround and business about 3-fold. He said that his prospective business was chancier: there were about 2000 options, each with lots of data, and he'd be looking into catalogs for timesharing capabilities so that his program could operate in the foreground and my program in the back during the day, say, and vice versa overnight to get me the stuff that I wanted. He said we could have a fairly complete system for about $10,000, and if it didn't work at all we cold re-sell it and only lose a couple thousand as our price for trying the minicomputer options and indexing market. I said that he should keep me informed about this, and he said I should keep HIM informed about Rodie's idea (see DIARY 13392), though he didn't seem to be too optimistic for it: if there was money there, probably someone else would have made it already---he thinks there IS a French COBOL.

DIARY 13429
9/25/78

HARDWARE TALK WITH ROLF ON INDEXING

First he gives me a spiel on what he wants to do with options: how there are 200 companies, each with about a dozen issues (put at 15 through Oct; call at 14 (or 16, whichever way it relates) through Feb; variations on the above, since issues last for only 9 or 12 months), and each issue requires a high-low-closed range and tick for the day on a running graph with a volume-traded bar at the bottom, but he says there are 200,000 trades of 100 shares each day, which puts 20,000,000 shares near an average day on the REGULAR stock market. These are impossible to predict, being heterogenic, or some term like that, so the trades depend only on intuition and current information, which he's convinced no one gives, and he visualizes one chart giving the history of a stock and another display giving the daily moving averages in real-time, getting data from a $30-$40/ month input tickertape line going through some wired interface to his computer, which he thinks will be a Digital Equipment Corporation (DEC) model which is excellently engineered and long lasting, or possibly a PDP machine, both of which have pages of listings in a second-hand catalog he has a couple versions of. He's looking at a video terminal for his displays with high resolution with 700 by 1024 points on its surface, giving maybe 38 lines of dot-letter type, which would run about $3,000 (most pieces being available under a lease-purchase plan where 3 years' rental would purchase it), OR a typewriter keyboard which goes essentially a line a second, taking only a half-hour for a typical 1800-line index, rather than investing in a more expensive standing printer with a 300 character/second speed which seem unnecessarily expensive, since that's about $3,000 and this is only about $1,500. Then the computer itself is about $3000, a floppy disk is about $1000, of which we might need two, and he talks of a $2-3/hour computer cost which would raise my 1/3-higher rate from $22 to $33, or $30/hour, which sounds good, and he says we now have to get together on the way that we'd process, and he phones on Saturday to talk about it and we get into LOTS of programming features which might even increase the effective rate to $44/hour---fabulous! (see DIARY 13436). He said he might get FINANCING from FRIENDS, and phone lines in HEIGHTS were cheap for terminal use.

DIARY 13436
9/25/78

SOFTWARE TALK WITH ROLF ON INDEXING

After our hardware talk Thursday (see DIARY 13429), he thought about it and called for maybe 2 hours while we talked about programming considerations, and he came up with the fact that the file is REACTIVE enough (and the code would have to be written RE-ENTRANT, so that more than one terminal could be used if we got lots of people into it: and so far it could be me, Dennis, John, maybe Cheryl Wexler, possibly Joan Ann De Mattia, and even THAT might be enough for two terminals) to display the 15 preceding lines and the 15 following lines of the FINAL index as the line was entered, and I said that would be good enough to possibly ELIMINATE the need for looking at the final editing, and then he started talking of the possibility of not even MARKING the book, only reading and typing DIRECTLY, and I said no because of page ranges, then said that if the 10-15 "range topics" could be kept on the board, it would only be necessary to TICK OFF which ones are good on "this page as well," and let the computer come up with its OWN set of ranges! When it began to look good for one-pass indexing, I came up with a "standard job" that we could use for talking: 600-page book taking 10 hours to read and mark (aiming for 2400-line index), 2000 cards taking 6 hours to type (eliminating 200 (10%) in editing for 1800 and adding 1/3 in turnovers and double-line cards for 2400 lines), 6 hours to edit, 6 hours to type, 2 hours to proofread, for a total of 30 hours, which might reduce to 20 with 10+6 as usual and maybe 4 for editing---but then to 15 hours if it were done WITHOUT marking the book, saving considerably, and he kept talking about powerful list-editing macros, $44/hour rates, more people, and maybe he would LOOK for a job with a small computer company so he could PROGRAM the two applications before getting a computer, so it could "go online" immediately with little "setup" overhead. Sounded better and better, with a stable of people working, excellent results, booming business, and impossible-to-beat deadline meetings. I said I wouldn't want to program, he said it would start simple and get complicated, had to look at timing anew, and we talked of two-section displays with BOTH "page-range" and "index-now" items. But I said I really couldn't estimate the "automaticity breakdown" if there were lots of codes to handle and lots of THOUGHT while doing this, rather than doing TWO steps semi-automatically, ONE step with THOUGHT might be much MORE difficult and nervous DOING.

