January 1992

1/1/1992 Wednesday 12:10 AM

The first 10 minutes of 1992 flashed some unpleasant thoughts through my mind.

What have I accomplished?

Nothing.

Where is my life going?

Nowhere.

Why do I feel as if I've accomplished so much but am getting nowhere in life? Silly question, huh? I still don't know if I want to live a life of nothing or second best. Should anyone try to pretend and make themselves settle into a life they're not happy with? If you knew for sure that all the things you really want and that matter to you will never come true? If you knew you'd live your life either miserable or in between. Never really happy. Never any kind of life, fun, adventure, or excitement. Just a nothing nobody on disability who knew what she wanted but couldn’t have it. Just a girl who'd like a little lust here and there and nothing more, as she has self-respect, enjoys her space, can't tolerate head games, lies, and geeks. But all I get are offers from people I'm not attracted to. God just can't allow me a person whom I'm turned on by for one lousy night. A decent person and say, “Ok, I'll send her someone fairly decent that she wouldn't be good enough for on a regular basis. All she wants is sex, and that way that ‘decent’ person won't have to put up with her, and she can have her space without this decent person trying to change her and condemn her.” Yeah, right. But I should be allowed at least some lust rather than be sent all the uglies or so-so people that are keeping me celibate. I need some fun, too.

Boy, am I mad at myself upon reviewing all the dumb things I did during 1991. The phone calls, the phone bills, losing my tapes, moving here, and reality slapping me in the face.

Fucking Kim couldn't have offered to do something with me, seeing that Mark's at work.

I have lost so much, both material and non-material.

My New Year's resolution is a deal with God or whatever the fuck's up there. I still can't bring myself to settle happily and willingly. This was gonna be my “settlement” year. Doing all the stuff I don't want to do and letting go of my dreams and having good sex. Instead, God will either grant me my wishes by sending me an attractive person, or help me get my foot in the door (appropriately) with my music. Then I'll work my ass off from there. If none of the above starts happening for me this year, I will exit this boring life. As if God's gonna answer my prayers for once and for all?

I am so pissed off at Kim, and my parents never called. Has Tammy given them my new number yet?

Fran called at around 11:20. Some girl showed up at his place, and he said he'd call me later or during the week.

I know I'm cursed. I know for sure. Forget about why, though, as I'll probably never know why. What do I do to get rid of it? Goddamn, do I hate this life! Being sure in my mind of the things I want and knowing I'll never achieve them. I'd never know where the fuck to begin. What an ass for believing I'd get connections somehow just ’cause I could sing. This idiot thought that two years from now (1994) she'd have her foot in the door. Man, do I feel like a complete jackass!

Can't I have just a little more than a nice place to live and some decent clothes? Material things are great. It doesn't replace being a singer and sex, though. I'm only human, and I can't help the way I feel. I have a right to my feelings, and if God's determined to make me settle, he'd better miraculously change those feelings of mine or else I'm gone before 1993. I mean it too, as I have hung on long enough to see that nothing will ever change.

2 AM

I am listening to the tape that was made earlier with Fran and Nervous. It's pretty funny.

Fran at the CC and I spoke for a little while.

Again, Fran insisted that Nervous lives in a “complex.” Since he had no phone, Fran couldn't insist that the phone company was in his building, ready to snatch his phone. Rather than that story, he insisted that Carabetta was buying out his building. I love Nervous's line to Fran at one part of the tape. He says, “There's gonna be a dead P.” Also, I was reminding Nervous about his wonderful cooking. He was cooking bacon for me when I lived on Oswego St. When he got through with it, it looked like cigarette ashes.

6:50 AM

Not much has been happening. Still the same old boring shit. Andy hasn't called, but I called Jessie. She's been trying to call me but didn't know the machine wasn't here for a while. She then tried after that but got the recording saying the phone's disconnected. She was eating dinner and said she would call me back. Kim, naturally, isn't home. I haven't heard from Mom and Dad either, so maybe Fran will call later.

I think I hear Kim next door now. It cracked me up how she feels so guilty, she tells me, and how she should've known better as far as her busy schedule's concerned. Not only am I angry with her and feeling very let down and led on, but I'm also angry with myself. As much as I love this place and wanted badly to get out of Crack Alley, I should've known better. Never fall for anything someone tells you; you'll only end up trapped.

1/2/1992 Thursday 3 AM

I had a long, sad, boring talk with Bob, who's freaked out about Kim going away to Florida. She's going to the same area where Bob's second wife was murdered. Supposedly, Bob and Dorothy were only married for three days when Dorothy's sister became ill. When she went to her sister's house, her brother-in-law came onto her. The guy shot Dorothy, her sister, and himself too, I think.

Andy called and said that things were excellent now. His financial status has improved. Now he won't be evicted. He is also very happy at this new Denny's he's at. He said thank God, as just a month ago, he literally wanted to drop dead. He's quite happy now. I wish I could say the same, but at least I'm feeling better than before and I told him all about the phone.

He told me Donna was taking care of this old man in Paradise Valley where Stevie Nicks lives. A rich guy, and I guess this particular area is all fenced in and you’ve got to go through security to get in. Sort of like where my parents live. Donna told him to go take a walk, and he came up to this house where he heard someone singing live. Also, a real drummer or a drum machine. He said at first he wasn't too sure if it was her, but this woman was definitely recording something. He pulled a garbage can of hers into some bushes and pulled out an envelope with her name and address. He said he's gonna keep it and write her a huge letter with some videos of him doing her in drag. So she then continued to sing louder and clearer, and he knew for sure it was her and this was her house. He said it was nighttime, so he couldn't see much, but the house wasn't too spectacular. He said it was only one floor but very long in length. He could see a gold record on the wall and two housekeepers. He never saw her, and she never came up to the front part of the house. One housekeeper was vacuuming, and another came out of a room with a baby. He walked up to her door but had no intention of knocking on it. He said there were security signs all over and that he respected her privacy, but he was outside her house for two hours. He said the kitchen and dining room area was all lit up. At one point, he heard what he thought was a plate drop, and he first thought—run! But then he told himself it was dark, no one could see him, just quietly walk away, and he did.

That's pretty darn cool. I'd love to see Gloria's house. Then see it on the inside. Then meet her. Then have the grandest time in bed with her!

