1977

Melancholy Mood

Although work was going well, moving to a new city where I had no friends sometimes put me in a melancholy mood, I wrote:

Journal Entry
October 1, 1977  

My mind, my soul, is twisted blue with the gregarious world that surrounds me. I grasp, I reach for the understanding that only can come from a century of strife. Where my life leads I will follow, but I puppet controlled by destiny. I am touched by my surroundings as no other, if leaving me grasping for truth. A mind, A body, A soul?  Who knows?  But I do exist this brief moment in infinity. I desire the presence of another this night for it would comfort me, and give me a sense of reality that I am loosing.

Touch me! I ask, I cry out, but do they hear?  I laugh at myself for I find myself absurd, if not insane. Dylan, that I listen to now knows the feeling.  I but only, they, anybody, could see though my eyes they would know how I feel. The more life becomes real the less real it becomes. Reality is what one makes it to be.

The gray sky, darkening with the coming of night excites me.  The air cool and crisp with wind gustily blowing across my face. I want to run, run hard, not stopping for anything. To run faster and faster until there is nothing else but the pound of my body, collapsing into a heap upon the ground not feeling, not caring and not wanting anything but peace of mind. The candle flickering gently from the wind causes my soul to want to leave this body and soar into the clouds. I feel warm and protected here in this house looking out into the darkening sky. !!!!!!!!  Expression though words cannot describe my emotional state. I am reaching, grasping, searching for something I cannot describe. I must not stop, for if it does I cry. Touch me.  Touch Me.

I want to be touched but they are so cold. I feel so alone. But I know inside they feel the same as I, for I can see into their minds and souls, I know how they feel.

Turn me off!
Click.
Just like that.

 

In early October I received a letter from Mom with family news.  Her and Dad were going up to see Brenda, Tom and their son Kristopher.  She also sent me a news paper clipping from the Gainesville Sun about one of my high school friends, Keith Combs, dying.  He would be the first of our 1970 graduating class to die.  

By fall, Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors album and The Eagles Hotel California album became my to most favorite albums with one or the other on the turntable. The thing about LP records that you listened to one side or the other with the songs in order as they were recorded but some sides were better than the other.

The Eagles
Hotel California  

Last thing I remember,
I was Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
"Relax, " said the night man
"We are programmed to receive
You can check out any time you like
But you can never leave"