December 9th, 1980 12:05 am – Tuesday

An hour ago John Lennon was shot twice in the back outside of his New York City apartment. He was rushed to the hospital – PRONOUNCED DEAD ON ARRIVAL.  

I can’t believe this. I am so crushed. I was in Craig’s room when this girl Nancy walked in and said, ” Did you hear?? John Lennon is dead.” Neither Craig or I believed her. But I felt my heart sink and I felt nauseous.

She said what happened. I held my ears. I refused to believe it. It couldn’t be true.

The whole dorm was talking about it. All the radio stations are playing Lennon.

It’s just not fair. I grew up with him and the Beatles. I feel as if I know him. And I love him. He’s like a friend. He’s fucking dead.

What kind of sicko could do such a fucking thing!!

I just want to cry. It’s not fair. Not him. Not John Lennon. He is immortal.

Will the others attend the funeral? Paul, Ringo, and George. A very sad day in history. I think it is the saddest for me ever.

I called Popper and told him. I needed to cry with him. He couldn’t believe it. I wish I was there with him. I wish I was home.

The news says the who guy shot him was “a local screwball”. NO MOTIVE.

I hope he fucking gets killed. SICKO!

Poor Yoko. Man, she must be going crazy. His kids will grow up not knowing what a beautiful, generous man they had for a dad.

I cried so hard. I still can’t believe it. I am very affected by this. It will take me a very long time to comprehend this.

I won’t be able to handle the news coverage.

I hope they don’t show any of the funeral or other Beatles on TV, I’ll wail.


I went upstairs to 910. They were all cracking jokes about John Lennon’s death. I got upset. They said I was being dumb for getting upset. I tried to stick up for myself and him – I nearly cried in front of them – but I forced myself not to They think I’m over-reacting. I wish they understood how personal this is to me..

As I was coming downstairs, I bumped into a girl I know, KB. She was crying hysterically. I sat with her for awhile. I cried a little, but I actually found it hard to cry with her. I had to call my mom.

I can’t remember the last time I cried to my mom about anything. I don’t think I’ve shared anything so upsetting with her.. I usually share it with Popper.

I called her and cried hysterically to her. I knew she would understand. I just had to talk to her.

She was stunned.

A fucking senseless murder!!

What is happening to our society? How could something like this happen? He was murdered. ASSASSINATED.

This is a black, black day in history. And I am no exaggerating this. This is important. A rock star!! Killed – MURDERED. CRAZY.

I don’t want to see tomorrow’s paper. I’m gonna breakdown.

What an impact. Many thousands, millions of people will be affected by this.

A radio station here in Boston, WBCN, has gotten word that all regular programming will be suspended  for 24 hours because of this.

I’m so sad.

I wish someone was here to hug me. I want Popper – I love him. I wish I could cry in his arms.

I think I’m gonna go to sleep now. I’m gonna cry, I know I will. It’s so hard for me to express how I feel about this. I truly believe that society wouldn’t be the way it is today without the Beatles. And John Lennon brought peace and love into this crazy, mixed-up world And he was only 40 years old when he was senselessly taken out of this fucked up world.

Witnesses said that the suspect put into the police car had a smirk on his face.

I’m not going to end this entry into my journal with song lyrics tonight. There are no lyrics that can express the way I feel, that can express such tragedy, or that can express what a beautiful human being John Lennon was. I’ll close with this pain in my heart. I will feel it for a long time to come. And each time I come back and read this, I will feel the emptiness creep into me like it has tonight. And I’ll cry.

To John Lennon, I love you. Rest In Peace.





December 3rd, 1980 – Wednesday

I haven’t had time to write. I’m too busy. Thanksgiving was okay. I didn’t eat much. Popper and Ryan say I’m fat. I didn’t get to see Carol much. That bummed me out.

Now I’m back and I’ve got shitloads of stuff to do. Only a week and half left of Term 1. It went so fast. I really screwed up this term. But I’ve learned my lesson.

December 15th is the Bruce Springsteen concert!! I can’t wait. I’m gonna let it all out at the concert. Hyper-City!

After the concert, I go home (on the 16th) for x-mas. But will I have a chance to relax when I get there? NOOOooooo! I’ve gotta go x-mas shopping and make x-mas cards, etc. “Happy Holidays”

“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas

Just like the ones I used to know…”

p.s. – Just thought I’d add that Popper and I got along like cat and dog while I was home. We sorta made an agreement to see other people, if anything comes up, and “hang buck” for awhile. Things will work out.

And, I saw Rick B while I was home. We stayed out until 5 o’clock drinking at the Ramapough Inn. We had a blast. He is such a sweetheart. He said a lot of nice things to me when he drove me home. For the strong, macho-type, he certainly has a lot of deep running emotions.

