Go Back 20 Years Or So
June 19, 1977
I am leaving at 11:30 AM, an hour and a half from now to travel to Clarion, PA for swim camp. My dad really
gets on my back about liking Rock-n-Roll music. He never really gives me time to state my reasons for liking it.
So, I'll tell you the whole story.
In eighth grade I knew absolutely nothing about rock-n-roll, or music for that matter. I recall one day when Ricky
Ricciardo told me that his sister went to an Elton John concert. I said, "Who's that?" It was then that
I began to listen to G-98, a top 40 station instead of 3WE, a sports station. From time to time I listened to each
station. I began to learn the names of the artists and the types of music. Pete Franklin, the sports talk show
host, began to get on my nerves.
(interruption to dry the dishes)
10:21 AM I had to dry the dishes. As I was saying, Pete Franklin really got on my nerves, so I turned on G-98 and
just left it there. As the school year came to an end we went to Washington DC and we listened to tapes on the
bus. After this there was our graduation party, where we had a live band. I found that I liked most of the music.
After school was out I went to swim camp and I heard a lot of music there. I saw a stereo that I really liked.
During the summer, after I returned from camp I began to by records. I remembered that I had listened to Music
years before. The way I figure it now is that from about 5th grade until half way through 8th grade I really liked
to listen to
sports. Don't get me wrong now, I still enjoy sports, but unless a relative is playing or it is a really important
game I'm just not interested. Now, my father would probably shoot me for saying that, but he's a real sports nut.
He wastes his money on T-shirts and hats etc... I'm not saying that anything is wrong with that, instead I am asking
him not to criticize me for something that he is just as guilty of. You know, practice what you preach. If these
facts were the only things that held me bound to music then this would surely be a fad. But this is not the whole
story. After listening to the thousands of songs that I have and plus listening to all the music on a progressive
rock station (M105) I have found that many songs talk about what has happened during my life. I have learned many
interesting things. Also, most of the music can set your mood and even pull you out of the dumps. It doesn't really
make sense to me logically how this happens, but I know that it works. It puts you in the greatest moods.
Just listen to "Stairway to Heaven" seriously and you will see what I mean. I think that somehow my emotions
are in tune with the music. I can just drop it like I picked it up. I know how it happened, but its different now.
Music makes the world go around and I am part of the world.
Now, it didn't go as fast as I said in here and that is true, but the slow
motion process caused me to love music, or rock-n-roll, as my father calls it. It is just that music serves so
many purposes that I can live without it, but I wouldn't be as happy. Right now I am glad that I have a background
in music because it helps a lot when you talk to girls. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I was still a sports-nut.
I'd probably meet some jock (about 2% of the girls population) and marry her at age 21, because she was the only
girl in the school that I could love. I am no longer on my own.
June 25, 1977
Camp was excellent. It got me so psyched up for swimming. I am going to set aside the half hour after I get
home from swim team to work on weights. Now, I wouldn't say this to my father, because if I did then he would yell
and scream at me if I forgot to lift weights. I fixed up my butterfly and all I need to do is to practice it for
a while. My father is still pissed off at me because I listened to "my" music. The way I think that he
thinks that for the last two years all I ever cared about was Rock-n-Roll music. In that case I hope someday he
reads this book.
I met two girls at camp. One was a fox and an air head. The other was a dog with brains. My dad was also angry
that I hung around with Rick Anderson. He says that he ruined my life. I think that he helped me a lot, but of
course I disagree with his ideas on the subjects of smoking and treating girls. I respect his opinions and I understand
why he does what he does. (pretty much) I could write a story about the week I spent at camp but I am too tired
and I feel that it would take up too much space.
June 29, 1977
I am writing another book. I haven't got a title yet, but it's about the
"Air Force." Wishing for a starship. I think that I gave it away too fast, but I can always change it.
Ha Ha! I never finished "My House" but don't worry, I will one day. I am collecting dreams for my "book
of dreams."
I am going to bed right now: 10:42PM
June 30, 1977
I am glad that I having new and different ideas for my books and stories. I just thought of how I can continue
"My House." Instead of ending it with everyone going into suspended animation I am going to begin it
as a diary, and end it with an epilog by an alien creature from a planet around Capella.
