PFK1 (29 page)

assistance worker training at this very moment, pretending to take

notes. Our instructor is a dork named Jim Nossle. He is a stupid

idiot.

The pupils are one dozen women and me. Most of the women are

hugely obese. Megan calls them "fat broads." She says fat broads are

an extremely common welfare office type.

The non-fat broads are split into two pairs. One pair is devoutly

Christian (another common welfare office type) and others are older

women with grown children, returning to work.

The two older dames I actually like. They are classy and laugh

easily. Both are about my mother’s age, which makes me again

wonder why Lois won’t get a job. Probably because she is a

worthless lazy parasite and they are not.

Otherwise this crew is as dull as dishwater.

Makes me realize Megan is quite the exception in welfare office

land. A slim, blond, beautiful welfare worker. Practically unheard of!

What an anomaly!

Managed to read three books hidden in my ADC training manual

these past two days –
The Day of The Locust, Double Indemnity
, and

The Temple of Gold
. Last night I took my sister Ruthie to see
Animal

House
, the National Lampoon comedy filmed in Eugene.

We watched it at the Foster Drive-In. It was strange to see the

Memorial Union up on the screen, the very place where I used to chat

up the other one.

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But there it was, in a Hollywood movie.

Ruthie was all bummed out about breaking up with her boyfriend

Brad. The movie cheered her up a little. Some of the jokes were

pretty crass. Still, watching Belushi dance to "Louie Louie" cracked

me up. That guy is a scream.

Chesley had his birthday. I gave him a bottle of Jack Daniels and a

copy of The Rolling Stone that Randy borrowed and promptly lost. I

wonder what will happen to these guys?

They are so blind about things. They give me extremely bad vibes

about The Future. One problem is that my friends are boring. They

are not interested in anything besides money.

Megan came by to see me on Saturday before I left. She was both

responsive and distant, a hard combination to handle. I must confess

to a bit of guilt regarding our affair. I’m sure she feels it even more

acutely. I think I’m going to leave her alone for a while.

* * * *

October 10, 1978

Got the book photocopied over the weekend. Last night was quite

weird. Bought an ounce of dope and got totally ripped from my first

reefer in quite a while. Completely wasted. Had to lie down for a

couple hours to recover. Reefer madness. Yikes! I must be more

careful from now on.

Still having a mental debate about what to write next. I don’t want

to get bogged down halfway through. Maybe I should try writing two

books at the same time. But I keep thinking: What would work best?

I’m not sure.

Reading
The Thin Man
by Dashiell Hammett. Mick says Marlowe

is a more likable character but Hammett writes better mysteries. I

noticed that
The Gutting of Coffignal
is similar to
Red Harvest
in the

way Hammett sets it up. But
The Glass Key
is my favorite. Really

love Ned Beaumont. Sure wish I could write as well as Dashiell.

Wonder why he quit when he did?

Nick called to ask when I am coming back, if ever. I wish it were

today. I’m sick of spending my nights in a sleeping bag. Wanna get

to my big deluxe full size mattress. Maybe Megan will join me there

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sometime. After only one week back I’ve got to return to Portland

once again for a union convention.

Assistance worker training is a huge drag. I already know all this

stuff. What is worse, I’m beginning to hugely resent the fact that Jim

Nossle is such a smug overpaid windbag. Damn, what a self-

important twit!

* * * *

October 22, 1978

Spent the weekend at the Portland Hilton attending the general

council meeting of the union. Another huge drag, except for one

thing. I was the delegate for our coastal district while Megan was the

alternate. We had rooms across the hall from each other.

I’ve quit smoking because Megan hates tobacco and complains

when she smells it on my breath and clothing. Obviously, I would

rather sleep with a beautiful woman than smoke cigarettes. Anything

for you, baby.

I’ve learned my lesson.

Although the convention itself was a crashing bore, certain

extracurricular activities were rather fun. Unfortunately, I had to

attend the meetings while Megan got to spend a large part of her time

shopping in downtown Portland. Otherwise we spent our free hours

in her room or my room, making love. That part I enjoyed.

Holy Moley, I can’t get over what a dynamite body Megan has! It

is utterly exquisite. She is such a beauty. On Saturday night, we got

really stoned on my new dope and I chased her all over the hotel

room, both of us bare ass naked, laughing like crazy.

However, I’m wondering where this will lead. Although she is

currently separated, Megan has made no definite plans for getting a

divorce and that concerns me. I guess I will just take things as they

come.

Many hours were spent arguing about pointless resolutions. I’ve

been to so many of these goddamn functions. I don’t talk much

because I get nervous in front of a large audience. I’m a killer in

small groups, though.

Never at a loss for words there.

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More ideas for a book project flit through my head. I think I may

ditch the childhood story in favor of a mystery. Maybe I could knock

one off in a few months, if all goes well. Already I have a tentative

title:

The Dark City
.

The warm weather is over. Rain and cold are on the way. I’m

afraid I will again freeze my ass off in my spare little cabin, sleeping

all alone, as usual.

Sent
The Dark City
to another publisher last week. Won’t get my

hopes up. Bracing for disappointment. What I would like to do is go

to New York and meet some of those people in person. Charm the

hell out of them. But for that I need money.

