PFK1 (32 page)

The day before yesterday is ancient history. Nick, Megan, and I

took mushrooms to celebrate the sale of Nick’s business to a couple

from Alaska. The mushroom spirit was full upon us as we climbed

atop the dunes above the south jetty road.

We took some pictures of the gnarled pine trees up on the hill. We

reached the summit just as the sun was setting. It was like being on

another world, so radiant and panoramic.

A blaze of red, orange, blue, yellow, gold, and gaudy purple light

colored the sky. The distant ocean and rolling dunes made it seem

like an alien vista.

Today I finished Chap. 8 in the book. Megan says I gotta stop

being so hard on myself. The life I lead diminishes my energy. I

work too hard and take too many drugs, in addition to drinking every

chance I get. I told Megan to give me a reason to stop and I will. I

quit smoking, didn’t I?

That twilight sky on the dunes was utterly unforgettable. It almost

hurt to look at it. We live on an actual planet, apparently a small, wet

rock, slathered in organisms, whirling and tilting as it orbits its energy

source.

Last Friday, I bought some underground comix from Lenny

Goldfarb, the record store owner. They cost $100 but were well worth

it. This addition rounds out my collection quite nicely. Now it is 97

percent complete. Some of the new titles are:

Insect Fear #1

Real Pulp #1

SF Comic Book #1

Air Pirates #2 (I love this one)

Tales of Toad #1

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Snatch #1, #2, and #3

Bijou #1
(now I have the whole set)

Conspiracy Capers

All things considered, it leaves me maybe four or five comix short

of having a well-nigh perfect collection. I figure the hoard is easily

worth over $500 at this stage, including my precious R. Crumb ZAP

#1.

What a gem. Under no circumstances will I ever part with it. I

love underground comic books. They are the greatest.

* * * *

December 9, 1978

Got a letter from Randy yesterday. It cracked me up. I even read

parts of it to Megan while we lunched together at The Manly Mussel.

She liked it too.

Spent $120 on a Christmas present today. It was extravagant, but

what the hell. It was this perfect little opal necklace for Megan. The

opal is in the shape of a tiny teardrop and comes with a 24K gold

chain. I know it will look great draped around her slim, beautiful

neck. I just hope it’s not too much.

Wrote Randy back and sent him some mushrooms. He said I

should visit him and Wilma. I don’t know. Randy and Wilma. What

a pair. Wilma is Japanese and a real reefer fiend. Smokes pot every

day. I hope they like the mushrooms, which are very interesting, but

totally different from weed.

Megan is coming over at 9:00 PM for a sleep over. Gotta get this

joint cleaned up before she arrives. I’m supposed to move into Nick’s

house in six days. Here’s to easy living.

* * * *

December 13, 1978

Snorted coke with Nick and Megan on Sunday. Nick has tried it a

few times before but Megan and I are both novices. It has a powerful

kick. I’m beginning to realize why everybody always seems so

fucking "happy" all the time.

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As I understand it, cocaine is mainly a mood elevator, but with time

slowed down. Megan got a big jolt from the stuff and ran around

Harry’s house like mad.

I’m not sure what to make of cocaine myself. The second dose

worked better than the first. On the whole, however, I think I prefer

pot.

Drugs drugs drugs. Picked another 25 mushrooms at the field by

the boat landing today. Megan found an equal amount. We stored

them in the refrigerator in the break room at work as usual so they

wouldn’t go bad.

Need to have my last two wisdom teeth taken out. Lenny Goldfarb

says he can drive me to Eugene for the appointment if I schedule it on

a Friday.

While I get my teeth extracted, he will pick up merchandise for his

store. Lenny is very disappointed that more people didn’t respond to

his Siuslaw News ad. Too few cool hipsters live around here, I told

him. Hardly any, in fact.

Hmmm. The mushrooms are drying nicely in front of the heater.

The political bug is at me again. I could rent an apartment in

Portland next year and take a leave from my job. Run for the

legislature from a SE Portland district. Even a bare bones operation

might succeed, with enough door-to-door. Lawn signs and brochures

would be the big expense. Simple and organized would be my

approach. No wasted effort.

Later: Is it too much to ask to achieve some of my ambitions? I

want to become a writer, but I have political ambitions as well. These

things seem incompatible. The exterior world and the interior world

are in conflict. There is so much I want to do.

Where it will end I have no idea.

Megan came over tonight but did not stay. We quarreled about

several issues, but mainly over her reluctance to move towards a

divorce. Her slowness sticks in my craw. Worse, she is planning to

meet with Mark again sometime soon for a "discussion."

She won’t say what the discussion is about.

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The irony here is that I find myself saying things to Megan that I’ve

plagiarized freely from the woman I now call "the other one." A

whole bunch of hoary zingers that may creak with age, but are still

highly effective. I couldn’t believe how many of them came back to

me, without hardly having even to think. Stuff like:

"It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind."

"You can’t always have everything your own way, you know.

There are limits."

"Why don’t you be honest for a change?"

It is unfortunate that Megan doesn’t keep a journal from which I

can sneak peeks so as to fine-tune my gibes.

I am such a goddamned hypocrite.

Called Chesley to advise him that I am moving. His current

girlfriend Shirley (Randy’s former secret girlfriend) answered the

phone. Based on the snapping and popping noises I heard, Shirley

likes chewing gum while speaking on the phone.

