Friday May 25, 1990
5:20
Hardee's Easley. {{On the way to see the "Future II" movie, must remember to "remember being on the set", that should be interesting}} On the way into Hardees, another witnessing scene, the dude talked fast, asked me if I knew how to be saved, rely "you're the one with the bible, you're suppose to tell me." Said something about "church soandso, wife, kids, I'm saved, praise the Lord." But he taked fast. Saw him wander off toward Bilo as I sat down, the end.
The stonewall over there, the stones are mostly just laid together, does have a spot of cement here and there, it's about eye level to me, must go back and see how thick it is.
Genie, Ralph's younger sister, she died in a car wreck Monday, she was thirtynine, she lived in Central, she finished Clemson, I was n Clemson that day, she didnt make it to forty like I wished I hadnt, she dead now.
John G's use to be secretary shot herself dead yesterday, was that the day I did the finger gun thing driving from Clemons to Liberty?
Class is hard too, hard to follow the teachers thoughts and questions, twice I could not answer his questions.
Monday May 28, 1990
4:30
Huddle House. Went to school this morning, received Friday's test back, 55, worked problems all day with one break to go up to Glassy and some times, just outside, now it's here to sit and be depressed about my lifeless life.
Maybe it ws last weekend, Saturday, I went to Whitewater, I know I've been there since the trip, but I didnt write anything. The last outting before school started I think was the reason.
Saturday June 2, 1990
3:45
Carolina Creme. Another nothing day, wash clothes, sleep, tv, school problems. Sortof looked at LA map but the Zen has worn away. Sortof been trying to be here and think of being there, but it is not working well.
Friday June 8, 1990
4:50
Pizza Inn. Another nothing week. school, work, study, sleep {arrow back to beginning. Failing Dynamics, freezing up on any question, even work. I hate class, school, work! NO ONE taks to me anymore, an outcast at work, "they" never did at home. I should get in shape and pack my pack, and leave, High Serria, Carribbean, Australia, Europe, Himyliays, China, just leave. [Ate pizza, Wrote more in the last book, continuations.]
Thursday June 21, 1990
10:50
Whitewater Falls. Summer '90 is seventeen minutes old and I'm here with my Beat Friend to share the event with him.
Thursday June 21, 1990
5:35
Pizza Inn. It just occurred to me that this is my fortysecond Summer, like those seasons before my first birthday count, like count like the Chinese, you're already one when born. --- pause to eat, first Summer '90 supper.
Anyway, the day is over, the longest day and shortest night, it's still sun out but it's six and the day is over. Anyway, dont you know, tonight will be no diff than the other nights, alone, lonely and no one to talk to. Might as wll go. == So what would I have written anyway? ==
Monday July 2, 1990
4:25
Huddle. {{ Margin note: Fuck C.U.! }}Who Cares! I'm not going back to schoool, I said, "the first F and its fini, kuput, over,' that's what I said and that's what I'm doing, quiting. Who needs the hassle with these teachers, so called teachers. An "F" in Dynamics so there I dont care anymore. I never had the academic skill, hate test, stare at books and problems, etc, etc. Better off teaching myself like I did with computers and gears. Burned out brain learning gears that's why I cant learn anymore. Period!!
Phone was ot hard the last eight days of June. Ma Bell couldnt fix it, the phone ws ok, so must be the wire. Ran a new wire around the back and through the kitdhen wall. It rained while doing it too. The phone man wired it up, so now it works.
The house needs lots of work too, the boards behind the tank have rotted, need gutters, needs painting, but I just can not bring myself to do it.
Friday July 27, 1990
6:00
{{ from loose yellow page in notebook }} Pete's Open Kitchen. On the way to Office Warehouse to get cork board. Then a movie. But that's not what I want to write about. {{Margin note: It was the same foursome who were here last time, the partying I remember. }} No one cares. No one ever cared, No one will ever care. Thieves everwhere. All about they make themseleve richer, stealing from whom ever they want. Is there no one left who cares? Injustices everywhere. Contarditions all aruond. No one cares. On the streets of Santa Monica a homeless person, with all his worldly possessions pass by a wealthy art patron party, with all thier implied possession, not a glace, not any acknowledgement of each other's existence. No one cares. Maybe a few. Thousands of years old trees, trees which have lived most of man's history, are cut down. No one cares, maybe a few.
Thursday Aug 9, 1990
6:05
Huddle. Like look - 30 + days since the last entry and the same place. Why so long --- I've not carried this Journal around, seems like it stayed in the hot truck and then on the corner of the table. Besides, I've started to fixup and repair the house. Put up gutters; scrap brush wash the old paint; put on new paint. Painting the kitchen too. White. Everything is going to be white. Rehanging the stuff on the walls too. This time on "S" hooks, fine line, and small nails up next int the middle of the walls. Maybe no more holes in the middle of the walls. back on the outside, out back, where the oil tank sat next to the wall, those boards stayed wet form the roof run off, rotted, so I had to replace them.
