1980 - July 1980
I look at the ugly scar on my wrist and wonder if I ever really wanted
to die ... wondering how I could have ever thought (he) was worth
giving up breathing and thinking and living for. Living is such a
Monday afternoon (feels like Sunday)
new journal. Hmmm ... this is a distinctly familiar
Today is Presidents
Day or something ... thus, a day off from work. What a day this has
been, too. Sitting in the "old" apartment, munching sour cream
chive potato chips, cautiously sipping a beer, waiting for my deep-dish
pizza to cook,
watching Woody Woodpecker cartoons on TV. I'm been up and doing things
all day long,
and I'm beginning to wind down now, in spite of the fact that there's
more to do
this evening. Hungover, primarily, but not unhappy. I'll write some
I've gotten some dinner into me.
Tuesday after work 5:30 p.m.
February 19, 1980
scribbling a few brief words before leaving for my appointment
at the mental health clinic.
Last Sunday I
packed up my kitty and all his gear and drove him down south to
Bobbi's house. She and the kids are going to keep him permanently. I
feel glad that
I've found him a good home, but geez
That same night I
met (my old boyfriend from high school/college) Scott S. for a few
drinks, and he ended up
spending the night with me here at the apartment. That's about all I'm
say about it. It was a dumb thing to do; he's reading more into it than
I wanted him
to. But in a perversely virtuous way I feel almost ... virtuous.
Both of the
men I've slept with since Scott left me -- Bruce
and Scott S. -- are former lovers. (Like
that makes it OK?) At the rate I'm going, it shouldn't be
long before I've
invited Steve and Clarence and all my other old flames back into my bed
I moved my old
bedroom furniture up here from Dad's yesterday; then I opened a new
checking account at Rainier Bank during lunch today. There are still
some other problems
requiring my immediate attention, though:
1. Finish moving
furniture to new apartment.
2. Give waterbed to Carl (my new roommate's boyfriend)
3. Boxes and misc.
stuff to new apartment
4. Move my desk
from Bobbi's to new apartment
February 23, 1980
today ... I'm sitting here on the sofa in the "old" apartment, sipping
a beer (yes, I know it's early) and watching an old Paul Newman/Joanne
Woodward movie. Not exactly happy, but then again neither am I sad ...
something in between, I guess. I spent my first night in the "new"
apartment last night -- in "my" new room. I have a
big queen-sized bed and all my furniture is set up.
After moving into the new apartment ...
Monday night 11 p.m.
Feb. 24, 1980
Just talked to a
friend on the phone ... ate a tuna fish sandwich ... took a shower.
Now I'm curled up on the sofa watching "Elvis" and waiting for my
Rachel to get home.
Saturday night 9 p.m.
March 1, 1980
comfortably happy. I met a new guy last night when Leslie and I went to
listen to (Leslie's boyfriend) Danny's band play
at a local club. His name is Holley, he's a 24 yr. old aspiring cop,
talked and danced until the bar closed, and then he
came home with me. (Ah! The life of the swinging bachelorette!) He
didn't leave until
3:00 this afternoon, and he just called to say he's on his way over
again tonight. No
big plans -- we'll probably just end up watching TV ... and whatever
March 2, 1980
Still fairly happy. Holley is asleep upstairs in my room; I couldn't sleep any
longer, so I came downstairs for a cup of tea and a "quick write." Rebecca is
home, too ... asleep in her room ... I wonder what her reaction will be
when she discovers Holley is here?
I honestly didn't
expect him to spend the night again, but I'm glad he did. He's a nice
man and I like him a lot. I'm not prepared or willing for any
heavyweight relationships, but it just feels good to genuinely LIKE
somebody. I was starting to fear that the whole world was made up of
assholes and idiots.
Today I owe Rebecca
my first months' rent. Guess that I've finally
watching TV. Rebecca is gone for the night again. Holley is working
feel flushed and grumpy ... the excitement of the past two days has
given way to CRASH
Warm, sleepy, freshly bathed. Sipping a beer, watching TV, thinking
about Holley, work,
money, my new bedroom, my new life, life in general. I am not unhappy.
