by U
four inches taller than she is, she says she will always obey my every
sexual whim and command, no matter how weird or kinky.
I told her I would get back to her on that. However, I must admit
that I am impressed with her new attitude.
Where was all this two years ago?
On Sunday morning, we showered together, got dressed, and
enjoyed a tasty hot breakfast. I kissed her goodbye and left for home,
but not before she extracted a promise from me that I would invite her
to the beach for a weekend visit soon.
Very soon.
I got in the VW and drove to the Koobdooga bookstore, en route to
home. That’s where I ran into Megan.
We had an extremely enigmatic conversation. Megan said she had
been by to see me at Rand’s on Friday and Saturday nights and
wondered where I had gone.
I told her where I went was my business, just like where she goes is
her business. I was really annoyed with her for finding me, although I
did my best to hide it.
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She wanted to question me some more about what I had been doing
but I cut her off and said I was going home. She stood in the spot
where I left her for a long time after I walked away.
I am playing with fire but I really don’t give a good goddamn.
Megan doesn’t know what the hell she wants. Is this the same woman
who told me less than a month ago it was over for good between us?
Who said her husband was permanently back in the picture?
Apparently she is, or was, or something like that.
Returning to Mark was a lapse, she says now, a mistake. She can’t
explain it. Well, I can explain it perfectly. She’s fickle and faithless,
just like the others. That is the explanation. First, she was all set to
leave town and dump me. Then suddenly it was no go. Now she says
oops it was all just "a lapse."
And how am I expected to deal with these lightning shifts? I am
supposed to be all happy and welcome her back like a puppy dog
because she is split with said husband once again. Sorry, no can do. I
don’t appreciate no fucking lapses.
I am not happy with Megan. I am furious with her.
The thing is, I just don’t get it. With women, if you refuse to do
what they say they want you to do, they will use that as an excuse to
reject you. On the other hand, if you comply with what they say they
want you to do, they will also use that as an excuse to reject you.
Either way you lose.
Along with that, women retain the right to change their minds at
any time and still expect you to remain at their beck and call. Am I
wrong to resent this state of affairs? I think not.
Arrived home without incident. Nick left a note saying he would
be spending the night with his new girlfriend Eleanor.
I had a light meal, a beer and a cigarette. My first Marlboro in a
week. About 7:00 PM, Mary Wong showed up. She wanted to know
if Nick needed any posters made for the poetry reading. I was sitting
on the sofa listening to B. B. King and writing some longhand notes
for The Dark City.
I put them away and talked with Mary for a while. People came
and went, most of them asking questions about the poetry reading
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Nick is sponsoring at the Kyle Building. Everybody wants in on the
action for some reason. It’s shaping up to be the social event of the
season around here.
Having a little time on our hands, Mary and I went upstairs and did
it. Then we came back downstairs and got really stoned. We went
back upstairs a while later and did it again.
Mary likes doing it and has a slender, very elastic little bod. Tiny
little tits but with these big, dark nipples. Between her legs she is very
tight and gets very wet. Practically hairless, though. Took a bit of
getting used to after Jill’s dense brown bush. At first Mary was afraid
I was going to be too big for her pussy but once we got rolling, my
size was not a problem.
The last time we did it was around 5:00 AM. I told her I was too
tired to cum but she insisted on sucking my cock and got it out of me
anyway. Mary is very adept at oral sex, much more so than Jill at this
point.
I liked the way Mary sucked it, bent over on her hands and knees in
front of me. She took it all the way down, deep throat style, gently
cupping my balls in her hands. When I came, she hung on to the head
with her teeth while she sucked like mad, and swallowed. Excellent
technique.
Before she left, I gave Mary my old typewriter, the black
Remington. Mary is very poor. The machine was given to me four
years ago as a present from the woman I now call the other one. I had
it tuned up in Portland in 1977 and now it works like a charm. Bam
bam bam.
The print is clear, crisp, and dark when it has a fresh ribbon, which
it has right now.
I remember the typewriter repair guy offered me $35 for it. He told
me it was an antique. I turned him down. That was when I still had
hopes about getting back together with the other one. Now I can’t
stand looking at it and prefer using my newer Olivetti.
Nick is going to be pissed because he’s had his eye on it for some
time but that’s too bad. It’s my goddamn typewriter and I’ll do
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whatever I fucking well please with it. Last August, I almost pitched
it in the Siuslaw River.