Friday Aug 24, 1990
4:10
{{ from loose yellow page in notebook. }} Huddle Resturant. There's a war happening in the mideast. Iraq invade kuwait about the second or third of the month. the mad man Hussein want power and oil. He siad the embassy in Kuwait must be closed, but you know Bush wont do that. Bush wont ever talk with Hussein about takling. Such stubborness is almost as bad as the invasion.
Such bad things can be advoided so easily, if transgressions are motivated by bad leader, thenthe leader should be punished swiftly, surely, and finally. Spare the innocent soliders and citizens and illimiate the true transgressor.
But alas, such is not and will never be. Only the killing suffering of people who have no power always has been, is, and will ever be.
Friday Aug 31, 1990
5:40
{{ from loose yellow page in notebook. }} Huddle Resturant. It has been a week since the embassy thing. Nothing much happened.
Monday Sep 3, 1990
11:35
Chattagoo River. Woodall Shoals. Back up the road aways, Forrest Green sits in a tree (I think). He's been there almost a week. He's protesting the clear cutting of National Forest (any forest), "civil disobedience has it's place." he said. It's also the domain of the youth. I drove down Apple Lane before I cam here, but there were no cars there, like yesterday. That's why I didnt stop, didnt want to be the only one there. (Had the officalls hauled away their cars? run them off too?) So I drove here just to go by the new cut road enterance, to see if the officals were still there. (Did he have to come down last night?) So I'll sit here a while, maybe wander up river a piece, then go back to check again. Part of the reason for being was to be among the young people. (Did my "bad luck" bring about the end? I only wanted to be part of the being.)
Monday Sep 3, 1990
12:30
Up River a piece. Watch some of the rafters do their thing over a minifalls. Just around the bend from there, the river sortof straightens out, and flattens out. -- there's no breeze here, not much of one back there either. Oh yes, while waking up here, the thought occurred to me that Georgia is just the other side of the river.
Monday Sep 3, 1990
5:25
Pizza Inn Pickens. Forest Green came down early this morning. He's in jail here in Pickens.
Started back down river, but thought "no, the car park jsut up this hill" so that's the way I went. There was this campsite right by the river, pissed in the fireplace. Before I could get started up the hill, some people came up river, could se them there through the tree. Me thinks they heard me as I left cause they left oo. Talked a bit with a man at the car park, asked if he was from here and had any news of the treesitter. He wasnt and didnt so I told him the news. Drove back down Apple Lane, still no cars, sortof knew then he had left, even thoght the Forest Officials still blocked the road. Left there and went to the Rafting Place. Learned there what the latest was. Arrested, jailed, and otherwise processed. Sat on the porch of the Rafting Place, talked with a kid about the situation, like the cutting of his tree, legal counsel.
Friday Sep 7, 1990
6:53
Carolina Creme. This thing about "getting started" doing anything is really bad. Almost set to do letters to congress and the papers, but I just couldnt bring myself to do it. What's really wrong wtih me? Do I need the pills? {{Me thinks, Forest Green, has taken, the money and run. Not so much as a note of thnaks.}}
Saturday Sep 8, 1990
2:15
Huddle Resturant. I cut grass today. rather hand done that than start painting another room, or prepare letters, or anything else around the house. I hate cutting grass too. [[Pause to eat.]]
Now my late noon meal is eaten, now I'll have to write more. The though occurred to me that the only sense of pleasure left is eating at resturants and pretending to write great things. Anything just to be out pretending to do something worth while.
The people at work have totally isolated me. No visits anymore, no one there cares if I live or die. (pause) Did they ever? Even Randy is distant, pursuing his own life. [If the neighbores arent home, we'll go see Jerry.] That's me, "a when there's nothing else to do friend."
Friday Sep 21, 1990
6:15
Pizza Inn, Pickens. This week, I have worked on the most complex software I've ever had too. It's tektronix plot10. The most difficult part is the I/O interface with the unix system. It has C language stuff in it for the IO ops, and the files which TEK sent just add more unix files which add more files. It's ridiculious how complex things can get. I actually had to put out a memo stating I was not sure I could get anything to work. --- But it's fun, more fun than mechanical engineering stuff. Enough shop talk.
{{Look at this ===>}} Last Thursday, I went to see Dr D. I'm taking antidepressants now, pamofol. Me thinks I felt better the morning after the first night, but the doctors say it takes three weeks to have any effect. So maybe I feel better just because I'm doing something to fix this old problem. So far there's been no side effects, maybe a little dry mouth but not anything bad.
So it has been a week and it felt like a good week. Partly cause of the interesting work. The first 2-4 days, sometimes the thoughts would occur that the "old good" feelings were back. Like laying on the couch at night, waiting to go to sleep, and hearing the cars go by, through the night, wonder where and who was going. Whether it's the drug on the mind, it feels better and I hope it continues to feel better.
Forest Green had his court date already, community service. Also one of his people called Tuesday and left a message on the machine (2nd only since I hooked it back up), they have sued for re-evaluation of the tract. The Greenville News is coming down hard on FG and the suit. Within the headlines about FG they replaced the headlines about lost jobs. No fine and probably small legal and court fees, wonder what will become of the excess defense fund? Still have the loggers suit, maybe?