I feel caught up in
the whole process of living, and it feels fine. I look at the ugly scar
on my wrist and
wonder if I ever really wanted to die ... wondering how I could have
ever thought Scott
was worth giving up breathing and thinking and living for. Living is
such a wonderful
Is he going to be someone important in my life? A friend? Something
more? Or just a brief happy "something" in my life, part of the general
healing process? (Half-stoned as I write this, by the way.) I
hardly know the man. I spent the whole weekend with him, and we were
about as intimate as two people can be, but that doesn't mean I know
him. For all I know
he could turn out to be another Bruce, juggling fifteen girlfriends at
I feel just like I
used to feel in high school, whenever I was thinking about a new
boyfriend ... half-insane with the romance of it ... worried,
constantly, that I'm about to fall on my face again ... curious about
the guy ... crazily preoccupied, unable to concentrate, hearing music
in my head. Yes, I like him a LOT, in spite of the fact that I hardly
know him. I don't see
anything wrong with that. I just need to be very, very
this time more than any other.
March 3, 1980
Wishing that Holley
Wednesday night 5:45
March 4, 1980
Sitting in my room,
waiting to begin the familiar routine of powdering, primping and
I'm meeting Holley
at Gatsby's at 7:30. Nervous. It felt like early
spring all day today, and as I was thinking about and anticipating
tonight's date, I
felt (again) like I used to in high school.
March 8, 1980
A few words on the
state of the life.
Rebecca and Carl
are downstairs, laying around and eating breakfast; I am sitting
upstairs in my room, which has fast become my favorite place in the
world. Funny how these things go around in circles. A couple of years
ago I was bemoaning the loss of my beloved little bedroom at Dad's
house ... living with Scott, I had no
small four walls to call "sanctuary," no place to sit and watch TV and
listen to records and type and read and be alone
... and now I do, again, and it's nice. I love
my new bedroom.
I've showered, set
my hair, made up my face. The afternoon stretches out before
me, promisingly. Where should I go? How should I use this day?
Tuesday late afternoon
March 11, 1980
Sitting on the
floor of my room, mentally gearing myself up for "shrink night"
... must leave for my weekly mental health
appointment in 15 minutes. Just
had two phone calls, one from my old pal Rhonda (newly settled into her
and one from my first true love, Clarence, who says he is in jail
wants me to come visit him (or save him, maybe).
Living in my normal
state of half-up, half-down.
another "lost" day and night. I think I'm drinking too much
again, and I've got to knock it off. I lose control and say things I
make promises I have no intention of keeping.
Sunday morning 10:40 a.m.
March 16, 1980
Freshly out of bed.
I'm supposed to be down at Mom's this afternoon to take my
little sister Deb out to
dinner & a movie. I feel bound by inertia, though ... this has
been such a lazy,
do-nothing weekend that it's difficult now, finding enough motivation
to get anything
Rebecca has been in
the hospital for about a week following some sort
of intestinal surgery. I didn't even find out about it until
thought she was just staying at her boyfriend's for longer
than usual. With her gone, I've
pretty much been left to my own devices, getting to know the apartment.
Tuesday night 8:10 p.m.
March 18, 1980
Just back from my
weekly mental health appointment. I didn't cry this week.
Nearly two months, and Terri is beginning to really & truly
So much going on in
my life ... my sketchy accounts lately probably make it seem like
nothing interesting has happened lately, when in fact NOTHING could be
further from the
March 22, 1980
Two months ago
March 23, 1980
and sitting in my room, listening to the stereo and preparing to get a
good, LONG night's sleep. I'm exhausted after a hectic weekend, and the
stretching before me promises to be equally busy. My life is starting
to heat up again.
Lots of things to do and people to be in contact with. Spring is here,
and with it a
feeling of being alive
-- of being young, intelligent, attractive, full of
possibilities -- and it's a good feeling. I'm
happy. There are problems, of
course -- there are always are. But there is
nothing insurmountable staring me in the eye;
there are an equal number of good things happening, too, and it creates
There is no mention of it in the journal, but it was right about this time that I had a
visit from my sixth-grade teacher Ralph Iverson and his family
(including his daughter Terri, who was named in *my* honor)
March 24, 1980
Spring day ... cool
and sunny. Just got my first whiff of 1980 new-mown grass. Good
mood. I look nice today, feel good after an eventful weekend. Hope that
I see Holley
tonight, but even if I don't, nothing could foil this pleasant mood.
Work today is slow,
for the first time in months. Last week I rolled up my sleeves and
took care of three months' worth of back-filing; consequently, I'm at
today. That's OK, though.
I can't believe
that two entire months have passed since The Crisis. It seems like
I've lived an entire lifetime between that day and this. So many things
in my life
have changed. I don't even feel like the same person I was when Scott
left me; I
suppose I'm not, really. I've done one hell of a lot of growing up in
months. For that reason alone, it's all been worth it. I see now that I
something to jolt me back into "the real world" ... I was becoming too
and lazy under Scott's protective wing. He was making all the decisions
all the shots, while I just sat back and nodded in agreement. Now, for
the absolute first
time in my life, no one but ME is calling the shots. It's an
exhilarating, brand new experience.