Back to work tomorrow. I didn’t go in today because the state
celebrates the birthday of Abraham Lincoln. Good old Honest Abe.
They don’t make politicians like him anymore.
I have to be around Megan all day tomorrow, goddammit. I know I
am in love with her but I question whether she is in love with me.
The way I see it, I am likely one of those transitional romances
women go through when they exit a long-term relationship. That’s
not good enough for me because I am serious. And I absolutely refuse
to play the fool again.
Meanwhile, it is extremely unfair of me to be seeing Jill, because
we have no future together. As far as I am concerned, she has taken
herself out of the running permanently. Although I tried to talk her
out of it, she went ahead and had a tubal ligation and is therefore
incapable of having children.
This much I have figured out: I want a woman I can fall in love
with who wants to have one or two children sometime in The Future.
And in the not so very distant future either, I might add, as I approach
age 28.
But who shall it be?
By permanently foreclosing the possibility of ever having a baby,
Jill is no longer a viable candidate.
It’s too bad, really. At 5’ 10", Jill is a big, beautiful Amazon. She
is slender, shapely, sexy, smart, and extremely political. We could be
a formidable pair.
I love those big round glasses she wears.
Very intellectual-looking. She also has a head full of thick, long,
lustrous brown hair, with shiny highlights. I like that too. She loves
to fuck and is truly gorgeous.
Moreover, Jill seems to have
swept aside all doubts she previously
had about me and is eager to set up housekeeping. She asks why
should I move to Portland to run when there are a whole bunch of
legislative seats in Eugene?
Good question.
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No doubt Jill and I could form an exceptionally compatible
relationship, under different circumstances. At the very least, it might
be fun to play her and Megan off against each other for a while. But it
will never happen, I realize, as I write these words. Why waste
everybody’s time? Jill wants no children. For me that is an
insurmountable drawback.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want a whole pack of kids, as my idiot
parents did from 1950-61. One or two is plenty. But I want a woman
who wants the same.
I’ve given this issue a great deal of thought, ever since my
unfortunate affair with the other one. Whatever else she might have
done, she prodded me into thinking about my goals in life with much
greater clarity and force than I had ever given them before.
What I want, insofar as a writer-politician is allowed to have one, is
a normal, happy, sane, generally middle class life. I want to be with a
woman I love and trust. Together we will enjoy a loving family life.
I know such a thing exists. The two idiots were not the only parents
in the neighborhood. We had eyes and could compare them to others.
The way I see it, your role as husband and father is to love and
serve. Or at least, that is how it should be.
I saw that "love and serve" motto on a church sign in Newport. I
like it for some reason. It appeals to me. For a man who doesn’t plan
to be a juvenile all his life, I don’t see how things can be any other
way.
On another note, I love to write but I sure ain’t gonna depend on it
for a living. I will always maintain some sort of suitable employment,
preferably government related. Doing my job at the welfare office
takes perhaps one tenth of my mental powers, now that Megan has
shown me the ropes. I intend to keep on working at a job like this
until I become an outstanding literary success, however long that
might take.
Sure hope it doesn’t take too long.
So there you have it. I ain’t Jack Kerouac, Charles Bukowski, a
beatnik, or some fucking political radical. I’m not even a hippie, if in
fact I ever was one.
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I am only me, Patrick J. Compton, nobody else. I intend to support
myself and I’m pretty sure I can be faithful to one woman, if she can
be faithful to me. I want a woman to make love to and live with and
sleep with and hang around with and trust implicitly.
In my darkest moments, I suspect that I am probably
unmarriageable. Every time I start to fall in love with a woman, she
does something I can’t forgive. I am afraid that I may never find one
to whom I can give my all.
Jesus, I’m beat.
That’s all for now.
* * * *
February 6, 1979
Mary Wong came over again last night to see me. We didn’t do it
again because she said her pussy was still too sore from yesterday.
"You’re so big," she said, giving my crotch a playful squeeze.
Then she unbuttoned my fly and gave me another wonderful sucking,
down on her knees between my legs, just like before. I offered to
return the favor but she said no.
Mary Wong is interesting to me chiefly because she is Asian in
origin. Based on my recent experiences with her, I would also venture
to say that she is a pure female, entirely devoted to her own cause, and
only paying attention to me because she thinks I might be useful in
advancing that cause.
Why are women such a mixed bag? I’ve had enough experience
with them (and myself) at this point to see the more obvious pitfalls
but I still stumble over less obvious ones.
