May 1993

Just when I think the things I feel are strictly my own and extraordinary Jack Kerouac says in one sentence all I've ever felt!

Hightops, the poodle, is amazing. She makes me laugh and astounds me with her intelligence and curiosity. This evening on the swing on the porch, as the light faded, I learned something. I learned that being down is just that, it's something to go through but not take too seriously, or dwell on. I learned that I have many wonderful feelings, and that I forget happiness exists when I'm depressed. Lee said he was happy that I realized this now rather than when I'm too old and kissed me. Oh the hate I feel for him, how equal to the immense love and respect I have for him. To want to strangle him, and throw my arms around him, kiss him, and tell him, 'I love you!' We went to the market and got the pig. She was one-eared so we named her Van Gogh, but she died that first day. Could the cause have been the chase that made her squeal so hard I had to plug my ears? Lee and I had to hang her by the hind legs, gut and slaughter her. No two days are alike here. I walked in the moonlight to see the horses that grazed quietly in the silver light. They were so mellow, loving, and beautiful. To think that while I sleep they are always out there, grazing, living. I hope to never forget the power and beauty of this place, this life. To take it with me to the cold streets of every city, searching. We had a priest visit us from the East Coast. He was nude the whole time he was here and dedicated an entire night discreetly trying to bed me! In spite of people I try to enjoy myself, enjoy being here. Sometimes I feel extremely alone with Lee.

It was a beautiful ride and a pink sunset told me to stay forever. Then, a break from a hard day to rock lifelessly on the hammock. Why should such simple things inspire me? The frustration of creation. It's a remarkable evening. The importance of this place has really shown its face now. And my creative impatience. I feel I have to offer all this to others, to write about it.

Lee is giving the rooster to Terry and I wanted to take it to her just up the road, but he told me not to "stay and chat." This pissed me off. Who is he to tell me not to do anything? Can I please have a bit of a life of my own? I'm struggling with the decision to stay for the entire summer.

The fireflies are out and everywhere. They light up trees like Christmas lights. Thousands of them flickering. And I've hurt Lee by my decision to quit. Tomorrow I'm going to a travel agent. Mom and dad are glad that I'm leaving here and this makes me angry because they just don't know, they don't understand. I question whether I am being a baby by leaving. Is this part of my pattern of hurting others by doing whatever it is I want? I've said a prayer tonight. Lee hugged me and said, "I'd be really angry with you but I love you too much." I don't want to go and I don't want to stay. But the beauty which urges me to stay can't save me. Dad's offered to drive down and get me. Isn't that amazing? Yet I can't forget Bell's words, "Yeah, he still drinks." Life is such a toy. I'm sleeping up in Zoo Place tonight. Rain. Rain. Rain.

My flight to California leaves on June 1st. Ironically I have a layover at O'Hare. Am I ready for mom? Ready for Chicago?

I love sleeping here at Zoo Place. It's such a cozy cabin. I'm lying naked on the bed with iced tea and a sandwich watching the storm. The lights flicker occasionally. Eartha's here with me. I had to run through the rain and hail looking for her. I felt like Dorothy. The storm is strangely comforting. I want to make love. I think the sky just cracked open! I imagine him behind me, in and out of me. Thunder and lightening. I wonder where the hens have hidden their chicks tonight. The thunder is so fierce it made me crawl off the bed and onto the floor. Like love.

Looks like I'll have to leave Eartha behind. I'm amazed that no one in my family would offer to help and keep us together. She means so much to me. Or do I create the pain for myself? I just don't have the money to fly her out. Should I make that promise now, that I will never go without again? That I will go out there and struggle to become someone? Dreamer! I don't want to be a dreamer anymore. I want to live! This nagging feeling that I'm missing out on something continues. But isn't everything I could ever want here with me, inside me? Remember Emil, remember the horses, strength, and love, the creek, the path, the pond, the hills.

It's hardest tonight. The mist makes everything so much more beautiful. When the horses saw me they came running along the side of the hill, bucking. I fed them. I will miss them. I will miss the dogs, the hikes, the entire farm. I've become a part of things. My heart saddens when I think of returning to the city. Fear of the unknown would be nice. It is fear of the known that gets me every time. I feel I have no right to wish Lee were a different person, that what is meant to happen will happen no matter what I think, dream, want, or wish. The people down here make me sad, they are poor. And I fear the realities, the struggles of being human. I wonder how I will get by in life. Tonight the Leo in me wants to burst out and open!

What looks like a slow shooting star in the night sky is actually a satellite. You can see so many of them from the hot tub that is out in the middle of a dark field.

Had sex last night with a wonderful man, a thirty-year-old librarian from Boston. We sat in the hot tub, in the dark, waiting for satellites. An otherwise docile man, so wild and passionate. "I'm gonna miss you," Lee told me today. He has had such an impact on my life. I feel so many different things for him. There's a certain level of strength I've acquired here that I'm going to have to put to use as soon as I get on that plane. The guests are drunk at the pool tonight. Brian from Chicago is such an alcoholic. It breaks my heart. I stay in and write. I resolve to do the best I can in life and if I fuck up, oh well…

Brian and Mark were all right after all. Brian loosened up and stopped drinking so early in the day. One night we all partied. The moon was especially bright and the mist appropriately thick. In the wasted moments, in all the drunken babble, I had to stop, look about me, and suck it all in. Brian and Mark joked and urged me to, "Come back, Emil. Come back." To reality they meant.