July 1, 1982 – Late

I went out with Nancy tonight and had a great time. We went shopping and went to the Kahiki. But then when I dropped her off, I felt horrible. When I got home I was so lonely. No one was around. I called her and felt like a real jerk. What do I want? For her to sleep with me. No, not really. For her to say she loves me. Not if she doesn’t mean it. For her to love me. Of course.

This is why I really hoped she would just stop by for a homebrew or three tonight. I was feeling really cool. Dealing with things OK. Then I figured I would not see her tomorrow and just head to Sandusky real quick after work. That would be easiest. I have not been seeing her that much anyway, and am getting used to it. I think it is a good thing, that will help us. Whether we still, or will have something or not, it is just easier right now if I don’t keep getting my feelings stirred up. So doing something really good makes it so hard on me.

So now I feel I’ve fucked up again. She probably thinks, oh we had a fun time and Randy was real cool, then I get all depressed and call her, and she says, “he really is immature.” I don’t know. Maybe I am. But I think I am a communication addict. I have a high energy of talking, and listening. I drive my parents nuts at home by going on and on. I have such a need to talk and get a response. Also, I am so intensely emotional. People are not all the same. I think I am above average in intensity of emotion. I don’t want this to stop because I don’t want to kill that part of me. Maybe I’m not too cool, though I can be at times, but fuck it. It is an act. I am emotional. I want to be!

I don’t want to forget anything. If we are broken apart for good, I want to feel pain. I want to feel it always and for it to never go away.

Will every relationship I have and breakup make it easier? Easier and easier? Is that the way it’s supposed to be, maybe? Not sticking with any person too long.

Fuck it. What does anybody know. “You are always hurt at least once,” “Your first love never works out.” Who makes these rules? What do they know! What does anybody know about me?! I am not anyone else and I never existed before and will never exist again, and I make my own rules and I have my own personal set of feelings and ideas, and nothing that has happened to anyone else has anything to do with me. Time and numbers are not the only factors of anyone’s behavior. I know how I feel. It just doesn’t make sense how anyone could know someone so intensely and intimate and them just break off. I worry about the future. Some people do, and some don’t, but I can’t help it. I hope I am not obsessed, but I worry. I mean, living for only right now and not worrying about the future, that is like littering and saying fuck it, or killing animals until they become extinct.

I don’t know why I’m worried about this whole thing. I don’t understand it. But does anybody? It is important to me because all of the world is important and all of human relationships and important and you have to start with yourself and I don’t want to be alone and I want to do something important and good before I die and I need help and I need someone… And all of this I wrote has no meaning if Nancy doesn’t love me because you can’t make someone love you, and I have no control over that, but at least I have a little control over myself, a little…

June 29, 1982 – Early

Yes. My new philosophy. It’s based on the misconception I’ve (and many people, I’m sure) always had about my personal future. I have some feeling like, after I get to a certain point, pay certain dues, or make some particular breakthrough, my whole life will be changed. I’ll suddenly be making a living doing something I like and be happy forever.

Well, this is dumb, because it won’t happen like that. It’s like you go to college and graduate and expect good jobs to be thrown at you. It helps a lot, but you still have to find the jobs and you might not find one you can stay in, ever, even.

So, I’ve decided the future is here. I am living the life I want to right now. There are good things and bad things and I just gradually work to make it better. You’re never totally happy, you just have to do the best you can. I may never find anything that I stay with real long. What’s important is I am overall happy, which I am now. (Not content, but happy.)

June 28, 1982 – Late

This is funny. It is worthless to write about except that I could later see how silly it is. Sure, I am serious, and worried, scared, but everything goes one way and then another so much, by a phone-call or just my personal mood. It’s ridiculous. I must just not worry and be lighter about it.

This morning a big thing happened… I developed a new personal philosophy. I decided that it’s stupid to think about the future, and that what I could get (magically of courses) all of a sudden like… (too tired to think)—

June 24, 1982 – Early

Got up at six. Looks like I was falling asleep last night writing. What I wanted to say is, I don’t know what we will talk about or decide. Maybe we shouldn’t see each other for a while if it bothers her that much. It might be healthy, and better for the future. I am concerned about our future. I am concerned about our future, because I still have hope, even though I might just be being foolish.

Anyway, I woke up this morning with much hope and optimism. Which is great in any case. That she called yesterday at all gives me some faith. I am best not to worry too much about it.

Mick gave me a story he wrote last night, and I like it, and I like some stuff I’ve been writing for Slam, and Dave sent me a story. So, Mick was urging me to do another magazine, so maybe I will if I get enough contributors and help. I am thinking of all kinds of ideas already, and it is a great thing to think about while working.