DIARY 13444
9/26/78

PRESSURES ON THE INDEXING PROJECT

John buzzes at 10:45 on his way to the dentist and says "My allergies won't let me stay there any longer. I've given notice to my boss that I won't be working there after December 1." I phone Rolf at 11 and talk till 11:15, and he's interviewed the administration yesterday of a consulting firm that used Data General and DEC equipment, set himself the 14-hour task today to reading the DEC assembler and programming manuals in preparation for his interviews tomorrow with the technical people, and he says that working might give HIM some money to throw around on the project, and I said that if it cost $6,000, it would seem to be more COMMITTED if he and I and John and Joan Ann put up $2,000 apiece (things ALWAYS need more than planned). He agreed, but said that the company also RENTED time on the computers, and I naturally agreed that it would be IDEAL if he wrote the programs himself on free time on his job, then we rented time to TRY OUT the indexing system thus produced, and iron it out BEFORE even THINKING of what computers we would lease-purchase for the dedicated system. I was glad that I started coming up with specs on Sunday, will want to do more on it tomorrow, and he said he could accept the job starting in two weeks, during which time he could clear up his obligations AND we could get together to specify the computer specs. Then he mentioned a friend of his who owned Yordan, Ink, which did work for publishing firms in he-knows-not-what, though he was sure it was NOT indexing, gave lots of seminars in how to use computers, and his friend owned a PDP-11 that the company used for their online applications, which he might be able to use. I mentioned John's fear of the turgidity of computer terminals, and Rolf said that he may have used a teletype machine, which is very nonresponsive, or an older terminal that wasn't very good, but came up with the grand idea of using John as "terminal evaluator," which would please him no end, give him a sense of being part of the group, take a decision out of our hands, and make sure that our fastest typist had a terminal that he was content with. But Rolf still agreed that it sounds more reasonable to be operational a year from now than by December 1, but he closed by saying "It's amazing what you can do during two 90-hour work weeks," and I had the fantasy of his working AND finishing the programs by December 1!

DIARY 13457
10/1/78

WHAT I THOUGHT I'D LIKE TO SAY TO DENNIS

"It's not challenging having a relationship with someone who's not mature enough to be assertive. I like myself and like what I do and respect my own demands on myself, whether it be demands for work or entertainment. If you don't consider yourself highly enough to tell me the truth when you feel disturbed, fucked over, taken for granted, ignored, put into a lower place, you don't challenge me to put you into your proper priority. A doormat is made to be walked over: only if a doormat stands up for itself can it be put on a wall for display in its own right. YOU said there was something wrong only after I asked you if there was. WE only talk about these things when I say that I want to talk about them. This doesn't put us on an even basis: I know it and resent it, you know it and resent it, yet YOU seem to be willing to do nothing about it. I KNOW you have priorities for your apartment and your stereo and your own activities, just as I have them for mine. A relationship is to a certain extent (one that's supposed to be as INDEPENDENT as ours is, anyway---though it seems that YOU are the only one of us two who wants our ANGER with me to be independent of me, not wanting to talk about why you're angry with me) (HA: and he just PHONES, and says "Hi, how are you?" and I do a double-take and say "Where ARE you?" and he says "No one was more surprised than me: it turns out the phone here has been connected all along: Mrs. Johnson just called to say my paint was here, and she just called the number here"---so we arrange for hm to ring me once and I'll come down after he phones his parents) AN ESTABLISHMENT OF PRIORITIES between two people to find where the desires and interests of the other would SUPERCEDE the interests (and to a much lesser extent the desires) of the one. In OUR relationship, since YOU never assert yourself and I find it very easy to, YOU get a low priority---if you don't squeak, you don't get greased, baby! This does NOT mean that the relationship becomes a BATTLE for priority, merely two ADULT, ASSERTIVE people exercising their powers of communication to LET THE OTHER KNOW what's important to them, when, possibly (though not necessarily) why, and what the other can do to supply their part of that priority, without the OTHER suggesting it first!

