Jay's Journal

by Dr. Beatrice Sparks

  A disciple, a follower, a leader, a speaker, a person of untold but defined absoluteness and relativeness. Eyes alive, mind still growing, long hair flowing . . . (inside) hurting heart beating.

  October 12

  When I got home from school there was a phone message that I should call Pete. It really zinged me. We talked for about an hour. Dad will go straight up the wall when he gets the bill, but he can just hang it in his ear because . . . Oh Judas, Pete’s got me even more confused than ever. Something inside me could buy the Astro stuff and the Cosmic Concept . . . but witchcraft, that seems too childish and scary storylike . . . But he did . . . he really did . . . right over the phone levitate the pen. He says white witchcraft is of God? To me it’s like Satan appearing as an angel of light or some weird thing. I wish I could talk to Pete in person.

  October 16

  I cut out and hitchhiked up to see Pete for a couple of days. I had to! It was like a magnetic force. Exciting as hell. Now that I’m home and grounded again nothing seems real or exciting. It’s like some dumb midnight movie, or I was half stoned or something. Pete wants me to get Brad and Dell in. He said he could feel good vibes from their pictures. Oh hell, when I’m with him everything makes so much sense . . . when I’m away it’s so much shit.

  October 17

  Brad and Dell and me cut our last two classes and went down to the lake. Mom’s at a convention so I “borrowed” her car. At first they both laughed when I started to tell them about Cosmic Consciousness but I understood because I remembered how uncomfortable I’d been when I was first introduced to it. Pete told me to be sure and not bring in the witchcraft part until after they’d been in a couple of weeks at least. He said that the innerata has to grow like the outside body, that you don’t start out with heavy things that can’t be digested mentally. First it has to be milder more palatable stuff, sort of like a baby starting with pablum and milk—they couldn’t take steak at first.

  Judas, I know if Pete had thrown witchcraft at me the first time, I’d have told him in no uncertain terms to blow it out his rear end. It’s funny how hypnotic the concepts are though once you get into them. Brad and Dell both seem as curious and fascinated as I was. I’m glad! It’s not fun to be into things alone.

  In some little way I’m worried about what I’m getting Brad and Dell into though, because at first it’s innocent, unhurtable inquisitiveness then . . . I don’t know, it’s dumb but it’s compelling, like you’ve simply got to know what’s the next step. Like you’re, in some way that you can’t understand, being drawn in a direction you’re not really willing to go. Oh crap, now I’m philosophizing like the old man. HE can take an hour and a half to say “How do you like the rain?” explaining how cirrus and stratus and cumulus clouds work . . . how each is a mass of condensed water vapor like tiny drops of water or ice crystals . . . and on and on into forever crapland. He’s always been like that. I don’t want to be like that too.

  October 18

  Today a letter and a bunch of junk came from Pete. It’s weird but my first impulsive inclination was to burn it . . . isn’t that childish? Shit, it was almost like I was afraid.

  October 19

  There is something hypnotic and right about Pete’s people and his teachings. I’m thinking more and more about them. It’s like they and I can communicate in ways besides letters and phone calls. I wish I knew more . . . In some ways I’m repelled in even the little I know . . . it’s dumb . . . I’m scared and repelled, yet indeed at the same time, drawn and, almost out of my head, curious. I think I’ll forget it, all of my background and teaching tells me Pete and his concepts are wrong . . . But what is wrong? Pete says “wrong” is only programming . . . conditioning . . . tradition . . . Man, I wish I had a sleeping pill.

  October 20

  I’m sitting here in my room so confused I don’t know what the hell way is up. Pete’s letter today has about blown me away and Brad and Dell are both working at the market so I’ve no one to talk to.

  I’ve got to get a job! I have too much vacant time on my hands, that’s what is giving me these apprehensions and . . . Oh crap, I’m just bored and confused and neither kid nor man, neither fish nor fowl, neither beast nor vegetable, neither mineral nor vitamin . . . see, I’m really cracking. No, I’m beyond cracking, I’m shattered. I’m lost. I’m fragmented. Everyone belongs, knows where they’re going but me. I am the only lonely . . . how lonely . . . how sad . . . how unfulfilling . . .

