Twenty Year Old Girl

 

March 25

The theme for break was repression. Repressing thoughts of Brett, not allowing myself to work from sad to regret to self-contempt. And knowing that I'm deliberately not thinking of him creating guilt.

"Don't bury it! Face your feelings!" But I'm afraid of focusing on it and blowing it out of proportion. Maybe that's what I'm doing -- trying to make it smaller in proportion than it really is. But. I really had it. Stuttering, I ask Sonya, "D-did you ask Brett if he did some coke?" And for a while I could remember that and really turn cold inside. I did! I did!

At KU in Tonya's Human Sexuality class, we saw films of masturbation. I can't believe it. The prof thought he was some daring, stand-up comic w/his stories of a party for his daughter's first period & bad language. Becky said she asked for boyfriend 2 do it in front of her since she was so intrigued by it. 

March 27

Oh yeah, and the night before I left coming back from chicken enchiladas & Beverly Hills Cop & conversation as easy as I hope it always will be, Tonya & I saw Greg & Kyla at the gas station on Wornell. 

We chased them for half an hour but couldn't find them. Looking back, it seems so simple & obvious what to say to him. Why did We played games and now I think it would be so easy to be honest w/him. 

I'm tired of pretend. It's so simple: Something like "No, Allen, I'm not mad at you. I don't really feel anything for you. If you want to fool around with me, you're going to have to make me like you again."

March 31

I've got it! I felt so bad always calling myself stupid whenever I was in tight vicinity to a M.O.S. But I'm not -- what it is, I get scared. I'm paralyzed with fear. If I get in good, I'm so afraid of losing it, I don't dare make a false move, so I do nothing. I sit there w/a look locked on my face, agree w/everything & try to guess what he wants my reactions to be. I don't do anything. I let the relationship develop or die, without any say. I just agree to everything. Look, look! It fits, oh how it fits! I have found my problem & named it. Now I can work on it. It's just a question of being brave. Brave enough to be myself.

(April 10 --- Hallejuiah!)

April 3

Hello. I'm looking forward to this long weekend for a lot of work. 

I love Michele & Diane (one n!) & Joe so much! Sometimes I can't believe it & I'm tempted to ask that nagging housewife quesion, "Do you really love me?"

But the reason for this -- I forgot to tell you about the video I saw over break: "I'm having so much fun, my lucky number is one!" Tribute to happy independence!

There's no one here! I can't figure it out -- am I not meeting enough people, do I know too many? Are these different sort of people, am I haning around w/too many intellectuals? (Not to say I don't like it  -- not having a crush, that it, I don't really have any feeling about it.) Have I grown up? Have I left behind strong emotions? Oh! Is this what The Repression did? 

All I know is that this is the Easter After Sean & Mr. Ed that I didn't give anyone a Easter basket or even want to. Maybe I just feel very loved & that has taken the place of a need for something 2 adore.

I am not looking for someone.  

 

April 7

Happy Easter.

It feels like the past couple of weeks my memoriy has been in high gear. I'm spending lots of time remembering whole sections of past. Some of these things I haven't thought about in a long time. Some aren't so nice, some are rather.

I love good stories. Last night, Monica: I took a taxi to Michael's, crawled in his window & I said "Michael, let's run away 2 St. Louis, I've wrecked the car. And he said, "okay, go to sleep for a while and we'll get up & run away 2 St. Louis."

 

April 9

Ooh that pisses me off! Tonya tells a boy sheh doesn't want to sleep w/him. She tells him she's a virgin. "But why?" he asks. BUT WHY?!! 

April 10

Brown -- maybe I should go 2 a gynocologist. None of my periods are the same anymore. 

How about: Nothing could surprise me anymore, except love. 

Wow. I like it! I like it!

Spring Nights, 1985 in South Bend

 

March 9

Tomorrow is Tonya's birthday. Tomorrow I'll call her. Yesterday she sent me a shirt with Goofy on it & I got a letter from (sweet, sweet darling!) Chuck.

Now that I have London, what goals do I have? Summer school -- and I guess by the time I get that straightened out, some new conflict will present itself to become the new undercurrent of my mind.

Last night I went to dinner, bright & excited & (happy?) in my Goofy shirt & pink scarf & Keds & blue jacket. The sun was finally out & the quad echoed w/music and shouts & frisbees. At dinner I ask John if he wants to see a movie. I swear! Don't be quite so eager, hon. And there's Allen. I check out where he's sitting, push my tray away & wait. 

When he gets up, I'm ready. I touch his arm. 

Hello, Cindy, he says, barely surprised, calm, oh so calm (ooo that pisses me off! and I can't even say the right words -- what exactly got me about its lack of message, of anything, like, like, like we were friends of friends, like he had had to make an effort to remember my name, like he was my roommate's ex-boyfriend, like we had met last week at a party he thought was boring & left early. Cool? Like Reggie? Like Rick?) (I felt such satisfaction when he didn't accept Sheila's invitation to a dance. Such.)

"Hello, Benjamin," I said, my voice good and low. Ha! But then I was supposed to change moods & laugh as I said Rejection builds character! but I muffed my lines & rolled my eyes as I diluted the impact with "You know, rejection is good for building character." And walked away. 

He could easily not have heard or understood all that I said. My heart hasn't done such prancing for months -- I don't remember when. I was shaking.

I read for an hour, went to Michelle's party, took off for the worst flick I've ever wasted an hour on. 

Leaving, I change clothes & return to be hyper at Michelle's! I know I scared off Jed, I know I should have been more calm when he knew the rest of the Van Morrison line, but to tell you the truth, I'm not going to stress out over a guy who like Diane, his bad teeth and needs a haircut. Plus, he's not that wonderful to change myself for. I'm beginning to think less & less people are. 

Anyway, I could have said I'm sorry, but sometimes I feel so alone, liking him when no one else I know even knows who he is. Or something to that effect. And I pick up Jim. 

We had a good night. Jim is strange, whining, funny, clever Jim. A couple of times, standing against each other, he's say something and I could feel it, the sudden squeeze inside, He invites me up in his bunk when we go to bed. We giggled & whispered like little kids. I swear, everyone should sleep with someone else at least sometimes. Best comfort & heater in the world. I rested my head between his shoulder blades, moving as he breathed. 

When we got up, "Are you two dating?" 

"Date her?" 

"Are you kidding?" 

"Then why...?"

"It's all very sick and Freudian," I reply and we talk of weird things, homosexuals & "I was sort of a male slut" and underwear & embarrassing moments & Trivial Pursuit. 

Later Jim & I snuck to the bathroom & he came in with me. We laughed and peed in the stalls next to each other. 

March 10

I'm writing in the morning; it's only 9:15. This is my first wild period in a long time, maybe since September. For the past few months, I've almost had to make an effort to remember I was OTR & so write in red. There's no way I could forget this time. 

Time is moving very very slowly. I must be moving quickly. I can't tell if I'm tired or not. Last night I woke up at 3. At first I didn't know what woke me. Then as I lay there, the uncomfortableness grew and there was weird pain, not sharp, almost unfindable? (Fix that!)

I finally got up, lay in a steaming tub with only a dim light. I slept in there for an hour then crept back to bed, soft & warm, thanking God for the relief I had prayed for. 

March 11

I will not fulfill my expectations. I will not stay up thru another nite of hell. I will not be miserable.

The wind pounds outside.

Why do I keep tearing at my skin? on my fingers, my face, inside my mouth? I bleed. I am not whole.

I may be irreverent now, Lord, I know and I'm sorry for it, I may be far away, but I thirst for justice.