DIARY 13473
10/3/78

MORE INDEXING-COMPUTER PLANS FROM ROLF

"You can get a computer free," he says, then proceeds to outline a scheme that I react to at about 5 places, which I'll number below as I get to them: His "elaborate computer" would cost about $25,000, which at 60% discount through a friend (risky?2) is $15,000 (what would lesser be?1). For 29% of that it's "ours" for tax purposes, so that's $4,500, of which we put up $1500 each in cash at the start (forget where the other $1500 was?3), bank loan? and "V" (I guessed Veneroso) puts up $10,000 as an investment for "18-20% interest"!?4. Through something I didn't follow, this results in a "carrying charge" of $350 per month, so he figures the computer would have to "make" $400/month to break even. Taxation on the computer would be by means of a depreciation over 3 years, sum of year's digits method meaning that the first year would depreciate HALF the cost, $7,500, of which 10% becomes a tax CREDIT, or $750. This was equaled by another $750 from something, something about the first year's payments on the "carrying charge," $4200, is also subject to some rebate. Don't remember as much of this as I'd like to. But I wondered how much WORSE it would be when the SECOND year's depreciation would only be 1/3 the price and the third year's depreciation would be 1/6?5 He talked of maintenance of $1000 thrown into the pot, too, which I didn't quite follow?6 He said that his latest job offer from Chase Manhattan was a project manager of a 32-terminal largest-DEC computer application for coupon-clipping which expanded from a 3-second to a 28-second lag-time when the 23rd terminal was added. This, he evaluated, would occupy him full time and give no room for programming, so he figured he'd wait for a THIRD job offer, though this would give him lots of experience in a little time, but since he'd had two offers in a week, why not 3? He hoped to work on the programs about halftime, so that when we got the machines it would only be about a month (though a hard one, he warned) before we'd be fully operational. He again said we'd have to choose the terminal carefully, since we'd be wedded to it for the duration of the project, and I repeated that John would be good at that. So he left, saying he'd have to get a job to prove the feasibility of the project ITSELF first, but said THIS terminal has 64 lines which could be put in various frames and a VERY good resolution for viewing. So it still depends on his getting the right job to permit him to program it.

DIARY 13531
10/18/78

ROLF ON COMPUTERIZED INDEXES AGAIN

He's been to the Typographic Convention at the Coliseum and looked at dozens of terminals, computers, and printers, and he's a bit overwhelmed with alternatives. He seems obsessed with reliability (though we won't be using it that heavily, though it WILL be a pain if we get a lemon, and he says lots of people get lemons), usability (though we have no idea how heavy the market might be, though we can certainly think the market will GET heavier, and he says it's many times like "planting a seed in Texas, just put it in the ground and step back" where a system catching on was obsolete in 6 months), and expandability (which is above). He said he's VERY reluctant to RENT time when we'll be buying in about 6 months, but he fears getting a system on which the quick accessing necessary won't work. He says he's ruled out floppy disks (about $4,000) in favor of hard disks ($10,000), and both are dual: a permanent lower disk and a replaceable top disk, which on the hard disk system costs $50 and has 5M bytes. I ask if it can't all be kept in core, but he says that 8K is $1500, 16K (which is 32 bytes) is $2700, and the largest is 64 bytes for $5400, which can be quadruplexed with an expensive gismo into 256K, which is the largest, so there goes in-core indexes! I mention Anne Patterson (301-942-3729) from Bethesda working on the NIH Epilepsia indexing system of J. Kiffin Penry, will call Sally Fields when she gets back from vacation on 10/30 to ask about Scientific American indexing problems, and got TechType Graphics, who tried before to do it and failed (609-234-7551) to Rolf to call, along with Dr. Robert Lindsay in the Department of Anatomy at UCLA School of Medicine with a DEC (213-825-7161). He's got job interviews coming up, doesn't think it'll work to WORK for a computerized typesetting company since they have very GENERALIZED programs and we want a very SPECIFIC one, and found that "paging" works without an extra disk-access, in the 10 millisecond (or whatever) "refreshing" time of the terminal-screen cycle. We talk from 11:55 to 1:45, thinking we may spend all our time handling administration if this really takes off, and so far there's me, John A., Dennis S., Jim C., Arthur E., Joan Ann de Mattia, Cheryl Wexler, Laura Kosden, and Rolf H. (9 people so far) being considered WORKERS.

