and maybe it will!

07.33

Woke up an hour ago and I'm saddened. Saddened that it's so hard to just express a few simple emotions and realisations, and then move on, and go back into funness and light. Saddened at the realisation that I've got emotionally involved with someone who isn't even on the same page, some mistaken assumption based on pre-getting together conversations about her ex, and what he was/wasn't able to do. Saddened that I didn't just ask certain questions about where I stood ten days ago, which would have probably cleared the whole thing. Saddened that there's now a heaviness clouding the friendship/relationship I had with this lovely young girl. Saddened that there's nothing I can do about it. Saddened because twelve hours ago I was happy, and that was better for me, and now I'm sad and less clear. Saddened because I want us to just be friends and lovers again, and for all this to go away.
    What happened? What happened was, I thought I could express myself, and that would make everything better – given that non-expression had made everything worse – but she wasn't into that, and didn't want it, and now that it's out there it's made everything worse. What an idiot thinking more of this lovely 22 year-old! What a fool to think that I could be understood!

08.43

Oh boy! Three hours sleep sandwiched in between several dozen pages of 'On The Road' and – man! – that book's gone given me the fever again – okay, not as bad as the first and second time, when I was rushing around madly, a hundred miles an hour, the bedevilled soul of Neal Cassady whapping through my veins – but there it is, interspersed and added-on with my own emotion-soaked mind and to and fro attitudes of the previous weeks, a hundred thousand things in this head at once – women, work, writing, old ladies' tales and what oh what to do with this shop and my holiday and the world – and suddenly I'm wishing I was beat and could cruise on all around this country picking up and laying down and had those mad chums he has where you turn up at three in the morning with tramps and bums and freaked-out, crippled-handed cripples just for kicks. Oh, I said that book was pointless – and forgive me that but, obviously you know what I meant was, what I want to say goes further, goes beyond the drunkenness and mad-headed insanities of his and my Charlottesville and New York youth – but then, man, can that cat write a boozy, blowin' jazz-hoppin' night! And, man, can he bring to life the vroom of the mad, mad road (I need to make more of my solo non-stop 29 hour, 1800 mile trip from San D. to New Orleans) – so much so that it's in me now, and got me wanting it – and got me typing like this – and like some poisoned med-sun pill I'm happy to swallow it down – but eager also to shit it out, the bad stuff, and just take the nutrients from it and be clean – which is what I'm doing here now. I'm not beat – not really beat, and probably never was – but maybe was – but the beat is in me a little bit, and I think I'd better get it out, just store it up for when I need it, when beat Charlottesville gutterpunk days come to be told and the road needs more spark in it, more life. Are all the things I've ever swallowed still in me somewhere? Man, I read last night some of my journal from five/six years ago and I just can't believe the things I was saying and doing! Is all that still in me too? I hope so. Or did I lose it? Is that possible? I hope it's still there; if not, can I get it back please? And – oh! – I bleed for Mexico, for my Mexico words – almost fully formed they were – and why did I have to go and delete them all? Are they really not there in the world anywhere, those seventeen freshly written chapters all full of that Mexican hot spring crazy shaman magic that I'll be amazed and pushed to recreate and recall? Damn the world! And damn my own silly head for ridding myself of it – perhaps – because then, damn the whole silly business, what will out will out and I'm sure it's all there somewhere and that's why I deleted it in the first place. Listen: 63% of the writing from my original website survives – although a hundred percent of that is from post-travel days, 00-02; it drops down to 53% from before that (233 surviving entries out of 433 written on 96-99), and only one out of fifty for my spring/summer '99 'quest', and only 40% of sad, sad Mexico. Plus only about ten out of two hundred pictures – which is a real heart-breaker. Oh, what did I do? Please God, let it all be in here somewhere. Maybe I'll have to return to America to take more snaps, fake 'em and say, this was me ten years ago, standing thumb out in this desert; walking miles up mountains and treading on rattlesnakes; crossing continental divide on back of freight train, me and a driver and no other human within two or three walking days; me in jail with my mugshot; me on back of mad crazy pickup in Mexican mountains getting ready for sliding off the road death and smiling smiling smiling. I don't know what I'm saying; I'm just trying to shake the beat out of me. I should stop typing – I thought it was a Sunday thing! Madness is in my veins this morning and it's all damn Kerouac's fault!

10.37

In the library, having just typed up my handwritten notes – 22.56, 01.05, and 07.33 – and having just taken a nice, easy, fun, non-heavy call from Perlilly in which we chatted about our days, and made some jokes, and nothing more, and that, coupled with a few realisations that have come while typing, has made me glad and happy again, and I may still go and see her down Oxford way tomorrow. I really hope there's more to us – and maybe it doesn't even have to be in a sex way, and it's not about the sex anymore anyway – because what I've realised, and what I'm excited about, is the learning possibilities here, and the prospect that the emotions and feelings stirred by my time with her are leading me somehow to the source of those 'mother things', and, ultimately, the cure – which would be a pretty heavy and major and life-changing breakthrough for me. But, if not her, then probably any woman would do it – probably I have it in me to only be attracted to those women that will do that for me, will push those buttons, will leave me acting in these certain ways. My clairvoyant said this was something that needed to be dealt with, not necessarily just for my relationships, but for my life, for my spiritual progress, and for my work, and I'm eager to get it on! Oh, if only I could make a sweet, sweet deal with her – for her to get the good lovin' and great sex that she wants and likes, and the fun, and the silliness, and the support and encouragement and creativity, and me to just be able to experience myself and these areas of myself, these emotions, and go deeper within me to the root of all that, just in my head and heart and in my writing, and not dragging her into it at all but being there lightly and funly and just have all the watching and observing and realising going on inside me just for my own brain and satisfaction; how sweet would that be! Life is about learning, sometimes, and especially in relationships we come together and take things from each other, and learn about ourselves on the way – that is what I want. She's all hung up on the thought that I want more from her – ie, this whole deep and dark and foreboding "long term relationship" hanging doom cloud thing, which couldn't be further from the truth – and I don't think we're gonna be able to go beyond that. But, Perlilly – as if! You're too young for me, you're not quite my type – even though you are in lots of ways – and we're just not compatible in that way (ie, emotionally, spiritually, financially, affectionately; all the things that are important in the long-term thing). Plus I'm waiting for another lover – and you're helping me find them. But you won't believe that because you can't believe that someone would not want you in that way – well, someone, at least, who has said, "I love you" and, "I'm in love with you" – and because it's beyond your frame of experience to believe a man who could say, "I want to be with you these days and weeks because of what I learn, because life is about learning, and relationships are one of the best ways to learn, and because I feel like I'm learning something important and useful with you" (plus the great sex and saucy times and smiles and laughter and fun). Well you can't tell that type of thing to people, I guess; s'too heavy, too open to misunderstanding, too much information and too weird – but I'm allowed to feel it here, in my safety. Is anyone in my tree? Yes, I think I know the answer to that: a lot of people are. And sometime soon, I feel, one of those people is going to make themselves known to me and become someone special in my life…
    And now I'd better get this done – decide whether to put it online or not – and get my ass to procrastinating and staff Christmas dinner today work.