I think the funniest thing that he said to me was, “You are such a fox!” I cracked up in his face – he got pissed and went on and on about it. What a card.

He also said he loved me a lot as a friend, that he cares about me, and he’s glad that we stayed friends and kept in touch when we went away to school.He aslo said he missed me a lot while he was away. I swear I thought he was gonna cry. I couldn’t believe the things I was hearing. Out of the blue he was saying this stuff. I miss him! I wan to talk to him – he’s “a cool dude in a loose mood.”(Crazy Joe and the Variable Speed Band – Eugene)

Anyway… I’ve gotta get back to work. I hope to write a lot when I get through with all my papers and finals.

“I can see you in the morning when you go to school

Don’t forget your books, ya know you’ve got to learn the Golden Rule”

November 20th, 1980 – Thursday

I think you can tell when my life (or my mind) becomes disorganized – my room becomes disorganized. Papers clutter my desk top, my dresser top, and the top of my trunk. Things that I’ve clipped out and I’m saving for one dumb reason or another are falling from everywhere. My note pad has got things written everywhere – do this, do that, write this paper, remember, etc. I’m a mess. I want to go home and hug Popper. I don’t have any desire whatsoever to go to another class or go to work. I don’t even feel like going to get my bus ticket to go home. I just want to be there.


I had weird dreams last night. I can only remember bits and pieces. I remember being in my bathroom here, drying myself off. Ryan and Popper were in there. A cockroach, or some sort of overgrown bug, fell on me, in my hair. I started screaming and thrashing my arms around wildly. Ryan and Popper laughed. They didn’t move a muscle to help me. I asked them if it was out of my hair and they said yes but they thought it was down my shirt. Suddenly my whole attitude changed – I said,”Fuck it! I don’t care where it went!”

The other part I remember had sex in it. I don’t remember the whole thing so it isn’t even worth writing about.

I didn’t go to my Public Speaking class today. I was supposed to do a speech. It was the last day to do them. I have a rotten feeling inside of me. Not because I didn’t go to class and give my speech, but because he made it clear to the whole class that he was really pissed off at me. I’m not sure who he told exactly, but 3 people came up to me who said that he said that I am to see him Monday afternoon. And that I am failing his class. I can assume that he announced it to the whole class. That pisses me off. My grades do not concern the whole class. It is none of their business whether I pass or fail. And besides, they probably don’t give a shit either.

I know I am looking at this all wrong. But in situations like this, I always look at them wrong. I should really be pissed at myself for not going to class. Alright, I admit it was a dumb (asinine!) thing to do. I sort of knew the consequences – I didn’t expect them to be like this, but I expected something. But, I’m a stubborn old bitch – when I fix my mind on not doing something, I stick to it. God, I’m so rotten. I still can’t figure myself out.

Now I don’t know what to do about seeing/talking with Prof. Burnett. I’m leaving Monday. I should call. But what can I say? I could invent some horrendous lie that sounds believable (I’m very good at those). But he doesn’t believe bullshit. He knows it when he hears it, I can tell.

I wonder if he would yell at me. I’ve never seen him get pissed before (I missed today).

This is going to bother me for days. And I think I already know what I’ll probably end up doing… not calling him and going home and having a great Thanksgiving vacation. All will be fine until the next Thursday, when I walk into Public Speaking. Facing all those people who know how pissed he was at me. And then he will walk in… What would he do? And say?

I think I’m gonna go to bed. At some point in time this weekend I will come up with a great idea. I hope.

I hope Popper calls tonight. I don’t dare tell him what sort of situation I’m in though. He’ll be really pissed. And I mean heavy emphasis on “really”.

I also don’t want to tell Meg or Craig. I don’t want to catch too much shit. I’ve had enough in one day to last me awhile.

I wonder why Todd hasn’t stopped by tonight. He usually does (about 6 times a day!). I just realized I used to stop up there all the time – but now I rarely do. I don’t even go to the ninth floor to see Craig anymore either. What’s the matter with me? I think I’m sinking into a slump. I hope Popper can save me.

When everything is going great, everything is going real great. And when everything is going bad, everything is going real bad. No in-between. Is that true for me? And did someone else say that before? It sounds so familiar.

I just flipped through all the written-on pages. They kind of crackle. It’s a neat sound. I like it. It sounds so important, like I’ve accomplished something, like I’ve gotten a lot of important work done.

I remember even when I was a little kid I liked the sound of lots of used paper. I remember writing in my “Spy Books”. I had a bout six of them. Each one had something in written in them, either about a person or an incident.

