May 15th, 1977

The inactivity of the past six weeks has ended. The past three days have been murderously active. My familiar, but sometimes elusive, joy of living is seeping back into my days.

It’s late afternoon on a gorgeous summer day. I just got home from work. After, literally, working day and night for several days. We just finished production today on our June white sale book– the first effort of its kind under the new staff situation headed by Gloria. The effect is that I am firmly established as a key figure in the life of the advertising department. I don’t attach huge significance to that. But, it’s nice to know.

And now the romance. To think that after all these quiet introspective weeks of lying around with a cast on my leg that Friday morning would dawn with a day’s script all written for me with the type of drama that’s right up my alley. Sonja re-entered my life. She came by the office Friday just as I was leaving to have lunch with Juan. (Which, by itself, was a huge boost to my daily doldrums.) We hugged and kissed and she told me that her life has reached soap opera proportions and I apologized for being in a hurry and made lunch plans for Monday. Joel, our direct mail manager, his wife, Kelley and I were planning on a night out for drinks, possibly dinner to celebrate the completion of the white sale book. So later in the day I called Sonja again and asked her to join us. The evening was incredible. Conversation over quiche and beer at a sidewalk cafe on Connecticut Avenue let me know that Sonja had shed the role of liberal intellectual housewife in Reston, Virginia.

And Sonja and I picked up a Spic at Club Madame, fucked him (I couldn’t get hard) in a hotel room that cost $50.

End of romance.