September 13th, 1967

Thinking about Rachel when I walk in the door. Ten seconds later she calls. Wants me to come to Berkeley, but it’s too late. She's more disgusted with Berkeley than she was with San Francisco. Had to fight off some guy last night.

I ask her if she's sleeping with anyone.

"Not in Berkeley,” she says.

Something strange about her calling me so often late at night.

Tells me she’s so accustomed to talking to me before going to sleep that she has to do it by phone. She says she talks to me while making love to other guys.

I tell her we’ll have to have a nice talk the next time she comes by.

“I hope we can always be friends,” I tell her.

“Why do we have to limit it to that?”

She says we’ll have to have a nice talk “outside of bed.”


» September 15th, 1967 : The Deal Goes Down



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