 

 

March 14

I don't know what this friendship with Michele (she writes her name with only one "l") is doing to me. Sometimes she reminds me of Tamar with her emotional reactions, her cussing, and I think we're going 2 end the same way -- I can see it. Sometimes I hate her for making me look as if I care 4 her more than she cares 4 me. And I feel hurt by her indifference. And then there's the times it clicks & we shake hands & walk away smiling. And then she's an immature child, embarrassing me. I find myself blurting out things with her before I think them out. And doing things that would embarrass, mortify me too much 2 do them w/anyone else. I don't like being loud & obnoxious, I don't like being childish -- what's wrong w/me?

Tomorrow I go home. Hm! Compare this w/the last entry before Fall Break! I don't really feel any expectations. I just want to read. I really do. I've been thinking of calling Jim Messina and/or Mr. Ed, but I don't think I will. Of course Christy.

Watch this -- "my answer, a yawn." Oh I want that! Because I could say a knotted stomach or clenched fists (for a day & a half after Michele & I wrestled on the hill in front of the PW dorm, whenever I thought back about it, my fists actually tightened) or wanting 2 throw something.

 

"I like my kisses dry and my wine sweet"

February 11, 1985

What would Freud think of me? I don't masturbate, my parents died when I was about 5 so I have no recollection of seeing them having sex. I moved in with parents who never touched each other sexually, I can only remember one time being embarrassed by seeing them lying together on the couch watching TV, and she was past menopause, or at least going through it. I was slightly surprized at pictures in Playgirl so I didn't have experience with naked males. Or maybe I just don't remember these things. All I know now is that sex is not yet natural w/me. Even kissing a boy changes my opinion of him. 

I like John C., but kissing him had absolutely nothing to do with him. 

Lately: Ah, my friends! My friends! I have friends! Sometimes I'm so grateful & love them so much I could cry. Making me laugh, caring, remembering, calling me Cindy Lou.

(Actually, it's tomorrow morning, but...I think I am getting to like these marathon all-nighters. Self-indulgent. All these hours to think about my life.)

Like:⤴Our personalities are fusing. I've picked up Diane's "What the hell?", touching her mouth when she eats, Joe's pointing down at a good point, his high pitched "uh!" and Michelle's bad language. 

Like: I like my kisses dry and my wine sweet!!

February 18        RED

A group of friends. Have I had that before? I actually turn hot & cold w/fear when I think about March and our letters saying whether we go 2 London or not. Oh dear

"Gee, that's swell!"

Tonite is Satyricon. Ha! And Wed., apropos, is the beginning of Lent.

Since The Breakfast Club on Sat., I keep thinking of Mary Beth and Jim. Little Jim, whose memory I'm mixing up with the movie, dreams and my new friend Jim MacDonald. And the passage in East of Eden where the boy lays his head in the girl's lap and cries because she pats his cheek & calls him son. I feel maternal and yet, I want to pull him into a dark corner...Oops! This is red! Jim's father has cancer

Later: Bad nite

February 26

Oh silly girl. I want to console you. I'm here to console you, dear. Look! 

London application Pros: Good reference from Prof Dana & maybe Vacca, English major, good grades, open to either semester choice, I knew fine arts in my interview. Cons: average application, average composition, "no, I'm not a theater buff."

Oh well. I feel good about this. Three days.

 

Brett wrote. So nice & friendly that the way my mind works, couldn't help building up the fantasy that he's had a fight w/Miss Chicago & wants to go back. Silly girl. Don't hurt yourself.

I'm finally catching up on my work since the beginning of the semester.  

 

Perhaps - the reason I'm so contemptible afterwards is that deep down I do feel guilty, I do feel bad & so my subconscious is asserting itself & making me look bad.

I'm an adult fluctuates with I'm been dicked, doesn't anyone care? with Ha ha rejection builds character with indifference with guilt for corrupting another with slight warm stirrings with wasn't this nice? wasn't that?

February 28

Tomorrow I will know.

I never thought I'd say it but it's a relief 2 have strict parents when they help make a difficult decision. I want 2 go 2 D.C. but I'm afraid of never seeing Brett again.

Volunteering at the Overnight Homeless Shelter/Dancing with a Blind Date

 

February 3

I hated waking up hungry & yet knowing I could eat as much as I wanted in a couple of hours in a warm bright and noisy cafeteria. And I don't know where or if they were going to eat anything that day besides the coffee loaded with sugar & cream & the juice we had for them. 

Breakfast! The little squinty eyed boy, quiet, around 12 or 13. The girl in baggy pants, hidden in her tangled long hair, soft & vulnerable as she lay asleep on her side, an arm handing off the mat, her cupped hand opened upward.

"You must be rich," said Jerry, "with your car & going here and all..." I shrugged, said something about my parent inheritance. When said something like alright, I said, "no, I hate it. I would give everything."

Rejection from Reggie was harder than from Brett. He's still one of my favorite people. But last night I loved the touches on my hands & waist and his firm upper arm through his shirt. But too easily I was wet, so quickly, and my brain takes a back seat, I become stupid. 

"So subtly is the fume of life designed,/To clarify the pulse and cloud the mind...the poor treason/Of my stout blood against my staggering brain..."

Oh ha ha! Yesterday the cute quiet guy I've been watching in Theology is sitting across from Reggie in dinner. Walking back to my car past the bus stop, I see Jerry smiling down at what must be SMC chick about 5 inches from his face. Tonite in dinner Julie is wearing the sweater I first admired on Tom. Oh ha ha! Best laid plans, hopes, aspirations....

February 5

When I'm alone: Sometimes I'm so happy, content, laughing. Sometimes, arrgh! I just want to be touched!

The Month I Turned Twenty

January 4

Last year I asked "am I happy? Am I happy?" and stuck to the no-but-I'm-content reply. 

This year: sure, I'm happy lots of times, when I'm laughing, when I see something beautiful & true, specific instances, like Brett & tonite, sledding w/Rhonda & Tammy. But content? Ha! (Bitter, terse laugh)

"We're different," I said 2 Brett. 

"How?"

"You seem serene."

"What do you mean?"

"You seem to have a quiet soul."

"Wait til you hear my music," he countered.

January 6

On Nov. 15 I made my Christmas list. I wanted gifts to be given to me. Now here's my New Years Resolutions list: things I will do or achieve or try myself. 

1. To be at peace with what I do. Not through rationalization after the fact, but from Christian existentialism (yes, this is committing myself), from active, responsible, realistic consideration of all the consequences of my actions. The Christian part involves being aware & as intelligent as you possible can -- you have to be. The existential part is taking total responsibility for self. 

Yeah, I can whine & cringe at my religion's shortcomings, but perhaps sometimes I use it as an excuse to try & blindly chuck everything. But there's still good & bad that goes beyond social norms. There's still black & white left, not everything has slid into that gray "well, ..."

I'm so tired of this self-contempt.

January 9

Silly girl. Wants to put on music and pick up pen and allow the feelings to flood over her just like it was. But remembering him right now, today, is tinged with the slight sourness of the faintly niggling questions, Why hasn't...? Where...? Does he...? 

But they are faint, actually, only flaring up when I read "'I know it sounds terrible & chauvinistic,' says Rod, a 25-year old...rogue, 'but a night of sex can really end my fascination for a woman,'" in Mme. or when I remember his phone calls in December.

(Sat nite, frantically ironing my dress for the formal blind date, I'm supposed to be at Beth's in 10 minutes, I still have 2 buy gas and the phone rings 

"...yes, this is Cindy," 

"This is Brett, remember me?"

"Brett! I can't believe you called! Brett!"

"Well, I just wanted to check up on what's happening with you..."

"Brett! My heart is going boom! boom! boom!"

Did I sound a little forward? I was so happy.)

and the silence  now. 

But the anxiety is (not <-- Freudian slip) very severe, I'm not strangling yet: I put up our picture, then took it down. Well that's today.

"Love fades" said the little old lady clumping down the street in Annie Hall. 

"I don't trust happiness," said Max Sledge, gardening in Tender Mercies.