I think I've
reached the point where I can say, in all honesty, that I wouldn't go
back to that life. I will always cherish the memories of that golden
year spent living with Scott. If I had the chance, I might
consider going back and re-living some
of those happy times ... the trip to Maui, for
that weekend in Leavenworth. But I wouldn't want to start
living that same way again now.
When Scott called
me at work last week, by the way, he said "Get a lover in your
Imagine the audacity of the man.
March 31, 1980
Life marches on. I
spent considerable time this past weekend reading a pile of old
journals, and as usual when I start digging into my past via the
journals, I found myself yearning to become consistent about writing
again. There is SO MUCH HAPPENING RIGHT NOW. Good and
Friday afternoon I
came very close to having a
nervous breakdown. An angry bill collector (the bookkeeper at Nelson's
Union 76) called at 7 a.m.
and threatened to call the police if I don't make good my rubber check
$95 (for my replaced tire) within 24 hours. I called him a "belligerent
and hung up on him.
The night before
that, Rebecca, her boyfriend Carl and I had an ugly little scene;
they said I'm not pulling my weight around the apartment,
housework-wise. I was so mortified that I left the apartment and drove
to Angelo's by myself, where I sat alone drinking screwdrivers for a
couple of hours and trying to salvage my pride.
Then on Friday I
found out for sure that Scott isn't going to continue the lease on my
Chevette, and that unless I come up with the $4700+ bucks to buy the
car outright, I'm going to lose it. I just fell apart. I mean, I lost
sitting there at my desk with Patti and Pete standing right there
watching me. My first impulse was to call Gary at the mental health
clinic, but he wasn't in his office, so I talked to Donna Brown
She was worried about my emotional condition and urged me to check into
Overlake Hospital and spend the weekend there, undergoing a psychiatric
"evaluation." Part of me really wanted to go, but then when I got home
Holley called and invited himself over, and that was the end of the
hospital idea. Rebecca and Carl were out, so he and I sat on the sofa
watching "The Revenge of the Pink Panther," smoking a bud, doing a
couple of toots -- a NICE surprise! --
and eventually going upstairs to my room, where we had
excellent sex and fell asleep together. In the morning I made him
coffee and we watched cartoons together before he left to play
racquetball. I didn't hear from him for the rest of the weekend. He
said, as he always does when he's leaving, "We'll call you." But "they"
Saturday night was
just awful. I ended up going to Gatsby's, alone and already
half-smashed before I even got there, and I brought some
nice-looking but totally creepy guy
named Gary home. When I wouldn't sleep with him, he left in a huff. I
can call me if you like," and he said "I don't think so." I promptly
showed him the door.
are beginning to slide out of control.
April 2, 1980
I just woke up and
looked at the alarm clock ... it's
9:30!!!!!!! Oh my God!!!!! Howard is never going to
believe this, not for a minute. I've never overslept for work in my life
, and now I'm
sitting here, hungover, scared and exhausted, wondering what the fuck
I'm going to
say when I call in.
Well ... so much
for Ridgway Packaging. Howard fired me. Everything is
disgustingly fucked up, and there's
no end in sight.
In the last two
months I've managed to lose:
2. My apartment
3. My car
4. My job
5. My cat
April 5, 1980
Sitting at the
kitchen table in sunshine, sipping a beer, waiting for Dad to return my
phone call, thinking ... about everything,
especially my job. I loved my job at Ridgway
Packaging. Being fired was such a cruel, unexpected, unfair
blow. How I'll miss all my
April 6, 1980
Easter Sunday ...
and here sits Terri V., dressed in fraying jeans, a college T-shirt and
bare feet -- her "Easter finery" --
drinking her second beer of the morning. Killing
time. Today I'm supposed to drive down to Grandma &
Grandpa's and ask to borrow $2500 to buy a car with, and I'm
procrastinating something fierce. I'm scared to death
-- I remember when asking to borrow $10 from them was a big
deal!! -- so I'm swallowing lots of beer, very
fast, in an effort to loosen up the control center of
April 8, 1980
completely, absolutely lazy. I haven't a single penny to my name, and I
know that I should be out looking for a job, but instead I'm sitting
tea, smoking cigarettes, doing laundry and watching dumb soap operas on
TV. The world has
forgotten that I exist. Or have I forgotten about the world? I'm not
which. No phone calls ... no mail ... Rebecca hasn't been home since
Saturday night. I
look hideous and feel the same.
1. Find a
good-paying, comfortable job in this general area.