I think that it's great how a writer can either change from book to book or concentrate on one book, whichever
he likes better. It's no fun sticking with one book until its finished. Its more fun just coming up with a big
idea and composing the little ideas into a story. I may end up tearing apart all of my stories and merging the
best parts to build the worlds best story. I don't know.
July 3, 1977
I had a strange dream today. It started out where I had gotten this joint from a little kid. I got Ed Whitson and
we went back into the woods to smoke it. I took one toke on it and then Ed smoked it until it was super small,
then I got another chance. He finally finished it off. Then we came to my house and we went up into my bedroom.
Ed lit up another joint. I heard my dad come home, so Ed put it out and put it away. I said, "Ed, you better
go home." I felt the way I felt the last time I was high. Rohdes, Gramma and Grandpa came over about
ten minutes after my dad came home. I asked Mary Pat if my eyes were red and she said "no, are mine?"
Her eyes were super freaky. She had super big thick cracked red lines in her eyes. I said "Ya, a little."
We happened to get a box of swimming stuff from the swim shop in the mail today. (In the dream still.) It was a
huge box, at least as big as a car. We opened it up and looked inside. We got a bunch of Play-Bouys that we had
ordered. We also got some swim suits. There were also a bunch of smaller boxes inside. One was about 1/3 the size
of the large box we just got. It was a box that Jerebecks had ordered. There were also a bunch of smaller and super
small boxes with a lot of different addresses on them. We put them in a box of the same size as the Jerebecks box.
Then Mary Pat and I each dragged a box down the street toward Ohio Street. At this time I came slightly awake and
I thought that I could save the shipping costs. The next thing that I remember was riding in a station wagon with
everyone there: Rhodes, Grandma, Grandpa, Mom, Dad, Henry and Meg. It was really crowded. We were all talking about
something interesting, but I can't remember what it was.
I woke up at exactly 2:00AM and my dad told me that he was thinking about putting a pool in our backyard. I thought
that I was still dreaming. I haven't gone to sleep since then, so if this is written then it is true. Four days
until the luckiest day of the century.
July 7, 1977 (7-7-77)
Well, today was just an average day, so far. It is 10:29PM
and I can't believe it, nothing happened at all. But, over the last four days things did happen. One of the biggest
was the fourth of July. This was the best fourth of July of my life. We spent the day at Colby Park in Wickliffe.
It was pretty fair until about 6:00PM when it got great.
We walked over to hear the band play and I sat down by the Cooks. I was sitting there talking to them when Judy
Mitchel sat down next to me. I knew Judy from school. She is really nice in every respect except that she is a
little flat. She has a great personality though. We got along pretty well and we walked down to the lake. Well,
we got to know each other even better. The fire works were really great and being with Judy made them ten times
better. With all of the people gathered on the hill side it looked like those pictures of Woodstock. Then, of course
there was the "Goodnight Kiss" which was excellent.
The fifth of July was a bore, but yesterday I went to Judy's House. We had a great time. Now, you can see (I hope)
why today wasn't a lucky day for me yet. There is always hope, only one hour and fifteen minutes to go.
You know, I had a thought. I thought that if a person lived a good life, then after he died he would continue to
relive what he had done through out his life. Reliving the evil parts would mean pain, while reliving the good
parts would mean joy. Like I stated in the back of this years theology notebook, our life after is just an echo
through space. It is an echo of what we accomplished during our lives.
I was just thinking a crazy thought a minute ago. I was thinking, what if
the last day of the earth would be July 7, 1977. But, if the numbers
meant anything it could be the beginning of the end. Remember that Christ lived 33 years and 33 years from now
is the year 2000. 2000 years after the birth of Christ. Somehow I believe that the end of the world is not that
simple as everyone believes. Many people believe that when the earth is destroyed that will be the end. But, it
is not, because the Universe is teaming with life, that only lacks the ability to travel and communicate like us.
If they do poses it they fail to show themselves. Failure in this manor is a failure in brotherly kindness.
It is funny how we advance ourselves so far that we believe that we see that the end of everything is so close.
