Journal 17: November 6, 2000 through October 6, 2001. So much of life seems to be about Fear. Fear can crowd out desire. Fear deadens mind and spirit. Fear is the chain that weighs me down to the inevitable grave. I am alive still, I know, but a wall separates me from life. I see people living, loving, hurting each other and always, always fading into the distance. Out of my escapable reach. Arms outstretched adn all retreats. Dried up and out, I long for the rain to wash me into the ground, at least back to my home. Perhaps the worms will love me as they love life itself as they knead me into hiome. How long I have waited for my homecoming, yet I have waited half a lifetime. Dry, barren, my skin is cracked, my remaining hairs turn to grey. I am older than my oldest sibling. I fear and surround myself in the cloak of death to spare myself pain and suffering. Can I separate myself from fear enough to love, enough to forget about self. To truely love, you must give up self. Give it to what? December 6, 2000. Crystal clear, cold blackness inside and out. Waves break on the sand; white crests are illuminated by a waxing moon. Last ballroom dancing class. I think it'll be smaller than usual group tonight. Quiet solitude at home and work. I'm into too much negative thinking since Thanksgiving. Morning walks before work have felt good, but I'm troubled about the land, thinking about selling the house and moving south, but to what? Another life filled w/ running too and fro thinking I'm helping others, but not really doing anything. I keep thinking that I need to start weight lifting or swimming at the Rec Center. I don't like how I'm thinking about myself and life in general. What's going on? I need a change, but am afraid that I'll be a junkie for never ending change. Cold creeps into the truck as I sit here writing, deep in my ceaseless thoughts. Too much thinking not enough doing. Will a plan help me out of this state? I need something, but don't know what, who or where to look. A drink before and w/ dinner the last two nights have helped, but I don't want to go too far down that road. Diagram for steps to the Cha Cha. Fun class. I reslove to go to Sugar Reef next Tuesday @ 7:00 p.m. for more Latin dancing lessons.

Journal 16: April 20, 2000 through November 23, 2000. Random notes and sketches on first few pages. April 20, 2000. Frank, Ollie (Renita and John's dog) and I were driving to work this morning and noticed the newest safety additions on the road to Montauk: white, plastic posts 50' apart w/ reflective tape at the top in the grassy areas in the few remaining sections w/out guard rails. We laughed and tried to figure out when they'd been added and then imagined the future safety additions. On the next page I sketched in pencil the road with wooden walls at the edge and tree limbs hanging over and titled it "Road to Montauk 2010"

Journal 15: November 3, 1999 through Juoly 4th, 2000. November 3, 1999. Visit w/ Tom in Pittsburgh eagerly awaited is now past. Good memories: sitting on the couch together reading. Having beers at the bar in Homestead. Sitting on the "deck" under the canopy of grape leaves w/ a few bunches of grapes still hanging on. Camping at Ohiopyle. Sitting by the fire. Sitting in neighboring stalls in the restroom, yaking away. Walking on the abandoned railway trail, swimming bare-assed in the cold/icy Yawk; then sitting on the rocks like lizards drying off, soaking up the sun. Meeting Tom's coworkers: Dana, Carey, Dennis and the barber, Carl. Checking out Pittsburgh connections to the past: 110 Dallas Ave (where Mom, Dad and Diane lived with Grandma and Grandpa Hassler when Dad got out of WWII and was going to school at Pitt for Petroleum Engineering), Homewood Cemetery (were the Grandma and Grandpa Page are buried.) Driving around some of the areas where Tome works and lives: southside, the slopes, Allentown, Squirrel (Town) Hill. Walking to get things: bagels and coffee, groceries, a movie. Seeing Tom's abode and getting some time to make a sketch through the window in his "office." Sitting here eating dinner, writing and listening to music and reflecting on the weekend is a good thing. I'm glad to take time like this. I realize the things I enjoyed most had to do with just being together. Walking in the rain under partially helpful Pirates umbrella was particularly enjoyable. The rain was still warm and knowing that soon I would be able to dry off made the experience less of a dash through the drops and more a stroll. I liked that. Tom's a good guy. I have to remember to tell people to move over so I can sit next to them instead of parking myself solo, then getting uncomfortable and kicking them off my couch/bed under the ruse of feeling tired. Why do I throw up obstacles to being "close" company w/ the people (friends/family) I'm visiting. Just because I'm sitting close doesn't mean I'm wanting sex; it just means I like being close. After the visit w/ Becky I realized that I like touching. The beauty I'm now realizing is that just because your touching someone doesn't mean it's a sexual thing. It also can be a loving thing. I'll have to remember this when I'm in NC for Thanksgiving. A good opportunity to take advantage of the family bonds and loving for touching.