Oh well. It's always fun to dream. Especially when dreaming's all you can really do.

7:01 PM

I got up too late today, but when I did, there were four messages.

Two with Andy singing. He had called at around 7:30 AM my time. I fell asleep at around 6:30 this morning.

The third message was from Tammy, telling me the Norwich Housing Authority called. They have a studio available now, and as soon as a one-bedroom is open across the street, I can move in. She called back at 5:30, as she said she would, saying she's gonna take a look at it tomorrow, as we're not so sure I can fit in. I have a lot of stuff as well as furniture. She'll let me know more about it soon, she said.

The fourth message was from Ann Marie, the girl claiming to be feminine from the Advocate. I did a third-party billing deal to let her know she's got to call me due to my blocks.

We'll see, but her voice sounds like she may be just a wee bit too serious for me. I also hope she's as feminine as she claims to be and isn't career-oriented. People on disability or stupid little jobs never mix. She lives in Enfield, but depending on how much she wants sex, we'll see if she calls back to come here. Hopefully, she at least has a car.

I hope I don't get put on the spot and she asks me what I'm looking for. Then, if I say I’m looking for sex, she may tell me she’s looking for more than that and wants to forget it altogether. I'll try to get it out of her first, but I know that no matter what she looks like, I'll feel no real attraction. No real thing. No spark. She'll either be repulsively ugly or another Brenda. God, I hope not another Brenda! All I need is to go through that again and meet another girl like Brenda. At least she won't live right next door. I like the idea of the person not living in town.

Kim and I had some good talks yesterday and today. Later tonight, she's gonna come over to hear the heated conversation between Fran and Nervous.

I just tried to call Bob to play with his head, but his line was busy. He's probably playing with Kim's head. This guy's as fucked up as you can get. Kim told me that I'm totally sane compared to him. That, I can confidently agree with.

I tried calling Sheila to reschedule our January 8th appointment; however, she was in juvenile court. I'll call her tomorrow. I still haven't heard from Tracy, but I think Tony's gonna drive me to court. I'll taxi my way home.

Food shopping can be done by either Tony or Mark. Mark's not going to Florida with Kim.

I called Cassandra two nights ago and she was happy and relieved to hear from me. Saturday at 2:00 is when we'll meet.

Andy's gonna be calling me late tonight. That's great, but I've got to watch my schedule.

Since I may very well be paroled out of this cage soon, I've got to start to round up as many boxes as I can.

Tammy told me she gave Mom and Dad my new number, but I have yet to hear from them. I hope she kept her mouth shut about the phone bill. I told them to keep it between us and not to tell the whole world, other than Mom and Dad. Mom is hard enough to talk to over the phone, and they cannot deal with shit like that. Therefore, so as not to make it any more difficult than it already is, most of the time we talk, I told her not to mention it. She only half-bullshitted me about Andy's phone. Andy said it almost got disconnected.

1/3/1992 Friday 9:15 PM

Tammy saw the efficiency and said it was too small. I figured as much. Now I have to wait longer for a one-bedroom. That could be anywhere from 1–8 months. There are now four vacancies, which means I'm number eight on the list rather than number twelve.

I'm tired and feeling confused right now about people and life. I'm angry and a little upset. I'm extremely frustrated, though. God, am I sick of being contradicted and knowing a certain thing is a fact with living proof to back it up. People are gonna be people—ignorant, stubborn, and set in their beliefs. Oh well. I'm not about to try to prove myself anymore, or defend myself or anyone else against something I know I should. Some people, no matter how obvious the facts are right in front of their faces, are gonna believe what they want—especially if the truth hurts them that bad. I'll write more about this later. Right now, I just want to go listen to music. I’m just sick of people saying one thing, then another. I'm so fucking sick of it!!!!!!!

1/6/1992 Monday 12:30 AM

As everyone who knows me well enough knows, there are two things I've been wanting badly. One is to be a singer. Two is to meet another gay woman who's just as feminine as I am and whom I'm attracted to. Also, to have it be mutual and get into bed with this woman. Well, one has happened! Yes, it has actually happened. Up till last Saturday night at 9:30, January 4th, I was still sure I was a fluke of nature. I swore up and down, left and right, I was the only gay woman on earth who looked 100% like a woman. Totally ultra-feminine.

Her full name is Ann Marie, and she's 27 years old. Her height is 5'3" and she weighs 120 pounds. She looks less, though, and is solid as a rock. I mean, what a body! She's got an absolutely gorgeous figure. And I thought I was solid and that Kacey and Brenda had nice shapes! Well, Kacey did, but not like Ann Marie. Kacey wasn't as solid either, and Brenda and Lisa were too thin. Diane was fat and even ugly compared to Brenda and Lisa. She has a nice shade of green eyes and long, dark curly hair, which is styled just like Gloria's. Her face looks nothing like Gloria's, but her style does. Gloria's only an inch shorter, too. She wore an awesome pair of black tights trimmed with lace on the ends and waist, and had a tiny matching tank top. Over that, she wore a tie-dye T-shirt that was white and blue and turned pink with heat. She had a nice brown leather snakeskin-like coat. Beautiful rings, earrings, and a gold chain around her wrists and neck. It didn't look tacky at all. It looked nice. She's Italian and has dark skin and a nice smooth complexion. With her long brown curly hair, which is about to the middle of her back, and her black tights and a tank top, she looks like Gloria from behind. What I mean is, if someone took her picture from behind and said it was Gloria, one would find it easy to believe. She's madly in love with Gloria, too.

One thing I will say, though, is damn she's good in bed! She knows her stuff. Talk about creative and adventurous. She's the best. Didn’t participate, though. Meaning, she didn’t have me do anything to her, and she never got off. She wouldn’t go down on me either.

She was here from 9:30 PM January 4th to 7 PM January 5th, and I will write more another time.

1/9/1992 Thursday 12:33 AM

I'm on the phone now with Fran. He's calling people he knows so they can hear the tape of Rick and Nervous.

I have to clean my place as well as go out for some groceries as soon as the stores open. I have to polish my nails and finish my letter-writing, Andy's bracelet, and do some editing. I also should try to finish the drawing of the kids on their swings so I can send it to Lisa for her birthday. She's gonna be 9 on January 20th.

