I Am Curious (Thirty)

March 15

Nine days since the last entry?

Doesn’t seem that long.

I’m a little depressed. Also maybe a little drunk. A little fuzzy in the head.

Last night was terribly frustrating. Things were going along on a nice even keel, I was seeing Arnold a couple of times a week, and nothing was too exciting but everything was loose, easy. I don’t know.

I’m having trouble making this come out on paper. I keep blocking and just staring at the page. I took a pill earlier today, one of my antidepressants. I have been trying not to take them but I thought it would be better for me in the long run to take the pill than to cut my wrists.

Not really.

But I took it, and you shouldn’t drink when you’re on those things. They don’t go together very well.

Last night we went to a party. A horrible place a couple of blocks from Arnold’s apartment, a really foul, filthy cockroach trap. Cracked plaster and broken pipes and genuine filth all over the place. Everybody seemed to be stoned, mostly I guess on pot but there were also some speed freaks.

Frightening. I felt at least a hundred years old and hopelessly square.

We didn’t stay long. Arnold smoked some grass. I didn’t. Why? Because I didn’t want to be high, I guess.

We went back to his apartment and had a scene. I guess I provoked it. It was a marriage game — Let’s Have a Fight So We Won’t Have to Fuck.

Stupid. Stupid and self-destructive. Why do something like that? We had a good relationship developing. It didn’t have a future but the last thing I need right now is a relationship with a future. Instead it looked as though it might have a long and pretty good present.

I can’t write any more of this, I have to go to bed or something.