JOURNAL EXCERPTS 1995
Journal entries are listed in descending order ~ oldest entries are on top.
Thursday, January 18th, 1995
I complain too much. I want to wipe lies out of my life. I want to be free of my past, but who do I confess it to? I want to let it out. I miss A.V. I do. I don't hate him. I don't think I truly hate anyone. It's not in me, but he and I shared something special, or at least... I believed that we did. He hurt me, and I won't deny that. He was the first relationship I ever had. It wasn't perfect, but I pretended it was. I didn't want to be disillusioned. He didn't live up to my expectations. That was the problem, wasn't it? What did I expect from him? Love, respect, good sex, fun? I didn't get it. He said I filled a void in him. I believed him. I don't believe he maliciously set out to hurt me. I can't believe that. I hope he didn't. I do still miss him. They say you never forget the first time. The first time you kissed your new lover, the first time you embraced at night, the first time we argued. I'll never forget the first times. All the other affairs afterwards have been meaningless and loveless. Names that never meant anything. All the others were quests - looking for the next one to fill my heart and make me happy. A.V. wasn't all bad. We had our good times, but it ended too quickly and badly. I don't want to die alone. I want to grow old with someone, I want to walk on the beach with my lover, knowing that I make him happy. That he wants to be with me, and not just anyone. I want to feel beautiful. I try too hard. I want too much... too quickly.
I miss sex. A.V. and I had a lot of sex, We engaged in some kind of sexual activity every time we got together. It wasn't great... false starts... dead ends... fumbles, but sometimes it was fun and good. He had nice lips and was a good kisser, but things changed between us. He started to lie, and keep things from me. He began hanging out with this guy J., because I thought he was cute. I couldn't trust him, and in the end I couldn't trust myself. I betrayed him, because I thought he had betrayed me. I don't know if he did sleep with J., but I'm sure he tried. I ended up playing around with W.G. I didn't love him. I didn't want to love him, so I hardened my heart, mocked him and shut him out. He was trash. I knew it. I wanted the pleasure of the touching, of the embracing, of the joy. Soon that became all that mattered. Men. I needed so much, and so often. After my breakup with A.V., I looked everywhere for a replacement... for the love I lost... for the love I needed. There were so many. Now they are just names... Tony, Michael, Tim, Scott - I remember Scott.
It was the first time I really enjoyed sex. He was blonde, and had light eyes. We met at the book store on Christopher Street. He kissed me like no one ever had. His face was covered in stubble. His hands were firm and his chest was so big. There was no actual sex, but the encounter was incredible. My body had never felt that good. He kissed me everywhere. I miss that. I can't say I miss him, because he was a stranger. We almost made love & I never knew his last name.
January 20th, 1995
I never seem to worry about money. It's a concept I don't have a true understanding of. Things cost money. I want things. I have no job. I owe thousands of dollars, and I'm not worried. I should be. I'm taking a shit... literally! I'm sitting on the toilet and taking a crap. If only my mother could see me now. Somehow this is very erotic... naked... sitting down... feeling my cock rub up against the inside of the toilet. I wish there was a way to fuck myself with it.
REFLECTION: I will never forget the expressions of my classmates - when I read that aloud. I think one of the things I enjoyed most about these journals was the shock value. I wasn't afraid to write down anything and read it - regardless of how others viewed it.
January 23rd, 1995
An afternoon in the library
A new page, a new start. I'm in the West New York Public Library. 3:14pm. Why am I here? I haven't been to this library in 2 years. I hate this library - rinky dinky - little 3-legged chairs. Too many little kids. It smells like books, old, rusty-dusty - "haven't been opened in years" kind of books. School was fun today. Anna and I hung out after class. We went down to Astor Place, did a bit of window shopping and went back to the Port Authority. We were cruising all the way up Broadway. We have the same taste in men. Tall, dark, glasses, strong muscles, nice arms, a penis, - you know - the essentials.
The librarian is some fat, sad looking hussy - Oh OK - stop being cruel - enough with the vicious criticisms already. NAH - it's too much fun. A library is supposed to be a quiet and holy place - SHUT UP - I'm trying to think, My I.Q. has dropped like 30 points today - I just reread today's entry. I'm waiting for a friend, that's why I'm here. - waiting for a friend - J.S.
Well, HOWDY PARTNER - some guy with this huge cowboy hat just walked in and sat down. The farm is down the road. He took off his hat. A library is supposed to be a quiet and holy place. The funny thing is that there is probably someone here looking at me and saying evil shit about me. I don't want to stop writing, at least not until J.S. gets here, or else I'll have nothing to do. Little fat kid in a purple shirt - looks like a grape. That must be his Mother - Ms. Spicarella - my husband's in jail, my boyfriend got deported, my mother's on crack, and I have 27 children. - No job and the welfare check is late. The Brady Bunch now available with Spanish subtitles.
