Authors: U
The day before yesterday is ancient history. Nick, Megan, and I
took mushrooms to celebrate the sale of Nick’s business to a couple
from Alaska. The mushroom spirit was full upon us as we climbed
atop the dunes above the south jetty road.
We took some pictures of the gnarled pine trees up on the hill. We
reached the summit just as the sun was setting. It was like being on
another world, so radiant and panoramic.
A blaze of red, orange, blue, yellow, gold, and gaudy purple light
colored the sky. The distant ocean and rolling dunes made it seem
like an alien vista.
Today I finished Chap. 8 in the book. Megan says I gotta stop
being so hard on myself. The life I lead diminishes my energy. I
work too hard and take too many drugs, in addition to drinking every
chance I get. I told Megan to give me a reason to stop and I will. I
quit smoking, didn’t I?
That twilight sky on the dunes was utterly unforgettable. It almost
hurt to look at it. We live on an actual planet, apparently a small, wet
rock, slathered in organisms, whirling and tilting as it orbits its energy
source.
Last Friday, I bought some underground comix from Lenny
Goldfarb, the record store owner. They cost $100 but were well worth
it. This addition rounds out my collection quite nicely. Now it is 97
percent complete. Some of the new titles are:
Insect Fear #1
Real Pulp #1
SF Comic Book #1
Air Pirates #2 (I love this one)
Tales of Toad #1
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Snatch #1, #2, and #3
Bijou #1
(now I have the whole set)
Conspiracy Capers
All things considered, it leaves me maybe four or five comix short
of having a well-nigh perfect collection. I figure the hoard is easily
worth over $500 at this stage, including my precious R. Crumb ZAP
#1.
What a gem. Under no circumstances will I ever part with it. I
love underground comic books. They are the greatest.
* * * *
December 9, 1978
Got a letter from Randy yesterday. It cracked me up. I even read
parts of it to Megan while we lunched together at The Manly Mussel.
She liked it too.
Spent $120 on a Christmas present today. It was extravagant, but
what the hell. It was this perfect little opal necklace for Megan. The
opal is in the shape of a tiny teardrop and comes with a 24K gold
chain. I know it will look great draped around her slim, beautiful
neck. I just hope it’s not too much.
Wrote Randy back and sent him some mushrooms. He said I
should visit him and Wilma. I don’t know. Randy and Wilma. What
a pair. Wilma is Japanese and a real reefer fiend. Smokes pot every
day. I hope they like the mushrooms, which are very interesting, but
totally different from weed.
Megan is coming over at 9:00 PM for a sleep over. Gotta get this
joint cleaned up before she arrives. I’m supposed to move into Nick’s
house in six days. Here’s to easy living.
* * * *
December 13, 1978
Snorted coke with Nick and Megan on Sunday. Nick has tried it a
few times before but Megan and I are both novices. It has a powerful
kick. I’m beginning to realize why everybody always seems so
fucking "happy" all the time.
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As I understand it, cocaine is mainly a mood elevator, but with time
slowed down. Megan got a big jolt from the stuff and ran around
Harry’s house like mad.
I’m not sure what to make of cocaine myself. The second dose
worked better than the first. On the whole, however, I think I prefer
pot.
Drugs drugs drugs. Picked another 25 mushrooms at the field by
the boat landing today. Megan found an equal amount. We stored
them in the refrigerator in the break room at work as usual so they
wouldn’t go bad.
Need to have my last two wisdom teeth taken out. Lenny Goldfarb
says he can drive me to Eugene for the appointment if I schedule it on
a Friday.
While I get my teeth extracted, he will pick up merchandise for his
store. Lenny is very disappointed that more people didn’t respond to
his Siuslaw News ad. Too few cool hipsters live around here, I told
him. Hardly any, in fact.
Hmmm. The mushrooms are drying nicely in front of the heater.
The political bug is at me again. I could rent an apartment in
Portland next year and take a leave from my job. Run for the
legislature from a SE Portland district. Even a bare bones operation
might succeed, with enough door-to-door. Lawn signs and brochures
would be the big expense. Simple and organized would be my
approach. No wasted effort.
Later: Is it too much to ask to achieve some of my ambitions? I
want to become a writer, but I have political ambitions as well. These
things seem incompatible. The exterior world and the interior world
are in conflict. There is so much I want to do.
Where it will end I have no idea.
Megan came over tonight but did not stay. We quarreled about
several issues, but mainly over her reluctance to move towards a
divorce. Her slowness sticks in my craw. Worse, she is planning to
meet with Mark again sometime soon for a "discussion."
She won’t say what the discussion is about.
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The irony here is that I find myself saying things to Megan that I’ve
plagiarized freely from the woman I now call "the other one." A
whole bunch of hoary zingers that may creak with age, but are still
highly effective. I couldn’t believe how many of them came back to
me, without hardly having even to think. Stuff like:
"It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind."
"You can’t always have everything your own way, you know.
There are limits."
"Why don’t you be honest for a change?"
It is unfortunate that Megan doesn’t keep a journal from which I
can sneak peeks so as to fine-tune my gibes.
I am such a goddamned hypocrite.
Called Chesley to advise him that I am moving. His current
girlfriend Shirley (Randy’s former secret girlfriend) answered the
phone. Based on the snapping and popping noises I heard, Shirley
likes chewing gum while speaking on the phone.
