Discover more from The Last Hundred Miles
April 6th, 1978
Allan and I are going through very similar periods in our lives right now. Both of us, after many years of trial and error, seem to be finding very stable, rewarding environments to be in. Both of us are extremely satisfied with our jobs. Both of us are moving in circles of carefully cultivated relationships. Both of us are having relationships with a lot of people who make us happy. Our lives aren’t as haphazard as both of them have been at times– occasionally at the same time. We are both trying to be happy. Almost desperately at times.
Slowly I make a comeback. A year of tragedy and turmoil provides the passage into adulthood for old Laredo.
I have developed a certain assurance now that I am going to be around for awhile. Having survived this past year, and now feeling so much anxiety and unhappiness recede, I feel very sure that I have passed some real test, and that now I am going to make it.
Jim G.’s father died yesterday. Jan called to tell me last night. I pace the floors and cry. It opens a can of worms for me. I realize that grieving is now mostly gone, but that I still have some feelings inside– sort of an internal hand-wringing over the frailty of human life and the suddenness of death. It makes life so very important. Each moment bears such awesome proportions when you realize how short life really is– and how apparently permanent death is. Everything is so very important.
All the unhappy, terrifying experience of this past year have become added, unnecessary baggage in my life. I believe they have made me stronger– and much more capable and much more unafraid. But I am tired of carrying them. Alright, already. All right. All ready. All write.
Tuesday night I met this guy named Bob– and it was such a pleasure to meet and be with him that I have been high for two days now. So honest and relaxed and enjoyable. Sex was good and he was warm and flattering and funny and made me feel very relaxed and comfortable.