  I wish I hadn’t left my guitar at Brad’s.

  Can people have daymares as well as nightmares? That’s what Pete’s letter conjures up, daymares. Oh crap, crap, shit, crap, shit!

  October 29

  Dad got me a job at the stationery store. But I still can’t get my head out. Man, life can be a downer! Pete has sent two missionaries to Brad and Dell and me. Man, that seems strange, missionaries connected with witchcraft! . . . I can see auras now and I can levitate very very small things and my auwa is taking more form but . . . I WANT OUT!

  November 1

  Halloween was ghoulish. How can you be stoned without being stoned? It wasn’t real. IT WAS NOT REAL! I’m hallucinating. I’m afraid. I won’t even drink anymore.

  November 2

  Could I be having flashbacks? I haven’t used for two or three months now. I’ve written a ten-page letter to Pete. Oh Judas, he’s got to be able to explain it. I can’t go on this way.

  November 4

  Brad, Dell, and I drove up to see Pete. He says we’re being pushed by the intruders because we aren’t doing enough for the order. He gave us a list of the kids he knows about who are investigating, or in, in our area. I was absolutely and beyond belief amazed at how many there are. Twenty-five in our own school that we never dreamed about, and each one of us is obligated to bring two more in this year if we are to have the strength of the group to combat outside influences. Oh crap, I don’t want to bring anyone else into this shit hole, but I can’t stand the outside pressures either.

  I thought I was unhappy before. I was just a stupid young kid that didn’t know what happiness was. I was like a snot in a candy store who not only wanted all he could eat, but the whole thing. Life is stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Or at least to this point, mine is.

  Pete says that happiness beyond belief lies only two steps, or days, beyond now. That we are just being “tried and tested” to see if we are worthy of O. I guess I’ll try that much more. Just that much! IF it doesn’t work I’ll go back to the old ways . . . my father’s ways, though I do not belong either place. Brad and Dell are going through a shit time too. Two more days! I will only wait two more days!

  2 A.M.

  I just finished the book Pete sold me, and went through the nightly rituals he suggested. Made me feel upped, but somehow mentally disjointed.

  One after another I have intrusions of unwanted family in my room. My auwa nightly rituals are the only thing that make me feel better, and the strange sounds of the ancient expressions as they gurgle out of my throat.

  November 5

  So today was another Sunday. Had a far-out discussion on evolution in Sunday school today. “Bro.” Black got all bent out of shape, etc. And I got really bombed. At any rate today was just another Sunday.

  all alone today again, radio, books, and loneliness, are the daily fare.

  develop, progress, encourage all myself, but unhelpful intrusions of unwanted people make head gathering hard, put on defense, don’t let it down or they might try to get in.

  “On a Sunday morning sidewalk I’m wishing God that I was stoned, cause there’s something in a Sunday that make a body feel alone.”

  November 6

  Pete was right! Two days later and all is right with the world. Is it just more of what Kendall calls “coincidence-a-dinkies?” Anyway everything is going so well I can hardly stand it. We had a basketball game this afternoon and beat Longshore by one point. One free basket! The first time we’ve beat them in ten years. Imagine, by one point! Man, everybod
y was so excited it was like a rock concert. Hugging, screaming, kissing, whistling, laughing, going crazy, even teachers and the principal. He was jumping up and down like a little kid who had to go to the bathroom. We were all on a natural happy high. It was better than dope or booze or anything.

  Me and Dell and Brad were sitting about halfway back in the gym and Dell straightened his body and we hoisted him above our heads and passed him all the way down to the playing floor and then back to the top benches and down again. He had his arms up with a pompom in each hand and one between his feet. It was wild! Crazy-happy-fun wild.

  At 7:30 tonight we had our interstate debate team runoff . . . naturally modest, humble me won! Man, I sweat to win that one though because it was about capital punishment which I’m for and I had to take the opposite side. That always gives me the super-sulphur sweats, but I know it’s good for me too! IT takes control and discipline that are deadly hard—when you have to plead a cause you don’t in the least believe in.