"Love and romance and sex are not the same," Chuck & I commiserate.

Tonny & I talking on the phone the nite before I come to Lawrence, she tells how she was talking to Brett and brought up what I had worried would be a bad situation: explaining to him, "I haven't seen Chuck or Cindy in a long time and I want to spend time w/them...and I know you and Cindy want to have time alone..." I could have kissed her. I love her for being tactful & wise. 

And calling him the same nite, smiling at myself in the mirror over Dad's dressing table. I can't remember any feeling more fine-tuned than happiness, anticipation. Simple, blind, well, more like near sited, clear feelings. 

I loved seeing Tonny again. She was taking out the garbage as I was coming in and both our arms full, we didn't bother trying to hug, just said hi and laughed hard. It was so good being with her and before I knew it the door knocked. 

"Who's that?" 

"Must be Brett," before I have time to be sick w/nervousness, he's in the doorway. I'm wearing my carefully planned outfit (which Tonya & Chuck later dissect), jeans, pink & white cotton sweater, blue dyed denim jacket, white scarf, black hat. Yeah, I guess that is kind of strange. I guess we said hello and he initiated a short hug around my hat. 

Okay, is this stuff I want to remember? Is this only how & when he touched me? Is this the good stuff? Is this an R rated movie? Is this to reassure myself that I'm desirable? What is this? What is this for?

After dropping Tonya off, we walked around downtown Lawrence, looking in shops. I was cold & had to go to the bathroom really bad (not real conducive to clever conversation), but I bought 2 bears & we got some bubble liquid. We went home & talked of nothing til Tonya called to pick her up. Yeah, but a little disappointed. It felt very odd to try & listen to his music in the living room, with Sonya & Tonya walking around, everyone talking. I'd go into T's room, talk to her for a while, flit around. Finally, sitting on the couch,

 |

\|/

I avoided playing Rickie, Brett noticed & commented on it later. I said I felt strong w/T. there & we talked of how she's a good friend, but tries very hard to be ordinary and so is not like us. 

"What's going to happen to people like us?" I ask. 

"We become famous or we don't" he replied. Hmm..

 

 

                            ...his arm comfortable & right around my sholders, we listened & read his Rolling Stones book of reviews. I don't think he was thinking of the book. Tonny has left and after a while I stop reading. We're kissing and oh! oh! I think

January 10

Oh! I think slowly, Oh! He says something about my little chortles, murmurs, sighs (I don't remember, maybe I was smiling & he could tell) and I say "Brett M*****, you make me so happy." "Hey, you too," he replies.

Silly girl. Is she trying to write a risque/steamy/romantic/exciting movie? I want to titled Things I Want to Remember. That's all I want here, just that. But Cindy the editor wants a story to reinforce the details w/context. 

Things: Wrestling a bit on the bed. Growling "grarg" at each other.

Story: I have to change my pad, go back to Tonny's, talking so long, I'm in love! I announce first thing, then he comes too and we all talk for ever so long about fake I.D.'s. I feel stupid, he won't want to kiss me now. But I get my contact case & we go back when Tonny goes to bed. 

Things: "Do you want me to take this off?" "Yeah."

January 11

Story: Listening to Joni Mitchell, I suddenly recognize a dubbed in piece of dialogue "You can't be idealistic your whole life," says Jim Bacchus & Jim & I reply, "Except to yourself. Except to yourself." 

I'm so happily surprised by the Rebel w/out Cause, it must mean something and I tell Brett of watching the film over & over for my term paper. They were so alike. "You're my James Dean," I finished. 

The morning I left, he says, "hey, I almost forgot" and hands me the wrapped package & card, enveloped Cindy that had been sitting on the speaker all weekend. Oh is all I can say, smiling, touched, embarrassed, struck. 

It's a biography of James Dean. Oh! and I grab him, kissing joyfully that wonderful face. 

"What did you think when I told you about him the other nite?" I ask.

"I though, yeah, well alright."

Things: I open my eyes often when we kiss. I want to see his face.

I watch him at my breast. His mouth, his closed lid & long lashes, his reverent hands are the most moving thing I've ever seen.

January 15

Game plan for this semester: I take a step back, out of the spin and don't work so hard for trying to impress instead of appreciate other people. Make an effort to be a friend. And I don't have to be the first on my block. What I will work harder for: school. No blowing off, please. And more exercise, please. These sound suspiciously like New Year's resolutions.

Story: First nite when I came back to change myself, Tonny says I have a hickey on my neck. And one on each earlobe. "You animal," I tease at Brett when he comes over. The next morning in the shower I notice the huge purple marks over each of my nipples, tool. I wear turtlenecks for days, until Christmas morning, opening presents in my robe, Ron yells, "hey! what's that on your neck, Cindy? A hickey!"

Things: He's biting me and it's the cruelest torture I've ever been through. I'm moaning and clenching my fist. I can't stand it. I hit the wall and then hit his back with my fist. Oh! He stops & looks at me.

"Oh my God," he says. "What am I doing? What am I doing!?" 

I've never seen him so upsets. "I'm so sorry," he apologizes profusely and can only lay there, amazed and silent. I don't say anything. I can't believe it.

Story: I wake up and don't know what to say as we get dressed. I go to take a shower and breakfast. Tonya has left for work. I knock on his door, he hasn't showered yet, to tell him I'm going to Walmart. Only 3 hours of sleep or so, but I'm brightly wide awake. After shopping fast for Xmas gifts, I come back and there's no answer at his door. Or his phone. I watch MTV and know he's skipped out. What a perfect opportunity when I went to the store: he calls his dad & leaves before I came back.

I hear that familiar wonderful laughter on the stairs & Chuck & Tonya are here. I'm jumping up & down & hugging him & he says I look like Audrey Hepburn & a lot better than he expected. He's blonder & funny & the same as if I'd seen him last week instead of June. We go to Valentino's to eat, come back & Brett had only been asleep. 

I introduce them & they shake hands, my boys, my tow men friends. Tonya had told Brett that Chuck's gay. They are both kind, nice people and acted friendly towards each other. Chuck & I go pick up my sweater, buy off Tonny, buy drink mix and return. With drinks, me with water, we watch a very unfunny Sat. Nite Live, I laugh at Chuck's cute face asleep, Tonya spilling a jar of red taco sauce in her lap, screaming, helpless, for someone to get a towel -- Brett gets it finally. 

And I'm glancing through a magazine, Brett points to a quote about how people only really listen to you when you're talking to yourself. 

Later, he says something under his breath & sure enough, we all ask "what?"

We aren't holding hands though we're sitting close enough to and I'm thinking about it. Tonny says she's going to bed, Chuck says he's going to bed. I don't say anything but goodnite. We sit as they leave. Seconds & then a knock. Brett gets up & opens the door. I hear him say thanks! & come in saying, "something for you." Tonya left my contact case & saline out in the hall. 

The next day she laughs, saying "Brett knows me so well. He waved at the peephole in the door -- he knew I'd be looking out!" 

We watch MTV, this time his arm around my shoulder. We talk a little but are silent during the Big Red "Kiss a little longer" commercial & the beautiful Boys of Summer video. 

Pick out records & go to his room. We sit on the side of the bed & unlace and take off our shoes. Listen to the Secret Police and I can't hold back for "Because We've Ended as Lovers" and I turn to him, "this is my favorite" and we're quickly horizontal. 

"And it always sounded so sad before. Why doesn't it sound sad now?" I murmur. And I whisper: "I may as well try to catch the wind..."

Things: "Brett," I whisper. "What?" "I want you to ... say my name." "Cindy," he says "Cindy."

I take off my sweater & shirt, throwing them across the room. He's unfastening my bra, I offer to help with a movement of my hands, but he won't let me.

