Yesterday Tom trimmed 3” from my hair. I hated to do it, but it was so dead, and really needed it. Every 6 weeks I’ll have him trim a quarter of an inch.

I’m gonna be mailing them a letter next door. It’s brief and friendly, but blunt. I know them. Their kids are gonna scream up a storm nearly every day till June. Then in the fall it’ll start back up again and die down from November to February. I ain’t putting up with it. It’s that plain and simple. I was here first, not that that should matter when it comes to other people forcing their noise on you. Fair is fair, so I enclosed this number in case my music got loud, but I’m pretty positive they can’t hear it anyway. I told them briefly about my ear, ear surgery, and why certain sounds register differently within me. While they do sound like nice people from what little contact we’ve had, I doubt they give a shit. It’s been obvious enough that they have no respect for those around them, but we’ll see. It’s that time of year where from about 8:30 AM - 7 PM I’ll hear them on and off mostly in the back. If I don’t notice any difference, then I’ll do everything I can think of to go out of my way to be heard over here. I don’t think it’ll make a bit of difference over 5 screaming kids, but I’ll think of something. I feel that if they respond to my request, God will do something else to me, but it’s a chance I’ll take. I just wish I knew what God’s message was in all this. There are only one or two other houses on this street with little kids, so why me? It doesn’t make me want my own any less, but I sure am sick of other people’s kids. My attitude’s still the same - if I’m not gonna hear my own someday, then I don’t want to hear nobody else’s.

Later...

I talked to Andy for quite a while. He said he was going through his stuff and cleaning when he came across a bag with tons of NPN cards I’d given him eons ago. Neither of us cares for or wants them; only envelopes. Then he said he came across 1 NPN envelope that he thought was his and opened it. Instead, it was an old draft of the journal subindex I had begun in ‘92. I did journals 1-22. He said he had hoped I wouldn’t be mad that he read it, I wrote nothing that made me look bad or that I should be embarrassed about, and was totally fascinated by it and how much I write.

I pulled out 16 and read him the note he gave me as he brought me to the airport to go to Florida. This was in late 1989 when I went for my 24th birthday. I also read him the letter I had him write and send to Jenny C. This was after our day in court when he was here and I was living in S. Deerfield.

I wish Tom wasn’t such a procrastinator. He said he was gonna call about stuff we ordered and never got. I can bet you that if I never remind him of it, he’ll never call. He may be busy and not feel well here and there, but there are just too many things he puts off. I really, really believe he’s trying to force patience into me. He denies that, but it does make me wonder. I don’t consider myself impatient, though. Just someone who likes to get stuff done. I also think he’s obsessed with me taking care of stuff he knowingly drops or rearranges. Other than that all is fine.