2. Cut off all ties
3. Find a new local
church and young adult group to become involved with.
4. Buy a
April 10, 1980
BURNED OUT. I go
out and get crazy in bars just about every night these days, and my
poor old "bod" is suffering. I'll be leaving again as soon as my
cool and I finish my "hair of the dog" beer. I'm not thrilled about the
person I seem to be changing into. I'm drinking too much, fucking up a
important relationships, missing appointments, putting things off ...
it's not good.
Saturday night/Sunday morning 2:15 a.m.
April 19/20, 1980
(too loud for the nay-bors)
My first good toot
in months, and I automatically reach for my journal, right? God knows I
can't afford the stuff, but I bought three-quarters of a gram from
Kenny, the drummer for a band I've made friends with at the Saratoga
Trunk, while they've been playing there the last three weeks. I expect
the guilt to set in when I get up in the morning. I'm supposed to go to
a Sonics game with Dan, and last night he said that he'll help me out
with money ... the fool.
Rebecca, $42.75 for
Kenny, $78.00 for
coke & T-shirt
The question is,
will Dan loan me $120 to cover the checks I've written today??
that I come back to the Trunk at 3:30 (it's 3:03 a.m. now) and meet
him after they've finished loading up. He's very happily married, but
I'm not looking for any of "that" anyway. Just some company, for a
while anyway. Somebody to get high with. It's late and I'm coked up. I
Randy was here.
I think I'll go to
the Trunk now.
Home. It's getting
light outside already, and I'm still sitting here tooting
my fucking brains out.
1. What the fuck am
I doing, sitting here in my bedroom at 5:00 in the morning, buzzed out
of my already
2. Why the fuck did
I buy $75 worth of cocaine tonight when I don't have a penny
to my name?
3. Am I going to
make it to the Sonics game today?
4. Is Leslie still
mad at me? (She was on Friday night, when she & Danny dropped
5. Am I going to
have any cola left when I wake up? (Not at the rate I'm going.)
6. What the hell
happened to my last journal? I can't find it ANYWHERE.
7. When will I lose
the Chevette? And how am I going to replace it?
8. Am I eligible
9. Does Randy W
really love me? Do I really love him? Are we just pen pals? Are we
going to be together when he gets out of
10. Am I going to
find a new job? When? Where? What? What kind of salary?
11. When am I going
to be truly loved again? Or truly love? Or both?
It's light outside
already ... birds are chirping. I am completely buzzed, and so damned
sad. Fat lot of good drugs do you when you already feel small and empty
and sad. I am thoroughly and completely disgusted with the person Terri
is today. Sure, I'm all fucked-up moneywise, but the things that got me
this way are my own failings: drinking too much, lying,
procrastinating, looking for escape in all the wrong places. I don't
want to die, Journal, but I am so tired of living. Life offers nothing
but my own failings ... and there are so many
Am I ever going to
be back on my feet again? Am I going to read this journal someday
and smile, because I know everything turns out OK in the end?
April 21, 1980
Quiet evening in a
clean and orderly bedroom ... window cracked open, stereo playing
quietly. Rebecca is at her aunt's for an hour; Carl is downstairs watching TV.
not hiding from them, exactly: I just feel like being alone. Hungry,
but there's no
food in my section of the cupboard ... besides, I'm cutting two wisdom
teeth on the
left side of my mouth and it is excruciatingly painful ...
I have a 9:30 a.m.
appointment tomorrow at Business Careers in Bellevue. (They're
the employment agency people who got me my job at
Ridgway.) I am bound and determined to be employed again
before this month is over. I don't care if I'm slinging hamburgers at
April 24, 1980
Well, life is
shaping up a little. Tomorrow I start my new job, which I got
yesterday -- I'm going to be the receptionist for a
finance company called Travelers Acceptance Corporation, in Bellevue.
I'm starting at $700 a month. And today I bought a car --
actually, Grandma & Grandpa bought it for me, for
$1,928, which I have to pay back in monthly installments. It's a 1972
Dodge Dart Swinger, fire engine red with black vinyl top. It's kinda
strange driving it because it has power steering, and it's much bigger
than either the Chevette or my old Dodge Colt. But it's MINE.
Scott can just fuck himself ... I am completely free of him at last.