DIARY 13556
10/24/78

ROLF ON FLORIDA VIA ITT LAND

When I tell him about the Florida via ITT land proposition (see DIARY 13554), he instantly comes up with a number of points against it: 1) It's an imperfect illiquid market, than which stocks are infinitely better. 2) This is the peak of the real estate cycle, particularly in Florida where they go crazy every 7 years, invest lots of money, then it goes bust and more people get hurt than benefit, but some few people benefit lots. He said the last bust was in 1975, which hardly fits into a seven-year cycle, but I didn't bother to inquire about the details, since he obviously knew more details about it than I did. 3) There's NO leverage in buying a house---no ability to borrow money on it, no tax reductions because of connected possibilities. 4) There's a need to shop for comparables, which makes sure that there are other properties that compare and trying to find out what the properties are actually SOLD at. I said I could get $400 off on a $7200 property, and he said it was likely that people could get $2,000 or $3,000 off a $7200 property at some Florida places. It's hard to do, he said, it's a tricky market because no one's obliged to tell ANYONE ANYTHING, except for the few blurbs each company has to add because the government's been trying to crack down on shysters like Ed Mascali who doesn't offer me the New York and Florida Property Report (which the contract says I have to have read) nor the Option to Cancel papers which also have to be obtained. By comparison, STOCK prices are publicly available. With housing, you can look at land-transfer books and tax stamps, but people know about that and ARTIFICIALLY buy and affix price-boosting tax stamps! 5) The amount of knowledge to be WISE in the real estate field is so COSTLY to obtain that it only makes sense to go into it in a BIG way---like several times yearly income, before it pays off. 6) There's EVERY BIT as much opportunity right in NYC for property, undeveloped or otherwise, with even more possibility of appreciation, closer to be able to keep checking up on it, and not subject to the up-and-down situation of Florida property. He flatly said that I could probably do much better if I put my money into the stock market or NYC property, but said that I could make life miserable for Ed by asking him 3 questions: What do you think about the current real estate cycle? Are you salaried or commissioned? Did you have to pass an exam to do this, and what did you do BEFORE you got into this?

DIARY 13563
10/25/78

DENNIS ENCOUNTERS (THOUGH HE DOESN'T LIKE IT) REALITY

He's ABOUT two feet down from the head of the bed, and I can FEEL the cool air drifting off the window, so I tell him later than he should move the bed: catastrophe: he's spent a week getting up the picture and the lamp, the bed and the chest will fit so EXACTLY against the same wall that there's no room to make the bed, the bed will block the door any other way, he wants to look out over the snow in winter and sun in summer, and anyway he can cover with blankets. Fine, I say, he'll see what it's like when it gets even colder. Then he makes soft-boiled eggs and I tell him "They're done" after 2.5 minutes. So he takes 5 second to stare at it, 10 seconds to pick up the pot holder, 15 seconds to get the cold water into it, and then about 30 seconds to bring the temperature of the shells down so they're no longer cooking the eggs inside. Result: gently soft hard-boiled eggs. Then the toaster doesn't work again, and I fuss with the plug until it does, and when he pours coffee, something happens and the toaster goes off again. After the third thing (I'd told him I would keep no more half-and-half, since I had to throw out the last two, sour, and he doesn't seem to be eating upstairs anymore, and he says OK), he's beginning to think there's something wrong with ME this morning, and I say "I'm not saying that you're not a good guy, or that you don't have good intentions, or that you don't TRY, but you don't really take account of REALITY (meaning ME, too, in part). He gets even angrier, saying he'll learn to LIVE with the cool temperature, but HIS temper's getting hot. I observe that the whole THING has been about temperature: the cool air flowing down over the bed off the window, the heat of the eggshells cooking while he gently handled the eggs, the toaster that would or wouldn't toast, and the heat of his cock this morning that made us both shoot. He grinned, seemed to feel better, and then I got after him some more and equalized the situation. "You have to deal with reality, whether I tell you about it or not: you're a nice guy, but you sometimes don't WANT to cope." "You sound like my mother when she spanked me, it felt bad NOW." I said "This'll sound great: what you are NOW is halfway between what you WERE and what you WILL BE, and since you WILL BE better, you're NOW better than you WERE." And he sort of smiles and almost gets it and then we kiss and I come upstairs at 9:20.