Once again, I'm swapping my schedule around. I hope to stay up until early afternoon if possible. Around 8:00 this morning, I'm gonna take a walk to Sugar Loaf Market to pick up some cat food along with stuff for myself. I'll call in my Theodur refill, and Kim says she'll pick it up. She's going to Florida on Friday and won't be back till the 23rd. If she doesn't pick up my refill, I'll run out while she's gone.

Tony's gonna take me to court, and I'm gonna take a taxi back. It's gonna cost $25, but maybe I can get Tracy to take me home.

7:05 AM

In about an hour, I'm gonna take off for the store.

Fran called earlier, as I mentioned, and I've had several talks with Bob. His car is still not fixed.

Jessie called me a few nights ago, and I guess she has gone to New York. Her father was gonna be on the set for four more days, then go on vacation to his other place in Hawaii. Jessie hasn't been to the set since she was pregnant, and her father was paying for her and her sister to stay in a hotel. It's right in Times Square, and they also got shopping money and all their expenses were paid for—their food and gas and stuff like that. Jessie had told me she'd call me in case Melissa decided not to go. I guess she went. Bummer. Jessie had better call me when she gets back about coming up before school starts again.

Andy never called last night, but we did speak the night before last. I played him some edits from about a week or so ago.

Right after I got my phone back, Fran called Nervous. Boy, did they go off on each other. It was great, though, as it's been so long. I edited them chewing each other out, as well as Andy and me. Also, some girl Fran knows who talks so funny. She sounds like she's drunk, but she really has CP. Poor thing, but she's funny as all hell anyway.

9:53 AM

After I smoked a cigarette, I went down to Sugar Loaf Market. I got $20 worth of food. When I got back, I fed Shadow and had a bite to eat. Also, I called in my refill and verified my new SSI and SS checks' amount with Kathy at my bank. I get a total of $556.39 now between the two checks.

I'm so sick of this fucking waterbed. It's a major pain in the ass. Lovemaking—or sex, I should say—would be a heck of a lot easier on a regular bed. You know, firmer ground for better balance for those who already have good balance and are flexible. Being sure-footed and flexible doesn't really help much.

I threw in a small load of laundry, and I also called Bob and played him the new 20-minute edition of edits.

As for Ann Marie, well, there really isn't much more to say. She's attractive, great in bed, and a nice person. She's open, honest, and understanding, but I told her up front that I don't want a relationship. All she wants is sex, too. She did say that even though she's never met an equal, if she were to, she may stay with the person—only if it were right, she said; otherwise she'd be bored quickly. That sounds logical. She says she's had four relationships and a million one-nighters. The one-nighters, she explained, were due to the fact that it was one-sided. Either she was the one into it and they weren't, or vice versa. I told her I could relate to that. I told her never to expect to change me and that I was gonna be myself. If she didn't like me, I told her my door is always open for her to leave and find someone else to fool around with. I'm really proud of myself for not telling her anything personal. I learned sex really complicates the emotional part. That's why your friends and family are the ones you talk to and get your love from, and you keep sex purely sexual with nothing emotional tied in. At least I do, ’cause the two don't mix. If Ann Marie never were to come back, then I'd have no hard feelings. If she were to come around every now and then, that's cool, too. She called two nights ago, and we had a good talk, but there were a few things she said that bugged me.

1/10/1992 Friday 3:33 AM

I thought I'd do a little writing while I was waiting for my pork chops to cook. I'm really bored right now, and I was hoping to hear from Andy, who left a message while I was asleep. I tried to call him collect so he'd refuse it and call me back, but his voicemail came on. He probably thinks I made it to New York after all.

Last night, I woke up at 9:00, and I was bummed out as I was unable to beat that tonight. I got up at 7:00, and I'm still pretty tired. I doubt I'll be able to go to sleep for a few hours. Once I'm up, I'm up. Tired or not.

I tried to call Bob, but Sandra says he's all upset about Kim's trip to Florida. She leaves tomorrow. She's lucky ’cause she's not gonna have to deal with anyone like my mom to spoil her vacation. At least not that I know of.

Speaking of my mom and my whole family, well, I'm really disappointed. Just when I believed they were beginning to believe in me and understand me, I feel just the opposite. These people think they have me all figured out, yet they don't even know me.

5:11 AM

I know now that I'll never sleep and that there's no use in trying.

I hate how my family is so sure I want something for a certain reason when, in fact, it is for a whole different reason. And they just cannot, for the life of them, take my word for some things I say. I wish they'd realize that if I have something to say to them, I have no reason to lie. Granted, every now and then we all tell little white lies, but for me to do so would require a damn good reason. Rather than lie to them, I just wouldn't say anything at all. An example is if I paid $20 for a necklace and I didn't want to tell them that, I'd not say a word rather than lie and say it cost $10.

There's a reason why I've run around giving them a taste of their own medicine lately. When my mom accidentally knocked over my guitar, I knew it was an accident, despite how rude she was about my wanting to play in MY house. She was ignoring me anyway, so I figured I'd just do my thing. Despite her antics and her dramatics, I accused her anyway of doing it out of spite. With anyone else, I could never do that, and I'd feel guilty, and she begged me not to tell anyone she did it deliberately ’cause she didn't. I asked her how it felt to be accused of something untrue and reminded her of the knife story. Or hammer. Or whatever the fuck they said it was, I was supposed to have attacked them in my teens.

The truth of that night was that they were provoking me and saying some nasty, cruel, false, vicious, and unnecessary shit about me. Therefore, when I told them to fuck off, they couldn't handle it and didn't want to hear it. That's when Dad came charging at me. He's got to hit when he can't get his way and gets frustrated and we disagree. He can't communicate. He can't speak rationally, honestly, or listen to my true, honest feelings. He can if he agrees with them and they meet his standards, but I have a mind of my own. And no two minds are alike. So what was I supposed to do? I had to defend myself, and I most certainly wasn't just gonna stand there and let the bully swing at me. When they asked me why I wouldn’t lie to them, I told them I have nothing to fear from telling them the truth. What are they gonna do? Come and spank me? Ground me? Take away my stereo? Cut me down verbally? Send me away? Of course, in their opinion, name-calling, like calling me a sicko, is always a brilliant way of settling our differences.