Then we turn the corner to see that it is so far away. So, I am going to sleep, and if I shan't wake let it be
known that I had a hunch. But, if I do then I was still right. If the end of the Earth is what is meant by the
end then this notebook may be found someday by an alien culture. I hope that they can translate it for it prove
much to them. 50 minutes to go -- Good Luck!
June 15, 1977
It's getting late, but I have to put this down. Somehow, quite a few of my dreams are coming true, or actions
that are related to them are coming true. For one, I dreamt back in May sometime. (I am not exactly sure) I think
I wrote it down in this book. I dreamt that Lynard Skynard would have a concert in July. Well, Rick Andersen just
told me that they would have a concert at the Coliseum on the 23rd. This was pretty close, and I was thinking that
maybe when I was having the dream they were just booking it. Maybe the ESP transfer didn't work exactly because
his agent was hoping for some time earlier. Next, there was a super scary dream sequence that happened. First the
dream was with Heide Springer. She was asking me to get her an extra piece of pizza. A while later there was a
pizza party for the swim team. It may have been a couple of weeks after the dream. As she began to beg me to get
her an extra piece of pizza I remembered what happened next in the dream so I became quiet. Then I suddenly laughed
out loud. Then I remembered that that was exactly what had happened in the dream. Strange. Now to sleep.
July 17, 1977
My father got into one of his bad moods against Rock-n-Roll again. To me it seems that he acts like a mormon
and he doesn't believe in a social life. However, I am not going to go into that right now.
I want to go into the fact that I think to much. I think about the past. I think about the future. The only problem
is that I don't think about right now. The thing that I do right now though is to work for the future. Probably
the only reason that I do any work at all is to work for the future, for the fun. I only plan things for the pleasure.
Right now I am asking, is this wrong? Should I work just for the sake of work? I think that what I really should
work for is the pleasure of others. This tends to give me pleasure.
I think that ever since I became involved in music my dad began to be against me. It seems that he tried to appreciate
it, but he couldn't. Then he reacted against it with all his might and he used sports as his defense. I don't think
that he has listened to his stereo since I have gotten mine. I wonder if he is afraid that if I saw him listening
to it he would think that he was setting a bad example. (I am really sorry that I am getting back on this track
that I said that I was to stay off of.)
Since I am talking about this, I just wonder what fate has brought my father to be so deathly afraid of Rock-n-Roll.
Was it the Aerosmith Concert that he took me to. I really appreciated him taking me to it. I always picture myself
taking someone to an Opra or something. I also think about when I go to a baseball game. I enjoy it while I am
there. But, does there have to be a line drawn between sports and music?
Of course not, the organist at the baseball game even played some modified Beatles songs. What is the big deal?
I kind of feel that my father is afraid of the drugs. I think that during the 60s he must have read the newspapers
and he was scared silly.
I'll tell you though, the funny thing is that the biggest drug around is the
one that my dad drinks all of the time. Your right! It's beer. I am sure
that pot is next. Or, is it smokes if nicotine is considered a drug. I already believe that pot is safer than or
at least as safe as beer. I don't know if I ever said that they are both bad for you.
1) Pot -- For this I have to go back to camp. I never wrote down what happened on Thursday at camp. Well, it was
partly good and it partly scared the hell out of me. That was the first time that I was really frightened in -OH-
a really long time. Anyway, we bought a joint off of a diver there. We rerolled it, because it was such a shity
job. Then, after dinner we had it. When we finished it Rick and Bob offered me a cigarette. I almost took it, because
it seemed like they were being so nice to me. My subconscious spoke for me really fast, even before I thought about
what they were saying. "No, No that's really all right" I said. As I listened to myself it was really
strange, because I think pot makes you think the opposite way. I mean, Rick and Bob used to be really scared to
get caught smoking on campus, and now they could care less. I remember that I was really scared that I would forget
what time we had to be somewhere, or what we were going to do next. I never worried about this before. I think
that every trip is different, but I wish that it wasn't. When I smoked pot that time I found that I could run the
440 under a minute, and I wasn't even tired at all. It would be excellent for a track meet. I think that I could
probably do it without the pot, but I am scared of the pain. It's just the case of not practicing what you preach.
