October 27th, 1977
Another production number. My trick from a few weeks past, Julian (from Brooklyn Heights), is flying into Washington tonight and is going to spend tonight and tomorrow with me. I’m terribly excited and don’t quite know why. He should be here by 10:00 and between now and then I’ve got to wash four loads of clothes– throw a quiche into the oven– make the bed– take a shower and straighten the apartment. It’s now 7:00.
—-
Absolutely phenomenal. It’s now 9:30. My clothes are washed. The apartment is shining. The quiche is in the oven. I look great and I’m sitting down having a beer relaxing to Shirley Bassey– waiting for my Latino.
Oh, deaths, and fires and surgeries– leave me alone.
—-
And so it has happened. Late Thursday night I drink champagne and smoke cigarettes in my quiet sleep-filled apartment. Julian is in my bed. He has just fucked me senseless and satisfied every need I have ever imagined myself as having. He is all heaven, all man, all Latino. I need him to live and I knew it tonight. I have truly fallen in love again. Like a late night dream, Julian is in my bed sleeping. Julian. Julian. I am silly with all this.
I could write romantic page after page of my incredible feelings for Julian. It would all be prater.
Nothing can describe this moment; This peace.
When he was fucking me, he brought all my gifts back to me. Everything came back. My youth. My hopes.
Oh, I write sop and I know it. I keep a soppy journal. Julian is in my bed. He is everything. He is pure Latino, and a man, and he’s cute and sweet and smart and egoistic and gentle and unsure and sexy and EVERYTHING.
I smell like him now. I am sitting in my chair wearing only my brown plaid shirt. And Julian is sleeping in my bed.
In my entire life– there has never been anything that I’ve really wanted that I did not get.
I want Julian.
He is a pisces.
He is wonderful.
I love him.
I feel like a high school girl writing in her diary.
But I can’t end this– I have to tell you about him. Bright, warm, good humored. He exudes Latin machismo. Oh, God, let him fall in love with me. Make him fall in love with me.