6:42 AM

I just got done listening to music, and now I have another winner to write about. Here's exactly what I mean about people putting false ideas into my mind. When my father and I discussed my having a kid, he insisted my only intent was so I could run around telling people I have a kid. Now, anyone who knows me well enough knows I know that's a hell of a reason to have a kid. And just who would I tell? How would it impress them? He makes it sound as if I meet 20 new people a day.

That is one of the reasons I no longer want to have a kid. Oh, I still want to, but not nearly as much as I used to. I don't need to hear their opinions 20 times a day. I don't need to be told how to do this and how to do that unless I ask. I don't need to hear over and over how much I should be just like them. I don't need the kid caught in the middle. Plus, there are other things to consider. I'm not rich or near rich. With all the drugs and war and crime in this world, I don't know. A parent can only tell their kids so often what not to do. From there, it's up to the kid to say yes or no to drugs and other stuff. My parents warned me about cigarettes. Even if they never smoked, I'd still have started anyway. Of course, I wouldn't be puffing away on a cigarette in front of my kid, telling it not to ever smoke.

My parents tell us that hitting or any kind of violence isn't a way to solve disagreements, but what do they do when they have a problem with their kids? Hit them.

Also, another reason not to have a kid is ’cause I have no car. You can't keep a kid cooped up in an apartment day after day. They always need appointments, and I would, too.

Lastly, the idea of pregnancy and childbirth is too overwhelming. I'd be excited and maybe enjoy the experience, but I'm so sensitive to pain and I'm small. I don't think I could get through it. If my kid were born with a severe handicap, then I'd really feel helpless with no car and no money, in spite of Medicaid.

In all situations, I do not kiss ass. I do what I want, with this as an exception. This way, I don't have to go through any shit and everyone else is happy.

There are also many other things about the family that bother me. Talking to them does no good, as they get impatient or are in a hurry. They're unable to really hear me out, give me a chance, and keep an open mind. They're just so set in what they want to believe. Certain people's beliefs make sense and others just don't cut it—especially when it's only the family.

Other people see things differently and are less judgmental. And these other people are honest and would never lie to me. These people will give me constructive criticism on days when I'm not singing well. I will also come out and say when I feel it's not my day vocally. They think every singer in the world’s got to have a great voice when I can name about six “famous” people off the top of my head that suck. Obviously, they have connections, money, and other related talents that they're good at. Or they slept their way.

I never claimed to be a great singer, but I know I sing well enough. When Tammy told me I sang well but asked if I really thought I was good enough to sing on tape, I told her to think back a few years, knowing I had yet to develop my voice and that it'd take time. When I was 18, no way was I ready for that. She then said she wouldn't buy the tape. She's also never really sat down and listened to me, and she's never heard me on tape. So before she's given me a chance, she has her mind set that I'd make a sucky tape.

Why is it only the family's been saying this since I was 21? The rest of the people, before I was 21, told me they felt I had potential, to go for it, and try to develop it. Why do I also have the feeling that even if I were a great singer, she'd still say I'd make a lousy tape? And then, of course, be positive the next day. Every singer has their good and bad days, but come on—make up your mind. They go back and forth. Five other people and I could each sing a song perfectly for my parents and Tammy, and while they told everyone else they were great, they’d still say I sucked.

It just seems as if everything I do is wrong, even if it's right. Nothing satisfies them. And if I decide something's not for me, like manicuring, I'm called a failure and punished for it for the rest of my life.

Other than my phone calls, nothing's right. The way I dress is either too bummy or too dressed up. They define flashy as trashy. Do they think I'd wear clothes that don't fully cover my privates? If my mother or sister were at a party and someone wore a sexy dress, they'd love it and probably compliment the woman. But I'd get called a whore if I wore the exact same dress. Why is it always me? It seems as if others can do whatever they want and everyone's happy.

10:38 AM

About an hour and a half ago, I spoke to Andy. We discussed a lot of the stuff I just wrote. I played him my latest edition of edits. He was cracking up over the girl with the CP.

According to Kim, Tony lost his job and is bored. I don't know why he lost his job, and it really doesn't matter. What matters is that, hopefully, he can bring me to court as well as bring me home.

Speaking of court, am I simply paranoid or having a bad premonition? Remember how I always believed that certain things are OK for some people? Certain things aren't OK even if they're not wrong. Well, I always felt that after I had sex—male or female is irrelevant—there was a price to pay. Sort of like taking the bad with the good, even though the good was never really all that good. Never worth doing it again. Not even sex with the women I've been with, including Kacey. But Ann Marie was a big deal sexually. I was attracted to her and really enjoyed sex with her. She was a far cry from all the others.

What if I do end up in jail on the 15th? Maybe if I had never had sex, I wouldn't, and Northampton would go along with Greenfield's disposition. But ’cause I did have sex, maybe jail's gonna be my payback. If I were to end up in jail and miraculously get out alive, I'd never be the same. I'll probably get beaten up so badly that I'll wish they'd killed me. As if they'll care that I may get a death sentence for prank phone calls? If the judge says jail, he's letting me walk into a death trap. Will they isolate me from the other prisoners? Will I be protected? Will they give me my meds?

1/11/1992 Saturday 8:47 AM

As time goes on, I wish more and more that I lived where it’s warm all the time. I’m sick of snow and I hate winter clothes. I like to run around in shorts and skimpy tops. I like the thought of being able to swim year-round and being near a pool or a beach. Something tropical and beautiful like where my parents live. I’d never want to live in their mobile home, though, as you can’t make any more noise than a whisper without the whole island hearing you.

Of course, I’d definitely have to have AC constantly.

It sucks knowing I’ll never have the money to move or travel—other than moving to CT, of course. Too bad I can’t get to Old Colony Beach by bus. That would be the perfect thing for me in the summer. I’d be out more and it could really occupy my time in a fun, productive way. How often is Tammy gonna want to go? I’m sure she can bring me to her house so I can tan on her deck. That great big kiddy pool is nice to use so you can cool off. I get sun-heated very, very easily. I guess it’d be cooler there in the woods and with all those trees. I hope the trees don’t block out the sun’s rays. It would probably have to be at a certain angle at a certain time of day. Here in the parking lot, you have to wait till around 1:00 in the afternoon. Before then, the sun’s on the other side of the building.

9:35 AM

I’ve finished Andy’s bracelet and written him a letter. I will go throw it in the mailbox later. Since I still have so many stamps, I may as well write Andy, Fran, and Nervous more letters. Maybe Mom, Dad, and Tammy, too.