I don't need him OR his car. Who needs a goddamn balding aluminum
May 4, 1980
About a week and a
half later ... HOT, sunny day. All the world is out in the sun
getting tanned, but the heat just makes me feel sweaty and grouchy. Rebecca and Carl are
on a picnic; I'm sitting in the cool dark comfort of the apartment with
a cold beer
CHANGES. Lots of
them since I wrote last week. My date with Holley was a lot of fun, but
it turns out it was our last. The next day on the cruise, Dan (his
roommate) found out that I'd
been out with Holley the night before, and all hell broke loose. It was
a very ugly
situation, and the upshot is this: Dan kicked Holley out of their
house, and neither one of
them wants to have anything to do with me, ever again. Leslie and I
parted as well ... we haven't talked to each other in a week, because
angry with me for "hurting Dan." We hurled some pretty nasty words at
-- words that can't be retrieved. I hurt about Leslie, most
of all. She was the first
close girlfriend I've had in ages, and I miss the companionship.
The biggest change,
however, is that I'm moving again ... most likely by the end of
this month. Rebecca's sister Madeline needs a place to live, and that
out. Dammit. Rebecca is just as upset about it as I am. (Actually,
she manufactured the whole "Madeline moving
in" story just to get me the hell out of her apartment. I
was a HORRIBLE roommate. Rebecca, if you ever read this: I'm
sorry for everything.) But
geez ... every time I begin to
feel settled somewhere, something happens to make me feel rootless all
The new job is
going really well. The first couple of days were awful, because part of
my job is giving credit ratings and payoff amounts over the phone, and
since I know absolutely NOTHING about that kind of stuff, it
was a real trial for me. Now I'm beginning, slowly but surely, to get
the hang of it. No I wasn't. I
started making up numbers and giving out random information
over the phone. God knows how many peoples' credit ratings
were permanently screwed up because of me.
May 16, 1980
Kinda depressed ...
maybe that's why I'm having a screwdriver with lunch. Worried about
money, and about moving ... lonely for Randy Wolf, who I seem to miss
with each day that passes ... bored (already) with my new job.
Rebecca is house-sitting for her aunt all weekend, so I'll be home
... maybe it will give me a chance to "think." I have no plans of all;
in fact, my social life is at a standstill at the moment.
I ran an ad in The
Seattle Times (again!) looking for a place to live, and I've
narrowed it down to two choices: Lee Steele or Leslie Swanberg. Both are
women in their late 20's. Lee has picked out a new apartment
in Bellevue that she wants the two of us to move into, The Village East
Apartments, while Leslie already has a place in the Renton Highlands.
I've met them both and they're pleasant, mature and level-headed. I
just don't know which one I should move in with.
In the meantime, I
am once again up to my ears in debt. I'm not completely broke,
and I'm not starving, but my bills are mounting and there isn't enough
pay them all. Oh Randy ... would you please hurry up and get out of
prison so you can help
me deal with this???
younger brother Randy was still in prison in Reno, all this while.
After Scott and I broke up, Randy and I began a flirty 'pen pal'
relationship that gradually turned less flirty and more
intense for awhile.
Tuesday at work
May 20, 1980
hungover, and hating myself for it ... went to The Mustard Seed Two
last night and got ridiculously drunk for a Monday night. Now I'm
paying for it with a colossal headache and an aching stomach. God, I
feel lousy ... but ... I'M GOING TO GO SEE RANDY!!
Depart from Seattle
on United Flight #641 Friday, June 20 @ 4 p.m.
Arrive in Reno @
Depart from Reno
Sunday, June 22nd United Flight #312 @ 11:05 a.m.
Obviously I can't
really afford this, but somehow I'm going to find the money and go.
to see him.
I'm going to go
look at the new apartment
after work, before Lee moves her furniture in.
What did I think of
than I expected -
new smell made me a little depressed because it reminded me of
house-hunting with Scott, a hundred years ago
Wednesday at work
May 21, 1980
Depressed ... tired ... overwhelmed by a fresh new set of problems, a
whole new batch of
phone calls to avoid (Business Careers and Leslie Swanberg, primarily). I
can feel a
headache beginning. Coffee. BBQ potato chip taste in my mouth. Tonight
I oughta clean up
my room and run a few loads of laundry, but I doubt that I will.
1. Move into the
new apartment before June 1
2. Decide whether
or not to visit Randy in prison on June 20 (can I afford it?)
3. STRAIGHTEN OUT
MY FINANCES (budget, savings acct., pay off debts)
Friday after work
May 23, 1980
Home from work
... feeling at loose ends. Rebecca and Carl will be gone
Tuesday, I have no plans for this Memorial Day weekend, and there's no
one I feel
like seeing tonight.
up going to The Somewhere Else Tavern with new friend from work, Terri
Sunday 4:30 p.m.
June 1, 1980
Sitting in my new
apartment for the first time. Again. I should point out that since
this journal began almost four months ago, four major areas of my life
have changed: 1.)
