September 25th, 1971
You reach a point where there is nothing but futility and desperation– a point where your actions can no longer change or influence or construct– you find yourself victimized by an intensely personal hell that has become totally out of control. A revelation has occurred, the universe, the cosmos has been blindingly and suddenly revealed as painfully, ugly and ultimately full of hurt. Ultimately full of pain and hurt.
Where did the time go?
What happened to the days?
What has become?
Sitting stoned on my sofa, looking at pictures of Jimmie’s baby that I took at Jean M.’s this afternoon. It’s a surprise. Judy is in the hospital and Jimmie has been taking care of the baby at nights while a neighbor had been keeping her through the days. So today, being Saturday, Jimmie asked Jean if she’d keep the baby. I got my Polaroid and went to Jean’s and took 12 really good pictures of the baby. I’ll send them to Judy in the hospital the next time I see Jimmie.
That’s where my head was.
Quiet, alone in the apartment. No knowing what I’ll be doing this evening. Flashes on the afternoon with Jean and the baby.
The sound of the phone.
Very loud, and very stark– slicing through the silence and space of the empty apartment and myself.
The sound of the phone.
My mother has reached a point in her life. A small, intense point of madness that I have feared and refuse now to believe in. No! If we just don’t allow ourselves to believe this! If we just don’t believe it then everything will be as it was, as we insist on seeing it…
–the telephone conversation insanity– the dog, Springfield, money, health, going to the hospital, listening to sad songs, when am I coming home, sad movies on television, sadness, old times
the past!
the past!
the past!
Goddammit, why can’t we be normal and happy? Why can’t my mother not be such a sad unhappy part of my life? Why can’t she get her shit together and reconstruct life– Why do we have to live in the past all the time?
Goddam it– why!
I have got to keep my shit together. Jesus Christ– now am I in for a real humdinger of a crisis in my life– my mother’s mental breakdown.
Christ, I’m going to the movies in Georgetown–
Midnight Cowboy.