In the center of town here, someone’s bound to have a copying machine. If so, I’d like to photocopy my drawings and send them to Andy. Maybe Peter has a copying machine.

I wonder if Bill at the CC will take me up on my taping offer—editing offer, I should say. I spoke to him earlier in the week. He was in Canada on vacation but says he hasn’t forgotten.

Earlier, I spoke with Bob. I told him to call me anytime and that if I didn’t answer, he could entertain my machine. He left a message making these funny noises. Another message with Linda Ronstadt singing “Tracks of My Tears.”

As many problems as Bob has, he’s really a nice person. Late at night, we’ve had some good talks. He’s not only up all night, but he’s up all day, too. He only sleeps an hour or so due to so much back pain. Last May, he had major back surgery. That’s how he met Kim. She was his nurse. He met her six months after I did. I had originally thought they met around the same time Kim and I met.

Guess not.

11:51 AM

I am trying my best to keep awake. I’ll manage, but it’ll be hard.

I’m writing at my kitchen table. At this time of day, the sun is directly in front of the window/door. Boy, is it ever bright here, but the warmth of the sun feels nice. These windows are about six feet tall and almost six feet wide. At the same time, you feel like you’re outdoors, as it is so bright and sunny. The warmth of the sun makes you feel as if it’s summer out.

The neat thing about the heating system here, which is hot air blowing up from the floor, is that it sounds like an AC. They are not noisy, though. All you hear is air softly blowing. It’s better than radiators hissing and clanking like an old-fashioned cash register. I hate radiators. There are only five floor vents here. They’re only 8 x 6 inches, yet it’s amazing how well they heat a 1,400-square-foot apartment.

I spoke with Bob about a half-hour ago. He wishes he had his car fixed. So do I. That way we could get the fuck out. Maybe go to Dunkin’ Donuts or someplace like that to talk in the wee hours of the night while the rest of the world’s asleep.

I wonder if Mark’s up yet or if he’s even home. Kim gave me three pictures Bob took of him in his uniform standing by his cruiser. I called him at 1:30 last night when I heard him come home to tell him I’d be up if he wanted company—or to hear more edits and have coffee. He said another time would be better, as he had a busy night. Two arrests and other shit went on, too. Wouldn’t Mark love to be a cop in Springfield?

I'd better go get Shadow and leash him down. I have a bad feeling he’s gonna wake me up. I’ll fucking kill him. I’ve got to get on a schedule. If I can somehow sleep past midnight, then till 5:00 AM on Monday morning, I’ll be all set to go grocery shopping with Cassandra on Monday evening.

12:46 PM

I am still up and oh so exhausted.

I forgot to mention that yesterday I got some mail from my parents. I had sent them ten pictures. Three of them Bob took on my birthday after Kim took me to Ponderosa. Two were of Mark and me setting stuff up when I moved in. One was just of Mark. One of Kim and me. One of Mark and me. Two of me are sitting on Kim’s piano bench with Shadow.

They sent them back, as I asked them to, along with some coupons for cigarettes, cat food, coffee, chocolate pudding, and pads. They also sent this little calendar in which you peel the back off so you can stick it wherever. That was nice of them, as I had one stuck to my waterbed shelves last year. Shortly after I moved here, Kim gave me a calendar like that.

I hope Kim is enjoying herself in Florida.

If my parents were to invite me to their place, I’d have to be sure not to be dumb enough to go. Can’t let the thought of tanning and swimming block out my mother’s shit. I’m dying to go swimming and get a tan, but it isn’t worth dealing with her bullshit. Unless I avoided her all the time, that is—but it still isn’t worth it. A person passing up a vacation that’s all paid for is telling you something, huh? With someone like sweet Dureen O included in the package, forget it.

I’m just so drop-dead tired. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold out much longer. I feel like shit, too. I hope I sleep later.

1:06 PM

I put Shadow on his leash down at the bottom by his litter box. From now on, I go by my very strong “feelings.” My feeling told me I’d be woken up by him clawing on the door if I didn’t leash him down.

Ann Marie hasn’t called, and frankly, I don’t know if she should call me. She was beautiful, great in bed, and was a super nice person, but there were a few things that bugged me. At first, she told me she, too, liked the idea of the person not living close by. That way she can have space and not feel smothered. She also told me to be myself, yet she complains that I’m so sensitive. I told her I’m not used to being touched. When you’re deaf in one ear, your other senses are sharper, I told her. There were also things she’d point out about me that she’d call weird, but she’d do the same thing herself. The last time we spoke, she said she wishes the person were closer, as she’s sick of driving.

Then she went on and on about my not having a car, yet I told her this when I responded to her ad. Then she went on and on about her grandmother regretting never getting her license and having to depend on a bus or other people—as if she were trying to make me feel guilty, and as if I had the money for a car and no fear of driving.

I thought she was gonna accept me the way I am? I told her not to try to change me and that my door’s always open for her to walk out and stay out. I’m not gonna go through it again—the contradictions, I mean. She’s pretty and I like her, but I don’t want to bother. I’ve learned very well that the deeper you get in, the deeper shit you get in. The sexual experience was what was important to me and what I wanted. That, and that only, was very, very worth it. I only hope there’s no price to pay for that moment of happiness. In four more days, we’ll see.

1/12/1992 Sunday 11 AM

Well, my schedule’s definitely gotten better. I slept till almost 3:00 AM. I woke up at 10:30 with just a little wheezing, so I got up, took my meds, went to the bathroom, then went back to bed.

During the night, I spoke to Bob. Or actually, I didn’t speak to him till 7:30, cuz after I woke up, I watched the shows that I had taped.

I changed Shadow’s box, vacuumed out the stairwell, and took a walk down to Cumberland. I saw an article with Gloria saying that she was abused sexually at age 9. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were true, even though 95% of the stuff in Star magazine is bullshit. Also, I wouldn’t be surprised if it were true cuz it’s so common.

I only had $2 and needed milk. I got a microwave hot dog and a candy bar too, but as soon as I can, I’ll get the magazine. I’ve got to spend my cash sparingly, but I’m well held over till I go food shopping. That’ll be tomorrow evening, but I don’t know the exact time.

