The Tells: Poem and picture - 1981

Daybooks: 02-Dec-81 (Rochester, NY)

Went to D.C. for Thanksgiving Day - parents both well, sister finally divorced, nephew insufferably spoiled. Saw Linda in Baltimore for dinner (divorce coming after 27 years), had drinks with Joyce (Master's in Library Science & very much settled in Lesbian Row).

Took my mother to see RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, stopped at a liquor store on the way home - "Hello, Mr. Harrod" - Carolyn Jean (DON'T PANIC - DON'T PANIC) married with a one year old child (boy? girl?) same floor of the building where we met ... 10 years ago? ... the best of times, the worst of times.

Phone call from a British computer graphics outfit working with Prime Computers - "Can you fly out to Boston this week? The president of the company will be in this country for a week" - a couple of months training in Cambridge - they don't care about the (lack of) degree - "We're young, we're growing, ground floor, leading edge, blah-blah, woof-woof..."

This is Big League Stuff we're talking here, so why can't I remember the name of the company? Because I don't care. The gold ring doesn't matter any more. I don't think it ever did. There are people out looking for jobs (like my sister), there are people I've never met who want to send me plane tickets and offer me ridiculous amounts of money to do something I'd do as a hobby if I didn't have to work for a living.

So I sit here in a cheap bar watching women take off their clothes, and remembering that women used to pay me to photograph their naked bodies, and I wonder what money's all about - it's about rent & food & gasoline & pot - when you're fat, dumb & happy, you get very mellow, you realize that every place is the same, and nothing you can do really matters.

There's nothing holding me in this town - I value the thought that I'm free to pick up and go when/wherever I want ... but I just don't feel like leaving.

England - Boston ... Rochester was good enough for Frederick Douglas, and I'm not nearly as self-actualizing. Maybe I just don't know what I really want, maybe I really don't want anything - maybe it's just apathy.

I'm probably just going to say, "Sorry, I've got a really good thing here already" - I'm too lazy to even take the free trip to Boston to say, "No".

A QUIET CORNER
IN A NOISY BAR
WHERE THE LIQUOR IS CHEAP
AND THE WOMEN WEAR TATOOS

ALOOF LIKE A NOBLEMAN
WATCHING IT ALL
FEELING NONE OF IT

TURNING DOWN OFFERS
NONE OF THEM WILL GET

WISHING I COULD LAUGH

DAH 02-Dec-81
Rochester, NY