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February 9th, 1972
Big 9 on my calendar on my paste-up table and work all day today.
Big bad nine.
Heavy changes coming down. Gayle and I talked and agreed on it today. She’s going to approach her mother tonight. I’m anxious now. What a difference it will be. I expect it to be a total head trip. It’s something that it’s time for me to do.
Called Mom tonight. Speeding my tits off– all day to. I still am. I tried to smoke myself down (what a trooper!) but I’m still wirey.
Sort of even-keeled, normal little rap with mom about her poor little dad and his disintegrated lungs. Death is becoming a reality for her. God, what a trip. Margie’s going home with me for the weekend before my birthday– then she’s coming back to D.C. and I’ll stay on for another week. Gotta’ rest up.
Been living on a rather intense level lately. Everything very intense. It dawned on me the other day that we’re only about 5 or 6 weeks into the new Year. What a lot of living I’ve done. Cheeriest. Let’s see, New Year’s Eve– tripping on mescaline, Time Square, Gayle, Hotel Taft– back in D.C.– Washington Theatre Club, Kennedy Center, huff, puff, huff, puff– screeeeeeeech!
Tripping, tripping, tripping
Tripping in my apartment. Tripping at Margie’s. Tripping at Peggy and Ed’s. Tripping at Jim’s. Tripping in the motel cottage in Luray. Shenandoah River. Jim– wild sex for hours. Plans for summer stock. Plans for New York. Plans for Nova Scotia. Plans for London. Plans for staying in Washington. High High High levels.
Life is to be lived, Buddy.
Live all your days as brightly and as entirely as possible and explore your mind as thoroughly and as gently as possible. Become the spark of life and go on and on and on.