I had one message when I got up. It was from Mom saying she’ll get in touch with me sometime this week, don’t call her back, and did I get my coupons?

1:27 PM

I did some singing, both with and without records.

When I went to call Bob, I dialed wrong and began singing as soon as I heard what I thought was Bob pick up. It was a guy around his age who said, “I like that singing. Do it again.”

3:42 PM

I did more singing, and I’m so happy to say that it was truly great. For a while there, I wasn’t exercising my voice regularly and it was either just good or OK. I didn’t really get into the exercises, but nonetheless, it was super good today. It started off a little raspy due to congestion, but before long, it opened up and cleared up.

About an hour ago, I went to call Bob back, but Sandra said he had taken a walk to the store. We spoke for a while, and she told me a little about her background and her family. Since she’s got terminal cancer, she’s hoping she can hold out long enough to visit her two aunts in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. That’s so sad.

I wish Mark would be kind enough to call or come over and say, “Hey, I know you’re alone and bored half the time, so how about some company?” Or going out for coffee and donuts or something—but no. Do people care anymore? What does he spend all his time doing when he’s not at work? Is he even home now?

4:44 PM

Tony just called. He will be able to drive me to court and back, too.

I think I’ll give Bob a call now. I’m sure he must be back home by now.

I want to try to stay up till 8:00 PM. In order to stay up a while longer, maybe I’ll write some letters. Maybe I can also cook some of that shrimp Tammy gave me.

1/14/1992 Tuesday 11:23 AM

Today’s been pretty good so far. I got up at 5:00, and at 5:45 Bob called. He said he had a car till 2:00 this afternoon. Some guy loaned him the car so Bob could pick his wife up at work at 9:00, then bring her to a doctor’s appointment and back to work. I took a shower, straightened my hair, and put on some makeup. By 6:45, Bob was here. He brought two plants called Wandering Jews. He also brought over some pound cake, banana nut bread, and sample packets of my favorite coffee.

We were both so thrilled to get the hell out, so he took me to Food Fart. I needed to go very badly. Cassandra was going to take me last night, but I was too tired and I really needed to talk. This all worked out for the better, and I spent $101 in food stamps and $18 in cash. I still have almost $60 left for the month.

Besides cigarette money, I still have to get Gloria’s songbook, and Linda has a new album out. It’s in Spanish. The last one was Canciones de mi Padre. I believe this one is Canciones de mi Madre.

Yesterday I spoke to Tracy and my court date isn’t this Wednesday; it’s Thursday. I got in touch with Tony, who says it’s no problem. Great.

When Cassandra was here last night, we discussed certain family issues that I’ve written about. She told me her 20s were the pits. Her teens were worse, and things really didn’t get better till she reached her 30s. She’s 42 now. She’s very pretty for her age, too. She told me to call her at home and let her know about shopping and court.

It’s good that I got to go to Food Fart today, cuz Cassandra wasn’t able to take me until Thursday, and that only would’ve been if there had been enough time.

Man, is it pouring out! It’s so dark, too. I opened the blinds in the bedroom and it was still too dark to write without the lamp on.

I just came out into the kitchen. If it weren’t for the skylights, most of this place would be quite dim.

This year I’m really anxious for summer to hurry up and arrive. I’ll be seeing Andy in July, and if I’m in CT, I can tan at my sister’s with that huge kiddy pool. Also, I can wear my summer clothes.

Even though everyone says I’m nuts, I want to lose 10 pounds anyway. Or basically, pull in my muscles so they’re tauter rather than lumpy and bulky. That way I’ll have a nicer shape.

Well, I think I’ll go see if Mark’s up. Then I’ll call Bob.

1/15/1992 Wednesday 12:24 PM

Andy called earlier this morning. At 8:30.

I've been up since 4 AM. I fell asleep last night at 8:00. I feel groggy, though, and I just can't seem to shake it. Part of it is boredom.

I've got to go to court tomorrow and so that's on my mind. I tell myself not to worry, yet I have a bad feeling about my tapes and all the other shit, like the wrong way the investigation was handled. I have no idea what the hell's going on. But I do know this, when I go to Greenfield court to see Sheila, I am gonna file charges on both Maliheh and Jenny. It's about time the treatment's fair. I'm not letting anyone ever again get away with not paying for something they've done while I have to pay for what I've done. Fair is fair, and that's how I operate. I give what I get. That is within reason, of course. Now it's time for Jenny and Maliheh to take a timeout here and there to be dragged through the mud. Face up to what they've done wrong, just like I had to.

1/16/1992 Thursday 3:39 PM

Boy, did I have a great day. They dismissed my case in Northampton and are going along with the Greenfield disposition. I will not have to go back to Northampton court again. All I have to do is see Sheila every now and then and continue with Cassandra. That's no problem.

Tony and I went to a Chinese restaurant after.

Yesterday I got an unexpected surprise in the mail from my parents. A $10 bill along with some cigarette coupons.

I had a very positive talk yesterday with Tammy, too. We got a lot of stuff out in the open.

1/17/1992 Friday 3:18 PM

Andy may be calling tonight. I forgot which nights he said were his nights off.

Fran must’ve forgotten my new number again, as I have not heard from him. It usually takes two or three times for him to remember stuff like that.

Andy should’ve received his letter along with his bracelet by now. I’m working on several letters right now. I got a postcard in the mail from Kim today. She says she’s really enjoying herself and has a nice tan. That I can surely believe. She tans easily and is darker to begin with. She included some lines on the postcard. The mailman must’ve been quite confused. Kim will be back in six days. That’ll be nice, as seldom as I see her anyway.

I spoke briefly to Bob yesterday and I’m gonna give him a call soon.

“Shauna D” was enrolled in the Mystery Guild book club by Andy. Shauna’s getting two free books now for enrolling “Saundra C.”

I spoke to Ann Marie last night. We had a very pleasant talk. However, I don’t have a car, and it’s just oh so much easier to be alone. We discussed her coming for a visit, which is nice, but we’re gonna remain friends. She needs to find someone ready, able, willing, and not afraid or insecure. I feel I have nothing to offer her or anyone else other than friendship or sex. I was open and honest with her. I had to be. We discussed how my therapist says I push people away subconsciously, but I can’t help it. I have to do what I have to do. I can’t be changed into relationship material. It is too late. The damage is done, and the way I am is the way I am. There are some things that are so much a part of us, and we cannot change.