I remember saying the pain won't kill you, so do it because dying is the only fate to fear. I feel that I need
to say this to myself at a race so that I can psyche myself up.But I always forget to do that. I always tend to
psyche myself out instead. Why, you ask? Well, its because I am too smart for myself. I tell myself that the 100
yd. Butterfly is too hard to do and my body which is dumb believes it. That's why I never improve.
I have one last thing to report, or say before I go to bed. It is that I
have smoked pot 3 times in my life and chances are that I will again. That's nothing new so far. Since the last
time I have found the power of my mind over pain which worked really great. (I did notice that I had sore muscles
the next day.) I have decided that pot is a drug. It is excellent for discovering yourself and others through your
mind and their thoughts. But, it is dangerous, very dangerous. You can forget very important things and you can
be tempted very easily. Probably there is more, because different people cause different trips. There is probably
so much about this drug that it can't be written in any health book. You can't be taught about it; you have to
experience it yourself. Then you have to decide if it is for you and what you want to use it for. For fun? No good,
I wouldn't recommend it. For me, the next time that I will use it (prediction only) will be a track meet next year.
Funny, I used to think of pot as fun, but now it is a mind pain breaker.
July 18, 1977
Incentive, INCENTIVE!
July 25, 1977
I can't believe it. Today there was a school dance and I got there at about 8:15PM. I talked to my brothers
friends for a while. Then I went in and nobody was there yet. I sat down, but I bored pretty fast. So I went back
to the ticket table because Bob, who was collecting money, was the only person in the place that I knew. So I asked
him about a splash party that wasn't and other Junior class functions. About 2 minutes later two girls walked up
to the table. One was fantastic looking. I began to talk to her and I found out that she was from Arizona. Soon
we were good friends.
One thing, however, I wish that I knew why girls always leave to go to the bathroom together. Its probably something
about me, I really don't know. She asked if she could talk to her friends for a while, so I sat down. Thirty seconds
later another girl came up to me and asked me to dance. She lives in Mentor, so I'll probably see more of her,
although she is going to Mentor High. They were both knock-out chicks and I can't believe it. All I have to say
is, "Excellent dance."
August 1, 1977
I want to quit trying to be a psychologist. I keep trying to figure out
how everyone thinks. Why? Why can't I act as if I am living along with
other people, not against them? By asking that question I begin my psychological questioning again. I spend too
much time thinking of things that are unimportant such as psychology. All I do is ask questions in my mind. Even
in the middle of a conversation I find myself asking questions in my mind. Then I hear the end of a
sentence and say, "What?!"
How can I stop? That should be my last psychological question. Then maybe I can live normal. Whatever normal is.
Life is strange. I need a social life, but its so hard to find. My true friends live so far away. It's a bitch.
My parents say that I don't think. I do think. I think too much about the wrong things. I have got to change this
little by little.
August 17, 1977
I feel as if I have taken a real vacation away from life. I have forgotten almost everything that I was concentrating
on in the last 2 weeks or so. I feel as if I have begun with a new start. Its funny how all of a sudden life seems
so very different. It also seems strange how for the last two weeks or more I have felt like doing absolutely nothing.
Now I want to do a lot. I want to make up for the time that I slacked off before. I have letters to write, phone
calls to make and work to be done.
I have had dreams lately and I can even remember a few, but as I said, I want to start a new slate. Begin again.
I feel like I can finally think for myself again. I think it happened tonight. Today I was still lazy, but underneath
I was telling myself that I had things to do. "Let's get going" I was saying. After soccer practice (By
the way, I decided to do something different this year, so I went out for the soccer team.) today I took a hot
hot hot bath. I stayed in it as long as I could stand. My blood pressure rose and my head was pounding! I relaxed
as much as I darred. My vision blurred slightly and I acquired a slight buzz. It was strange. I think its the opposite
of what I am used to. It made me super tired and weak. I actually couldn't move with the speed that I would have
liked. The cold
shower did the trick. It really stepped up the buzz. When it all cleared
I could think and see even clearer than I have in two weeks.
