November 28th, 1977
I had only been back in my apartment a few minutes last night when the telephone rang. It was Richard. He was sobbing– said he had wrecked his car over the weekend. He said he needed me. I was there within half an hour.
Richard was a total mess. He was incoherent and shaking. Staggering when he tried to walk. His face was bloated and he was obviously drunk and fucked up on valium. He was blubbering about suicide– and begging me to stay the night to make sure he didn’t die in his sleep.
I finally managed to get him in bed. We held each other and I thought he was going to sleep. Suddenly he lurched over the side of the bed and vomited all over himself and the bedroom. Both of us naked, I was trying to get him on his feet and out of his own vomit. I got him on the sofa. He was chilling and shaking. He insisted I lie on the sofa with him and hold him. He was choking and his breathing was labored. I lugged him off the sofa and pushed two armchairs together and propped him up. I sat on the other chair and facing each other we finally managed to doze. I left at 7:00 this morning. He seemed to be breathing okay and I kissed him and said “bye sweetheart”– he moaned and I left.
It snowed lightly last night.
Winter is here.