Later. Note: Refer to “Letter to Parents” (6-24-82) another masterpiece in letter writing. Well, time flew tonight. Talked to Mick for a long time after work. Nancy came over at 10. We had quite a discussion. It started without us talking and just staring. Then it took a turn for the worse, as we determined that she was letting me know that it was over between us. As we continued for quite a while, we determined that we should not be so close for a while and get our shit together. Things seemed to get better. I was again amazed with our ability to communicate on such a serious level. I don’t know if I am some smooth talker, or if we really love each other. I would prefer to believe the latter. After she left, I thought about the whole conversation and decided that I am totally confused and there is a good chance she is too. Still, I remain hopeful… but she said… what she wants, I cannot give her—you know—but she feels close to me—attracted sexually—but must be practical—wow—heavy stuff. I mean, my life we’re talking about, and, of course, hers, and of course, ours. I just don’t know, it’s all there but who can put it together or say what will happen—I just don’t know. Still I remain hopeful….

June 23, 1982 – Late.

I woke up this morning and I felt like all the shit of the world hit me. My hip still is fucked up and this new disease (probably scabies) itches all over. I felt sick from all the cigarettes and potato chips from the night before. I got ready for work. Sleeping had been peaceful, once I got to sleep. I had no bad dreams. Once I woke up, the reality of me and Nancy not getting along hit me. I did not let it ruin my day. I had a good time at work. I talked to some old guy who had broken his legs falling off of a tractor while farming his land. He told me I should appreciate my health. He is right.

I went to get my new driver’s license picture and wore a black bandana around my neck. I went to a movie, Marx Brothers, Duck Soup, with Brian. It was funny, and a fun thing to do.

Nancy called from work. This made me happy. We were able to talk a little bit. She said she wrote me a letter but would not give I to me unless she rewrote it. She said she would stop over briefly after work, at ten. She called and said she was not coming over, but going to Crazy Mama’s, probably. I was disappointed. I called back 45 minutes later. She was still at home. We talked civilly for a while. She said we could meet after she gets off work tomorrow. I hope so. I don’t know how to react now, or what is the right thing to do.

June 22, 1982 – (First day at City Directory job.)

WELL. It seems official now—concrete—real—no question of my paranoia—it has happened. I saw it coming for a while—the last few days at least—maybe before that on and off. To put it most crudely, and not really real accurately, but most bluntly—I have been dumped. It hurts me to write that because I know that is not how it really is—or maybe that is what I want to think. I sure haven’t begun to start to figure it out yet, but the realities exist. I wanted to see Nancy tonight. She would not see me. She was very annoyed with me when we talked on the phone. We had a short discussion. She made it clear that she didn’t want to see me “for a while”—which means to me, at all. In the past few days I recall having intense fear, seeing something wrong—but much hope, with serious doubts. There have been enough indications for anyone, but I had to hear it, on the phone, tonight.

So... I am writing now, to help me, and to keep record of how my mind reacts—now—also, to help me. There is so much that went on before all this—before now—I haven’t recorded it, but I should, to the best of my memory. I will. It won’t be The Garbage Memo—but I think I can get it in great detail. From here on in (this being a real turning point), I will try to keep a detailed record of what happens and how I think and feel.

Nancy said on the phone tonight that she thought we were at very different stages, and I have been annoying her lately. She was very short, and cold. She said she wanted to get off the phone. She also said she needed to have more time alone to get stuff done. I agreed and I do agree. She said she is sick of this whole situation, and I can see that. It must be hard.

I went walking around and thought about things. Is she going to change how she feels? How should I react to that. Should I try to get over her, and say “fuck it?” What should I do now? Well, I came home and decided to write this—I ate nearly a whole bag of potato chips. And I’ve decided I want to get going and do some projects. Read a lot. Work on Garbage Memo. Practice guitar. Write a lot. Stay and be healthy. It would be dumb to let myself go and just get drunk and be fucked up and do nothing, because, well, it seems to be thing to do. It’s funny, I just got a job (City Directory)—and now I want to go all out and get everything done—and work, too. I can do it—extreme high energy, no sleep—but health. I’ll probably go to a lot of movies by myself, like the old days.

I just can’t get hopelessly depressed. I don’t want to be pitiful—I want to be admirable. I don’t know if all this is to prove something, or to make Nancy like me, but at least it is good for me and will help get my mind off things. I have to try to decide if we have a chance at all. I don’t know. I can’t rule anything out.

How do I feel about her—truly—totally, honestly? That is coming up. I must sleep now. I will continue to write, to see how I react to this, one of the harshest blows of my life. Good night.