There isn't really much more that can be said except that yesterday Elvis, "The King of Rock-n-Roll"
died at the age of 42. I wasn't a fan of his although I enjoyed a few of his songs. Everyone was running out to
buy his albums, but I didn't. I got three other albums though.
Rush - All the worlds a stage.
Hello People - Handsome Devil
Jethro Tull - Aqualung
Last week was our vacation to Cape Cod Massechusettes. It was really to bad that I took so few pictures, but the
ones that I did get are assured to be good ones. It was a blast. The ocean and bay were filled with an abundance
of little animal and plant life. I guess my best souvenir though is the scar on my left middle finger. (little
reference)
August 21, 1977
I don't know, but I have a feeling about 1121. Whatever it means I don't really know.
It was thundering outside and I was just planning to get some sleep. I was thinking girls and I looked at the clock
and it was 11:21PM. I was thinking and it felt like it meant something. I was thinking of other things too. Like,
all of the time I spend just thinking about myself. I can't act normal any more. Every time that I move I ask myself
why did I do that. Most of the time the answer is reflex or planned stratagy. I have very little spur of the moment
thinking. I don't live in the present time. I either plan for the far future or look back on the past. (I know
that I am not 100% right on the assumption, but it feels like it's 95% of the time.)
I am thinking of something to write.
I now write of what I previously thought.
School is coming up very rapidly. I want to change my ways. I want to be someone different, but my lack of social
knowledge always gets in the way. I expect myself to function normally without thinking. I don't. I can't act cool.
How can you act cool without a bunch of close friends to lean on. I am too daring. Right now I say that I would
do just about anything for the thrill.
I can stand minor pain such as being tired, fatigued or muscular. Even though I quickly avoid pain if I have for
warning. My first and worst reflex is that my eyes flash closed. That is a very dangerous reflex. I feel as though
I am rambling much to much so - Good Night.
August 22, 1977
I just got back from the dance. It was the boringest one that I have ever gone to. So I watched the band, "Jasper".
They were really good. I thought too. I imagined myself interfering with life's normal growth. Let me explain.For
most people (as I see it) life is filled with people and most of them think alike. Like this:
--------
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--------------
--------------
--------------
Well, in my case I think differently than the large majority of the people. It would look like this:
----------------
----/\-----------
---/|\------------
----\/------------
---------------
Notice the other people who are associated with me they begin to think similarly to me. But still, no one thinks
the right way! Or do they?Who does? Is there a right and a wrong way to think? I have a theory and I probably wouldn't
have brought any of these questions unless I had a theory.
My theory is that there is a tree of human thought. The first thought oflife was a dot at the base of the stem.
And as thoughts differ, branches occured. Like so:
(enter picture of tree here)
And as this tree was formed there was interweaving of many thoughts which caused what looks like to us as a complicated
mess. Only God (and I) know the answer (fiction of course). The reason for life is to produce all important the
important knowledge to the final Man. In other words the basic plot of life looks like this:
(insert mess page 71 here)
No one knows what the last Man must know, but it is the exact thought that the first man knew. Although if a giant
computer were built, similar to Kilgor Trout's idea in Venus on the Half Shell. Man could calculate the last thought.
Enough Sci-Fi for today? Well, I think so, so gut nacht.
August 26, 1977
Today started out lousy and just kept getting better. I life guarded at Colby pool in Wickliffe until 9:30PM.
9:30 because of a cancellation in a splash party. My parents thought that I would be gone until 11:15PM, so I decided
to go for a little ride. I went to Lake Erie College, because Band Camp was there. I pulled in the drive and everyone
thought I was a chaperone or something. They were in the middle of covering there band directors car with shaving
cream and toilet paper. It was pretty funny, and I met new people and got my car covered with shaving cream. All
in about a half of an hour. It was pretty funny and it was still fun. I think that I got off on the right foot
this year. I hope. God do I hope! Because if this year is good my senior year will be unheard of. What will school
bring? Fun I hope.
Most Probably you wouldn't understand completely what I have said. It is like the rest of my journal. I can understand
how I felt, and others will have a tough time comprehending the full value of my words.
In my mind I was correct in my judgment at the time I wrote something even though two minutes later the whole world
including myself may be opposed to the idea.