And goddamn, every time I turn around, there is yet another
woman, presenting herself as a potential partner. I mean, I’m not
even trying that hard. In most cases, I’m doing the opposite of trying.
I’m trying not to try.
Truth is, I’m much more interested in politics and science and
literature and current events than I am in the desultory opinions of the
young women I come across.
In the case of Mary Wong, I am particularly intrigued by her totally
self-centered antics, and rather amused by her efforts to get ahead, by
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whatever means necessary. There is an engine inside this little
Chinese chick, driving her come what may.
But whatever defects I perceive in Mary’s personality, she is also
one eager little cum sponge, with no apparent inhibitions that I can
discern.
It’s really quite amazing. Mary is pleasant enough to look at,
though by no means beautiful, certainly nowhere near the Megan
category. She stands maybe a half inch over five feet, and can’t
weigh more than 90 pounds. Her long black hair is as straight as a
ruler, and her little body is slender and lithe.
Hardly any boobs at all, but these big, juicy, sensitive nipples,
which get hard as filberts when I pinch, squeeze, or suck them.
Best of all is Mary’s cock-sucking, which she has elevated to the
state of a high art, usually fingering her bud with her right hand while
she sucks my cock, holding it in her left.
As a change of pace, I proposed that we fuck, either doggy-style or
missionary position.
What Mary wanted instead was for me to suck her little titties while
she fingerbanged herself. Twice she came from doing that alone. It
was kinda fun, actually. More or less a variation of Milk The Cow, if I
am not mistaken.
Got some actual work done on The Dark City. That was after
Megan called and we argued for a bit. Megan also wanted to argue at
work today but I refused to cooperate. She seems really upset and is
apparently aware (from that fucking big mouth Nick, no doubt) that
I’ve been doing it with Mary and Jill.
I reiterated that this new arrangement is entirely Megan’s own
creation, not mine. I added that if she is unhappy with the
consequences of her actions, that’s too bad.
As I said before, I don’t give a good goddamn either way. Megan
brought this situation on herself by scurrying back to her husband and
now she must endure the fallout. If she’s going to fuck Mark again I
am going to fuck somebody else.
Simple as that.
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Under no circumstances would I have slept with another woman if
Megan had been loyal to me. But she was not loyal. Originally, she
left Mark because she said she loved me and then she changed her
mind, leaving me in the lurch. Therefore I must respond.
See how she likes it. There is no advantage in being the gentle,
forgiving lover. Fuck it. There are no rules in this game that I know
of, save one:
If she fucks somebody else, you fuck somebody else.
On another front, I’m hoping the next draft of The Dark City will
go faster than the first. I wa
nt to have the whole project completed by
summer. That would leave the decks clear for my return to Portland,
where I intend to make a run for the state legislature.
* * * *
February 8, 1979
Goddamnit! Now I’m sick. It started right after I had words with
Megan on the phone Tuesday night. I was restless and hot afterwards
and felt totally wiped out the next day. For two days now I’ve been
unable to eat. Everything comes right back up.
Mary Wong was sympathetic but says she can’t afford to get sick
and so is staying away. Nick believes that it is some kind of flu.
Harry also says that a whole bunch of people at the post office are
down with the flu as well.
Nick said he was worried about getting sick so he stayed home
from work today too. But then he went and ran errands all day,
getting his poetry fest organized.
Megan came by late in the afternoon to check on me. She said
nothing major is happening at the office and that she processed my
late-arriving EML’s, so not to worry about them.
She brought a thermometer and took my temperature – 102. I
expressed surprise that she didn’t bring a rectal thermometer and she
laughed.
She fluffed up my pillows and brewed some tea, from a batch of
peppermint that grows in Josie’s yard. We talked for a while and then
she went back to work. Her concern for my health was touching. I
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asked whether she was worried about coming down with the flu
herself but she shrugged that off.
You know, I’ll bet she’d make a wonderful mom someday. I felt
much better after her visit.
Been thinking about my financial situation. I’ve got $1439 in the
credit union right now. Beginning March 1, I will have them take out
$100 each month instead of only $50. I’m finally caught up on my
student loans. I think a decent run in District 13 should cost about
$2000.
Originally, I had planned to use that money to buy a house here in
Florence, for Megan and me. That is definitely off. I am planning to
leave town.
I’m feeling stifled here.
* * * *
February 10, 1979
A rainy, gusty, windswept day at the beach. Dark vapory clouds