Surprising as it may seem, the dual effort of gum chewing and
speaking did not appear to overtax Shirley’s brain.
Yeah, Shirley is a peach. A real peach. I think I already hate her.
Yes, these young women are a true delight all around. No wonder us
men are in such a mad rush to marry them.
* * * *
December 15, 1978
My stuff is moved out of the little cabin on the sand bank. I am
exhausted as a result. Clarice did not move as promised. Most of my
junk is therefore at Florence Mini-Storage, Space 41B. In the
meantime, I’m staying at Harry’s. The wisdom teeth come out
tomorrow.
Need to get a note from the dentist.
Goodnight.
* * * *
December 17, 1978
Wisdom teeth are out. Mouth full of stitches. Seahawks are
playing the Chiefs on the tube here at Harry’s house. A great game.
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No heat and no bed. I’m sleeping on Harry’s ratty sofa in my down
sleeping bag, smoking dope and taking these giant codeine pain pills.
Clarice was supposed to be out three days ago but is taking extra
time because she feels like it. Nick throws up his hands and hides in
his warm, comfy little bedroom.
Won’t do anything about it. Refuses to go kick her out. Won’t go
yell at her. The mortgage became his to pay on the first so she’s
living on his dime. I offered to go kick her out for him but he nixed
that. I can’t fucking believe this shit!
I could have stayed longer in my own perfectly fine cabin but no, I
foolishly believed that Clarice would be out by the 15th. Dammit!
Now I feel like a sucker. Maybe I should find my own place. On
my salary, I could probably even buy a house. Or build one. They’ve
got these cool domes that you can build now just like regular houses.
They are approved for beach properties and FmHA loans are even
available.
* * * *
December 18, 1978
Picked 44 mushrooms today. The weather was sunny after a night
of rain and conditions were perfect. The field by the landing was a
mushy green paradise. The sun disappeared behind the hills at
precisely 3:00 PM. Found an unusually large specimen by the pond
which I think will weigh in at nearly a gram even when dry. It’s
really huge.
At The Mussel this afternoon I told Bob the owner and his pal
Charlie that I currently live at 41B Florence Mini-Storage. They
laughed. They have heard about my predicament from Nick.
The Dark City
rejected yet again, this time by an agent. The same
old complaints. Nobody says anything good about the book. They
just criticize and pass. However, I refuse to let my disappointment
impede new projects. I will send it out again. Who cares what
happens anymore? Just let it all hang out.
The neurotic imaginings of my demented mind are as feverish as
ever. I’m in a lousy mood and my new writing reflects it.
The Dark
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City
is meant to be a bleak, despairing, and dismal (yet satirically
comic) manuscript.
Politics is not the answer. I don’t know what the answer is. Maybe
mushrooms. A whole-hearted belief in the leader is not the answer.
A psychopath named Jim Jones recently led his deluded followers into
a mass suicide in Guyana.
I think we can safely say that Jim Jones was not the answer.
According to an article I read, as a young man Jim sold pet
monkeys door to door. I think maybe he never really got out of the
pet monkey business.
Across the country, the economy grows stagnant and inflation
soars. I think there is a vague anxiety about things in general. People
are apathetic, content to hide out in their little huts and let their eyes
glaze over as they stare at the tube.
Most of my so-called friends seem very dull to me, unwilling to
take risks or try new things. It’s one of the reasons why I’d love to
run for the legislature next year.
I am restless and unafraid.
* * * *
December 20, 1978
Still staying at Harry’s place. My stitches come out tomorrow in
Eugene. Feel like shit after four days of roughing it. Megan abruptly
left town the day before yesterday without much in the way of a
goodbye.
I got a bad feeling about this, I’m sorry to say. I know the husband
has been calling her. I know she has been talking to him. Josie keeps
me informed.
* * * *
December 25, 1978
Xmas is over. Back to work tomorrow. It will be a huge drag with
Megan gone but there it is. I have to show up or they stop paying me.
Going up to Salem on the 6th of January for the Welcome
Legislature party. I asked Megan to come up with me but she would
not give me a definite answer. I find myself daydreaming about a
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legislative run almost constantly. I’ll have to decide soon if I’m going
to have even a ghost of a chance.
The holidays were OK. Megan seemed surprised by the opal
necklace I gave her but now I really wonder if it was too much,
especially since she had nothing for me. I had it wrapped in a hurry at
the Galeria so she could get it before she left town.
On Thursday night, I went to Eugene to stay with Charles who is
feeling low because Arianna has dumped him for some cocaine-
addicted musician.
I was sympathetic but unsurprised.
Although I think the other one was wrong about me, she was
apparently right about everybody else. Arianna is a name the other
one could not seem to speak without inserting the word "slut" into the
same sentence. From what Charles has told me, that little four-letter
epithet appears to be an accurate shorthand description of our dear
Arianna after this latest debacle.
At least Charles now knows why it hurt to pee and is taking
appropriate medication. He also has the whole apartment to himself,
Arianna having shacked up with said music boy.
Up in Portland I saw Mario and his new girlfriend Vicky. I gave
Mario some new comix and we drank, talked, and partook of some of
Vicky’s excellent reefer.
Vicky is funny. She’s from Alabama and has one of those funky
southern accents. She’s tubby, but I really like her, as she seems