Journal 14: June 3rd, 1999 through October 31, 1999. Red band of light above the horizon where the sun set. A norhtwest and slightly cooler wind is blowing, but now howling (yet). If it gets too strong and the boat gets too bouncy I'll head to the truck. Last summer on the boat taught me good lessons. Foremost if sleep doesn't happen on "Arianne" go to where it will. I'm feeling good right now. An eggplant parmigian hero, a tall boy Rolling Rock and a salad were my dinner. I bought this new notebook and a new pen plus some cool colored candles. The red light is fading and the lights of the norhtern end of the Lake are brightening. The Yacht Club, plus the marinas, etc in Coon's Foot Cove are bright. Lights from the hosues along West Lake Drive are sparse so far - it's only Thursday night. Tomrrow night and the rest of the weekend'll find more lights burning. Time to retreat below and light the candles, or maybe it's shower time. Shower time wins. Now I'm back below. Jazz from WPBX fills the cabin. Writing is lighted by the cool candles. A chianti bottle/candle holder started last summer and thoughtfully saved shines again with a turqoise candle adding wax to the layers of greens, blues, and purples from the last boating season. Started the Clam College again, this time w/ three sizes of clams and a replicate group to be run after this trial.

Journal 13, October 15, 1998 through June 1, 1999. Almost lost track of the date. Saw a movie at the (Hamptons) Film Festival- "20 Dates." Funny. Inspiring. Especially after being sullen today. Thinking about my evening ~1 1/2 hours w/ Kelly last night, at an "Opening Party" that she was covering. How many times do I have to revisit that glitterati scene to know that it's a world totally separate from mine? How many times do I have to get together w/ Kelly to realize that our worlds are so very far apart? I like Kelly. She seems original, but I doubt my judgement. I want to be loved by a woman, but somehow feel I have to settle for what ever calls me back. Have faith in yourself man. You need to ask women out. You need to ask many women out. How will you ever know who's right for you it you sit at home, alone, waiting for Ms. Right to knock on the freakin' door. Get on with it man.

Journal 12: September 1, 1997 to ??? notes from O.P.S. class in Fall 1998. September 1, 1997. Delaware River - Smithfield Beach Access. End of a canoe trip with Gary, Darcy, George, Hershey (Darcy and George's dog), Bo and I. We hordes are ascending the slope to whre vans and buses pick us up. Middle America on Labor Day weekend. Canoes of plastic garbage bags - some filled with the usual contents.

Journal 11: October 22, 1997 through October 12, 1998. Back of the bus, er plane. Physical Oceanography mid-term taken, and now me and my Halsey apple are sitting in the last row of a US Air - 737 at LaGuardia Airport. Gary has been kind enough to watch my buddy, Boris, for the next four days while I visit the Carolinas. I didn't sleep for very long last night. Test thoughts and house thoughts competed w/ each other for my attention. The moonlight coming through the skylight made me feel good. I felt awake then, but now the bays I didn't check are hanging heavy under my eyes. Living in the studio has inspired me with simple housing ideas. My conversation w/ Irene Kuzak about the property on Lion Head Rock Rd got the house "I's" yelling and shouting. Just when I thought I was safe and had them tucked neatly away in a back drawer of my mind, one phone call and now they lie scattered hither and yon around my convoluted grey matter. The key, of course, to this house puzzle is selling the land. Selling the land for a reasonable price. The prospect of selling before sometime in January (the time the Kuzak's will be listing their property w/ a broker) seems optimistic. Time, as usual, will tell.