That means that you wouldn't understand what was saying unless I put in small, commonly misjudged and misunderstood,
unimportant fact that when added up amount to the whole thing. For instance I left out meeting some old friends
that happened to be girls, or the strip poker game etc... The list could grow and grow and grow, but I don't feel
like writing until my hand gets numb.
As it comes to mind, I think that I'll write down my last dream.
After a half of day guarding at the Colby pool I decided to go to the
Queen concert at the Colosium. When we got there everything was different (of course) We sat up on the stage waiting
for them to start. When they did start, we couldn't hear them. We kept yelling "Louder", "Louder".
But they kept on playing quietly. After 20 minutes they took a break. The audience, which was mostly all of the
people that we knew, said that they were getting ready to play Boheimian Rapsody. They came out with rubber masks
on. Everyone was asking, "Will they be louder now?" Suddenly I realized that I had to leave at 9:00 but
everyone said that it was only 8:00. So I stayed.
The last thing that I have to say (I hope) is that the hour difference thing happened today. I had to go to work
at 12:30 and I walked in to the house and the clock said 12:45, but my dad said that it was 11:45. I didn't realize
the mistake until 1:00.
August 27, 1977
Do I have a responsibility to the universe? Am I my own individual? May I act regardless of the law but for
my own instinct? Was I created as a by-product of the ultimate plan to eliminate the universe? Or, do I play a
part in passing along information the will cause the demolition of the universe? Will the end just be eternal reliving
of the past? Maybe the past of the people we tortured or helped?
Halt! Maybe I have stumbled upon something while asking myself these questions. Maybe if everyone thought that
what they did to others was the suffering of eternity. If they did good to others, the GOOD that these people received
would be the eternal reward. Imagine the feeling of being mocked by others. Now, imagine having this feeling for
eternity, repeated over and over again. Now, imagine the feeling you get when someone offers you something that
you always wanted. Self imposed Heaven and Hell. Right? Why not? And, on the other hand: WHY?
"You can't always get what you want, but if you try some time, you just might find that you get what you need."
Mick Jagger.
August 29, 1977
Snow Bird
There she stood
cold as ice
but very nice
cold as wood
who would speak
knowing how weak...
(instrumental)
she was... The snow bird...
lovely little girl... The snow bird
living the life...
that was meant for the snow bird.
---------
We would fly
fly unto ever more
but fly there no more
----------
Lovers leaving each other
lovers looking
looking for one another
she was mine
yet not for long
she was fine
yet I was wrong....
Snow bird
where did you fly?
Come back to me...
Snow bird...
I was so high
Why did you flee...
Oh snow bird... snow bird
My bitter dream
of life's esteem
Could I find....
I,I,I think I lost
--------------
My mind
(Finale)
August 30, 1977
When I was 20, 4 short years ago. We had a band created with a touch of imagination. We began knowing nothing
and learned less than we knew. Yet, we managed to make ourselves famous.
The band as we knew it was a social gathering of many years. It lasted so long no one could remember or forget
us. The name had been changed with the change of each person in the group.
The music that made Tear Drop was a combo of blues, funk and rock. Magic was more though. Now, the days are different.
Yesterday has fallen, yet, Tomorrow has taken the time to be changed by today.
Now, rock is in my blood. When I was 20, 4 short years ago. Tear Drop made the sound. Magic was more. Magic was
the thing.
"The Cat Craze"
She was busted
I was broke
We were stoned
but one thing was sure
the cats were loose
and the kittens lost
It was the cat craze.
C C C D B
We searched the halls
for the lost balls
belonged to Kenny
Sally's Man
Rowdy as hell
Burnt as well
the cats were loose
and the kittens lost
C C C D B
It was the cat craze.
In "74"
life was such a bore
a cat was the thing
but girls were there too
we were there but the girls
It was the cat craze
craziest thing
September 3, 1977
School has started and, well, I like it. We have had only two days of school and I've met probably more girls
than I have ever known. Besides that, my teachers are pretty cool. I really don't have a problem with any of them.
Sister Roberta is pretty strange. She is our Theology teacher and she keeps a journal. In fact, she keeps seven.
One for each class that she teaches and two for her free time.