Something inside me tells me I’m destined to be a writer. I don’t know why I feel this way. But this feeling has been there for a long time – a very long time. Am I a frustrated writer? Maybe someday this fantastic feeling will overwhelm (I don’t ever recall having to spell that word before. I have no idea as to how to spell it!) me. I will feel that I have a fantastic idea – a story – to write. I’ll write and write. Maybe write a book? Get it published? Make money and become famous? I think I’ve been reading too  much of The World According to Garp by John Irving. I think I’ll take a break from it for awhile. I don’t want to start living in a dream world (though sometimes I think I am and somewhere out there is a reality world that I , and everyone, will reach someday).

“Dear Sir or Madame, could you read my book?

It took me years to write, will you have a look?

It’s based on a novel by a man named Lear…”

November 18th, 1980 – Tuesday

It snowed last night. Ryan called last night, too. He is such a sweetheart. We always have great conversations. I think he really cares about me, my health, my sanity, and my relationship with Popper. I really love Ryan. He is a beautiful person and a very good friend. I can’t wait to see him over Thanksgiving break. He is so much fun to be with. Popper gets annoyed when Ryan and I crack dirty jokes or say things with underlying sexual meanings. He knows that I had a crush on Ryan in August and that Ryan is attracted to me.


Hmmm – I’ve forgotten what I wanted to say.

Now that Lisa is gone I have the whole room to myself. For awhile (maybe for an hour or two), I thought that I would be real lonely without someone here to bug the shit out of me. But that thought left my mind a long time ago. I really enjoy being alone here, unbothered, listening to my music.

I’ve got so much to say, but so little time and energy to write. I guess I’ll have to remind myself to write about: the room, the city of snow, Craig and Todd. And Matthew too. I hope I get the chance soon, while these thoughts are still fresh in my mind.

“And we were oh oh, so you know
Not the kind to dawdle
Will the things we wrote today
Sound as good tomorrow
We will still be writing
In approaching years
Stifling yawns on Sundays
As the weekends disappear”


I wish my cats were here! I want hugs from them!

November 14th, 1980 – Friday

I just don’t understand things. So many people are fucked up. Why am I so happy here? How come I have no complaints? I know the school system is screwed up – disorganized. I know that the courses aren’t very demanding. I know all that shit! But shit – I am happy here. I think I can get what I want here. I don’t care if the courses aren’t tough enough. The extra clubs and organizations make up for all that. How come I can see that and appreciate it while others can’t? I think that the people who want to leave are leaving for the wrong reasons. They are either too homesick, too hung up with a boy/girlfriend at home, or they are too hung up on themselves – so they blame the school.

Lisa decided yesterday that she wanted to leave. So, she packed her things. They’ve all been sent away, the room is almost bare. She is leaving tomorrow morning. For good. She isn’t even staying to finish the term – no credits. What a waste of time and money.

I don’t even want to talk about it. I’m so pissed at people. And I have so many fucking questions going through my head.

Like, how come I am happy with myself? I don’t feel insecure or immature or scared or self-conscious, etc. I have “peace of mind”. I never understood what that meant before – but now I do. Because I feel it. I feel that I can be honest with myself. And with others. Of course, I can’t say I have been totally honest with others, because I haven’t told Popper about Craig. But inside my head I’m being honest about how I feel about them and where the relationships are heading. As far as I’m concerned everything is under control and I’ve got my shit together.

Sometimes I wonder when things are gonna fall apart. These feelings can’t go on this long and be so good. Something is bound to happen. Something has got to fuck up. Shit – I don’t want it to. I want to feel this good all the time.

Of course there are days when I will get depressed and be a bummer. But that is within me – I will handle that separately from the things that surround me. If my surroundings start to crumble around me, then I’ll be in trouble. One upset will lead to another and another. And eventually there will be disaster. The surroundings are sometimes out of my reach. I can’t control other people and their emotions. I can’t control a lot of these sort of things – actually I can’t control any. But right now, every piece of life’s intricate puzzle seems to be in place and fitting  snugly.

I guess I’m trying to say that there are two worlds for me – my environment and my “inner being”. They have to be dealt with in tow different ways. I feel that I can handle my inner part, at least at this point in my life. But, like I said, the environment is out of my reach. To a certain extent. People always say that if you wan to be happy, you have to make yourself happy. I mean, make things work for you in order to be happy. I agree with that, but life isn’t that fucking simple. Am I making sense? I know what I want to say, but I’m having such trouble expressing it.

I want to read this to someone. Not have them read it. But me read it to them. I will feel a lot better. I want to hear myself say this – express it – out loud to someone who will listen. Someone who knows me. Maybe Craig will listen…

“If everyone was listening, ya know, There’d be a chance that we could save the show”

November 11th, 1980 – Tuesday – Veterans Day – No School

Last night I talked to Todd (a friend of mine from the ninth floor) for a real long time. He’s really nice. And funny as hell. He’s not the type that cracks jokes all the time – he just says funny, natural things. “He’s a natural!”


