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November 7th, 1977
My god, November…
Late night. Maryjean came over tonight for dinner. We had quiche, and drank, and smoked dope– and supported each other. I love her so much.
Now it’s 2:00 AM and I should be asleep– but I stay up and drink and listen to a country western station and smoke my last cigarette. I call Richard at midnight and beg him to come over. He’s drunk and stoned and can’t.
My apartment finally starts looking like my apartment. I sit and stare at it and wonder how long I’ll be here. Will Julian ask me to marry him? Will something work out?