Diary Entry July 13,1983
July 13, 1983
Another Oregon Country Fair with Jack Poe and Glen.
“Glen! Glen! Would you look at that sex machine!”
“It’s your caramel. You’re on an eagle trip.”
“He has a HUGE libido!”
“I’d slit my throat before..
Every time we walked against the crowed, I’d shout “We’re spawning! We’re spawning!”
Occasionally they would break into chest butting. People would start moving back, unsure. They would take off their shirts, grab their crotches with both hands and display it to each other: “Glen! Glen! Would look at this woody! Look at the SIZE of it!”
Any time I would get defensive, they would both start yelling at me: “Yeahbuti said it wasn’t my fault! Yeahbuti couldn’t do anything else!!! Yeahbuti didn’t have any choice!!’ rapidly.
A woman came to the campfire they built and started doing this unbelievably sexual yoga. Glen, lying in the dark by the fire in his sleeping bag wearing his Verne sunglasses on started stuttering: “P=p-p-p-peas p-p-p-p-orridge hot!” like Porky Pig. While he slept, I’d point to him and say, “He’s BORING.” And Jack would say, He’s BOORISH!” Everyone once in a while I’d say to Jack, “Why don’t you get a job and support me?” “Why don’t you support me?”
Like any visual comedians, they don’t translate onto paper. You lose the inflection and the Three Stooges repetition of developing routines, playing and replaying and expanding a ridiculous, nonsensical bit. They’re brilliant but you really have to in the audience.
Came home exhilarated to a letter from D telling me how much he loved me after reading my diary. I was shocked. He read m fucking diary??????? Why am I shocked? How is this different from any other guy? He thought it was wonderful, thinks I “have a superb sense of humor, truly great mind…” My outrage is tempered by his slavering response to my fantastic mind.
Speaking of shock and outrage, Professor Taylor yesterday introduced me to a colleague of his as a “brilliant academic fuck-up” and “crazy as a hoot owl.” Really? What does that mean? Crazy? How crazy IS a hoot owl? What’s an academic fuck up? I’m doing my homework, aren’t I? Turning all my papers in on time and getting good grades. What does that mean??? Professor Chaney told me my “Selfish Gene” paper was real interesting, particularly my “style” he enunciated. Why do I always get that moniker? I know - because I’m outside the pale, can’t categorize. But I’m still offended. They’ll all be sorry when I produce my “Trapped by History! Trapped by Biology” TV series!!
While at the fair, Phil called from SF. What did he want?? Money? Guitar jacks? His girlfriend’s phone number? I’ll never forgive him for leaving without kissing me goodbye. I mean, that’s just common courtesy.
So, I guess we’re going to move into Rose Lane in December. I’m sort of sick with anxiety. D is discussing marriage. He’s pissed that I wouldn’t want to change my name to Candy Nutter. Please. Seriously? Don’t know why a confirmed debutante Mother of Devo on welfare bachelorette/professional career girl is considering placing 50% of her destiny into the hands of a well-intentioned but ultimately deluded member of the male persuasion. My horoscope says Cancer rising doesn’t settle down until age 35. And they laugh at astrology!