November 1993

You wouldn't believe how much I need the friendship of other men! And I'm still dreaming of a lover.

Should I give up on this foolish dream and get on with my life? It's like a disease in me, this dream to write. This is not normal. Lee once told me to enjoy my craziness, and take advantage of it.

Whatever direction I choose in life I know God is with me. I know that. I believe.

Steinbeck is a savior. While in his pages I feel safe.

Dad has really awful bruises on his arms. His entire upper arm is red and purple. The colors of my rage. I feel awful for having erupted. Damn decisions. Pain. And hope.

Brandon and I went for a drive. We listened to The Gypsy Kings. I said, 'I wish I were straight.' Brandon listened and was supportive. Bell said I'm too young to worry so much. That surprised me.

Money is not happiness, but it is security. I always sound desperate in Chicago, don't I?

The older I get the angrier I am with my father. Does alcohol really take away the pain of life? I don't believe it. Remember the seven sins. Add one. Alcoholism. I worry that when I am older I will regret my life. But I have to remember that there are things in life I cannot help and have no control over, and that I am doing my best.