Surprising as it may seem, the dual effort of gum chewing and

speaking did not appear to overtax Shirley’s brain.

Yeah, Shirley is a peach. A real peach. I think I already hate her.

Yes, these young women are a true delight all around. No wonder us

men are in such a mad rush to marry them.

* * * *

December 15, 1978

My stuff is moved out of the little cabin on the sand bank. I am

exhausted as a result. Clarice did not move as promised. Most of my

junk is therefore at Florence Mini-Storage, Space 41B. In the

meantime, I’m staying at Harry’s. The wisdom teeth come out

tomorrow.

Need to get a note from the dentist.

Goodnight.

* * * *

December 17, 1978

Wisdom teeth are out. Mouth full of stitches. Seahawks are

playing the Chiefs on the tube here at Harry’s house. A great game.

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No heat and no bed. I’m sleeping on Harry’s ratty sofa in my down

sleeping bag, smoking dope and taking these giant codeine pain pills.

Clarice was supposed to be out three days ago but is taking extra

time because she feels like it. Nick throws up his hands and hides in

his warm, comfy little bedroom.

Won’t do anything about it. Refuses to go kick her out. Won’t go

yell at her. The mortgage became his to pay on the first so she’s

living on his dime. I offered to go kick her out for him but he nixed

that. I can’t fucking believe this shit!

I could have stayed longer in my own perfectly fine cabin but no, I

foolishly believed that Clarice would be out by the 15th. Dammit!

Now I feel like a sucker. Maybe I should find my own place. On

my salary, I could probably even buy a house. Or build one. They’ve

got these cool domes that you can build now just like regular houses.

They are approved for beach properties and FmHA loans are even

available.

* * * *

December 18, 1978

Picked 44 mushrooms today. The weather was sunny after a night

of rain and conditions were perfect. The field by the landing was a

mushy green paradise. The sun disappeared behind the hills at

precisely 3:00 PM. Found an unusually large specimen by the pond

which I think will weigh in at nearly a gram even when dry. It’s

really huge.

At The Mussel this afternoon I told Bob the owner and his pal

Charlie that I currently live at 41B Florence Mini-Storage. They

laughed. They have heard about my predicament from Nick.

The Dark City
rejected yet again, this time by an agent. The same

old complaints. Nobody says anything good about the book. They

just criticize and pass. However, I refuse to let my disappointment

impede new projects. I will send it out again. Who cares what

happens anymore? Just let it all hang out.

The neurotic imaginings of my demented mind are as feverish as

ever. I’m in a lousy mood and my new writing reflects it.
The Dark

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City
is meant to be a bleak, despairing, and dismal (yet satirically

comic) manuscript.

Politics is not the answer. I don’t know what the answer is. Maybe

mushrooms. A whole-hearted belief in the leader is not the answer.

A psychopath named Jim Jones recently led his deluded followers into

a mass suicide in Guyana.

I think we can safely say that Jim Jones was not the answer.

According to an article I read, as a young man Jim sold pet

monkeys door to door. I think maybe he never really got out of the

pet monkey business.

Across the country, the economy grows stagnant and inflation

soars. I think there is a vague anxiety about things in general. People

are apathetic, content to hide out in their little huts and let their eyes

glaze over as they stare at the tube.

Most of my so-called friends seem very dull to me, unwilling to

take risks or try new things. It’s one of the reasons why I’d love to

run for the legislature next year.

I am restless and unafraid.

* * * *

December 20, 1978

Still staying at Harry’s place. My stitches come out tomorrow in

Eugene. Feel like shit after four days of roughing it. Megan abruptly

left town the day before yesterday without much in the way of a

goodbye.

I got a bad feeling about this, I’m sorry to say. I know the husband

has been calling her. I know she has been talking to him. Josie keeps

me informed.

* * * *

December 25, 1978

Xmas is over. Back to work tomorrow. It will be a huge drag with

Megan gone but there it is. I have to show up or they stop paying me.

Going up to Salem on the 6th of January for the Welcome

Legislature party. I asked Megan to come up with me but she would

not give me a definite answer. I find myself daydreaming about a

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legislative run almost constantly. I’ll have to decide soon if I’m going

to have even a ghost of a chance.

The holidays were OK. Megan seemed surprised by the opal

necklace I gave her but now I really wonder if it was too much,

especially since she had nothing for me. I had it wrapped in a hurry at

the Galeria so she could get it before she left town.

On Thursday night, I went to Eugene to stay with Charles who is

feeling low because Arianna has dumped him for some cocaine-

addicted musician.

I was sympathetic but unsurprised.

Although I think the other one was wrong about me, she was

apparently right about everybody else. Arianna is a name the other

one could not seem to speak without inserting the word "slut" into the

same sentence. From what Charles has told me, that little four-letter

epithet appears to be an accurate shorthand description of our dear

Arianna after this latest debacle.

At least Charles now knows why it hurt to pee and is taking

appropriate medication. He also has the whole apartment to himself,

Arianna having shacked up with said music boy.

Up in Portland I saw Mario and his new girlfriend Vicky. I gave

Mario some new comix and we drank, talked, and partook of some of

Vicky’s excellent reefer.

Vicky is funny. She’s from Alabama and has one of those funky

southern accents. She’s tubby, but I really like her, as she seems