Desperation lives in a singles apartment.

July 15, 1977  (I was 32)

         Desperation lives in a singles apartment.  He

drinks beer in the parking lot when he gets out of work at

11:00 pm.  When he is home his apartment door is open

and his chair is in direct line for viewing the hallway.  He

checks out anything that happens by.  He drives a black

sporty hardtop with gold and red striping. His life is waxed

and amplified.  His cool sounds filter down the hall.  This

guy’s first name is not Quiet.  He is on the firing line with

every chick that comes within range and he is in direct

competition with every other heterosexual male.  In mixed

company, all is fair.  In the company of other men, it’s

statistics, hits and misses.  He hates fags though he rather

suspects they find him quite appealing.