January 17

Well, serves me right for writing on & on, wringing out my memory for the tiniest bit of thrill. Last nite I had a kinky dream. Dennis Quaid/Harrison Ford is leaving me, I put my arms around his neck to how we could be serious, I am serious, he backs into another room. Thinks, then, "okay." We're sitting on a chair, facing each other.  

GROSS!! READ W/CAUTION!

"Is this how you want it?" Dennis/Harrison asks. I look down. "I've never...I'm..." He quickly understands & thinks, then, "okay, then how about, I do you, then you do me, okay?" He's accommodating enough. I'm so wet, it feels like water is splashing on my down under. And ye, I do enjoy the kiss. But more unpleasant interludes w/others & my punishment! 

Freud would say even in my dreams, I really do want justice. And so gross black bugs attack me w/long black soft stingers that leave black dots that I know will infect me & rot my parts.

Why did I have it? Thinking of Brett all the time, wondering if when he went for my zipper, ("Brett, we can't" "Don't worry, nothing will happen" --> I did trust him, I just didn't want him 2 know I was on the rag) he wanted to kiss me. And how ordered it seems: first time just kissing, then the breasts & hand jobs, then I guess my dream. Then we break up because I won't go all the way. But even that is hopeful, so I better stick w/now & not presuppose.         I also had it from reading Hotel New Hampshire and talking w/Michelle.

But enough is enough. This is the last of it.

Things: Oh please slow down I thought to his heart and his rapid breath. So I tried, not knowing what I was doing, no finesse, no delicacy. His sharp moans were beautiful. And then he was somehow heavier, more solid and with me as he lay quiet. "Okay?" I whispered. "Alright?" I was questioning him and what I had done. "Yeah" was all he said.

Things: When I awoke, we were laying face to face, our lips just touching. One by one, separated my long pauses when we dozed, we pressed against each others' mouths until we were awake and began again.

Okay. There, I've finished it and I want to go on to new things. 

 

 

 January 21

Why oh why? Because this pen is red with all its nasty connotations, because in 5 days I will be a score of years old. Two decades. Because I've gotten no letters since I came back. Because the Edna Vincent Milay poem I just read ended "let me make it plain/I find this frenzy insufficient reason/For conversation when we meet again." (Oh! How could she!)

BUT! To save me: I feel happier this semester, talking to people makes me so happy.

January 24

This is the last day of my period. I almost miss it.

I will be 20 years old on Saturday, two days form now.

In Sophie's Choice he calls it "briny" and a "mossy swamp." I can't understand the appeal. It's obviously not for us.

Why did I do that? To resolve it -- to have the last word, to bring satisfaction. Oh I was so happy as I left Reggie's room, so ecstatic. Of all the scenes I'd imagined, none of them were this -- success. Why didn't the good feeling remain?

Because I was expecting disaster & got a little conversation and because I gradually calmed down to see the flaws in the little conversation, c'est tout.

January 27

Happy, happy, happy. I woke this morning in Diane's room, looking out the huge windows into a massive expanse of white & blue sky. Half asleep, I tell Diane I feel like I'm flying as I lay back in bed, looking up at the sky over me.

I am happy imagining myself poor. I mean, look at this room! Look at these possessions! I only need a few clothes. Music. I don't feel strongly about much else -- letters, photographs, hyes, but take my books, want my little paraphernalia, junk, stuff?

January 31

Brett is gone. Oh dear. 3 months. Look at all those pages about him! But they're all wrong. Tonya's "don't cry, Cindy, it's not worth it" is wrong, Diane's "that asshole! I wish they could send this in a telegram," flipping off the ceiling. "Fuck you just isn't enough..." is all wrong. Even my tears aren't quite right. Nor is this letter I'm writing.

The best thing I never had.

Two in the Morning

 

 

 

 

 

January 3, 1985

Maybe I should be reassured by my consistency, by my equilibrium. Reading that a body's metabolism tends to stabilize someone's weight so the longer you've been at a certain weight, the harder it is to lose or gain, it felt so right and familiar, I felt that I had already knew it. 

Some things are like that -- they are so right and true, the confirm a part of myself as I learn them for the first time. But I'm digressing. What I mean is I'm returning again. Give me nothing to do, empty days & slow nites and my thot processes return to the old paths. Despair & fresh hope over & over again, undecided between gregarious & anti-social behavior & tendencies & motives. I agonize over simple phone calls or whether I should go on another pointless shopping trip. Another old associate returned for this vacation is the old fervor to work my body out of its unhealthy, inactive state. I'm hungry again for that drug that comes from pain, sweat & pride and leaves me quietly euphoric & relaxed. 

Maybe the impulse for body love is a subconscious act of self-preservation, to rescue me from the anxiety & harm of too much time on my hands to berate myself. More deja vu! I'm sitting on the floor in front of the heating vent. Memories of hot feet & hod back on the hard kitchen floor, my neck hurting from leaning against the cabinet, 6:30 in the morning, half-asleep, eyes hurting, dreading getting dressed for school. 

It's not quite 2 and I'm the only one awake. I feel peaceful late at nite. Maybe because I can be sure I'm not missing anything, Or is that just the niggling pressure to be normal & there4 so sociable talking?

This all leads to no, the all is the reason I want to go to summer school at KU this summer. No matter how much I hate the pressures of deadlines, I need to fill up my life. I mean, I hate this empty living when all I do is spend money & think too deeply & seriously about trite thots. It's not very pleasant to have the strongest emotions of the day in reaction to the extra brownie I had after dinner when 3 weeks ago I was having discussions about methanol treatments and existentialism and theories about recurrent themes in world religions (i.e. for preservation of authority) (what was the name of that theory?) 

The other reason is that there is nothing for me here. My family will always be here, yeah, but I don't really care all that strongly about old ties. Am I running away from bad memories? I hope not. 

Okay, enough of that. You know my mood. Here's an old fantasy to clear the air a bit. This summer I spent the nite at Christy's one Sat. We stayed up til about 3, recording albums & talking. The next morning she gets up to go to church w/Mom, Dad & Grandpa. Scott had come in late the nite before, before he left we had done flips on Christy's bed, laughing at the wildness of throwing yourself violently through the air. When Christy left for church, I was so dead, I went back to sleep for a while, then got up & left. Even though she told me to go on sleeping, for some reason I felt uncomfortable about staying & beat a hasty exit. 

My fantasy: as soon as I hear the door close behind them, I go into their parents bedroom & make sure the car leaves. I go to Scott's door. My heart's pounding as I quietly open the door & creep in. I slip under the covers and lay against his back. Only then does he wake up. I go no further than this. I just like the thot of sleeping with him in the waterbed. 

Shit. It's 3:30 already. I don't have time for the epic of indulgence. Lie! I have gangs of time, I'm just afraid my mind isn't clear enough to remember everything right now. But I can start this: what we listened to.

Fri.

Joan Armatrading, Lou Reed live, 

Rickie: her first & Volcano

                                                                                                           Joni Mitchell live

Sat

Secret Police, Rolling Stones (Some Girls?) Elvis (My Aim is True)

Morning

Julian Lennon (Valotte) 

P.S. Driving home from the grocery story, (<-- important detail to add credibility, to show the thought was significant & good & perhaps true enuf to survive time. But then again, I think there's been quite a few really good ones that just got forgotten. The precious, delicate ideas that escaped) I think, "I'm just going through a phase. I'm irreverent."

December, 1984. South Bend, IN; Lawrence, KS; Kansas City, MO

December 1

Cindy you fart! You little fart! But I am so happy. Reggie Schroeder. Ahh. "It's so hard at first" I said, playing Maureen McGovern in Ordinary People. 

"Yeah, I know," he said. And "You're the first interesting person I've met at one of these." And "Well, give us a kiss."

Oh I hope he heard my "you're nice!" And I do like him. I'm so happy & excited. You silly girl. Not 2 days after Brett sent me The Wonderful Letter. Oh Brett. 