Pat K was here tonight, with his dad and kids, no wife (are they diviorced too?). Still with Daniel Construction, move up toward Pumpkintown, been nine / ten years since we last meet, least he says, I couldnt remember. Gave him a copy of the FG and picture stuff.
Since the last entry (early Sep) I had the three day cold and fourteen day recover thing. Still cough up mucus.
Saturday Sep 30, 1990
5:25
Carolina Creme. Wrote Kuwait stuff.
Monday Oct 1, 1990
4:00
Huddle Resturant.
Friday Oct 12, 1990
4:45
Tony's. Like a stranger from the past, she says, "Howdy stranger, havent seen you in years." I still dont know, the Ice Cream Parlor? It has been a long long time since I ate there, early eightys at the latest, like when I wrote "PicIcePar" Still dont know here name, never did probably, just another waitress. But dont you know, she remembers me -- I made enough of an impression for hre to remember me. Like Shelia knowing who I was when I started at Singer. So why didnt I ever here about them noticing me?
It's been raining all day -- last night too, and still looks dark toward Greenville. I was planning on seeing "Men at Work" movie, but pestimism kept me here. That movie was playing at Easley but I messed around and didnt go. It was there only a week too. Should have went last night, late like I thought of doing, but I got so sleepy after supper I just went home instead. Maybe tomorrow night --- always tomorrow.
Wednesday Oct 17, 1990
4:50
Carolina Creme. Works over, dont want to go home, dont want to be here, or go to the movies, maybe I just dont want to be. I wonder? Has Robert read "Conversation" yet.
Saturday, after working till three, I drove back to Pickens post office to mail a letter. Just after parking and getting ready to go in, I see the temperature guage pegged. The truck was hot and I didnt check the guages once while driving. The thermostat was sticking. Did my business at the PO (package to F.Green) then opened the hood and poked around a litle, then drove to Porter Bros. Added water and poked around some more -- the kid working there help a lit. Anyway got things such that I drove on home. So this past weekend was almost wheelless -- no going anywhere and I was planning to go to movie at Greenville.
Drove mom's car to the Bad Creek tour. There were so many cars, back up a mile or more. Waited my turn, told of a 3 hour wait, then went on up to the Falls. On the way backdown the mountain, notice people were driving on into the project but I drove on by. They had the traffice backed up below the short cut road -- back wher the old road was, two or three miles of cars. So that was Sunday.
Monday morning I drive straight to Easley -- guage next to the red. Left the truck at Toyota and walked across the street to Shoney's for breakfast. The man who sold me the truck checked me in. He called me by name too, but he had checked the computer first. Had everything -- almost -- done to it. Waited for Randy outside, sitting on the curb, it was a good early morning.
The pills are almost gone, will have to get the doctor to give me more. I wonder if they are really helping or is it jsut my mind being satisfied that something is being done? I have been writing more, getting some old stuff typed up. But it is not like the first two or three nights. Peace of mind, good dreams, lite it was fifteen year ago.
Friday Oct 19, 1990
4:30
Pizza Inn. The week is done, it's Friday night and still I sit and watch. Robert called last night, just to talk I guess. He read the "Conversation" manuscript so we talked an hour or so. I had gone to sleep too, it was ten thirty and I was already asleep. Things happen like that you know. Also, Forest Green people sent me thier stuff, about Forest Watch and things, so Robert must have heard me thinking about him and his forest stuff. {{Margin note: Thinking too loud again.}}
Sunday Oct 21, 1990
4:10
Carolina Creme. Had to come to Easley to get stamps for the second G.P. mailing. Least I learnt to make a spunge of paper towels and plastic cups, no more licking fifty stamps at a time. Will they take note?
Mixed the enamel paints -- old paints I got in '76 and painted the den door, turnned out darker than planned, paint gets darker when dried -- why didnt I remember that.
Went to the doc yesterday and got more happy pills -- should have told him two a night,then I would have had more more happy pills.
There's a new crew here -- the next generation. -- two boys.
Monday Oct 22, 1990
4:45
Huddle Resturant. Of course it was suppose to happen that way, get the profile program going, get the measurements neccessary, and still the AGME equaitons dont work. Piss on it.
I want to finish the "TK" prose, but just cannot get into it. I think it does not feel right to make TK part of every youth fad. Like, did TK really talk hip-hhop talk? Wear a zoot-suit? Dance the JitterBug? Maybe that's the way to write it, ask questions?
What's happening down the road,/ Where I wish I was / Part of something exciting happening / Instead, waiting here / For just another movie / To happen.
Noticed that the college kids, some of them, are being antiwar protesters. Picking up a cause, to champion. Liek they think Bush sent the men to the MidEast to protect big oil company's interest, not the mandman Hussein's aggeration. Guess what, I'm sitting here, feeling like they're wrong, can you belive it -- I'm against this youth's protesting. Hopefully, it is just because I think (wish they had) they'ver choosen the wrong cause to champion.
Oct 31, Wednesday, 1990
5:25 EST again.