My place of residence 2.) My job 3.) My car 4.) My love life.
I spent my first
night here last night, and most of this day has been spent
assimilating my stuff into the apartment.
Randy calling me at Rebecca's this morning at 7 a.m., looking for me ...
somehow I need to pay Lee $300 in the next
two days ... "Incense & Peppermints" on the
stereo, pouring rain on the window ... Lee
and her friend Ron are out having tacos for dinner, and I'm
sitting here drinking beer and
listening to KZOK's Oldies Night on a LOUD stereo ... wearing Scott's
green sweatshirt, Rebecca's black and white T-shirt, my jeans, and wet bare feet ...
wrong with the needle on the stereo? ... that cute guy at work, Richard
June 4, 1980
8:30 p.m. ...
still light outside, at the close of another gray, nondescript day.
For that matter, my mood is gray and nondescript. I am piteously fucked
for money. I
had to write Lee a check for $300 and I know it's made of solid
it bounces, she is going to SHIT BRICKS. We're not getting along so hot
to begin with. All I'll say about her is that she's finicky,
overbearing, controlling as hell, and wayyyy too intense
for someone as lazy and sloppy as I am.
I'm also late with
my $160 car payment to Grandma and Grandpa, which I feel just sick
about, and with my $90 payment to Business Careers. I don't have a
penny in the bank; I checked today. I owe Rebecca money, too ... also
the Seattle Times, the police department (for a speeding ticket), Puget
Power, Overlake Hospital (for the night they stitched up my wrist). I
have four dollars in my purse and an eighth of a tank of gas in my car.
Things are so thoroughly screwed that I've been thinking suicide again
... holy shit. I have no idea what to do about ANY of this.
I am absolutely,
The damned phone is
ringing off the hook, and I'm scared to death to answer it because it
will be someone who's pissed at me about something. There's nowhere to
turn. What can I do?? Go deeper into debt and try to find someone who
will loan me a few hundred dollars? Run away and hide? Drink myself
into a stupor?
is enough. This has been the worst year of my life ... ever since that
afternoon in January, when I answered the phone and heard Scott telling
me he was leaving. I remember I dropped the phone and slid to the
kitchen floor in shock, and from that moment on there has been no
cessation of the pain and struggle. I am simply not capable of taking
care of myself in this stupid world -- financially,
emotionally, mentally or any other way. I can't handle money, I can't
pay my bills, I can't act responsibly, I can't stop drinking. I can't
stand being alone, but I can't stand the people in my life right now. I
can't stand being unloved, but I can't bring myself to look for love. I
don't know what I want.
I've got to take a
second job, I guess. Get my outstanding debts paid off. Come to
an understanding with Lee. Come to an understanding with MYSELF. Stop
drinking so much.
June 7, 1980
Doesn't feel at
all like June ... cloudy and overcast. Not a
lot has changed. Saturday afternoon now. Listening to some of Lee's
a beer ... my third in the two hours I've been out of bed. Lee is out
I assume with her date from last night. They came crashing
into the apartment at
2:30 a.m. and sat drinking champagne, playing The Beach Boys on the
stereo and shouting until
about 9 a.m. I joined them once, briefly, at 4 a.m. or so --
long enough to smoke a
cigarette and offer up a mild but ineffectual protest about the noise.
My social life is
temporarily out of order. I'm supposed to go out to dinner with Curt
tonight, but he
doesn't have my new number so I don't know how to get in touch with
him. I guess
that I don't actually care, one way or the other.
I am in limbo. I
don't know what I care about. I've been thinking about Scott a lot this
past week. His picture is hanging in the dining room --
the old-fashioned one we had taken in Leavenworth last year (a hundred
He looks smug and self-satisfied ... I look
wide-eyed and perched between some
precarious balance of certainty and uncertainty. The picture bothers me
sometimes, but I
insisted on hanging it prominently in Rebecca's apartment, and now in
this apartment too.
I have a new
part-time job, beginning on Monday, at TACO TIME of all places. Five
nights a week, 6-9 p.m., for $3.10 an hour (min. wage). Jesus. That
will be my spending
money and not much more, but at least it's something. I just walked
into the place on
Thursday night and got the job, just like that. Whooppee.
It's 4:00 in the
afternoon now, and my day is only beginning. I'm feeling
smooth as silk from the beer, but there's no escaping the fact that I'm
hiding from my problems. Loneliness. Money. Budding alcoholism.
Inability to discipline
Well, it looks as
though Lee and I aren't going to be able to .............
June 17, 1980
Ten days later?