They are very alike, well, a little alike, well they have a few similarities. Oh shit. And I know today I was thinking about what if I had this situation & hot far I could take it. Maybe I have ESP.

Am I going to have 2 periods each month from now on? Very strange.

Ooo ooo new sensations.

Tell Brett -- I Hate the Beach Boys, Bus Plunge, Cowboy Lips, Helter Skelter & I Wanna Whole Lotta Love. Road Warrior, Repo Man, Clockwork Orange.

Tell Reggie -- Repo man w/Circle Jerks

Tell Yourself -- This can work out. We can all be happy.

Oh ha ha ha ha ha! If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with!!

December 4

Shit. There's no joy in Clarksville. Shit, I think this will affect how I write & talk to Brett. And I feel so guilty knowing I have to keep this from Tonya. Knowing I have to keep this from Tonya. How can any of this turn out? Kick out Reggie, run to Brett & it eventually has to end. All things come to an end. And then what does Tonya do -- she has said how close they've become, how much she wants him to be a very dear friend. Great. The shit we dive into. But maybe I'm jumping ahead -- I am, but last nite he was already saying we'll go to Chicago, I'll see his room, we'll do this & that, drive across the country w/his best friend. Shit and of course jerky Cindy compromises, I laugh at witnessing Baptists, I nod about drugs (another thing he said we'd do together) although I did say I'd never done anything. It was so stiff at first, for the longest time. And then gradually, I forgot where I was & who he was & what we were doing and the ideas we were talking about filled my eyes & ears. Long silences. I mean a lot of at least 10-15 second pauses. But I didn't mind, did he? I felt like a geek. Is he really interested? Do I want him to be? And the movie! Magnificent, but was he uncomfortable? I wasn't, even with the rape, rape, rape & phallic crap & shots directly above & below (close shots) of a naked woman. But hold his hand? Through that? How does he view women? (Important.) 

I'm going to make a main stream movie to embarrass: a scene focusing on a guy's agony over trying to hold her hand in a movie.

P.S.!

So that's it! I listen to Rickie, talk to Mary, write letters, put on eye makeup (like Alex, I guess I feel evil), look at my nails, but ignore my philosophy paper due tomorrow at 10:10 & the Cosmos test over 4 chapters I haven't read at 2. 

I know why. Self-destructive behavior. We fulfill our expectations.

I feel so guilty about possibly hurting 2 wonderful people. Plus Tonya, Fuck me, I deserve it. Ooooo! Cindy! Save yourself!

Lord? Save me? oooh, I moan.

Why can't I find a Christian? Why are they both into drugs? Why is Jeff into drugs? (I still have faint fantasies about marrying him.) "Oh we-e belong together..." rips through me & I'm short of breath...

Reggie said he put a copper wire in an outlet to find out what would happen & it felt like someone was pounding on his chest & his back. He did it twice.

Sparkles fall & birds fly, the sun sets & children are quiet, thoughtful, as Rickie sings. The little girl hugs a street light post and looks at evening sky.

Kiss, kiss, kiss, Cindy's horny. I would have shot us from far away, perhaps from behind the car door so you could only see the tops of our heads meet. You'd have to look carefully to see us. First time, then I smile & reach for another. And after I check again my number, a goodbye one. Ah. Short, sweet, ouch. I'm hurting tonight. 

December 10 

I want Reggie to be my friend, but I'm pessimistic. Of if only it could work. But friendship should  be as spontaneous as love. But when people say "let's be friends," they usually aren't taking into account if they like the person or not, they're just saying, "let's not be lovers." I'm going to work at this one.

Tell Reggie -- Guitar, Earth Kitt, tapes, Huge, the X, postcard

I don't want Brett to be physical for different reasons than we're friends. I love talking to him. I don't want to separate the... Oh, I don't know what's going to happen. 

Isn't it funny how things work out? How can always count on life to be different than your expectations, though.

I want Reggie to be my friend.

Images of meeting Brett (I think this was how he left), tightly clutching hands at waist level between us, stand still & tilt just slightly! my head to kiss.

December 14

I'm so unhappy! But I'm laughing as I wail. Oh, I don't know, I feel listless, studying for my film final is such a joke. I'm in the process of getting Boring grades, you know? But happy when I think of getting home, when I read The Eighth Day -- so incredible! 

And Reggie! Now my thots of him will always have that bleak, barren, cold, sterile, intimidating dorm room as the background with the Specials sparse reagae saying "you're wondering now what to do now you know this is the end." And I can't concentrate on my Cosmos in the cruel sharp yet dim light as he, his back 2 me, washes & washes carefully his face. I hate my smile, my forced, stupid questions. Silence. I can't even make him smile. This is a different boy than the wunderkind at the dance & the movie. This is not a friend. Oh good. I've decided now, right now, that I'm not pretending his is anymore. 

I still get a pang when I look up Mr. E's picture. I wonder which one will fade faster? Okay, okay, I'll admit it -- still having fantasies. Still loving to make him laugh.

December 17

Since Sat. nite when I saw the student film/video show, I've had trouble falling asleep. I keep getting ideas & already worrying about assignments. It's so exciting. What I'm anxious about: I don't think I think in very funny ways, I don't get funny ideas. But if I try to do something serious, people have little patience with it. Or maybe that's just me. People like 2 laugh, even at pathetic attempts at humor (unless they're so self-conscious, you just cringe at their screaming Laugh! Laugh! at me!) <-- I don't know, it's complicated, but I get more serious ideas than funny ones. 

1. Satire on Bowie's China Girl video: SMC chick. Half-screen "Bowie" singing & throwing his hips around, ha, ha, like video. Other half, people making really queer faces. Side view of both, she says ssshh and scrapes her face on her incredibly long fingernails. Cafeteria, she's waiting for him w/a tray, he grabs it & throws it straight up in air. She's gorgeous, foufy hair, lots of makeup, $ clothes, she covers hier face & then turns into cold cream on face (like China Girl's white makeup), hair in curlers, in sweats. He grabs her & they kiss, but I don't have expensive track, so they just shuffle around in a circle while they kiss. Oh ha ha. The glass doors of the Chinese restaurant become La Fortune's front door. 

Dec. 17 Later.

I called Brett this afternoon. He's so fun and exciting and funny and kind. I don't deserve him. I don't deserve you. Just days now. This is Mon. nite. I'll be home Wed. nite! 

Home! Finals are just an irritating nusance in my way, but I'll get through them. What (oh what!) is going to happen? I can't even image what (of course I'm imagining, ha!) we'll meet like. My house, his house, Lawrence, the hallway, the parking lot, Tonya's apt, his, w/Chuck, w/Tonya, w/Rob, ha! what if Lounge Lizard was there!?!! I still want that hard, still kiss of a few pages back. I can't wait to see the curve ball life is going to throw me on this one. I want us to have fun: Winsteads, the Plaza, the museum?, used clothes stores, bars, movies we rent. I want us to have fun. I don't want sex. Oh dear, I hope there's not a problem. 

Why I love him: He is kind, he is funny & he like Rickie. Coolsville! He even loved Coolsville! 

I know why, I found out tonite why remembering being young is so poignant for me, why it feels so. Rickie reminds me of being little and playing. It all ended w/Nancy. That was the summer before 6th grade, time to grow up. No more playmate. No more play, for weeks just because it was physically impossible, then emotionally and then it was time I had outgrown it. Maybe I'm just waxing psychological because Mary said (before she left!) it must have had a strong affect on me, both occurring in my developing/formative years.

RED!

December 24

This is not going to end well. Waiting for Dad to bring back my car so I can finish X-mas shopping. This is not going to end well, I'm still crazy right now. I can't think except in very short-term lengths of time. Here, let me tell you some junk: Thurs. got my hair cut short! Do I look like my mother now? 