Pizza Inn. Messed the date up didnt I? Halloween Night tonight -- All Hallow Saints Eve it is. Looks like a Full Moon this weekend, mayby Friday, a November Full Moon.
The newness of the happy pills has worn away. Sort of feelings like what's the use, why write anything? why send off Gratitious Papryus to the papers? Just more being ignored.
Last Saturday, went to Tony's halloween party, almost didnt go, sat at home and read Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Started it that afternoon, looking for a character to be at the party -- Ford Perfect. Then later jsut didnt want to go, to just stand around not knowing anyone, not talking to anyone, being alone among people. But I went. He had a fire outside, Glenn was there, Mark too, he was a mountain man with leggings, skin boots. Most of the people were high school friends (Tony's, '79). But while Iwas there, I thought them to be college friends. There was one blond adonis there. They were twenty-nine year olds, last of the twenty-somethings.
Read "SMLACA", stills reads badly, but maybe that's what SMLACA made me do. Read "Be Still My Spirit" -- reads good, feels good, but maybe that's what {blank} made me do.
Friday Nov 2, 1990
8:00
Carolina Creme. The cars are on the road, of course, but they are lots of them, on their way to Clemson I guess.
It's a Full Moon tonight too, Already "midmornig high'. It means there's life happening and still I do not partake of it. Trying to cultivate a "city blue" high, but Easley's not big enough.
No mail --- not a single return from the last G.P. mailing. Ignored again, thoughts of the G'men and political powers, intercepting my mail again.
Six months ago -- the CA trip. Gave Glenn B a copy of the writings, a single comment "You're talented, I like "What lacks in mobilty, gains with time" Then it sits on his destk. Ignored again, he'll never really talk wtih me.
The happy pills --- the newness of them --- are not working as well as the first week. Maybe it's mostly in my head, I jsut dont want to responed to mental attitiude adjustment.
Bush is using the Iraq thing for campagning now. It will be interesting to see how short thie crisis lasts after election day.
Saturday Nov 3, 1990
2:15
Huddle House. Last night, after I left the donut place, I thought how, when the mood to write strikes, I'm at a 'cafe' of sorts, like Hemingway in Spain at a bar. But that's as far as the comparsion can go.
So what to do this afternoon? Go home and worry about doing nothing? Maybe go see Randy and Shelia -- he was sick Thrusday and Friday. So much for that thought -- no answer, after I walked out to the truck to get the notebook, they're not home. Probably sick of work, what he is.
So not what? Another do nothing afternoon. What's happened to all that motivation from the happy pills.
The kid witht he butt and legs (the one who works at the donut place) just rode by on his bicycle, orange shorts and all. Might as well go.
Wednesday Nov 7, 1990
6:20 AM
Huddle House. Early morning this morning. ANXIOUS to get the programming stuff done today. The university people from Japan have arrived.
Dawn light is breaking over the horizon, I pause and look out the window, I think I have not seen enough, no where nearly enough down lights. To watch the Moon Rise, Sun rise always looking east in anticiaption of future night or day. I've watched sunsets, lot so sunsets, but have I ever made an effort to watch the moon set?
Saturday Nov 10, 1990
4:15
Carolina Creme. Neither post office has five cents stamps, so I'll wait till Monday and still end up paying another quarter. So there. Got the war letter wrote, added the new newspaper addresses and packed half o fthem with the 10 G.P. things. Maybe I might as well put another quarter on them and be done with it. This will be the last one anyway. No response from any of the last mailing, so why try?
Monday Nov 12, 1990
6:35
Carolina Creme. Today I did gear fixture modeling, worked on paper the old fashion way, and on the CAD system. But you know what .... about five thirty I was sitting at my desk,dreading of going home, nothing happy to go home to. Maybe it's jsut not feeling liek doing anything, no good movies, same ole routine though, Monday night movie, Wednesday night movie, etc, etc.
"If I didnt talk to myself, I would never say anything."
The post office is closed today, so it is just as well that I did the letter thing Saturday.
No feelings of city street life.
Sleep -- dream -- I have to go to bed early, eight, sleep bad dream time till one thirty, get up to piss, then dose and dream, never really a sleep, but the dreams are better after I piss, and do this till seven.
Friday Nov 16, 1990
8:05
Carolina Creme. Tony came in behind me, he ad bee at Chip's, lifting weights, taked for thirty minutes, working out, runnig, his busy schedule, always on the move, how I wish I could do that. Anyway he ws in long shorts, move his dick and balls a couple of times. He is helping Joe with Red Cross at the game (CU-USC) always doing something, wish I could do that.
Some of the car parking kids have relocated across the road in the big plaza parking lots, they got runned off from the curb-market.
So this is my Friday night out, at a donut shop in Easley,not even a city street night out.
How many mile has my mind traveled, / Down city streets vias? ? My mind wants to travel now, / But the mile have worn my spirit down. / I'm Tired. / Tired of these imagined trips. / To far off places. / Where my body will never go. / Still, always, looking / For that million dollar combination of words. / --- A short story, / A seven line free prose poem, / Anything at all.
