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.