Oh - look everyone - look - it's Monsieur Fop. - "Jes, Dahling, Look at me. I'm going to sit in front of you now because I am Monsieur Fop. I am fabulous. Jes, and I want you to stare at me. Look at me... Stop it - Don't laugh at me, damn it!" He got up and moved.
There's another guy across from my table, seems to be a tutor. The kid he is teaching is a fucking moron - but then again, a smart kid wouldn't need a tutor.
3:48 and I'm still here - "You're brilliant!" says the tutor. Tomorrow is Wednesday, Journal Class - Should I read this? People are going to think I'm crazy, rude and cold-hearted. Francine says I scare people. She says I have that "In your face personality." The Cowboy got another newspaper. Miss Librarian is taking a personal call.
3:52 - Go away, go home - seek a therapist. Mr. Cowboy is circling my table - this is NOT a rodeo.
3:54 - Where is J.? If he is not here by 4:30, I won't have much of a journal left to write in this semester.
3:55 - I am so bored. Now I know why I haven't been here for two years. Cowboy just left for greener pastures. The guy next to me is whispering. He might be some kind of satanic warlock and the whole place is going to blow up now.
3:59 - 4:00 - 4:01 - Still alone - I hate these chairs. The librarian is staring at me - I am not a criminal - go call your boyfriend again. Leave me alone.
4:12 - Why am I still here? LORD, WHY AM I STILL HERE?
I have $7 in my pocket. 4:13 - Another cute guy. I am so bored. I keep hearing the door open and close and wonder if it's J. I want my photocopies. I want to go home. "Meet me at the library at 4:15 or 4:30 " Well, it's only 4:15 now. I had nothing better to do anyway. Everyone's looking at me. door. fat man. Spicarella and her Welfare Camp are all signing up for library cards 4 boys. 3 girls. Their pants are too big. I'm going to walk - stretch my legs out.
4:25 - J.S. is here.
January 26th, 1995
Things I've learned
1. I have a very aggressive personality.
2. I'm happier when I'm NOT having sex.
3. It is easier to say "YES" than "NO".
4. I don't manage money well.
5. I miss my friends.
6. Solitude can be enjoyed.
7. I think of sex too often.
8. GOD has a wicked sense of humor.
9. Life is not supposed to be fair.
10. Men are men are men.
11. If you hang around a dumpster, you will only pick up trash.
12. I like long bus rides.
13. Trying to impress someone makes a bad impression.
14. I have a tendency to sound like a fortune cookie.
REFLECTION: Words of wisdom from a 20 year old.
January 31st, 1995
"Thirty days has September, April, June and November..." yes, January has 31 days.
Anna is whispering to me and I don't understand her.
All I hear is "psst! psst! psst! psst! psst! psst! psst! psst!"
February 1st, 1995
Why am I taking notes within this sacred journal? BREAK lady! Let's take a break. I want to go.
I smell marijuana.
ORAL REPORT due Thursday. Hmmm......
Man's mind is incapable of understanding the cosmos. Sex is mental.
February 1st, 1995
Things kept secret inside my mind: closed behind a steel door. A face in the shadows, someone I knew, someone I trusted. A dog barking. White blazing teeth. red fevered eyes. A girl is folding a blanket. Her brother is in the foreground. His back is turned to us. We're in the crib. Six of us. Six little babies, toddlers, no older. A face in the shadow, someone I knew, someone I trusted. He walks closer and unzips his pants. Six of us. Six little babies, toddlers, no older. Innocence lost. Crying at night. The devil gets off free. No one will ever know - just hide in the corner. I still here the dog barking. My childhood is gone. I don't remember anything. My life began at 10. Bruises and scars. Daddy, I'm sorry. Fights and screams. It's all just a dream. Forgotten. Forgiven. No. Never. Anger inside is violent and consuming. He got away - FREE - because no one would believe six little babies.
I blame my parents for not knowing. You should have protected me! Defended me! Where were you? Why did you act like nothing was wrong?
A little boy should not learn to lock his window and door. Go away! Leave me alone. It's just a snapshot. It's just a snapshot in my mind. A lost photo that left a hole in the family album. It's gone. Locked away! I don't want to know what happened. I don't want to remember.
Shattered lives, like shattered glass, nameless, faceless shadows. All save one. HIM. You never forget the face. You never forget the fear. You can't run. You can't tell. Where do little children go when they die?
February 2nd, 1995
I'VE BEEN MACED!!!!! I was an innocent bystander and I got mace in my eye. I freaked out and ran into the middle of the street screaming "I'M BLIND".
Computer class. I have a new sticker on my ID card. I'm at terminal no. 13.
February 4th, 1995
I went to school and did some work on the Macintosh. I couldn't figure out how to turn it off afterwards, so I shut down the monitor and prayed no one noticed.
REFLECTION: How FAR I have come. LOL.