Sunday Nov 18, 1990
3:05
Huddle House. They did not use it, after calling back to verify I sent the letter they did not use it. Why do I ever expect it to be any different. Another do nothing Saturday (yesterday), another do nothing Sunday afternoon (today), another do nothing Monday (tomorrow),and another do nothing vacation next week. ad infinitum.
My thoughts -- not worth thinking // My words -- not worth writing // My letters -- not worth reading // My speaking -- not worth hearing // My life -- not worth living.
Where is Ford Perfect when you need him for a helping thumb off this planet?
You know it is, really is, spookie, when you wait for work days, just to be around people, something to do. The only reason for being.
Wednesday Nov 21, 1990
7:35
{{ Margin note: Thirty year ago, this past week, Grandma Hughes died. }}
Carolina Creme. There's going to be war, killing and suffering, isnt there? No there's too much talk of war, tens of thousands dead, tens of thousands wounded, but not a single sign of killing the one evil man who caused it all. Not a single word.
Me thinks the news people are helping it along, maybe by the governments hand. Bush {the political powers that he represents] and the militarty powers want a war, they must cause among all the governments (the FBI, the KBG, the M5, Isreali Intell, etc) surely among them they could kill one evil man. It is truely remarkable, all the military might of world can come together to fight a bloody war, but can not conspire to kill one evil man.
What is wrong with the people who run the world? Something is terribly, terribly wrong, and no one seem to care.
{{Margin note: This week a man burnt himselpf alive in front of the US Capital. The earlier years of Nam are back again (Vietnamese protesting communist role in Vietnam.)}}
{{Foot note: * Mrs Mac. died Sunday, she was 91.}}
This place was quiet when I got here, no one but me, only a walk in occassionaly, but now, everyone shows up and stays. The noise of life among others, yet alone, by myself, an outcast, no one to make noise with. --- the kid can hustle, taking care of business --- he's a bicyle kid too, like I saw him rolling down the highway past the Huddle House one day.
Friday Nov 23, 1990
6:30
Sharky's Pizza, Hilton Head Island. On the way down, on 26, north of Columbia, two semi-trucks past me, I flashed my lights to let them know they had cleared me, they blinked their trailer lights, on had a US flag beside the driver's window, both carried missles in long green tubes, headed for the MidEast, Saudia Arabria, signs of war so close to home.
Before I came here to eat which I shouldnt, I stopped at the beach side benches, not long, but that was the last place I sit before leaving. The H. H. people removed the parking and put in a walkway - nice and fancy, but not for street people anymore.
It's been more than a year, since I was here, last Fall, before November, --- the News is on the tv, war stuff, can't think, can't feel, --- taking up booth space now, people are coming in.
After I leave this place, the loneliness will set in, no one to be with, no one to talk with, no one but me, again.
(Later.) Outside Earle's Sandwich Shoppe, listening to the old classical R and R, mostly. the love songs. John Lennon's "Imagine". thousands of mile away,in the Saudi desert, there is a large crowd of young men, play soliders, in a real war, --- space and time, playing it's trick on my mind, could be years ago and another thousands of miles away. -- throught the window, from outside to inside, to the electron window on the world, a hooky gam, young men on ice obvlious to the forementioned other young men.
Saturday Nov 24, 1990
9:55 AM
Down the Beach, a 45 minute walk, the Savannah Morning New and printed the first half of the letter -- no piss on the Principles part.
I have decide to leave the last of the second batch of "ThoughtSmithing" here, the ten Gratitious Papyrus, and a note of leaving them around, part of the art.
Saturday Nov 24, 1990
2:05
TIKI HUT, Holiday Inn. The walk is over, been over since 1:20, wore a blister on the left foot, again. Seems like I always to that, walk too fare the first day for a "tenderfoot" but as far as I wanted to go. From here to round the farthest poiint to be seen from here. There was a girl sitting on a log with a bicyle beside it, we exchanged looks and on I walked. Then later, as I was standing at the point (as far as I walked) thinking about turning back, a girl on a bicycle rode past, paused, then sat down. I wondered if it wa the same, wondered if she had an interest in me, but I ignored the thought andhre, turned and walked off. -- no one ever has an interest in me. --- later I thought she could think the same.
The only other "almost contact" was a big beach stud, laying on his back, who looked as I walked by.
--- the booklet was still where I left it, how I wished someone had already took it.
The young ones are playing beach volley ball, pickup games, they are free to do as they want, do they think of those other young ones Saudi who cant and ahve to think of war.
This is where and what I wanted to be, sitting beside the ocean, pen and paper at hand, but the words will not come.
Dear God, why msut it happen again? / the fighting, the killing, the suffering / SIs there no way to avoid it? / Is there not some way to rid the world of a few evil men / without all the others being killed? / Is there some other motive / the motives of those who came to oppose this evil man / Is is they who want war / rather than kill one evil man? / Is it they who want the spoils of the land? / As much as the evil man / -- / It's dark over there now, another day has past, in the desert / another day of distress, anticipating future events / How much more difficult will thier days be / afte the killing starts.
