July 2nd, 1977

I seem to maintain myself in a state of perpetual havoc. Basically I am insecure about so much. I’ve built defenses against pain– and avoid it sometimes at the expense of pleasure or experience.

I have literally swung through the last couple of weeks. Starting with my truly fun night out with Raymond and Nick for the Holly Woodlawn show at the Country Club. Then I was out with Allen last weekend and had a very good time. Then meeting Alain. Money problems seem to be working out. Moving seems more remote. A certain relief. There are just no catastrophes to deal with. Yesterday at lunch I went to a costume shop and rented a Cowboy hat. Last night I went to the new bar up the street which I expected to be a cowboy-type eagle. It wasn’t, but I had fun with the hat. Roger, Allen’s lover, was there and he got his cowboy hat out of the car and wore it. Heavy cruising with the hunky bearded guy who works at the door there. I’m really drunk and we cruise like crazy for hours. He has to work late but gives me his name and phone number. I called today. It was a message receiver. After having spent a fatigued low-key day on the sofa watching old Clark Gable and John Wayne movies and sipping semi-cold beer– now I stew and fret and get my anxieties out in full force about going back to the bar tonight and seeing him again. If I go in tonight will I be nervous and jittery and say stupid things? Will I turn him off? You see I have such a low opinion about myself that I become obsessed with acting the role correctly. I remember Truitt, Sonja’s brunch, catching my eye across the room and jokingly imitating the way I was sitting stiffly and imperiously. But it really hit home. That is my front. And underneath it is a fat queer wanting desperately to be loved.