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March 12th, 1973
I am waiting for Bill to call– I got off at six so I expect he’ll call about 8:00–
I’ve been so nervous and anxious and high– happy, happy, happy.
Why do I always try to fear being happy? I like this apartment– I feel good– my days are casual and enjoyable– my apartment is a home, home, home– the money in a few weeks from the income tax could transform my very existence with a healthy payment on a van– Oh I see Bill and I taking off on some bright summer morning heading in a van out to California– stay for a couple of months and just loving each other and staying healthy and happy– then toward the end of next summer working back through the east up to Toronto and settle down in a beautiful chic brown corduroy apartment– me and beautiful Bill– young and gay and happy, happy, happy. I could get a job– he could go to drama school.
Whatever happens, I know an era of turmoil is behind me and I feel transformations and regenerations taking action at my cellular level.