DIARY 13576
10/29/78

ROLF TALKS ABOUT GETTING ME INCORPORATED

Thursday evening (see DIARY 13572) he's insisting I get incorporated: Under a subtitle S corporation-law I only have to pay a maximum of 17% tax on income, and surely my rate this year will be higher, lots more expenses can be deducted, it makes the framework for buying a computer much easier, I can pay myself a salary, set up a pension plan and retirement plan, have all the medical-insurance payments deductible, be able to fire and hire people, which will make payments from various indexes easier, and he'd given me a letter with a plan that I should look at. I was so touched I kissed him and asked him over the next day. The NEXT day (see DIARY 13574) he's much more elusive: I'll have to worry about giving W-2 forms to employees, there's much more paperwork to be done than is easy, forming a corporation means that there's a NEW source of taxation for the government to hassle, and then I glance through the "How to form a corporation for under $50" and seem to see that there are ANNUAL costs that have to be paid, something like $100/YEAR if you're incorporated in New York State! Then he says that the FORM of the corporation would have to be determined by the METHOD of purchase of the computer and the setup of THAT business, so he implies that it would WAIT until we know what's happening with the computer. At the end I merely say that he'd gotten me interested in it and now he seemed to be saying that I shouldn't get into it, and he said that I should contact a lawyer, since his assistance will be needed, and contact an accountant, since my books may have to be audited, the mortgage payments on the computer would have to be handled in a special way, I'd have to keep much more detailed books than I do NOW, there's going to be problems in apportioning costs of utilities and such, and OTHER details that frustrated and annoyed me. He sort of implied that I should send off for the $17.95 package from the company HE got the mailing from, and he heard me giving Ed Mascati the first brush-off for the Florida property, and I got a bit of reflection from Arthur who said Rolf shrank from an inquisitive view with the shyness of a CON artist who didn't want to be found out, so I got conflicting feelings about ROLF from this unsatisfying incident of his wanting to incorporate me.

DIARY 13582
10/30/78

PAUL'S HOUSEWARMING

Enter at 8:40 to a crowded parlor floor, but I hardly know anyone except Paul. Say hello to red-headed Lee, who's talking with another cutie who turns out to live in the apartment downstairs, and think he might be gay, but there are LOTS of women, mother-types, couple-types, and I get wine from a surly Gretchen and gravitate to the food table, where I cut a stiff mold-covered patty that's certainly not Brie, rescue the last of broken Triscuits to mop up a geasy-tasting yellow substance that I'm surprised to find is humus, and keep spearing little squares of Swiss and American cheese to fill my empty-since-breakfast stomach. Look around apartment, then Paul leads a tour that introduces me to the fat carpenter, and we talk about Dennis's apartment, then I listen to a trio which is comprised mainly of a verbose and dictatorial bearded fellow in a tweed jacket who turns out to have designed the kitchen, and then I'm saved when a tall, blonde woman with straw in her hair brings out a bubble-blower, and I'm the first to use the wrist-flick that frees the 8-inch bubbles from the 1.5-ionch blower-surface to allow them to plash wetly against the floor. Others try blowing clusters of grapes and what they call "honeycombs," and some even manage huge ones with two or even three graduated-in-size bubbles depending from the bottom. Drinking wine constantly, there's more cheese, Paul opens his presents, then is cajoled into playing the organ, rather badly, and then Lee is influenced to play, and he'd played in church before, so he zips through them nicely and even segues into new songs which I turn out to be the selector for, until almost everyone leaves for more food. By this time it's 11:50 and it just doesn't look like it's going to turn into an orgy with Danny, Manny, Lee (I ask Paul if he's gay and he responds "Does it MATTER?" and I say I think he's attractive colorwise), Paul, and me, with the amyl that I brought and finally presented to him, and he said it's too late to ask for a pizza delivery in this neighborhood, and he can't understand why I think 13-year-old "Sophia Loren of her class" Gina might have some sort of disease: "Even I couldn't push pompoms and shuffle at the same time," he said wanly. We agree to try watching "Valentino" tomorrow night, and I leave for a VERY stoned-out fast-walk home through beautiful downtown Brooklyn (see DIARY 13584).

