July 29th, 1982

David said in therapy today that the way I am dealing with Joe is a perfect example of a healthy unblocked personality. My methods are exact aims of therapy. He said it proudly— and it felt like a pat on the head.

I have hidden no feelings. I have owned all my voices in dealing with Joe. I’ve allowed all my varied and contradictory feelings to be valid.

Joe is a good man. He is a gift, a blessing.

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Major changes have been going on full blast at work. We’ve moved the production department to the 4th floor all under my direction and supervision. I have a grand new office— a huge office with a view of 7th Avenue, carpeting and a sofa. This is all a big change— from cute lovable Larry who manipulates all the people around him by being so sweet— to Larry the Boss— the man in charge— the man who gives orders— the man to be pleased.

My stomach rolls in turmoil as I write this. Standing up to the tyranny of Leslie— Being Powerful.

Larry— you are a good daddy. You are a perfect parent. You must not be afraid to use your power. You must not be afraid of being powerful.

You are a good daddy.

You are powerful.

You are a good daddy.

Turn it over to god and let his power flow through you.

Turn it over.

Turn it over.

TRUST

TRUST

TRUST

Now, do not sit here and chew your fingernails over tomorrow’s script. You are not the director.

I am the light of the world. No follower of mine shall ever walk in darkness; no, he shall possess the light of life.”

John 8:12

At the meeting tonight at Washington Square, a man spoke about how all the elements of his life were wonderful and yet he felt possessed by a sense of incompleteness— a void— Others responded and identified with that feeling, and everyone had a similar comment. Basically— you just go through it. You just keep on keeping on. Life is not an MGM movie— with tight dramatic scenes that fade into each other— and a plot that thickens and reaches climaxes with romantic music swelling in the background.

I am not going to wake up tomorrow and be Elizabeth Taylor. Tomorrow morning I will be Larry Waite. A thirty-one-year-old alcoholic who shares a small apartment in Greenwich Village with an old friend and who works in a very hectic ad agency in midtown. I will weigh 164 pounds and have gray hair. I will pretend to be Elizabeth Taylor.