I was just wondering: "Can all people really think for themselves?" Are there different degrees of awareness?
In my opinion, being aware is being alive. If you don't know what you are doing you are dead mentally. Are animals
aware? If communication was possible, what would they say?
September 5, 1977
What do I do? Today I was in a super mood, and I met this chick at Pinegate pool. Her name is Mary and she
is really good looking. She's slightly tall for me, but it doesn't matter to me if it doesn't matter to her.
Still, besides that we got a little rowdy. Before I new it we had her in the men's john. We were holding in until
they hit the lights. Well, my hands. (You get the picture?) It was funny though, she didn't scream. I actually
think that she really enjoyed it. The life guard kicked us out of the pool then, because of the "unusual disturbance."
Besides, we didn't belong there anyway.
It went very fast, and then I resented what had happened. Henry and I headed for the car and we got ready to go.
Mary walked out with us. Strange. We began to go and she said, "stop, just a second." Stranger. Then
the strangest of all she said, "Call me." I said, "How? I don't have your number." She said,
"Just remember 8376."
"What? 255 or 946?"
"Ya, 255"
I am now finding problems. I like a few girls and I find that they like me. But who do I choose? Judy, who is my
age, but she's not the greatest looking. She is flat, to be blunt. Margie. She is certainly nice looking, but she
has a very deep voice. On my list she is number 1, but she may move to New York next summer. Should I overlook
this fact? She is 15. Next, there are the freshmen. Dawn - very nice, but sort of chubby. Diane - flat, but they'll
show. She's fun in the water, but then she can be a real snot. Lori - Another great pick, but I think that she's
a slight flirt. Then again I don't know. Now, there is Mary. Strange, but beautiful as far as Italians go. I wish
that I could figure this out, because the sooner I do, the sooner I'll get to know one of these girls better. There
are more, but as of today these are the top of the list. As of today the order is:
1 Margie
2 Judy
3 Mary
4 Lori
5 Diane
6 Dawn
That's of the ones that I know. Of course, there should be a wish list as well. Right, so I will do that with a
small reference, description or explanation.
Melisa - I think that I wrote about her before. She is Margie's cousin from Arizona. That should explain everything.
She would be perfect.
Sonja - A guard at the Colby pool. She is my age and is so good that she won't settle for me.
Lori - Different from the Lori above. She was a sub this year, very nice, probably the next decision. She is going
with this kid, but I think that we hit it off pretty good for that short time.
That's it for today. Who knows what tomorrow will hold. Know one but that giant computer. (See Kilgor Trout)
September 9, 1977
Thunder Roared
as the rain poured
Johnny farted
school had started
school bus came
passed a beggar lame
Quiet, as I thought
The wish did blow
Together the day was slow
Johnny got fatter
It didn't really matter
The horses pranced
Forward the clowns danced
Quiet, as I thought
It must be so
but how to know
I must be sure
but Its all a blur
Is life real?
or just something we feel?
Quiet, as I thought
Quiet as I thought
Real is what they bought
For me
this could be
but yet
I could really bet
we are already
dead and gone, stay steady
What we experience
in a sense
is eternity
of memory
Quiet, take time to think
This poem is pretty and it really says what I've been thinking. It's probably one of my better achievements
in poetry. But it rhymes. I can't be a true poet until I forget the habit I hold. It still might be catchy if I
put it in to a song. First, I would change a few words. Second, I would find some help with the music. Dream On.
Tomorrow is the first LC football game. I hope to have some fun. I have absolutely nothing planned for it. (Always
makes it interesting) Nothing really interesting has happened although my sister is having her first PJ party.
What I really wish is that I can really get rowdy tomorrow.
Have you, by some small chance, noticed that my mood has changed? I can tell by my hand printing.
Did you ever think of the tremendous role that moods have played on the entire human culture?
What will the future be like?
I must have a glimpse at what I will miss.
Maybe suspended animation.
Maybe someday, I'll never know.
September 15, 1977
Hunger for knowledge musn't die with age. You must remain open to all knowledge and want to learn.