DIARY 13629
11/16/78

ROBIN M. AND I TALK ABOUT HIS PORNO DRAWINGS

I mention that they're good, but ask if he can take direction about changing things, and he rather curtly says that he and his roommate had worked together for 8 years, so it doesn't seem that he'll take suggestions from me. His bodies are fairly nice but there's a lack of tension, anger, suppressed sexuality: it's all rather SOFT and NORMAL and without the vibration of LUST. He finds quotes for photos of 6 for $5 and 12 for $10, but then sees some for 2 for $5 and 5 for $10, which I think is expensive, but he seems more eager (thanks to Avi's comments) to put in an ad for $40 and selling DIRECT rather than making up a sheet of 16 reductions in different styles, and sending out a mailing to the j/o mailing lists of 500 people for $75. I say it would be interesting to COMPARE the responses between the two methods, and we try to talk about money but don't get very far: I mention that it's $25/year for the box, $25 to get the name JOYI, $40 for the ad, and $75 or so for the postage, so that the 240 responses for $1 didn't make me that much profit. We discuss using the xeroxing services of the volunteer from Chicago, since I can't very well do these in a publisher's office, and in the end Robin says he has to think about it all. By coincidence, the next day I get in the mail a J/O brochure of Sean's drawings from COSCO, and the prices for 6 LITHOGRAPHS on art stock, signed and numbered, is $12.50 prepublication and $15 afterwards, so that's upping the price a bit. 10 pen-and-ink drawings reproduced on 82 by 11" white bond paper, which is what we'd be doing, "each set packaged in its own leather-grained folder" is $12, including postage, but then it states that California residents add 6% sales tax, which I wonder if I shouldn't have been adding all along! By Thursday Robin hadn't called back, Rolf said he knew nothing about the relative usefulness of putting in an ad for $1 (which he said is "like a dime") and sending out a brochure or putting in an ad for the whole thing, which Avi said "Is much cleaner and easier," but of course it won't hope to get the same level of response. Have to call him and talk about it more, including hoping to get together to investigate personal handling methods and ways of pepping up his drawings!

DIARY 13642
11/16/78

TALK WITH JACK SEELYE AND LLOYD MOORE

Only when I talk to Lloyd does it turn out that Maynard and Arthur have returned full cycle to Jack, but nothing else's the same. Jack, when asked what he's doing, confesses that he's been given a medical pension from IBM with nothing more definite than depression and confusion given as reasons, and I thumb through drunkenness, fatness, lunacy, absenteeism (since he said he thought they might fire him), for the past 22 years, which makes him feel guilty about the computer company they've organized called Home-Run computers (and he came up with Pan Am's hors d'oeuvre of NYC-LA as an "entrée" into the domestic carrier business), and has ANOTHER corporation set up for real estate business when Lloyd got jealous of Jack's not working. Lloyd tried to call me to get onto the Wednesday night telephone team, had been thrown by a "tiny wave" so that he broke his clavicle and five ribs, went through various braces and finally an operation with Callan, the bone doctor for the New York Yankees who put in a tube to draw off a cup of blood from his lung which made his blood pressure fluctuate. Also, Lloyd told me only that he'd met Noble Harper, Jr., a Black, 25, in LA and had plighted their troth on Saturday, and THEY WANTED TO HAVE CHILDREN, and he was the only person more affectionate than Lloyd, and when he discussed with Jack, he said he wanted to travel and thought maybe they should get a divorce, so they're both going their own way! Jack told me about Gio Wiederhold and Voie, his wife, with two children, second or third wife, who made an IBM model 50 conversational medical program for Stanford, was in his third year on the Computer Science faculty at Stanford, wrote PL/Acme, had a 2741 terminal in his home and a gadget that flashed red and white lights for availability, and he thought Voie did the index on that, and the terminal included a microprocessor in a chip so they could type in CA and it expanded into CALL, and he talked of him and Lloyd visiting Jamaica in 1967, Bermuda at 5 am on a 1961 morning coming back from Europe on a MATS flight, interested in my trips but didn't know what Angel Falls was, and Jack kept sounding like Orson Welles and Lloyd kept babbling about Werner Erhard and how his life was moving, and I don't talk to them very often, but when I do, SOMETHING'S happened for SURE! Lloyd finally said he had to get "on purpose" at the est office, we'd talk later, his new lover was coming to town December 1, maybe he'd be moving to California with him.

