March 25th, 1971
To begin, waking up in my apartment this morning was possibly one of the finest things to have happened to me in a long time. I woke up very suddenly, I think. I was just all at once aware of the fact that it was morning and Margie was still asleep beside me and that the apartment was very bright with the mid-morning, Saturday-morning light and that the room was very cold. I rolled over and moved my legs to touch Margie’s wrapped warmly in the heavy patchwork quilt. Margie made a sleep noise and rolled closer to me and I saw that Solomon was curled up sleeping soundly on the other side of Margie. The three of us moved closer together under the quilt and I relaxed in the warmth to consider that today would be the first day of my new enterprise. Today, the fact that two weeks ago yesterday I really had given my two weeks notice at Army Times. Six fifteen yesterday afternoon when I had walked out the front door of Army Times I had indeed walked away from a situation, a group of people and a way of life that had been a constant for me for the last two years. In fact, the only constant I had ever established for myself. The world that I structured around Army Times has been the only world I have ever made for myself. Voluntarily, I have brought an end to everything that I had created. No more Don, Bob, big fat pay checks and work-week neurosis that builds and grows on itself until Friday night rolled around. All of that, dear reader, is gone.
So, here I sit… on a Saturday afternoon that I know is not going to turn itself into another Monday, another week. This Saturday has absolutely nothing to automatically turn itself into without my created something. So, I think I”m just going to sit back for a few days and contemplate this situation and decide just what it is that I think I must do now to start again.
On and on the river flows… watch the river flow…
My major activity so far today has been a walk with Peggy and Ed and Margie down to Schwartz Drug Store early this afternoon to buy some typing paper which, symbolically enough, is a new journal. This will be my third. I’ve put the other two on my bookshelf.
This must be the beginning of a new novel. I mean, after all, I am starting it aren’t I?