In the Shadow of the American Dream by David Wojnarowicz

He says he was gonna go either (1) to a movie, (2) to the Al-Anon meeting, (3) to the baths tonight. He chose the meeting and we talk for a while. I finally can’t take it and tell him I was feeling funny about the letter, how it might’ve been taken. He says, Hey, look, I’m telling ya I thought the letter was beautiful. I’m gonna keep it ’cause of that. I understood what you were saying, how our meeting woke up all these things in you. Ya can’t go back into the past and try to figure out my thoughts or anybody’s thoughts, like did he take it this way or that way ’cause it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t make a difference how someone perceives something like that. You wrote it and said what ya had to say and what I take it as isn’t your responsibility. If I take it wrong or other than you intended then that’s my problem if it’s a negative reaction that results. It’s just something that you can’t do anything about. That’s the way it goes and you shouldn’t worry about it. If it’s disappointing then still you’ve done what you thought was right and that’s all you can do. When I first read the letter I went, Uh oh … Oh no … and then I said, Lemme read this and take it just as it is and not add anything more, not read my own ideas into it. And I realized that it was beautiful—it came from this core within you, straight from the core, and that’s really good—
    September 4, 1978
    Charlie Plymell called this morning. Somehow he had gotten my number. He said he received the manuscript, he thought it was great, that it had chances for international publication, over in Europe. He had no money, was trying to figure out how to get tomorrow’s groceries, otherwise he would publish the book himself, he felt it was that good. He said that Ferlinghetti was sometimes “stupid on these things,” talking about publishing my book and how his book Last of the Mocassins has sold out and something about getting 250 dollars for the run and how he could have gotten 2,000 dollars for 500 copies but he fucked it up. He said that he didn’t know my chances for getting the book published, but that it was great. He recommended a book that I should read: Waiting for Nothing, by Kromer (Hill & Wang). He said Sylvia, a woman who owns a bookshop and helps edit Gasolin, would probably like some parts for Gasolin —check it out. Gotta write him from France.
    I called Dolores [David’s mother], and she said she had been to a medium and the medium got in contact with a British fella, a spirit, and that the fella, when asked about me said, Oh no oohhh … the stubborn one! He said that I had to realize, it is not a crime not to know everything. He said that I would be successful in my art and writing, that I would be healthy all my later life and I would get my hot temper under control after a while.
    He also said that Dad realized what he had done and that he was sorry for it and that he was at peace.

September 14–October 18, 1978
    Paris–Normandy
    Auto noir–l’an de le cheval
    September 16, 1978
    J.P. [Jean Pillu, Pat’s husband] drove Pat and I to the doctor’s on the left bank of the Seine. J.P. waited across the street in a bistro while we went inside. Pat was gonna have an IUD inserted because she wants to get off the pill. I went into the outer doctor’s office while she explained the problems I was having with a rash and prescription. The doctor took me inside and examined me and then took Pat inside for the insertion of the IUD. The door remained open and after a couple of minutes she started yelling in pain—it was terrible. I thought of how terrible it is that women undergo this sort of shit for men. It’s something I would never say to her as I feel she might get upset. I might not have any business saying it anyhow. But I remembered when Jez and I were in our relationship,