DIARY 13703
12/7/78

ROLF'S PERSONAL CONCERNS

He keeps saying that he fears the job exploding into something he can't handle, saying it's more than a little similar to the feelings he had in college that he couldn't finish any term paper he had to do, though I tried to say they were very different: term papers were inductive and constructive, while indexes were deductive and fragmentary, so it would be easier to do. Then when we'd estimated it would take him 40 hours to come up with 750 lines, we talked to Jenet MacIver and she decided that 1000-1200 lines would be a good number, and he suddenly went up to 60 hours, and talked about foregoing his coming two days in the Catskills with friends and not even going to the System 6 demonstration tomorrow. When he called at 10 pm tonight, he verified both those things, saying that he was planning to work for 6 hours per day for the next ten days and feared not getting done. I said that he should practice how it would be to do it WITHOUT all his ideas of impending catastrophe, but he said he was sure that the stock market was going through a once-in-a-lifetime procedural change in which it should be possible to make lots of money, and he begrudged all the time he had to spend away from figuring how to invest the various trust funds that he either suspected or feared or imagined he had under his own personal control. I sympathized with the situation, saying that I'd set up obviously false values of priorities because I wasn't doing any of the writing that I should be doing, and seeing lots of people and doing lots of entertainment, but nothing of a permanent basis as far as writing was concerned. And now I see the correction ribbon more or less running out, and maybe I should stop typing, and WHERE has the time in the day gone, and how can I ever get the NEXT index done, and at least I'm glad I didn't get caught in my blackmail of the situation: that if he didn't promise to at least try his best to finish it by next Monday, I would have to take it away from him and do it myself. But he didn't rise to that particular bait, for which I'm grateful, and now I have to go to another page and talk about my conversation today with POPE!

DIARY 13704
12/7/78

CONVERSATION WITH POPE

He tells me that he'd told me the story about the daughter, Margaret, of a close friend of his who died in September before the daughter was born in December, and he remembered a New Year's party where the 2-year-old came down the stairs and stared at a drunk Pope and said "How's it going, Poperino?" and Don, the dead husband, was the ONLY person who ever called Pope Poperino, and he got instantly sober and was sure he hadn't been hallucinating it. Then a few months later the wife called him to say that the daughter had been panicking her by calling her with the SAME endearing names that the husband used to call her. Not to mention her finding a short story in which the husband dies before the child is born and the child is named Margaret, though it's a name that both of them may have liked and told each other about their liking. Pope said that he'd heard of Rose Erickson, and maybe if I went to see her someday in the Ansonia he'd go along with me. Gave him a card of Amy's and he said that for only $25 he'd go see her, except that he didn't have $25 at the present time. Talked about how he'd advised Howard in a letter that he'd be having trouble with his house DESPITE the fact that he didn't believe in Astrology, and he'd called him the previous day to receiving the letter saying that he'd been burglarized, probably by a friend of the junkie who was living with him and who he was trying to get rid of, and then a few days later he was burglarized again, and from being a total nonbeliever he went to being a total believer. He asked me why I didn't believe in reincarnation, and I just said that I'd always try to think that the reasons for things lay elsewhere, and he himself said that a lot of it couldn't be distinguished from clairvoyance, because even the little girls in India could be describing something from a distant place by SEEING it, not by being born with someone inside who'd been living there before. But I felt strangely uncomfortable with the conversation, as if I might have to retract it soon, and I wanted very much for someone to tell me why I was suffering so much recently from various awful diseases directly connected with difficult times in Actualism.