He's a small man, shirtless, jeans rolled calf high, boots and shirt in hadn, sitting cross legged in the sand, he's a small young man. --- the other one rode the cycle. {{Margin note: I know it's mostly my imagination, what I wnat it to be, but, the one with the pack, the small one, and the cyle man, they all look to be "beach bumms", beach studs, whatever.}}
There will be not end to the killing, no peace in the world / till the powers that be in the world / make punishment personal, swiftly, surely and with finallity / the leaders who lead there country to war, should be the first to die / as long as other nations, turn a blind eye and deaf ear to the barbaric acts of evil men / there will be no peace / how cold blooded, barbaric, inhuman, would an eveil man be / to do such, knowing he him self would die? / (continued 1 1/2 pages over)
Saturday Nov 24, 1990
7:20
China Gardens. A family, one with a friend, sitting after dinner and conversation, politics and government, how bad things are, past off with a chuckle.
---- I dont know why I try, the words just wont come ---
Supper's over, the crowd's gone, I will soon be alone, the last out the door.
8:25
TIKI HUT again. The lights are one, I wanted to sit here at night and write, so I will at least get this done, the sitting part anyway.
I wonder, did anyone pick up the "ThoughtSmithing" this afternoon? did the wave get to tit? is it scatterd about by the wind? floating at sea?
Better I imagine the partying good time which have happend around the TIKI HUT and pool and patio, and ectria. --- like right now there is a boy and two girls standing just on the beach in the light takng, making small tak like kids do, "enjoyuing -- exploring what it is to be yound and alive."
Sunday Nov 25, 1990
9:30 morning
TIKI HUT. It's twelve hours late, the kids are not here now (wonder if they used this place after I left?), so now I'm back where I was before. Sitting with pen and paper at hand, waiting for the words to come (always looking for that million dollar combination of words). Over the dune brush and grass, down the beach and surf, into the distant, staring blankly with a blank mind.
Blinded by the brightness. -- I wonder why the romance of the ocean does not move me like the trees and mountains? Perhaps it is cause I've been this way, many time before, perhaps I've wrote before -- it's for the youg lover, not loners.
/ Blood red Saudi Sand, dried under the deset sun / what principle demad such sacrafice, what commodity such cost / will principles cease to be improtant at the Irai border / after devistation of the victimized country / leaving the evil mand unpunished / will the principle of not invading another's country be unheld at the Iraqi boundry / after they have ignored said principle.
Thump .. thump .. thump .. thump .. thump .. thump .. thump .. thump .. thump .. plop .. V'ball again.
Monday Nov 26, 1990
6:10
TitusVille Fla, Space Port, Terra. Today, between four thirty and four forty five, I saw my first launch, one of them geolocator satellites, by the Airforce.
Left Hilton Head about 9:10 this morning, without a final entry I see now, got here about threefifty (left the Interstate at 3:00. I drive so slow on the road, the same car passed me three times, five or six passed me twice, that's about the only thing worth noting about the ride.
So this is Space Port Terra, twentynine years and seven months after the first ride off this wock. Playing "Ford Perfect" eating junk food (the safest for hitchhikers on strange planets). It feels new, not old thoughts of past times, things feel new (future) here. Space rides out of this place, that's what I want to feel. To live here and watch the rockets go, maybe one a month or more, be a technician on the cape.
8:15
Sitting on the Indian Rive, by the Cape -- Space Port Terra, with a bottle of champagne. {{See Dec 5, 90}}
Tuesday Nov 27, 1990
3:30
Magnolia Pt Coca Fla. Spent the morning and early afternoon at the Space Port (that's what they really call it too). Confused about what (where) to do (go). Maybe I should jsut go back up the road, head home. Orlando would just be another tourist trap. The only other thing is go tot Coca Beach for the night, but maybe I'll be better off with a couple of hours less to drive tomorrow.
It was the best, last night (8:15)!! {{Arrow pointed back up to that entry.}}
Wednesday Nov 28, 1990
2:10
Battery, Charleston SC. Drove in from south Jacksonville, left there 8:05, came up throught Savannah to drive across that bridge I saw from Hilton Head, saw it was a new bridge too as I got closer, half again as high as theold cantilever frame, but then I saw it was still being built and the old bridge had no traffice on it either so it was a do nothing side trip. Came in by Parris Island and Beaufort and BroadRiver on US17-21-17. There were stretches of road where it was almost deserted, me in the line alone, for as for as the eye could see, along the "brown" road. Anyway, I'm here but will not stay long.
Wednesday Nov 28, 1990
6:25
HARESS, Myrtle Beach. I have arrived (4:50) and it feels the same, bad, lonesomely bad, it will always feel the same, I should never come here again -- go somewhere else -- but when I was there, I thought it would be different here. While driving between Georgetown and here, Pawley Island, Murrels Inlet, Surfside, Litchfield, there's more people there than here, there's more people in the big motels on the south MB than in town. --- Maybe it'll be different tomorrow, but a Marvin the Manic Depressed Robot would say, "I doubt it."