February 8th, 1995
Honesty. Tony. Love. Is there a connection? Hazel Eyes, brown hair, muscles. Taller than me. I think he's beautiful. I'm scared of falling in love. I'm scared of never falling in love. I'm really cold. My people are from the tropics! I want palm trees and savage men running around in loin cloths. Why does my mind always default to sex? sex? sex? sex? Tony doesn't want sex, at least not yet. He wants to get to know me first! Finally! A man who's treating with respect. He has a strong accent, very strong, but I think it's so sexy! STOP IT! Stop thinking of him. He is just a man. He told me I was special and that he misses me. It's probably bullshit, but it was nice to hear that from a guys, especially one as sweet and as gorgeous as he is. Tony is a Fabulous. I do want to sleep with him - just sleep. He is a bit taller than I am, and mildly aggressive, gentle kisser and yes, he has a big cock - OK - so, I felt him up - you would have too. I told him last night to send me a picture - he said that he would. I think I'm falling in love.
REFLECTION: I had met Tony on the Christopher Street Path Station. He was also a student, but lived in Connecticut. He was Greek and exotic looking. He wanted to write to me so we exchanged addresses and phone numbers. We wrote to each other about four or five times. At one point he was calling me almost every other day. Ah... Men.
February 10th, 1995
Eddie is having delusions. He needs help. I prayed for him.
Divinity is absurdity.
Just when you thought it was safe to fart - someone you know walks into the bathroom.
Do you know what it feels like to have someone feast on your soul?
Sex should be spelled "SeXXX"
February 28th, 1995
I will never be happy in this house. Always I have tried my best to be on their sides, and have sacrificed so much of myself in the process. I am not angry. I can't be. I don't have it in me anymore. I have always found the strength to let things go. God has given me that much. Strength to survive and a heart too big for hate. There is a war I know I have to face, and it will be alone. They will take from me everything they can. On my own, I will rebuild. Even when I become, all I can achieve, they still will not want to look me in the face. I have to live my life for me, because living for them has brought me nothing but misery.
"'Mother' is the name of God, on the lips of every child."
~ The Crow ~
"I would rather be dead than have a gay son."
~ My Mother ~
Is the lounge the place to be? Was it always?
This is the last entry I will ever write about sex. The presence of it, lack of it, or even mention of it has caused more problems for me than I care to comment on. We live in one of the most sexually repressed cultures on the planet. Sexism or sexualism has become exploitation of women, men and children. We are deemed or reduced to a body part; large breasts, bulging biceps, great ass or crunched into a term; aggressive, submissive, top or bottom. We have become identified by who we sleep with, preoccupied by appearances, we strive for an Adonis or a Venus and for the things made of gold. We leave behind or fail to see the true beauties of a person. A person whose inner workings may surpass any other "standard" we may have set. beauty is relative, relative to what we have been taught, what we have rebelled against or discovered on our own. Beauty has been defined for us. She is beautiful. He is beautiful. What a beautiful couple they make. What a beautiful child. What a beautiful lie it has all become.
In a town full of fags... why am I still single?
I want to be thin & pretty, God... like all the other girls.
May 3rd, 1995
I have two pages left to fill. What to write about? OK. This has been on my mind for the past two weeks. My second date with Tony. "Mr. Wonderful" from Connecticut. We met at 10:00 at Journal Square. I looked great, I have to admit. He looked intriguing. I was disappointed. It sounds shallow to say that - but - well, at times, I looked at him and saw the most beautiful man in the world, and other times I was repulsed. I hate his teeth... they need some serious realignment, and his right ear really bothered me. It kept moving on it's own. I tried to convince myself that it was some type of horrid little monster on the side of his face that was merely using him as a host. He kissed me when we reached the Christopher Street Path Station. All the time I was thinking - "Get those teeth away from me!" Good kiss despite the teeth. We had coffee at that little espresso bar on Christopher. He paid. My coffee tasted like piss. He had three cups of it. He must like piss. We walked around for awhile and entered Sam Goody. He looked for some discs, while I just stood in the corner like an ornament. The clerk ended up flirting with me, Then we went to B. Dalton's. The clerk there flirted with me. Afterwards we went to Angelica's Kitchen, a friend at SVA recommended it.
This gay couple flirted with me when Tony went to the bathroom... odd - isn't it? I'm on a date and all the gay men in the vicinity seem to come around sniffing like dogs in heat. We split up like around 3. He went back to Connecticut. I went to NJ. We had a great time, but I still feel very shallow about the whole thing. His personality was fantastic, but his looks weren't what I remembered. I felt almost ungrateful - I'm judging him as many have judged me.
God is love. God is peace. God is law. God is nature.
Is there hope for man kind? Do we have souls? Good and evil spirits tempt us, but we determine what we do. What is good and evil is not clearly defined anymore. Bad people should be avoided. Peaceful farming good men and women never lie.
How bad, how evil, how unclean, how unloved my soul is.