So anyway – we were drunk – well I was – he never seems to get drunk. We just talked and talked about all sorts of things. I told him how I was a burn-out in ninth grade and about getting into that car accident with FR. (and then going to some people’s house and stealing lots of pot – the same day I nearly died in that accident! What a derelict I was!) He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t think I was ever like that. I really shocked him.

He’s a neat guy. He’s 22 and I don’t feel any age difference between us at all. But then again, I never do with anybody. It is as though there is no space in age, between people that I am with – we kind of “flow” together. (”Wow, cosmic man!”). I’m 2 years older than Carol and we have never felt any difference in maturity or immaturity. JR. is 2 years older. And Doug is. And DC. is one year younger. I know that’s no big deal – or difference. But it seems as though when you’re younger you always hang around people your own age. I mean, in 9th and 10th grade. I’ve always hung around people who were older than me.

Todd says things to me that make me feel good about myself. Other people can say the same things but I don’t necessarily believe them or respect their opinion (aren’t I rotten?).

Like he’s told me that I am very mature. I don’t seem 18 at all and I’m not typically “freshman”. He says I seem to adjust very well and I’ve got a good head on my shoulders. And he also said that I’m independent.

Now I feel good. Someone as mature and intelligent as him said that about me. Me – the girl who doesn’t have much self-esteem or self-confidence.

I guess I should go on an all-out ego trip here. I wanna analyze some things that people have said about me.

Last week Craig tried explaining something to me – something about seeing girls. In the process he was telling me what he liked about me. He said that he thinks I’m intelligent. “I don’t know about schoolwork and technical facts and stuff, but about life and people.” He says I have a good head on my shoulders (again!), and I’ve got my shit together. And I’m very attractive.

Now Ryan. Great guy – we’re really good friends – said that I have a certain “air” about me. I’m “sophisticated” and more mature than girls my age.

Now, I can’t figure it out. All during high school I got shit all the time. People said I was screwed up in the head. No – I was told I was fucked up – I “had problems”. I was an asshole or a slut. And the best one was that I was a suicide case. Isn’t that a nice thing to say to someone?

People in high school are total assholes. All those dumb cliques. Everyone wore masks and tried to be people they weren’t. Pretty good actors. Oh, I hate to say it, but I was caught up in that masquerade, too. What a fool I was. I actually worried about what people would think or say about me. That was dumb – they were so busy trying to identify themselves, why should I care what they thought of me. God! High school – or our teenage years – is a massive case of identity crises!

But what does that have to do with what I was saying before? I drifted again.

How are things so different here? Why do people accept me differently? I’m well-liked. I’m seen in such a different perspective. Different – I use that word a lot. It’s vague though. Tough – it;s the only one I feel like using!

I wonder how Popper sees me. I think that he use to see me as insecure, dumb, and a baby. But I have a feeling that he doesn’t feel that way anymore – or at least not as much. I think he thinks that I have slipped a little bit out of reach. I bet he’s scared that I’ve grown up and I’m very independent: I won’t need him as much.Well, to a certain extent I have grown up and become more independent, less insecure, more self-confident, and etc. But I know that as soon as I’m back in his arms I’ll be a little baby again!! But, I do want him to realize that even though I am still his baby, I have changed too. I hope he can accept that. I don’t want him to become angry and frustrated by it. I know that when I talk about all the great things I do here, he gets angry and it hurts him. He is so scared of losing me. I tell him not to worry, but it is so hard to convince him.

November 9th, 1980 – Sunday

I had like 6 things that I wanted to say, but I got up, went to the bathroom, put on an album, and forgot what they were!


I really should have started this journal the 1st day I came to Emerson. Wow, college! For years and years people talk about college, while you’re still in high school. But when you get there – here – it’s no big deal. Well, that’s not true for everybody. I don’t mean to sound like I’m not thrilled to be here. I love it here. I don’t ever wanna go home!!!! (that is – for good. I mean live there and not go to school and work in Caldors the rest of my life).

Emerson College is great, the people are wonderful. I fit in here so much better than I did in high school. I look back now and realize that I was never comfortable in high school. I was a nobody – sort of. You had to be in a clique to be a part of things – to be “in”. Fuck that shit!! People here except me for what I am. They don’t dislike me for what I’m not. I’m unique here. People respect me and I respect them.

I don’t think it’s the same in all colleges. This college is full of articulate, artistic, open people. There are so many theater majors and radio majors and etc. I’m right where I should be. I think I can get something done and have a fantastic time while I’m at it.

“Don’t surround yourself with yourself, move on back to squares, send an instant comet to me, initial it with loving care”