December 25, 1978

My sister’s friend gave me a book full of blank paper for Christmas 1978
    There’s a green tree frog with suction cup fingers
    hanging on to a vertical stick on the cover
    Under the small letters “Write Your Own Book”
    is the title
    “Coping” in large yellow letters
    beneath that in a non serif font, white letters, no caps
    “notes to help me hang in there”
    My sister’s friend said she couldn’t resist.

And for my first entry: I put down the sf/fantasy book I was reading and wrote:

Beryl Beaver set a wolf on fire
    < Dragon Winter >
    Burgundy is a wine too bitter
    for anyone here this afternoon
    And Glenn backed into my truck
    yesterday-

My father walked all the way into the kitchen
    to tell my mother that if
    somebody didn’t take that record < Stephen Stills >
    off the turntable he would smash it.
    < I think the threatened smashing     would involve the turn table >
    Um- I immediately visualized my hand
    smashing very hard (as in Karate)
    into his adams apple

He knew the record was mine
    a Christmas present from my sister

Would he cower or roar
    if he understood what sort of effect
    his infantile behaviour
    generally has
    on me? Instant rage?
    -sigh- That’s not a very nice
    Christmas message
    is it?

“Our good luck might be the next animal’s downfall-” Granny Badger

=====

December 26, 1978

in all caps:

All things are new
    there is no past hostility
    strong enough to own me
    You are forgiven
    who(m?)ever you are.

now put my book down
    before I forget this
    epiphany
    and break your nosy neck.

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Next Page

12-26-78

Kathy K (a childhood friend)
    invaded my dreams last night
    we talked, I
    don’t remember what we said
    I think I
    wanted to hug her
    I remember
    turning around with that
    in mind
    turning around near the edge
    of a stage
    music, not heard?-
    inferred-
    But Kathy, I-

remember her as an awkward thirteen year old
    turning around, barefoot in the sand near the river
    walking away from some idiot’s dirty joke, looking
    like she thought there was something wrong with her
    if she couldn’t take it-

in the moment, remembering, I realized
    “there’s a little bit of you
    in every woman I ever
    wanted to hold-
    and shelter from
    the dirty jokes
    that no one wants to laugh at.”

(Jim Wellington)