April 10, 1972. Thank God for the rain which has helped wash the garbage and trash off the sidewalks. I'm working a single now, which means stretch-shifts, six to six, sometimes six to eight in the a.m., six days a week.It's a hustle, but it keeps me busy. I can take in three to threefifty a week, more with skims. I work the whole city, up, down, don't make no difference to me - does to some. Some won't take spooks - Hell, don't make no difference to me.

They're all animals anyway. All the animals come out at night: ♥♥♥♥♥♥, skunk ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies, sick, venal.

Someday a real rain will come and
wash all this scum off the streets.

Twelve hours of work and I still cannot sleep. The days dwindle on forever and do not end. All my life needed was a sense of direction, a sense of someplace to go. I do not believe one should devote his life to morbid self attention, but should become a person like other people.

May 8, 1972. My life has taken another turn again. The days move along with regularity... ... one day indistinguishable from the next, a long continuous chain, then suddenly - there is a change.

May 29, 1972. I must get in shape.Too much sitting has ruined my body. Twenty-five push-ups each morning, one hundred sit-ups, one hundred knee-bends. I have quit smoking.Total organization is necessary.Every muscle must be tight.

My whole life has pointed in one direction. I see that now. There never has been any choice for me. Loneliness has followed me all my life. The life of loneliness pursues me wherever I go: in bars, cars, coffee shops, theaters, stores, sidewalks. There is no escape. I am God's lonely man.

I am not a fool. I will no longer fool myself. I will no longer let myself fall apart, become a joke and object of ridicule. I know there is no longer any hope. I cannot continue this hollow, empty fight. I must sleep. What hope is there for me?