(For the first time that I can remember, Ron said something about our parents. I'm getting ready to go out w/Sherri & Christy & he looks at me & says "you haven't changed since you were 3 years old," not fondly. "I can remember when I was about 6 years old & going into (pause) Mom's room and you were smearing lipstick all over your face." He said Mom.) 

Oh Mr. Berger, you know Truth.

 

Reddish

 December 25

<--- Okay, to finish. A nicer Christmas, family-wise, then many, but I feel corrupt. Chuck's stories about gay priests and Tonya's malicious quips & laughter felt especially sacrilegious on Christmas Eve. I didn't go to Mass. The radio played part of Like a Virgin, then switched to Jingle Bells as if someone had been caught playing a bad joke and I said "I'm being punished for not being sorry for fooling around w/Brett." I mean, it's Christmas! I bought rum at Hen House, so frightened my face (felt like crying) dead serious.  

At Chuck's we baked sugar cookies, drank egg nog & laughed w/Mrs. Johnson (he says I'm her). 

I can't decide if I feel bad and consequently guilty or not. That was last nite. 

This morning Ron loudly notices my hickey (3 1/2 days old & still hanging on, though not as dark as the bruises on my breasts) "and you were supposed to be at church!" 

I don't say anything, but can't lie out of it. But this is just crap to tell Tonya to make her laugh...Back to the perils of my life.

Oh Mr. Berger, you know Truth. The girl I am with Christy & Sherry is not the girl who Reggie thinks he knows is not the same as that Cindy Girl is not Diane & Michelle's friend who is barely similar to Tonya's best friend. I am not the same with different people, it's more than an act. I guess I should be the same girl with everyone who is the same girl that I live with when I'm alone. When I'm alone, I have to look at myself. Can't hide. Or do I, in rationalizations & apathy & oblivion? Do I mind? Do I like them all? I'm compromising. "Remember Jim, you choose your friends, don't let them choose you!" I am the hypocritical chameleon. Will the real Cindy please stand up?

Sunday nite John C called. Yuck. "What? You looking for some kind of long-term, meaningful relationship here?" Oh ha ha ha! I'd love to say that to him, but I could care less if I don't get the chance. In generic terms, I told Ron some of the situation and he shocked me by calling me a victim, not believing I was in control of my life & destiny. Doesn't that sound familiar?! "I am the victim," I've whined so many times. Wow. I will be an existentialist -- responsible for myself & my actions. Not blaming someone else.

And back, back more to

December 27

<---To conclude! 

"It's much too late 4 goodbye," Chuck, Tonya, Brett & I tried to watch The Big Chill & Manhattan on a rented VCR last nite but it wouldn't work so we went to see The Cotton Club. I could barely think of a thing to say all nite. And when we dropped him off in Lenexa, he & I went inside to get Windex for the car windshield. (This is rambling on as pointlessly as I felt) We walk back from the dark kitchen, I'm at the door & he touches my shoulder. /We said nothing, not even when he opened the door & we went outside. He was taking the train the next morning. At the car Tonya asked him if he was going to Heather's wedding & he said no. Goodbye & he was gone. When I wrote this is not going to end well, I didn't even image this ending, not bad, not good, just inevitable & out of our control. I should have expected something totally different than I was expecting. Driving home, I felt deeply, deeply tired, sick to nausea and very sad.

That was last nite. The nite before, Christmas nite, I was at Tonya's & we made prank phone calls, trying to connect Kyla to Mrs. Frischer & Greg to Missy H.

Later. We were expecting Chuck to come over to see Valley Girl when the doorbell rang so seeing an oh so familiar head & hearing Kyla's laugh shocked me to my socks. Tonya & I both screamed & ran out of the room. We were laughing hysterically, trying to get out the back door while T's mom grinned & they stood, slightly amused, sheepish. Finally, we sat down & there was some conversation. I didn't help. The last time I had talked to Greg was on the phone at Tonya's Halloween party (When Tonya mentioned something about it, he mumbled something about being in a strange/unusual state that night, as if being drunk gave him an excuse.) The last time I'd seen him was in July or Aug. when he was at Crown Center one Fri. nite with Eli & Christina. I don't remember the last time I had seen Kyla, probably the last nite we had a fight at Greg's brother's? During Lent? Months. 

December 29

This joke is getting old & the confusion too great for the worth the material. (Well...then again...) Let's just summarize 4 now: 

Drove home Wed. 

Thur: Hair cut, dinner w/Christy & Sherri. 

Fri: Drove to Lawrence. Tonny, Brett & I drive to K.C., she works while we buy Teddy Bears, comes back, goes out again, we listen & kiss in his room, come back, go out again, I spend the night. 

Sat: I'm wide awake while I shop, T. works, Brett disappears, Chuck comes, he & I eat at Valentino's, buy off Tonya, go back to the appts. & watch T.V. I spend the nite. 

Sun. Goodbye & I return to major stress & sleep. Jeanne, hyper & childish. 

Mon. Finish my shopping, wrapping & T. & I go to Chuck's house. 

Tues. calm holiday, presents & dinner & Tonny's where we make the calls & G & K pay a call. Chuck comes & we watch Valley Girl. 

Wed. We 3 go shopping Plaza & Westport, then pick up Brett for the VCR failure, then Cotton Club. "So, when are you leaving, Brett?" "My train leaves tomorrow morning." "What!" Goodbye.

Thurs. Trapped at home til Tonny rescued me to get Trading Places & Big Chill & dinner. Goodbye Chuck.

Fri. Mom & I shopping & I stay home except for embarrassing myself w/Nancy Johnson. Today is Saturday & I'm going shopping w/Christy. But you know what I remember the most & the easiest. What he said, how we touched, and moved.

The End of November

 November 18

Mr. Lizard gave me a hickey. He hated it when I bit him, but I couldn’t help nipping him, especially after I would say something amazedly about how pretty he was, (“You are so cute, little Freshman”) and he’d confidently receive the praise. The nerd. 

When Tonya left the next morning, she found Brett sitting on the steps, playing his guitar. 

“What time did you leave,” she asks.

“Around 8:30. I had to get some sleep in my own bed.”

Later that week Heather(!) asks Brett if he had a good time on Friday. (She didn’t want an answer, she wanted a reaction.) 

He blushes (according to Tonya, according to H.) and says “yeah, we had a lot of fun. She’s a really nice girl.” What does that mean?

I keep having fears of getting cancer. A spot on my arm itched for a week. I woke up with an unreasonable pain in my hip.

Last nite Diane, Michelle & I went out. What sweet joy at comfortable laughter. Simple happiness from casual acceptance. Fun. I wanted someone to share it with though, this morning. 

“Clarkie! I went out with 2 girls last night!”

“Oh wow! Great! How was it—tell me everything!” Such an event. And it was nice.

November 20

Period is coming and hope is leaving. Hope that Brett & I would have a real relationship. He knows I’m going to Chicago, he knows I wanted to see him over Thanksgiving, he knows my number.  1 + 1 + 1 = 0  (Ha! That’s pretty good!) No calls, no letters, no nothing. Was he just another Name? Hear the same songs & to feel something, fill in the blank with the name of your choice.

Is this why he’a been so quiet to Tonya? Did he find something (everything) distasteful in my letters? I hate silence.

Scene: a long shot of 2 people talking, very far away, but something striking about them, maybe a red coat. Behind them (I'm seeing the library) something huge. No sound. Next shot, same huge establishing thing, but much farther away. And one of the characters comes into he shot, walking away from the library. Camera follows character -- we know it's one of the same as the two from the red coat. Just walking, entire conversation is heard as we watch her face. A memory. 

November 25

I am amazingly rational. And it's not just shock. Of course, I knew. This morning, I knew. I called Mom about 1/2 an hour ago. Let me grieve in my own way. I plan what to wear, what teacher to talk to, my schedule. Calculated. 