Thursday Nov 29, 1990
10:45
Myrtle Beach State Park. Maybe I can spend the days here, not in town. That would be different, sortof like being out in the woods (in nature) instead of a depressing lonely city streets. Briefly thought of moving down here, but then the gates close at 10 pm.
Heard on the news this morning that the shuttle Columbia is scheduled for launch this weekend -- the tour bus driver said early December like I thought (understood) taht meant sometime the first fifteen days, so I wasnt going to be there that long -- so now I wonder if I should go back, mabye even fly down but dont you know if I do, the 'event' would jsut be put off again.
I ... will leave now.
12:30
Pawleys Island (Rebuilt already.)
Thursday Nov 29, 1990
5:45
Pizza Hut, MB. Things are sad again, after returning from the trip backdown the highway, spent the afternoon in the room, mostly. Did make one walk around the Pavilon area, I was standing at the old access, the one betweent he putt-putt and resturant (now it's WINGS, they're all over now), when the kid with torn pants cought my eye, he was walking up the beach, followed him till the concrete walkway played out, stood there and watched him walk on up the beach, he turns inward in front of the HI, theplace where I'm staying, like he caught my fancy and he's at the same place as me. I did think he was just cutting thuogh, so I did walk up to the street and back to the HI, like I rounded the corner and there he was, the second ground level room from the street. We even exchanged greetings. Now what am I to think and do about this?
Back to Pawyley Island, one of the older construction workers walked over to where I was standing looking at the scene, asked him about Hugo, said most all the houses were over there, pointing inland a 100 yards or so. Mostly he talked about the rich people rebuilding.
Maybe I could leave him (the kid him) an envolope full of money before I leave. Oh yes, when I left for the walk mentioned above, I went out the back way, by where he lives. -- We will never meet again, a second chance never happens.
There's so many cars on the road, but where are the people on the streets? [[[Serendipity words, why wont you come to me?]]]
Friday Nov 30, 1990
4:15
Whitewater Falls, Listen to this man, Champagne, bread, cheese, mountain nature, the afternoon of the morning of the same day as the ocean morning. It's cold up here and I may get sick and die but sitting here with my old Friend Whitewater and thinking of Cape Canaveral, the night with the champagne, Indian River (Bay) and rockets going into space will make things complete. I dont watn to go back home was there 30 minutes and depression sufficated me. I had rather be dead and in heaven.
Words I've spoke aloud, talking to the wind, words I will not remember, but word which speak the truth of wine there was visitors, two college boys, to see me in myu stuipdor now they have gone and left me alone again, not even at visit, he is not worth the tirp down. the sunlight on yonder ridge is no more, that point in time was when I said to myself that I will leave, two shadows moving through the tree down to the overlook, the stone one, is it the two I saw before, yes i think it is they who were here before, I smell campfire smoke from upriver, they have left without a backward glance, twilight set upon the hills, sunlight upon distant hills....
Friday Nov 30, 1990
11:05 PM
Huddle House. Isnt this fun? Two hours sleep and wide awake again, it was such a nice happy dream too, not that I can remember particulars, but it felt happy. If only I had unplugged the phone, I was suppose to, always suppose to unplug the phone when I go to bed early. But I was feeling good and no one was suppose to know I was home, so why bother... STUPID!!
She had to call to see if I was home, a forty second talk and a good ten hour sleep gone to hell. Such has my life always been and always will be. Not a good vacation, some old routine, alone, motel tv, drive around, almost two thousand mile and only one real event to remember, the rocket launch at Space Port, and the bottle of champagne by the bay looking at Space Port lights.
Shitty life that's what it is! {{Margin note: Vacation's over two days before it's over.}}
Wednesday Dec 5, 1990
5:00
Carolina Creme. Back to the usual places again.
This morning, about ninethirty, the phone rang. It was an elder lady from Minnisota, a Mary somebody. She and her husband were the ones to discover the Hilton Head beach "ThoughtSmithing" They were walking the beach late Monday evening (last Monday Nov 26) when they discoved it. She said such nice things, "read it from cover to cover", "really thoughtfull (deep thoughts) person" "a lonely person" "lived an intersting life". Her calling really made me happy, someone out there really thinks I have something worth reading. But take note of the "Thought - Happening - Connection T-H-C", I was sitting by Indian River, back of the hotel in TitusVille, looking at the Space Port with my champagn, the mood, the feeling, the thoughts, the place, the metorites, aint it amazing how good things come together, once in a great while, for me.
So now my enthausism has been arroused, I should put more effort into the 90s edition of "ThoughtSmithing"
Three kids on skateboards, trying to jump onto the stoop, noisy, worrisome about them cracking into the windows, one on the phone, but they're young and free, let them have their miniadventure.
The lady from Minnisota, she asked if she was suppose to leave it somewhere else, pass it along, share it with familyu - friend, I told here to keep it, make copies for family - friends. But I've been thinking, I could have left my address and number in them all, how many responses would have I gotten? Could have been encourage all along. There's this other thoght too, for the discoverer to make copy for himself, then leave it somewhere else for someone else to discover. Maybe I should seriously consider this.
