September 20th, 1967

In the I & Thou Café I sit talking with Frank's girl. I've met her at Nathan’s a couple times, but can't remember her name. I'm stoned, she's friendly, pursues conversation, asks about my novel.

All the time I'm looking for Mona & watching the people around us.

Deaf couple next to us, very romantic, talking passionately with hands. Chick playing violin. Kid reading The Hobbit. Guy & girl beside us: Girl says she’s hurting people because she’s been hurt.

“But I only hurt straight guys,” she says.

Max cleaning up tables.

“Would you believe I have three degrees and this is the best I can do?”

Couple walks by outside: both in black, collar around her neck, leash from her collar.

She mentions how busy Frank's been with the Free Press, photography, how he's so tired when he comes in, he goes to sleep right away. If she mentions it, he berates her for not being an understanding woman.

I ask her if she wants to take a walk on Haight Street.

After a couple blocks, she asks me if I want to go back to her place to smoke dope & listen to records.

"Are you sure Frank won't get uptight?" I ask her.

She says she doesn't think he cares about her anymore.

We go back, smoke, listen to records. I see her face contort & think it's the grass, but she's crying.

When I ask her what's wrong, she says, "I'm glad you're here."

"Why?"

"I've been so lonely." She starts crying again. "I'm so sad and lonely and unhappy."

I sit beside her & she calms down. I tell her I'm going to split. I want to see Mona.

"But I want you to stay for the night," she says.

I tell her I can only stay till midnight. She gets into nightgown, gets under covers.

"Why don't you come under with me," she says & tells me to turn out the light.

She doesn't want to be seen. She's plump earth-goddess. I get in bed with her, feel very turned on by her dark West Indian skin.

When we finish, I can't stand the idea of waking up to her in the morning. Still I lay enjoying her head on my chest, almost falling asleep.

Then I must go. Can't let the night die. She looks at clock.

"I feel better now,” she says. “You can go if you want. I'll be alright."

I know she'll spend a lonely night. How many times have I been in her lonely situation, yet I get up & leave. I'm a real bastard.

» September 25th, 1967 : The Bust