Is it because I had known for a long time that she was gone? Is it because I thought often about this moment, wondering whether it would be hypocritical to break down when she stopped breathing when she had stopped living weeks ago? It is because I'm truly relieved? 

Of course I'll cry later: Ron will make me cry, Mom will make me cry, others' tears always make me cry. I'll cry for myself. I should laugh w/joy. She is beautiful & good again. Of course, if I start to yell, I'll lose it & sob harsh screams. 

Death sucks.

When someone found out Mrs. Lister had died and the neighbors were converging in front of her house, Ron & I played soccer in the back yard.

November 28

I have no respect for death. I respect life, I respect people. I will give death no power, I won't let it think itself important. 

Mother is weakness, Ron is strength. 

November 29

Film and music? Do you know what the secret is? 

You take a horribly sad piece that drips and match it with something normal, something you see everyday.

Rickie moans, Linda Ronstadt cries good-bye, good-bye, good-bye, the guitar mournfully plucks out Both Sides Now or wails Cause We've Ended as Lovers. 

Place them matter of factly with a normal, unsentimental shot, kids having fun outside somewhere, playing rough games, two young men talking, a girl methodically cleaning her room, a street at twilight, someone asleep in a chair, two people not smiling together, or two people smiling as they pass. Suddenly it aches. 

November Continued

 Nov. 15 cont.

...and he hasn't even touched my bra and we're both breathing fast & I breathe "Brett, Brett, I'm scared" "What?" "I'm scared for you" I whisper. He relaxes & we lay side by side, facing. "It's so fast," I whisper, "I'm trembling" I breathe and I was. "My mind is going about a million miles an hour." "Okay," he says, sitting up. I clutch Garfield. "Let's just relax" he says and I realize I'm as clentched as a fist. Just his arm around my shoulders, he kisses my hair and says "I think we were just scared of ourselves" (I wasn't talking about VD, darling. I get extremely cryptic in these places. I feel so cautious and vulnerable. I can only whisper strange thoughts: "What does this mean?" "I hate myself for hurting you") "I know what you mean, I was trembling too." I think I love him. Then, again, and when I hesitantly kiss his neck, he breathes strangely. And the point again where I have to whisper "do you know what you're doing?" "Yes" "I don't." We relax, the birds are beginning to make noise. "I'm sorry, I was being selfish," he surprises me. "No, I was!" And again, the amazing "What are you thinking?" "That I like you a lot." I look at him and smile, "I like you very much." He has to go. We sit silent forever. It's light outside. "What are we going to do?" Thinking we hear Tonya, we put our hats back on. "I don't know about you, but I don't think of this as a fling. I'm not that kind of guy." "Oh!" I gasp and he says "And you thought chivalry was dead!" "Yes, I did," I murmur as I bend and kiss his palm. We give each other glances and smiles & quizzical looks & laugh at the confusion. "What?" he asks "Nothing," I laugh. "That's just like me," he replies. "Well, let's keep in touch." Such cold words, but I say "if you want to. I want to." I feel so cold as we gather his albums, his game and he leaves while I get paper & a pen. We write our names and it's "Oh well." And one last. I'm confusing him with my looks and he murmurs "I've gotta get out of here" I laugh as he leaves and closes the door. It's 8:30. I go to bed.

Other words: "Why are you such a nice guy?" He laughs in disbelief "How could you have any regard for me at all after last week?" (Why does it sound like an excuse when he replies) "What somebody does is their own business."

Do you have a good memory, Brett? I'm sitting here, tired, my paper's due tomorrow, Mary & her friend Dan are sitting in the living room & I can hear them laughing as they discuss relationships. He's not the only one to love her. She's widely loved. I have a single page letter, and now, these shreds of a memory.

When the Skies of November Turn Gloomy

November 1

Be happy, Cindy, be happy! New dress (smells like smoke) New haircut (worse than before) dance tomorrow (just another reason 4 anxiety) 2 A papers (but in the same classes, I blew a mid-term and Prof DeVacca made me feel like an idiot) Brett (oh dear). What a day -- people asking me if I felt tired, Core made me cry quietly in the bathroom, at dinner, a whole shelf full of drinks falls down when I pick up a glass. I just stood there and looked.

November 6

Why do I only find time to write the bad things? (Because there will be so much joy in reading them again and knowing they're wrong, wrong, wrong!) A bad thing -- such a huge part of his attraction is Tonya's vehement approval. Ooooh! Truth rips. But what about the good stuff?

Later: I have to write, I have to tell you! I just talked to Tonya (oh gentle reader, go back to the first of the book. That's what she's like -- so loving, so funny, such a friend!) and it kills me to think that he was 50 feet away.

What did he say. What did he do. How did I feel.

He struck a chord in me. And it's in a minor key.

I know I'm being silly. I know how childish and base it is to dwell on simple physical facts that don't really mean much. But oh how wonderful they feel.

I like the night like this. I'm on the first high crest of caffeine and I feel beautiful. The house is quiet but for the clicks of the clock and the rushing of the furnace. I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna do it! 

The scene: a cold impersonal cruel wind is whipping across the hill. Bleak, mammoth utilitarian prison-dorm tower is in the background, far enough away that you can see how huge they are and how little decorates the landscape besides their massive forms. Waiting for the bus? Walking? She's sobbing steadily, making noise. He's confused. Is she another weirdo? Should he bother? What would he say? Are you alright? Can I help you? What's the matter? But he's a decent sort--his parents were good people who showed him respect and politeness. He asks and not stopping, she cries I'm lonely. Oh great, he thinks, a crazed nymphomaniac.

She dreams of love. (that's me)

November 10

Yes, tonite finally, I have the time to tell you. How ridiculous. I've spent the last 5 1/2 hours listening to tapes, rearranging my sweaters and getting thoroughly confused about my classes next semester. Waste, waste, waste.

When I look into my bathroom, I can see, at a certain angle, where the two walls of mirrors meet and reflecting each other in the corner, I can see myself as others see me, instead of a mirror image. We look at each other, that girl and me. Rickie's first song on her new album is "Gravity." Two years ago I wrote a poem "my love is like gravity...my love is heavy in my hands..." She knows me, I think.

November 14

I walk home. The taste of blood is in my mouth, I smell smoke. The wind is cold. I didn't get any mail. I'm wearing a blue shirt, blue sweater, blue gloves, jeans & blue shoes & my blue denim jacket. For dinner I'll change into blue socks and add blue earrings. Guess how I feel? Ha ha ha ha ha! Okay, clean now, I'm a little better. I'm sorry. Such a wonderful thing and I've put it off for so long. I have to tell you what happened at Tonya's! But I'm not in the perfect mellowed, melancholy, quiet mood. I've got stuff on my mind (Core paper, tonite a London meeting and The Graduate!) but I need to put this down before I forget. 

The last nights before I came home, Tonya and I talked, excited. We were going to set me up with Brett across her hall. Seeing her again was just as fun as always, as the best of always. I was so excited getting ready for the party, all day at the apartment I had felt my heart blow up when the doorbell rang. And now people were coming and seeing a boy not even in costume! who looked like Mr. High School, I thought no big deal. Got my jump rope and started to flirt. Mr. Devil! Oh he's a cute one! John, Brett and (weird) Rob. Brett, unusual man of my dreams turned out to be the young-looking yawn boy. 

(Before the party, dancing with myselfTM to the English Beat's video in the living room, Sonya says "you've got to meet Brett. You two will really get along." Tonya told me that night the two apartments mixed, "Sonya and Brett just rolled around on the floor and kissed." Oh. "Sonya likes Brett," she said. Sonya is chubby and nice.)

