November 24th, 1978
Thanksgiving. Wendy and I decide to ignore the holiday. We paint my bedroom. We totally re-do the feeling of that cluttered depressed little room with bright clean walls and my whole life organized on the new shelves I just bought from Allan. Since I moved here that room has meant little more to me than a dark place to throw my dirty clothes and masturbate. Now it is a bright cozy place.
Vern came by and we all hugged each other and cleaned house like speed freaks for hours (Vern with a ruptured disk in his back) drinking wine and beer and eating Valium. Late (at the assurance of Vern that there would be cocaine) we went to some strange couples new apartment in Old Town Alexandria and ate cold remains of a lavish dinner and stayed long enough to smoke a joint and thank them for having us. Wendy had hiccups. All of us, drunk, almost had a wreck. All I remember is the car spinning in circles through a cold rain. I thought it was rather beautiful in its own way. Vern is such a beautiful boy.
Now the weekend is upon us. I am listening to a new Crystal Gayle album that I bought Wendy today. She is in bed trying to loose an ulcer that began to torment her suddenly as we were leaving work today. I must got concoct some delicious soft gooey delight to ease her stomach.