DIARY 13727
12/24/78

TALK WITH POPE ABOUT ASTROLOGY BUSINESS

I just HAVE to laugh at him: BEFORE he was deluged with business, he constantly worried about security: where was the rent check coming from, how was he going to pay his bills, how would he live? Then he got business and transferred his concern to catching up: everything was the CONSTANT worry about catching up (and don't think I don't see the parallels to MY condition: saying I don't have enough time until I DO have enough time, and then I get sick or start wasting time and then have to scramble to get caught up; or I go into stamps or retyping or cataloging or listing, and then have to struggle to catch up with indexes---or produce projects like JOYI or teaching indexing). THEN he caught up and NOW he worries about where the money's coming from again! I point this out to him while half-drinking his LUSH French vanilla homemade ice cream with SINFULLY tasty-sugary sugar cookies, reveling in SUGAR, remarking that he's still smoking, and then he talks about his rich women who just LOVE talking with him and have even TOLD HIM: "I wish you were a THERAPIST so that I could just lay down on a sofa for an hour three times a week and just TALK to you and get your ADVICE." So I force him into saying that HE would like to study how it would be to look at a chart MONTHLY (he said that things tend to REPEAT, but sort of temporized by saying that he couldn't go into TOTAL detail for the year because it would take too LONG), and TRY it with his rich women for $100/month, or even more, and SEE if it works: he spends the time talking to them ANYWAY, so why doesn't he CHARGE them what they're perfectly willing to PAY? But he says he'll think about it, doesn't want to do it, doesn't want to appear to be overcharging them, YET worrying about money and saying how much THEY have: with their Mexican oil wells and chairmen of the board for husbands and ex-husbands paying rent on Olympic Towers apartments and lovers buying mink coats. And they LIKE him and he can TALK to them, so why NOT get more from them for what he's ALREADY giving them, and so he won't have to worry about "being put out of his apartment" by a landlord who accuses him always of complaining about rats and cold, ruining window sills with plants, and living in a too-cheap apartment that he could rent for twice the current rental.

DIARY 13743
12/25/78

TALK WITH ROLF ABOUT DECISION MAKING

He says he has to consider all the possibilities: said that in Yale he got so tied up writing papers that he had to be committed to Austin-Riggs for maybe three semesters, and then when he returned he could WRITE papers, but took such care that they got perfect scores and were probably the best papers ever turned in there, and it was only in his last year that he could permit himself the luxury of relaxing with them a little bit. But he uses the same techniques in considering ANYTHING (it seems to work in the stock market, but nowhere else), going through ALL the alternatives, and when I talked with him on Saturday I got SO annoyed with his thinking of the computerized indexing project as a "low profit Mom-and-Pop-store" type investment, I felt myself getting terse and sarcastic with him and finally convinced him that I thought it would make BIG profits. This seemed to keep him away from relationships, it occurred to me when I talked about it with someone else---Pope I guess, since he thought and considered and judged until almost anyone wasn't fit for his company---and I remarked about his abilities to keep up a sexual relationship only with Joe F. and Malcolm S., which Pope intuited when Malcolm called once when Rolf was there and they cooed back and forth on the phone. I said that he could continue doing it, but he'd be billing his time about $3/hour. Pope also mentioned that Rolf had told HIM (and not me) that his father (or someone) had given him ADDITIONAL money so that now he doesn't need to work AT ALL, and he apologized for telling me, and maybe I shouldn't know about it, because it might make me resent his over-analyticalness even MORE: what better does HE have to do with his time, but I have better to do with my time. He seems charming and friendly, but I don't see ANY of the hidden-lover that Amy made so appealing, and the few times I dizzily kissed him after long nights at work, his reactions weren't nearly as strong as that magic time before when he smiled and thanked me. But I praised his efforts on the index, saying he was doing better than many before him, and he seemed genuinely pleased with that, so maybe THAT'S the tack to follow with him.

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