February 5th, 1977
Morning in Philadelphia. A quiet, nearly low-key reunion with Gene. Fate has provided me with a fever blister on my lip– which makes the voracious kissing of our previous times together very difficult.
I am not smoking. And so, of course, I have that keen presence of needing constantly. It seems to me though that this would be an excellent opportunity to stop. Being away from my normal surroundings and habits for a long weekend. I genuinely want to stop. The admission that it is a physical addiction frightens me.
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Last night Gene drove me to South Philly for a cheesesteak. Narrow New Yorkish littered streets lined with the stalls and boxes of the Italian farmer’s market.
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There is a relaxed pleasure at being with Gene.
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The day begins and early and privately. Gene is at work by 7:00– I am left alone. I have not smoked since I got here. I rigorously plot a new life of being healthy and high. Go through a complete bathroom regimen of putting myself together. Fighting the urge for a cigarette I enthusiastically pursue the adventure of my weekend in Philadelphia. I plan to go to Chinatown and buy a wok and cook Chinese food at home for Gene tonight. I walk for a while. Excited to be in a strange city on a Saturday morning. Catch a cab to Chinatown I find the shops interesting, but soon I realize that making a Chinese dinner will not be the simple treat I thought it would be. Lack of nicotine is making me nervous and edgy. I have been trying not to think about my current financial crisis for days now. Suddenly I find myself walking around Chinatown nervous and depressed over the horrible state of affairs of my life. Everything fails me. I take a taxi back to Gene’s neighborhood. I am moody and sullen. Angry and myself for spending $7.00 on a taxi trip through Philadelphia for nothing. Now back at Gene’s I am on my third beer and my fifth cigarette and I feel better. Until the details of my current life crisis are resolved, my props seem to be a necessity.