1. Terri Hunt and I
have rented an apartment together ... only Lee doesn't know about it yet.
Richard What's-His-Name not only knows I'm alive, he wants to
take me out.
3. I'll see Randy
in a couple of days when I fly to Reno to visit him in prison.
June 21, 1980
1. I didn't go to
see Randy this weekend.
2. I'm moving into
my latest apartment today.
3. I am
passionately in lust with my boss at TAC, Mike Jason. I spent the night
with him on Thursday night.
FLASH. Mike and I
are going out tonight.
June 22, 1980
Just got home ... I
am freshly showered and shampooed, sitting at the kitchen table (it
smells like stroganoff in here!), with a bottle of 7-Up and a final
cigarette. Full of
thoughts about my boss and the 24 hours we just spent together. Dinner
last night at The
13 Coins in Seattle, several drinks, a couple of good joints. Back to
his place to watch
Saturday Night Live. Slept in this morning until 10:00, then took a
cooler of beer and
went for a long drive in his Corvette. Then back to his place to nap
for a couple of
hours, followed by a dinner of grilled steaks and a TV movie.
Monday 5:30 p.m.
June 23, 1980
happy. Sitting here in the kitchen with a beer, wondering if I'm
supposed to go back to TAC and work tonight. It's kinda strange sitting
at my desk during the day now, watching Mike. A week ago he
was just the boss, and I was more than a little intimidated by him. Now
he is still the boss, but he's also something more ...
. A friend, I guess. He's twice divorced and a lot older than me, and I
realize that nothing can really come of this, but geez ... it feels
nice to CARE about
Other bits and
pieces: ... Lee called me at work this morning and "informed" me that
I have until the end of the month to move out (HA! HA! I ALREADY HAVE
MOVED OUT, YOU
DUMB CONTROLLING BITCH!!) ... feeling horribly guilty about Randy, and
wondering what plausible excuse I can give him for not showing up at
the prison last weekend. ("Uh,
gee Randy, I was too busy having hot inappropriate sex with my boss!?")
Before returning for the night shift at TAC
Raining / Hungover
June 24, 1980
Terri and I went out drinking with Richard and Linda from the office
after work last
night, and I got thoroughly smashed ... and somehow during the course
of the evening I let
it slip that Mark and I were dating. Linda, who has also been going out
with him -
apparently much longer and more seriously than me -
(entry ends abruptly)
THE NEXT NIGHT
Same rain/Same hangover
-- absolutely blew
her TOP when she heard. She stalked out of the tavern and went like a
steamroller over to Mike's apartment to hurl ugly words at him. I don't
know what exactly was said, but the upshot is that Linda quit her job
in anger, and Mike called me into his office this morning to
tell me we have to "put a halt" to our personal relationship. Damn. Me
and my big stupid mouth. I walked around in a total funk all day
yesterday, although today I seem to be getting over it. I really do
care about Mike, and I'm feeling bad that we had to end things so
early. But it could be worse, I know -- I could
have lost my job for opening my big mouth to Linda --
so I came out relatively unscathed. Live and learn, I guess.
(Added to my list of Personal Commandments: "Thou
shalt not fuck thy boss, even if he DOES drive a really hot car.")
June 28, 1980
than 80 cents to my name ... being pursued by eleven different
creditors, half of them threatening legal ... no gas in the Dart ...
Terri isn't home
... no plans for tonight. Dirty hair, clean apartment (thanks to me),
loud stereo, cold,
tired. Smoked some of Terri's pot for wont of anything better to do.
sitting here examining my fingertips and talking to the spider on the
Terri and I threw the best after-hours parties on the Eastside that summer.
July 12, 1980
picking up the remnants of last night's party ... beer bottles and
ashtrays filled to overflowing everywhere. Terri and Tim are still in
bed, but I
woke up a couple of hours ago, turned around in my bed and looked into
the face of a man I
didn't even KNOW, and literally jumped out of bed. As it turns out, the
was utterly chaste. He fell asleep on my bed with all his clothes on
around 6 a.m., when
the party finally died, and long after I'd already passed into blissful
Questions of the
1. When did John
leave? (John Ragin, a new flame ... among others.) And why?
2. Why was I such
an inconsiderate boob around Bill G.? He's a new friend of
Terri's and mine, and technically he was my "date" last night, but the
minute John walked through the door I discarded Bill like an empty pack
of cigarettes. He
was obviously hurt, but I was drunk and unconcerned and I don't even
3. Holley has
popped back into my life again unexpectedly, and I have a tentative
with him tonight ... is that gonna happen again?