I can’t handle too much closeness. Also, I don’t have any real desire or will that one needs if they do want more than friendship and sex. What can I do? At least I was upfront about it. I had to say, "Hey, this is who I am.” I really admire her a lot. She’s so beautiful, too. Therefore, I hope she meets the right woman and settles down with her. She really, really deserves it. A person like her shouldn’t have to be alone. She has so much to offer. A hell of a lot to offer.

1/22/1992 Wednesday 1:23 AM

Bob’s on the phone now and he’s watching his sign language tape. I just hung up with him so I could write. I know I have several things to write about, but my mind sort of went blank.

Last Sunday, or last Saturday actually, I did quite a bit around here. First, I made a plant hanger from the ribbons Kim gave me. I put it up by the attic inside the alcove, on the side sticking out. It looks nice there and it’s out of Shadow’s reach. Plants really do something for apartments, houses, or any place. I want to get into plant collecting as it really makes the place look nice.

I also took some round coasters and cut out pictures of Gloria to fit in them. They look nice.

Now for what really looks super cool. I went and got that huge glassed-in picture that I had put in the little hall between our doors. I busted it out of the frame, took the cardboard backing, the picture itself, and made a huge picture collage. I have 36 pictures on one and almost 40 on the other. These are of the family—and friends, too. There are Lisa, Becky, Sarah, Tammy, Bill, mom, dad, Andy, Kim, Mark, and me.

Yesterday was a horror story. Due to the fact that I don’t have a lease, the landlord can ask me to move for no reason at all. I spoke with Peter, who says he’s giving me till March 1st, as these people are pressuring him about moving in. I told him it’s not my fault that last December I was 100% sure I was moving and that my mom backed out. I said I’d take him to court if I had to, and the law doesn’t allow you to fuck with someone who’s on SS or SSI so easily. I went through this with Russ, and even though I won him over, I wasn’t about to put up with it all over again. I’ve been through so much shit in the last year, both my fault and not my fault.

He spoke with Tammy and he’s gonna “work with her,” so to speak, and try to have a little compassion and understanding. I spoke with George today and he said, “You could stay forever and ever; it’s just that you did say you were moving.”

So, I explained to him what’s going on and he said to just hang in there, as things do get better, and he’s sympathetic to both sides. These people are living with their in-laws and are going crazy. I’m isolated with nothing and nobody and going crazy myself.

A part of me was telling myself, keep calm, it’ll work out, you’ve been through so much shit already, you can handle one more piece of shit, relax and don’t let them win. The other part said—I’ve had it and I don’t give a shit!

That was when I cut myself.

1/26/1992 Sunday 12:16 AM

Kim got home the other day and she has a great tan. She gave me this really cute satin pillow, which is small and has silk flowers on it. It also has silk ribbons all over it, like the ones in my journals that I made bookmarks out of. It's got lace outlining on all sides, and it can be hung on the wall. She also gave me a glass butterfly and an elephant and a tiny porcelain heart-shaped jewelry box—for whatever you want to use it for. Lastly, she gave me a 10"x10" or so heart that sticks on both sides. I peeled them both off and stuck on an old blue glittery material from a shirt Andy gave me before he left. When I move, I'll put the yellow bow Kim made for me in the center of it and hang it.

The reason I’m not going to put anything together here anymore is that I’m finally moving. Tammy was able to get the girl at the NHA to move me to the top of the list and to get mom to keep her word about paying for the move. Tammy’s got some friends to help move me, and she’s gonna rent a U-Haul.

George mailed Tammy a note, which she gave to the girl in the office there, about how the other people he rented my place out to are hounding him to move in here.

I called and spoke to a woman named Mary Jane. She told me a few things about the apartment. One thing is that it’s on the first floor, and that makes me a little nervous. I haven’t seen the general layout inside or outside, but I hope no one rips me off while I’m out. Also, if I want to leave my windows open at night while I’m asleep, will it be safe? Who knows, but I’ll mind my own business even though that sometimes doesn’t work. I will not associate with my neighbors, even though the girl said there’s only one family near me. There are four apartments side by side, and I’m on the end. The people next to me are a husband and wife with four kids. Even though I’ve basically had excellent neighbors, I’m out to avoid people like Bonnie and Brenda. Plus, I always start off with a problem or a fight with someone, then we become friends. Yet I no longer care to stick it out and go through that again until the happy ending comes around. For example, I don’t want to be at a female neighbor’s house, get along with her very well, and have her brother, who’s a pervert, bother me. I’ll only go off on a rampage and start a fight with the guy. I will not kiss ass or try to be friendly and resolve any problems or misunderstandings. I will not let any problems or misunderstandings start in the first place—that is, if I can help it, of course. If a guy knocks on my windows, that’s a different ballgame. I will open the door and do my best to bash his head into dog meat. Overall, I do like the idea of having no one above or below me. Only on one side of me, and there’s probably a firewall there. There was a firewall between Anna and me and Julia on Oswego St., but not between me and Mattie, so who knows. The girl told me music is no problem; the people next door play it, too.

The place has hardwood floors, no dishwasher or disposal, and not even laundry facilities on the premises. She said there is a hook-up for a washer and a huge clothesline out back. They’re going to be installing dryer hook-ups. Tammy said, for now, I can do my clothes at her place and save up for a second-hand washer. I can do that in a couple of months as the rent’s only $138! Heat and hot water are included; I’ll still have to pay for the electricity. Tammy saw it and said it is small and definitely not what I’m used to, but what do you expect for $138?

Tomorrow sometime, I’ll write more about the move and about Cassandra, whom I’m going to desperately miss even more than Kim. I’m going to miss her most of all. I’ve become very fond of her and I wish there were more people like her. The world could use that.

6:25 PM

Well, I sure as hell hope I’m not up all night. I didn’t get up till 1:30. I have to back my schedule up quite a bit if I’m going to go for that test on Wednesday.

Kim gave me some trash compactor bags I bought from her, as well as the money she left me. She had left me $30 until Tony was able to bring me to court and back. I gave Mark $20 while Kim was in Florida. Tonight, I wrote out a check for the remaining $10, plus the two trash compactor bags. That was a total of $11. I owe nothing to anyone now—just $21 to the phone company, $58 to the electric company, and $260.52 to Peter. I’m only paying him half of the rent, as I’ll be gone in the middle of February.

