So, I’ll find some good happy stuff. Let’s see[ the company agreed with my calculations & I get a $100 check Monday. The new apt. is as queit & private as a dream. A tall stacked blonde came on to me last evening but she blew it (she was sitting with a goon). I got my post office box, 1155. Fancy, huh?
I see the girl at the Esso has notice the change since we found out she’s shacked up. The only revision really is that I abruptly stopped making aggressive hints, but it’s not lost to her. Which is too bad, because I wish little things I do unintentionally would have that telling an effect on people who mattered. See, I’m fussy. When I’m served a drink in a singles bar, I expect even the waitress to be single. The sound of the wind makes it feel chilly even inside. Makes me wish there was somebody here. Like that little Coreen.
[Author’s note 2023: I’ve forgotten much of the circumstances over time, but I believe these notes were written while I was in Point Roberts. Famous Point Roberts, back when it was a hopping, lively place on weekends. That is another slice of history for me. I was just out of college and working at a garage door factory, unionized of course.
Many of the sentences were written with the sense of humor I had at the time. They are hard to follow once that sense is gone, It’s not the writing, which is quite clear, my style was somewhat calligraphic but it still requires more context that I can provide forty years later.
For the record, I was blonde, blue-eyed, slim, white, witty, and looked like a rock star. John Lennon, to be exact. I have never had any trouble meeting women, but don’t judge hastily. Most other men with the same attributes have extreme difficulty. My challenge has always been meeting good women and by 1981, the supply was pretty much dried up.
There are no pictures from this era, so if you see any, they are transplants.]