I think that I am beginning to become lazy. I noticed that if I am too lazy
in the morning I won't try to remember my dreams, therefore I never do. Lately, all that I have remembered have
been motions and fractions of dreams.
Somehow, I know that I am lazier now than ever before. I really don't want to write in this book. I'd just as well
sleep. There is something, something way down deep that keeps telling me "Write that down" or "Do
that" or "Get your ass out of bed."
I think that I have realized my conscious and my free will conflict. My free will has taken over and gains more
foothold day after day. I could some day act as if I owned the world if this is kept up. Or I could split into
duel personalities (free will and common sense). I am brave though. I just reassure myself. I have a purpose. It
is most likely to influence people throughout history. It may be something simple like throwing a stone into Lake
Erie. Or it may be more complex such as the most complex chore of revealing the TRUTH. Someone may say, How could
throwing a stone into Lake Erie be important. Well, assume that a kid who is walking a dog just happened to look
up and watch me throw a rock into the lake. He notices with fascination and intrigue the projectile as it flies
through the air. Therefore, he takes the dog home. Later he returns to the lake and begins to throw rocks into
the lake. Since the child is occupied, he is late for dinner and his father whistles, yellsand finally scolds the
child. The child learns the act of being punctual at an early age. Also since he was so impressed with throwing
stones that he continues to throw stones day after day. By throwing so much his arm becomes very strong. To make
a long story short, he became a major league pitcher and influences the lives of millions of people. Now, if I
didn't throw that rock, would he still have become the pitcher? Many people would say of course he would have picked
it up sooner or later. Well, maybe so, but the you are the easier it is to adapt, and the older you are the harder
it is to change.
(That's why radicals are so often young.)
People always bring up facts about teenagers that evidentially have learned something so quickly and become world
champions or equivelent. Well, most probably it was a hidden talent that was learned early in life by some similar
experience.
What I have been trying to say is that everything has been caused by another force. A complex system of reactions.
The only way to discover "The Beginning" is to program a computer the size of the earth, and feed it
with as much evidence that can be observed through out the universe and then begin asking it questions and reentering
the answers. It would be a chain of questions such as "what caused that?"
September 19, 1977
I now know that subconsciously and even consciously I have been searching for the answer to the unanswerable
question. I have also found that the conclusions I have found by myself parallel those that have been found in
the Eastern Religions. Like the "fact" that God IS the Universe and other things. My mind is open. It
is open to wide for practical purposes in Western Culture. Its like putting an open can of paint in water and expecting
it to stay there.
Its really getting bad though.I mean, I am reading something slightly
uninteresting and I forget it completely, because my mind is wondering about a theological idea that happened hours
ago. The only thing that I can do is to try my damnedest to forget God as a theory and to just understand and have
faith that He is with me, in me, around me and in everything. I must have trust and with God's help I will teach
myself to think again.
Finally, I would like to renew the theology discussion at a later time (years) I think that I will let my imagination
wander to another subject. (Telling stories)
This story begins in 1968, the greatest year of American History during my life time. There is just something about
that year. As I remember it, it was a year for fun, for peace signs. It was a year of show and tell. In short it
was a year that summed up my small childhood and lead to greater things. But as my brain still functioned as lacking
important fears, replaced by smaller ones. It was a year for ideas and this idea was a great one. I would be a
god. An eastern god-like being. I was the god of change. I had no responsibilities for I knew not the meaning of
the word. It was not what I had to do, it was what I could do. I could be an animal, a dog, a bird, a cat or a
girl. Why, you ask? Well, haven't you, when you were younger become interested in the opposite sex. I knew that
it felt different. I said I said that I must experience all things and priority depends upon differences not the
ability. I just wanted to try it, play with it, experiment and leave it. I'll confide now, then was then and now
is now. Then girls were things, but now they are people, beautiful people. Beautiful in a manor different than
the physical attraction that most people comment upon. They are human and easy to talk to because they listen.
Even if they don't hear you it's nice to be near them. My imagination grows into a craving for the experience of
true love. Love! (Love varies directly to the amount of hatred found anywhere. Ha Ha!) Don't take that serious
please. I think I am breaking apart. I am even making sarcastic remarks in this journal. What is it? It's nothing!
Don't be bothered.
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