July 3rd, 1982
The holiday weekend feels like a great luxury. The day to myself. Allan is in New Jersey until tomorrow. He’s recently met a very nice man named Ron who he likes a lot. Ron lives in Weehawken, and he and Allan are going to the beach today. Joe stayed over last night, the first time we have spent the night together. I am filled with such strong feelings for him. he is a good simple man and our selves fit together perfectly. Last night we walked through a deep blue dusk to Chinatown. I kept watching him across the table: yes, Lord— this is just what I need— and want. Finding Joe is the one sure miracle since getting sober.
Trusting God means living in the now. This moment. Moving beyond this moment means speculation and imagination— which entails plotting, maneuvering, scheming— which is my will— not God’s. Accepting God’s will means accepting this moment and not going beyond it.
I cannot entertain contemplation of destiny— except as it is revealed to me now. I cannot run fast-forward fantasy tapes of my future with Joe. What I have is the reality of today with Joe. And the still-fresh scent of our bodies together this morning. And his holding me and both of our voices barely silencing the power of the words: I love you.