Mr. Devil, you are cute. Shades of pretty boys like Sean. But this one is coming on. So when Tonya said "I'll leave you two alone" on the patio, I grabbed him & pulled him to a corner. Down hill from there. The closet was nice. John & Brett are smoking (the smell is strong) in Brett's bedroom. On the toilet, Tonya says drunk "no matter what happens, Cindy, I love you" and I kiss her from the floor where I've had fits of paralyzed laughing. In the shower, she turns the water on us. Rob, Bron, Tonya, Devil & I are on Rob's bed, he kisses Bron & grabs my breast, then kisses me, fondling Bron's rear. I laugh. Tonya & Brett dancing on the table, John he's ugly, me & Devil to Don't go back to Rockville & Sugar Magnolia. He & I are out of step & out of tune, but pretend to ignore it. And by the time he leaves, (running down the stairs with my jacket, w/out even a touch) the night is long, he is tiresome & not worth the trouble. 

Greg had called drunk and somewhere between his oh so sincere, spastically enthusiastic "Cin!" (Was is Cin? O I hope not) Hi! How are you!?" to our mutual "fuck off!"'s, we argued. I want to call him hypocritical to his face. I even blew off Chuck 4 the little lizard. Tonya's sad pout, "I called him because I needed someone to talk to" strikes more guilt than the pathetic gropings in the bedroom. Mostly an embaressment. 

I join Tonya talking to Brett sitting in the hall. "Is someone mad at me?" he asks -- my first sign of a nice guy. "Did I do something wrong?" Gone, gone, they're all gone and Tonya & Brett & I sit in the living room. We talk, Tonya & I. Brett sits, blinking slowly, turning his head from her to me or just staring straight ahead, a rare "what?" or "wait a minute, who's that?" every once in a while. So we told each other things. The horrible truth about Tonya's parents sickens me. And about Mom & Dad & Nancy & Chris. Not realizing the truth before I said it: "I'll always love Ron the best, " and then I knew. Brett even heard about the attacks. Wow. It would have been transcending enough, but this boy sat there and without a word, listening to us talk for hours. I wonder how much he heard thru clouds of smoke. Next day, "we'll go out next weekend, you & me & Brett," Tonya says. I want to. 

I go back to Jewell & only look for Mr. Ed. Most likely it's best that I don't see him. I want to keep him separate from remembering that awful place (it's the same as ever -- the freshmen learn fast.) And glad to go back to Lawrence. Brett's punk friends weren't all that special, just as little as Bron & Rob & their friend. Why should the way we dress radically change us? Why do people think so?

I did not want to go to the preppy Greek Corbins, I would feel suffocated & hate my forced smile. So us three went to get money & Joe's donuts & to a small bar. I felt so good. I had my jacket back(!) I felt cute in my red shoes, black socks, gray jeans, blue shirt, black sweater, and red beret. The music in the bar was fun. Brett knew "King of the Road." The Hashinger party turned out costume, so we went back to change, I was finished dressing long before Tonya. (I asked B. to zip me up.) Brett's costume was a hat & buttoning his shirt up to his neck. By this time I knew what he did was alright, I knew he was alright. 

The party was such a bore, but Brett & I danced a lot towards the end. T. & I waited while he was talking to a girl though we wanted to leave: "He doesn't have many dates," Tonya says & tells of overhearing him & John talking and Brett saying "did she tell you she had to wash her hair? I hear that a lot." We speculated why girls wouldn't go out with him. (I'm realizing that all this time and I still felt the same way. The whole night I didn't have a clue. Until.) 

And then we left, more donuts & drove around. "C'mon, Tonya, let's just drive around like we used to in high school when there wasn't anything else to do." So we drove out to find a lake.

"I love doing this," I said, "just driving around somewhere for a long time with people." Or something like that. 

"Yeah," said Brett. I'd found out that he did talk. He was in a different state than the last weekend. 

I'm playing with the ends of the jump rope in my lap and he puts his hand on my arm. (I expected it? Yes, the tiny ways that are so unsure, you don't know, and yet? Is he? Does he? And the gesture was a positive answer.)

I'm not going to be coy, I want him to be honest so I look directly at him. He's leaned his head back, looking straight ahead. He doesn't look at me. I keep playing with the rope and slowly he moves his hand to mine. The road is dark, the sky loaded with low clouds lit by the city. We sing Bread and laugh. 

(I see now. The joy as much as that other night -- M.B. & Greg & I, loving them, but this was a serene joy, no ache here.) On the other side of a hill we can see the glow from the headlites of an oncoming car. 

"It's God," says Brett. 

 

November 15

What I want. It's very simple. 1. To go to London. 2. Satisfaction with Greg (I don't know exactly how but the present situation still pricks at me, a cut that won't heal, a tiny rock in my shoe, a speck in my eye) 3. To have Brett.

Shit. This paper I don't want to do. I don't feel creative or articulate tonight. Or even clever. How about: ?... T. and I are changing places. In high school she's quiet and has a few friends, I'm loud and gregarious. Full circle, peut-etra? 

Okay, okay, I know what you really want to know. What happened after that. How long has it been? 2 weeks & 6 days. I can't remember and feel shuddering wonderful surge anymore. I've run out of adrenaline. 

After the donut, my mouth felt moldy and tasted like a horrible smell. We were running out of gas so Tonya turned the car around on the bridge (I never did see the lake beneath us) and drove back. I was embarrassed a little, and hoped she didn't feel like just a driver with us sitting there touching hands.  

We got back to the apartment, talking about Woody Allen movies. He's seen every one of them. Tonya suggests Trivial Pursuit and I read a couple of cards. We drift around, making drinks, changing clothes, dancing to the Big Chill. Finally! I brush my teeth (ahh! And I know) and change into Tonya's jeans & green polo & the red beret. Brett's drinking vodka & orange juice & cranberry juice, no--7-Up & vodka and Tonya has rum and Coke. I drink water. Again, we sit, Tonya at one end of the long couch, Brett in his cap, I say to T., "hey! You're in the minority when it concerns hats here!"

Brett in between us at the other end and me on the short couch at right angles. A few Trivial questions, Groovy Greats, Brett goes to get something and while Tonya's in the kitchen, I say, "Tonya! Tonya!" I'm embarrassed, I think she knows what I mean -- what should I do? But she was nonchalant (Later, she told me she didn't even know we were holding hands in the car "If I'd known that, I would have gone to bed earlier.")

He returns, she goes to bed. We listen to Joni Mitchell, Simon & Garfunkel, Crosby, Stills & Nash. We talk about movies. Ouch! I bore him with my long drawn out description of The Graduate, but he's so nice to sit there & calmly listen. (There! I did feel it. A slight jump, a squeeze of the heart. Not completely gone.) 

And we play with Heather's stuffed Garfield & Pooky & Odie. The animals are touching & kissing each other while we talk of other things. He changes an album, I sit on the floor. I trace Garfield's mouth with my finger. He plays with Garfield's ears. And after a very long time, his fingers touch mine. We stop talking. I sit absolutely still, barely breathing, staring at our two hands. This time I don't look at him.

My heart beats behind my face. We don't say a word. The record ends. He gets up to change it and my decision is to sit against the long couch. I hug Garfield tightly and he returns, his arm around my shoulders now. I only lean my head down on his shoulder, he turns his head and we kiss. A long kiss. I hug Garfield tighter, then my arms spread to hold him. The record ends. 

"What do you want to hear" is the first thing he says. "Your heart" I reply, against his chest. He goes & returns. Can I look at him? What do I see? Heavy lidded eyes with long lashes, wide cheeks, smooth and broad, red mouth. 

Hours and he's no more than touched my waist under my shirt. He returns again & I pull him down, pulling off our hats. (There it is. Through me.) I'm moving and he is too. (I can't remember & how I've tried, when I began to know this. The 3 way attic with Tonya & Greg? Involuntary.)

It's wonderful and I'm breathing quickly and when he kisses my ear I nearly go crazy. My mind has begun a dream state (not John's harsh colors, but word equations) ...