Looking for a copy of Brautigan’s Dreaming of Babylon and James

M. Cain’s The Postman Always Rings Twice. Those two books

should help me in my review of the private eye novel.

Busy busy busy. Got a lotta stuff to work out. Someday I think it

will pay off. But right now I am very tired and must go to sleep.

* * * *

October 24, 1978

Began writing a story I call
The Dark City
tonight. About 800

words so far. A fairly good beginning. I hope it goes well. I’ve

decided not to touch
The Dark City
again unless I absolutely have to.

You know what I mean.

Jill, the former political apparatchik, has written me a letter. Got it

yesterday. She says she is thinking of me once again and apologized

for her previous missives. Jill says she was probably blaming me for

something that wasn’t my fault and now regrets her words. In short,

she says she misses me.

It’s quite an unusual letter, given some of the past things she has

written to me. Here’s some of it:

Hello, Patrick,

I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately and wish I had your phone

number. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to find it.

Strange things have happened to me, especially since I got my tubal

ligation. I have been using self-sex as my main tension release.

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Given my job at the railroad, I’ve had a lot to get tense about. The

good thing that has come out of this has been the increased ability on

my part to achieve some fantastic orgasms. I think my ability to give

pleasure has increased in proportion to my ability to receive pleasure.

Are you interested?

Inhibited as I am about writing incriminating information, I’d

prefer to whisper certain things in your ear via the telephone. I have a

particular sexy favor I’d like to ask of you – one that I certainly hope

you won’t mind…

Jill goes on to tell me how to get in touch with her and says she has

plenty of money from her job with which we can have fun, if I am so

inclined.

Hmmm. What do I think this means? Well, I think it probably

means she wants to fuck. However, I am going to pass on her

overtures, not that I ain’t tempted. Jill is lovely and intelligent but she

is no Megan. I gave her my best shot last year and she blew me off,

flicking me shit as she did so.

It is one thing to break up with a person, quite another to belabor

their perceived shortcomings as you part company. I have never

deliberately sought to hurt a woman’s feelings, at least not like they

have tried to hurt mine.

The worst thing I ever said to Leanne was to call her coarse, and I

still feel bad about that.

I may be losing leverage with Megan by ignoring Jill, but I can

barely keep up with one woman and attempting to juggle two would

only wipe out what little writing time I am currently able to muster.

The only advantage in seeing Jill again as far as I can tell would be to

put pressure on Megan.

But that’s the kind of stunt the woman I now refer to as "the other

one" would pull in similar circumstances. Therefore I refuse to do it.

Megan came over tonight and then acted annoyed because I told her I

still had to get some writing done.

I said that I was writing long before we met and I intended to

continue writing no matter what happens. She expressed additional

188

annoyance over that remark. So I shrugged and asked her how things

were going with Mark. She left in a huff.

What can I say? Women get down on you for not being a big

financial success but then they get pissed when you try to make the

effort needed to become successful.

What the hell does Megan want?

She doesn’t know what the hell she wants is my guess. I love her

but I’m not going to be a pushover. I’ll quit smoking, I’ll do whatever

she wants in bed, I’ll cook dinner, I’ll eat vegetarian meals, I’ll spend

every dime I have on her and generally kiss her beautiful, shapely ass

in possible every way.

However, in certain critical areas (like my writing) I simply must

draw the line.

Nick and I found some
psilocybe cyanescens
mushrooms on

Sunday afternoon. Deep, profound consciousness raisers. We had a

nice experience with them.

Really cleans a lot of shit out of your head. Nick insisted on

listening to music, as usual. So we sat around Harry’s house and

absorbed the tunes. On mushrooms, I don’t find popular music quite

so tiresome as I normally do.

Megan showed up just as we were ingesting them. I offered some

to her as we had plenty. Megan said she was afraid to try them and

we said that was cool.

Wrote a long, jabbery poem while I was high.

Megan wanted to keep it but I said it had to be burned in the

fireplace. She was disappointed but I told her that it was a poem for

that moment and no other. She says the next time we take mushrooms

she wants to take them with us.

* * * *

October 25, 1978

Finished the first chapter of
The Dark City
tonight. It’s going okay.

Nick insisted on reading some of it when he got back from Eugene

tonight so I let him. The criticisms he makes are the same ones

everybody makes, so I ignore them and don’t care if he looks over my

shoulder.

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Nick worked as a reporter for two different newspapers before he

started his printing business so it’s not like he’s a complete

ignoramus. But unlike me, Nick writes only occasionally and has no

ambitions on that score. His only ambitions, near as I can tell, are to

drink, take drugs, talk, laugh, and sleep with as many women as

possible.

Me, I want to write. Have to write. Need writing to make sense of

myself and the world.

Geez. The alarm is ringing at city hall right now. A building must

be on fire in town. Hope it’s the welfare office.

* * * *

October 26, 1978

Had my annual physical at the Siuslaw Rural Health Center today.

Dr. Jim says I am as healthy as a horse. Everything is in tip-top

condition. He says I could live to be a hundred, barring an accident or

serious substance abuse. I told him I have given up cigarettes but