December 27, 1998

Thursday th 24, 12.1998 (11h14) dreams of boys last night-

well, one guy: if it wasn't jamie spader, it sure lookd like him...

I was sincerely apologetic, sorry if I'd led him on, I loved to flirt

but I wasn't really into guys...explanations going nowhere, wondering


if I should try to get mself excited for him, nothing if not anxiously

eager to please...

(my inner 18yr-old snickers @ me- 'hey, old man- thought you'd have figured

women out

well enough to @ least get laid every once in a blue moon by now- @ 44 yrs

of age! really...!')

(I feel th condescension & contempt of women of all ages & walks of life-

friends, ex-lovers

& total strangers...yes, I am my momma's frightened, frustrated, bewildered

little boy, still...)

speaking of doa mili- ('uno no hace ms q sufrir...q ganas d mortificar a


her three boys certainly seem to have inherited some kind of vocation for

suffering & martyrdom...

but helpd instill it, too...they made a team of magnificent,

self-righteous martyrs,

my mom&dad is th perfect season for reflecting on all this-

or should it be easter??

Saturday th 26, 12.1998 (23h53)

say a prayer/for th hardworking poeple/say a prayer for th salt of th


th moon is a sinking silver boat smiling all th way down behind th horizon


Saturday night is th loneliest night of th week...any questions? got no

answers here...

forgot to ask mister kleiman where he got th venison chops...

my postchristmas splurge @ 'iche's'- is this my artists date? all by


dessert & everything...double grappa & a decaf espresso for th first time

since I left nyc last month...

'this is th bad time, christmas, & th myths are honed fine...'

to quote dick hugo, 'grand old detective of th heart', as james crumley

dubbed him...

love & lukewarm half-gallons of holiday cheer, d=(8{>