  After the debate we had a dance. I went stag because it was late but took Marie home, with Bill and Jo Ellen. Naturally the long-cut, stopping off at Make-Out Flats for a while. Marie is O.K. for a night but I wouldn’t want to date her, she’s . . . I don’t know, she’s so aggressive and loud and hyperactive, sort of like she’s afraid tomorrow isn’t going to come or something. I like girls who are a little more together, not so frayed and rowdy. Maybe it’s just the way I was brought up. Mom’s idea is that everyone is trying to get attention, but that intelligent persons get theirs by doing something worthwhile, beneficial to himself and the community.

  November 7

  More goodness! Janie met me for lunch in the cafeteria. I was chosen by Mr. Borough to represent our class in the forum Speak Out. I heard that Debbie had moved to California to live with an aunt whose husband is with the juvie department. That should get her unkinked and out of my head.

  I’m going to quit letting things I can’t understand hassle me. Man, the sun is shining like it’s just been let out of a dark cave, or is it me shining inside myself because I’ve come out. Anyway, wow! Wowwie! Wow!

  Golly gee I’m glad I’m me

  There’s no one else I’d rather be.

  I smile on every bird and tree.

  Life is a ball. I’m in love with me!

  And the music is great too!

  November 10

  Dad took me to Denver. Man, it was cool. We were like buddies. Not me, the kid, getting orders from him, the man. Dad was giving a paper about some research he was doing at the University in his spare time. I was so proud of him! I guess it was the first time since I was a little kid that I remembered what “family” really is. It was like I was a little part of him. Proud for him, scared for him, praying for him. Supportive of him. And he said my presence gave him strength and courage and security. It was so neat I want to cry. We really were one and I want to be just like him! Strong, intelligent, trustworthy, honorable, supportive, credible.

  For the last few years I’ve just been looking at his faults, everybody’s faults but my own! No more, man—no more.

  November 23

  I feel as stuffed as the turkey! Janie and I, and Dell and Pat, and Brad and Laura (who’s old enough to drive) went tubing after dinner, then I must admit I waddled down to the refrigerator and polished off another couple of meals in one sitting. It’s been a nice relative get-together Thanksgiving. I really am thankful for all my blessings. Mom put five tables choo-choo fashion on the end of the dining room table; they extended halfway into the living room. Man, it was like a beehive. All twenty-seven of us talking at once. Discussing apathy and violence, church and pornography, busing and lack of integrity, and everything else. Words were flying and opinions were exploding and theories were being expounded. Sometimes Uncle Robert or someone raised their voices till the windows rattled and the china in the dining room cabinets shook. It was positively wonderful! I guess because for the first time I felt like one of the adults instead of one of the dumb kids! and I DIDN’T GET MY FEELINGS HURT ONCE! although at one point or another everyone disagreed loudly. We were all interrupting and bringing forth different ideas that were accepted, rejected, or torn up and discarded. It was almost like a community debate. Disagreeing or having differing opinions was part of the fun! Everybody just throwing concepts like snowballs, some hitting, some missing, but none maiming. I guess I really used to maim my own self! I certainly know that nobody in this fantastic, superintelligent family would ever try to hurt me! In the past I was just supersensitive, downright paranoid! My family and extended family are the most supportive people in the world! Just as they ought to be! Just as I desire to be! Just as I will be! Man, it’s only November 23 and I’m making resolutions already!

  Happy long evening! I’m like a big fat purring cat stretched out here on my bed. I just talked to Janie and we’re going to meet in the morning at McDonald’s for a McMuffin. Ugh, even the thought of food is yuck . . . but by morning, knowing me, I’ll be hungry again. Janie is supportive like my family, also smart, actually in a couple of my starred classes at school. It’s nice to date someone I can talk to about something other than sex and drugs. She really is a nice girl. I hope our relationship grows into something.