I’ve got to get ahold of Tracy about my tapes. She’s so hard to reach and takes forever to return your calls.

1/28/1992 Tuesday 3:16 AM

I’m only going to write a little, as I am very tired. I met with Cassandra today, and that was nice.

The American Music Awards were on, and to my surprise, Gloria wasn’t even there or nominated. Yesterday, Jessie called to tell me Gloria was on Channel 3, but I can’t get that. Gloria’s going to be on the Disney Channel for three different nights, and I want to try to get Tammy to tape it for me. I doubt she’ll want to bother, though.

Around 8:00 this evening, I got two pranks from that same guy who called the other number. It figures I’d get a call while I was taping Channel 40 and watching Channel 22. I told the guy to call me in a few hours. Meanwhile, he could entertain my machine. I was hoping he’d call back after 11:00, but he failed to do so after all. Bummer.

I’m 99% sure it’s an associate of Maliheh’s. There’s no way it could be Fran, as this is the same person who mentioned the CC. Knowing I was there, I mean—and Fran never knew I was there. I doubt it’s tied in with the cops or anyone else who works downstairs, because how would they know? Mark would admit it for sure if he’d put a friend up to it. The only other possibility is someone who works at the CC, but that’s highly unlikely. It’s Maliheh.

7:00 AM

Well, I got my schedule all fucking screwed up again. Whenever I do go to sleep, I’ll have to allow myself only two hours of sleep. I hope to hell I hear the alarm. I’ve got to go to the store for some cigarettes.

Earlier this evening, Kim made us some popcorn. I watched TV and typed a letter to Nervous. I have a letter for Fran, too, along with my bills. I’m also going to send Andy a letter and pretty much count on only me sending letters. He’ll only send one once a year—maybe twice if I’m lucky and I hound him for it. He tried calling yesterday around noon and left a quick message singing part of one of Gloria’s songs.

It would be nice if I could hurry up and get an exact moving date. That way, I can begin with all the transferring, such as my bank, SS, and several other calls I’ll have to make.

What the fuck is taking Tracy so long to return my call? I’m just going to call the police station myself. I’ve got to get my stuff back.

1/30/1992 Thursday 2:39 AM

Kim was over earlier and she got all my stuff out of the attic. Boy, is that thing dusty! She gave me 3 more boxes, too.

Dad called at 11:00 this evening, and I also had a nice chat with Tammy.

In the morning, I must call the DA about my tapes. Tracy never returned my calls. Carol told me to call the DA. God, I hope and pray all goes well with that! Please, God! Let me have all my tapes back. Please! Know what they mean to me. Know they will not be abused. I have learned my lesson once and for all. Please, if there's a God and he can hear me, please let me have all my tapes as they were.

I don't know just when I will go to bed, but I should soon. That way I won't sleep too late.

1/31/1992 Friday 1:30 AM

I am on the phone now with Bob, but he just hung up. He’s got a new job and is tired and must get up at 5:00 this morning. Lucky for him, he’s so tired. I wish I could say the same for myself. The truth is, I got myself on a screwy schedule again, as I knew I would.

I’ve got to call Carol back tomorrow. I called the DA’s office that’s been jerking me around since day one, and they will not speak to me. Only Tracy can call them, but she hasn’t called them, the PD, or me. So I told them, fine, defense wins in this case, and I’m going to take matters into my own hands now and handle the rest of this case myself. I will get those tapes back.

As usual, I only spoke to Kim for two seconds. She was only home an hour, and God only knows if she’s home yet. For her to be out at 2:00 in the morning, though, would mean she’s on an ambulance call.

I started to pack a little more, but I wish Tammy would hurry up and call with a definite date. That way, I can get started with all the stuff I’ve got to do both here and when I get there. Here, I must go to the bank, figure out a way to transfer my prescriptions, call SS and food stamps, and put in a change of address at the post office. I’ve also got to get groceries and figure out what the hell to do about Sheila. She has to be able to see me on Tuesday, as that’s one day Kim’s free. I will call her tomorrow. When I move, I’ll have to get a new doctor like Dr. Leitch, get that lactose test, see a dentist, call SS and food stamps, and get a new bank.

3:04 AM

I just had some cereal and looked through my photo album. I opened up my skylight and some other windows after I put the ceiling fan on and aired this dusty place out. I’m sure going to miss the ceiling fan, the skylight, the Jacuzzi, the dishwasher, the garbage disposal, the washer, the dryer, and all this space. And central AC, too.

As soon as I move, I will save up to buy a secondhand washer.

6:04 AM

I am sitting here listening to my tapes of Andy calling the CC. He’s having a “major problem” with looking out his window and seeing cacti and palm trees. He also says it is very warm out with lots of sunshine. Everyone else is telling him it’s dark out and very cold. He also has a very, very strange sister who has a crazy laugh and says all these things that make no sense at all.

I took an old bathing suit that’s too big, cut the material, and covered one of my not-too-attractive journals with it—sort of like how you put a book cover on a book.

10:47 AM

I’m doing much better at changing my schedule than I thought I would. I called Sheila, and she moved my appointment from Monday at 4:15 to Tuesday at 10:15. I will fill out the transfer papers with her. Monday at 6:30, I see Cassandra.

I called Sally and Jill. Jill answered, and she now has her own room. She said she’ll have lunch with Sally and give her my new number. They never got my new number after they returned from vacation, as Jill said the system was down. They both sound super nice, and who knows? Maybe I can get a little fun before I move. Of course, the question is, will I get so lucky again as far as sexual attraction? And so soon, too?

I called Carol, who got a call from the DA’s office. I’m going to call Chief B next Monday

I spoke to George, too, who said it was fine with him if I drain the waterbed out the bedroom window in the front. Kim was paranoid about that and insisted we do it out the back. I told Kim that water wouldn’t destroy the planet—it rains and snows, doesn’t it?

George emptied my barrel outside, and it broke because it was frozen, so he gave me a new one. He said I could take it with me and that they’d give me boxes.

I think I’ll go now and listen to some more tapes.

Mark’s awake. I just heard him flush the toilet. Mark played a funny prank on me the other day. I also played one on him in return. I will write all about that later.