Friday Dec 7, 1990
5:05
Carolina Creme. Another lonely weekend to struggle through.
I've made a working copy of all the things for the 1990 edition of "ThoughtSmithing" It seems like such an overwhelming task, then at times it feels good to be trying to do something. A hundred pages with print on them, ten blank one, twentyfive dollars a page and two penny a page, that's $2500 + 1000 x 110 x .02 = 3600 plus $1.25 per cover $3600 + 1250 = $4850 for 1000 copies. Then what would I do with a thousand copies?
Wednesday Dec 12, 1990
6:25
Carolina Creme. Last weekend I spent at work doing (ThoughtSmithing), got a two sided page proof together. Already marking it up with changes. Dont know why, I've added the prayers and G.P. and some other prose and now it's a hundred pages (50 sheets) long.
So now I just sitting here waiting for showtime. I am going to se a movie tongith.
Rose wrote a Christmas Card, said they miss hearing from me. Should I start back with them, letter exchange once a year?
Saturday Dec 15, 1990
3:45
Carolina Creme. FINISH the second "proof" of T.S., maybe I'll ignor the off center pages and let it fly anyway.
Wednesday Dec 19, 1990
5:15
Carolina Creme.
To whoever cares anymore:
My dreams are of war now, the gloom of future war looms so near now. The reason why seems trivious, has the cause of any recent war been otherwise, after the fact, in retrospect? Principles worth dying for, that's what they, whoever they are, talk about. But I see (hear) little of the original principle left, too much time has past since thecrime has been committed. I f punishment had swiftly followed the crime, that would be principles upheld. But for this case, half a year lapses between the two. And that means the reason for war is reduce to some trivial point: a date upon which to meet, a few square meters of land, saving face after all the boltuious words (on both side), for some vague interpatiaon of events if there is now war, maybe just stubborness. Why a war after the world ahs stood by and watched the continued plundering of the victim? Why a war, battles of destruction in the victims homeladn, have they not sufferd enought? ALl because of one evil man, I would suppose. So little makes sense I'm beginning to think there must be other reasons, some obscure "greed factor" at work.
So there's going to be a war, suffering and death by the tens and hundreds of thousands. No discussion or considersatin of alternative. Not a word of assasinating Sadden Hussein, no thought of destructing aggressors military, power only, and definately no consideratin of jsut turnig and walking away from a fight. Maybe it is no longer ture that it take the stronger (principled) man to walk away. I'm sure there msut be more options, of all the brainpower use dto make war, there msut surely be others.
And after the tens of thousands have died, waht will have changed? Will the man who caused it all be dead? Doubtfull. The principle most talk of is Restoring Kuwait which means the bloody war stops at Iraqi border. Some other bad leader will learn how to plunder another nation and live to fight anoght day. Weapons of war will continue to be sold (given) to bad people to cause some future war. Even now this happend as Syria is sold weapons to fight this war. The United Nations, and the rest of the world far that matter,will continue to ignore the deeds of evil lleaders. Poor Romainia was ignored for forty years, there will be no changes in principles to follow. Like the leader who causes his nation who trangresses a principle is personaly swiftly and surely punished. Or if two leaders determine that their nations will fight a war, they are the first die then their sussesors are given the option to continue the war. I would think that there will never be a "new world order" with such principles; only the "old world one" which continues the principles for which wars ar fought.
Friday Dec 21, 1990
9:05
Carolina Creme. Winter is one hour away, a turn through seven hundre miles, relativity Winter is seven hundred mile away, but must include the space around the orbit too. So there will be nothing special tonight, just go home and wait for it to happen.
The post teenagers are in the booth, talking party stories how drunk and sick and naked they were.
There's really going to be a war. Bush wont back own he might loose face. And there's nothing I can do about it.
Friday Dec 28, 1990
7:20
Pizza Inn. Pickens. Another "jsut a note thing" I was here tonight. Mostly read throught the old stuff which was hand written. And the letters about the furture war.
Also the returen to the Pickens Plant is mostly finished; like after seven years in excile I have returned. Made a desk top book shelf.
{{ Why does it take tens of thousands of deaths to rid the world of one evil man? }}
Saturday Dec 29, 1990
12:45
Carolina Creme. The last weekend of this year and it's ging to be a nothing special weekend. It is even a Blue Moon month, a Full Moon weekend and I'll do nothing special. It's a cloudy day and night, it has been that way since before Christmas ( it feels like) so there'll be no looking at the Blue Moon.
I should spend this time putting together anti-war letters, but I've ben ignored so many times, why bother?
No trips to WhiteWater or WhiteSide, no outdoors in nature anywhere trips. I'v lost connections with any "street life" feelings. No motivation to explore any of the familar places or new places. I've done it all alone before and I'm tired of doing it alone.
Monday Dec 31, 1990
6:15
Glass Mountain Pickens. Late again for the Moon Rise and SunSet, the Sun is gone, the Moon is lees than an hour rise. The wind is cold, the street lights shinning, the dogs barking, the vehicle noise, people going places. The last night of 1990 and here I sit.