  November 24

  I don’t know what’s happened to me. I woke up this morning grateful ’cause I’m able to put my socks on. Grateful I can see, hear, smell, think, appreciate. Grateful I haven’t got a cold, with my nose clogged up, grateful I don’t have a blister on my toe or a sliver in my finger.

  At breakfast Mom hugged me, scratched through my head like she used to when I was little, and made me my very favorite blueberry pancakes.

  It’s been a neat day. I read all of Chad’s 977 favorite books to him and played Battleship with Kendall and Monopoly with Mom and Dad after Dad got home.

  The Thanksgiving leftovers were almost better than yesterday’s feast. Man, I’m glad I wasn’t an original pilgrim on their first Thanksgiving when they only had seven kernels of corn each.

  Janie came over for a while, then she had to go to her married sister’s.

  Brad and Dell stopped by and we listened to records and tapes and rapped about when we were little. Man, we were a funny trio. Still are! Just being together makes us feel funny and free and good.

  Last year when our Explorer leader took us up the canyon for a few days I’m sure we three had a better time than the rest of the whole group put together. It was so funny when Old Brad was trying to build a raft in his altogether and got his bum sunburned, so sunburned he couldn’t sit down or sleep on his back for days; and when we put axle grease in the pan with the gravy; and caught the squirrel in a trap and zipped it in Brother Brown’s sleeping bag. I’ve never seen a big guy move so fast and so far in so short a time. We were always doing things like that. Man, what stories I’ll have to tell my kids. As good as the ones Mom and Dad tell us about when they were growing up—Mom on a ranch in Wyoming and Dad, with all his relatives, in a town so little it isn’t even on the map anymore. Once we drove out to see where Gramps had had his combination grocery store, pharmacy, and gas station. It’s now part of a copper mining dump.

  I guess all people have fun when they’re kids if they just let themselves . . . and the good and the bad are both always there and we’re gonna see what we look for. Mom and Dad are right, I really have been a negative miserable pain-in-the-butt bastard . . . although they wouldn’t put it exactly that way. But I’m grown up now! Almost sixteen, almost old enough to legally have wheels. I think I’ll start saving my money so I can buy some kind of a junker and fix it up so on that day . . . wow . . . Man, I’ll be out of the garage with that shiny mover at the first crack of dawn like a bat out of hell. Me and my wheels.

  Around and around and around they go

  Ever so fast, ever so slow.

  Taking me from my childish past.

  To a mature fulfilled future that ever will last . . . and last . . . and last. . . .

 
Gas, insurance, license—it’s gonna take a lot of bread to support a car.

  I read once how much the guy who wrote the Dr. Seuss books makes. Judas, I think maybe I’m going to write a Dr. Seuss–type book for teenage nonreaders:

  Dick spit

  And hit

  The teacher in the eye

  Dick split

  And so did I

  Didn’t want to see

  The teacher cry.

  That’s gross, but seriously I wonder if nonreading teenagers don’t deserve to have some simple “their type” books written. Books with neat pictures and a kind of underground flavor:

  Jane smelled bacon burning

  And quick shut off her gas.

  Dick smelled bacon burning

  And quickly moved his ass.

  Publishers and stuff wouldn’t even know “bacon burning” was “pigs” or “cops” coming. So that’s not it! Sometimes things sound so simple you just know you could do better, till you try, then it’s a wipeout. But if at first you don’t succeed keep on trying—you’ll suck a seed. Oh yuck, sheeeeeeet.

  See Jane run.

  See Dick run.

  Jane does not try to run fast.

  See Dick catch Jane.

  See what Dick does to Jane.

  No, you are too little to see.

  That is only for Dick and Jane and me . . .

  Oh crap . . . I’ve got such a dirty mind. I should be able to control it better than I do, but Man, it’s really hard ! Oops—there I go again! Once I remember a speaker at a conference said that bad thoughts are like birds . . . we can’t keep them from flying over our heads but we can keep them from nesting in our hair. That’s my problem! I not only let them make nests in my hair I encourage them! I wonder if shaving my head would help? Let’s see . . . that same speaker said I should start substituting, singing a good song for a degrading thought . . . What song? What song has elevating words?