September 7th, 1975
I am ending this journal. I must. Massive metamorphosis requires a new book. Richard and I have moved. We are now living at 2455 39th Place N.W. We are back in the city. Back at home. I am totally in love.
Almost to the day, we had been in suburban Virginia a year. A year of nothing. I am sitting in near total twilight/darkness writing. Richard is taking a shower. Maggie is thumping the floor in rhythm as she scratches her fleas. I am nervously writing, smelling like a French whore as Richard and I wait for a prostitute we hired for the night. Not a prostitute, actually. One of the movers from yesterday. Young thing– huge chest and muscles– gigantic biceps. Long hair. When the moving was over yesterday I took him upstairs and propositioned him. $25 for the night. For sex. he’s straight, you can tell. But game. I am a nervous wreck. I want this sort of thing, but get cold feet at the last minute. My heart is pounding. If I were to try and talk I know my voice would shake and break.