We must have had
forty people in this apartment last night, and I only knew maybe
a quarter of
them. Lately life has been one continuous round of drinking &
partying, and I'm not
sure if I'm pleased or concerned about it. Terri, Bill, Mark and I
at Gatsby's last night, drinking doubles, and the next thing I knew we
the bar over here for an impromptu after-hours party. Then
John walked through the door, and I just lost
control. I don't even remember going to bed, although I must assume I
went with John
.. shit. I don't know. I drink too fucking much and then I can never
anything the next morning.
July 17, 1980
Sitting at the
kitchen table, feeling kinda middle of the road ... life is settling
down again, into something of a routine. Work is become a little too
routine, as is my love life. Holley and I didn't go out last
weekend -- that ass didn't even call,
July 24, 1980
Exactly a week
later and full of things to write about. Wondering if I have the energy
to write about it all. I am seriously considering staying home tonight
... not going back to work & not going out anywhere. I've been
out every single night and I'm bordering on exhaustion. George said he
might come over tonight; I hope that he does. More about George in a
I will quickly
talk about what has happened this past week, without going into too
Terri was fired
from her job at TAC on Monday, and yesterday she took off with
a van full of guys from Tennessee, whom she'd just met, for a basic
Fear & Loathing run to parts unknown. I don't expect to see her
for at least a week. In the meantime, I've got the apartment to myself
and I've already managed to turn it into a total shambles. Fun.
Before she left
town, Terri went to court yesterday and was awarded custody of her
daughter L., commencing in two weeks. I am torn.
Part of me is happy for Ter, because it obviously means the world to
her to have her daughter
with her again, but on the other hand I'm not thrilled at the prospect
my apartment with an 18 month old. I don't know what I'm going to do
it yet ... must think.
Last weekend was,
without question, one of the finest
weekends of my life. I've fallen head over heels in LIKE
with two terrific guys, and I partied outrageously the whole weekend.
On Friday night
Terri and I drove all the way down to Tacoma, to The Back Forty Tavern,
meet one of the guys from the Federal Way branch of TAC. We talk to him
phone all the time, and we were curious to meet him. He turned out to
be gorgeous but conceited: he
wouldn't even sit at the same table with us. Ter and I began to feel
that strange tavern, so far away from home --
we began to miss our beloved Somewhere Else
-- and so we decided to drive back to Bellevue. Before we
left Tacoma, though, we took a
couple hits of blotter acid that we bought from a friend of Brad's, and
by the time
we got back to the Tav we were starting to get off. George was there,
and for some reason
I ended up with him for the rest of the evening ... which was precisely
what I wanted. I
met George a couple weeks ago at Gatsby's, and he's been over to our
few times, and he struck me as being the kind of man I could really be
interested in. More
about that later. Anyway, that night we went to an after-hours party,
and then he came
home with me and stayed the night. We were in bed until 4:00 Saturday
After George left
on Saturday afternoon, John
popped in unexpectedly and asked if I wanted
to eat some acid with him! Can you believe that?? (NEWS FLASH: George
just called from
the tav. He'll be here in half an hour.) ANYWAY. That night John, Terri
and I ended
up going to a great party in West Seattle. I ate some liquid acid on a
cookie but I never
really got off, probably because I'd had acid the night before, but
John got verrrry
high. He spent the evening playing the piano, drinking beer and dancing
by himself on the
front lawn. John spent the night and then we spent most of Sunday
Saturday 2 p.m.
July 26, 1980
Groggy from too
much sleep ... George came by last night at midnight and spent the
night. He left this morning at 10:30 for work, while I ignored the
phone and slept a few
more hours. (JOHN stopped by last night, while George and I were in
bed! I didn't let
him in -- I told him I was "sick." I think he and I
may be going out tonight, but
he's so utterly unpredictable that there's no telling whether he'll
This journal has
taken me through five months of nearly constant changes. Now it's
time to move on to the next one and see what else will change in this
crazy life of mine.
SONGS DURING THIS JOURNAL:
In The Sand" - Aerosmith
- "If You Think You Know How To Love Me" - Pat Benatar
- "Back On My Feet Again" - The Babys
- "Where Does The Loving Go?" - David Gates
- "Clean Clean" - The Buggles
- "Betty Lou's Getting Out Tonight" - Bob Seger
- "Century City" - Tom Petty
- "Watch Her Strut" - Bob Seger
- "You May Be Right" - Billy Joel
- "I Don't Like Your Face" - The Heats
- "Lost In Love" - Air Supply
- "The Rose" - Bette Midler
- "Roadrunner" - Greg Kihn
to throw a rock?