Discover more from The Last Hundred Miles
March 31st, 1972
It’s almost noon. I haven’t been awake for fifteen minutes yet. I rolled over on my side, looked at the windows– thought of nothing in particular, except that today is Friday– and ambled naked through the sort of chilly apartment to the bathroom.
Now I am back hunched over my typewriter. I would have imagined that Peggy and Ed would have been up here long before now to wake me up to go with them to Virginia. It was left on the note last night that they would wake me up this morning and that they were both into getting a very early start. I worry. I worry about so many things. I worry that at the last minute they both decided that they couldn’t cope with dealing with me for the whole weekend and that they split early this morning while I was still asleep making up some crazy excuse as to why they had to run the way they did.
Isn’t this crazy? Isn’t this neurotic? Sitting naked on the floor on Good Friday, 21 years old, worrying whether his supposed best friends in the world have sneaked out of the building to get away from him for the weekend.
Yes, Doctor, I have been having nightmares lately…
Five minutes later…
All life has returned to normal. I just went skittering downstairs and rapped on Peggy and Ed’s quiet door. I heard sleepy rustling noises and Peggy whispered: “Who is it?” In my morning already-had-one-cigarette hoarse voice I answered deeply: “Larry”…and felt like I was really Jean Louis Trintignant and was in a French movie. Peggy started barrelling around when she discovered that they had slept so late. She asked me if I wanted a cup of coffee. I said no that I had to run upstairs and get showered real fast. Which is what I should be doing now. I came running back upstairs and located my good navy blue double knit pants in a heap of un-hung up and dirty clothes spread out in front of my closet. They were reaking of cold cat piss. I ran back downstairs and tried to locate some soap, some laundry detergent as I knew that I didn’t have any. Luckily someone had left a small box next to the machine. So as my double knits and my britches of Georgetown shirt are washing downstairs I am going to go through all of the motions of getting a good shower.
The cats in the other room are fighting– wrestling one another.
What an adventure going to Virginia is for me. I am going visiting for the weekend.
Margie and I are irritating the fuck out of each other. Write more later.