4.06.2015

Journal, January 25, 1976 AM

Yesterday, after writing in this journal, it occurred to me that I had skipped over a couple of the most important thoughts in my mind, while meticulously recording events I didn’t give a shit about. I’ve got to find a balance somehow between events & ideas so this thing doesn’t deteriorate into a Mickey Mouse exercise.

<I woke up today thinking about Sofia again.> I’m going through a weird stage of doubt - self-doubt, doubt of her value as a potential mate (though not of her fidelity or sincerity), guilt for doubting the value of a beautiful person who can love so easily and straightforwardly, doubt of my capacity (or willingness!) to take on married life right now. I look at her picture often, as if it were going to tell me if she’s the woman for me or not! I’ve thought about taking Jan and her friends down to Costa Rica to meet her as a means of getting an outside opinion of her from folks whose opinions I respect. <A large part of it is just the agony of being separated from Sofia after experiencing such strong feelings for her.>

After a morning buzz to El Maizal, Jay & I helped Profy {Gomez} with the well here at the rancho {beach house}, yesterday afternoon. Profy is so amazing; he is fantastic with (the caretaker) Adan’s kids, and handles drunken Adan gently, a little cynically, but never angrily even though Adan is one of the most trying drunkards I’ve ever known. He hangs around & hangs around, uttering pure nonsense, annoying you by standing in your way and otherwise demanding attention. He lives drunk; doesn’t sleep one off before starting another, simply lives drunk. We reached water, about a foot of it, with the tubing.

In "Fear and Loathing" {"Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail '72"} I reached the Wisconsin Primary last night. It was fascinating to read about the major personalities in the primary campaign, and where the candidates’ heads were really at then, since I was in the midst of that primary back in Madison in ’72. Thompson’s stories of self-sacrifice by (especially out-of-state) McGovern volunteers makes the little bit of half-assed campaign work I did look puny (it was). His story about the dedication of volunteers to George McGovern brought back a scene from election night (November) the same year. I was living in a co-op. We were all pro-McGovern and watching the election results on T.V. When George came on to give his recognition-of-defeat speech, a Black girl I hardly knew, who was sitting next to me, grabbed my arm in tears. “Oh, George!” she cried - I don’t remember what else. He brought out emotion in his supporters; just seemed so upright & so good you wanted him to win against all odds!

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