The freewriting I did yesterday was the visual 1/2 of a video I would like to do.

    John is wearing a beach hat and shirt and sunglasses. He is eating an apple. I think he is probably a very bright guy, but he just tones it down by goofing off in class. Maybe I should try not to encourage him to be funny, but I don't want to seem cold.

    I don't know how I'm going to do on the S.A.T. I'm not going to be able to study much at all. I have too much homework as it is. Mr. Fisher doesn't care what you say the whole class could be flunking and he wouldn't tell them and he wouldn't slow down. Mr. Johnson is just a zealous, new teacher who will not be as good next year, but a hell of a lot easier to work with. Mr. Bedell knows that Sandra and I got stuck in the 'bonehead government' class, and he takes pretty good care of us and lets us out of class. Mrs. Lingelser is my favorite teacher. She can be really nice without comprimising herself.

More Homework! Too Much! Aiee! I'll never get to study for the S.A.T. Now!


Freewriting Non-assignment (#249)

I must stink. I'm sweating like an ox. Delivering these stupid carnations is hell. [Some fundraiser thing where one could order a flower to be delivered to someone else]


Physical – there are too many different kinds of people I'm attracted to to decide on a particular look.

    I don't believe in perfection so this assignment is impossible from the start.


I feel dumped on. I won't change my mind unless he changes. He is too demanding. I don't want to go steady with anyone. [I guess I had split up with or assumed I was split up with the current boyfriend being written about to this point] I tell him over and over and he keeps saying "well, maybe you'll change your mind" "If you change your mind tell me o.k." TAKE CARE OF YOUR OWN DAMN SELF, NATHAN. GROWL.

Oh depression, oh forlornness! [I see my anger to sadness converter was in fine working order in those days]

Age and the presidency

[freewriting exercise for English class]

How does age affect the presidency? I believe that age is as good a general method as any for judging maturity. By age 35 most people are reasonably mature, if not intelligent. As for a maximum age, I think people vary a lot more and retirement could be determined better by some sort of test. Some people can stay mentally active and alert until they die and some become senile at age 12. I don't think anyone who is completely incompetent could remain in office long enough to do irreparable damage, so it would be better not to eliminate good people merely because of their age.

Saltcoats, Ayrshire, Scotland

From travel journal written by Mum Jinx:

"Left San Francisco 9:00a.m. yesterday—clear flying clear across country—had a 3-hour layover at New York, where Dinah struck up a lively acquaintance with two lads from Manchester (England), Nick (9) and Giles (5). A short night across the Atlantic, trying without great success to sleep in cramped space, with some restless fellow-travelers, and chairs that didn't recline quite enough. But we survived, watched the sunrise over the clouds… The pilot announced heavy fog at Prestwick 'supposed to be clearing' but with a possibility we would have to go straight on to Machester. We hoped hard—and it did clear. Arrived at Prestwick, checked through customs, etc., by about 8:30a.m. Went to Godfrey Davis car rentals for our car—Paul practiced right-side-of-car, left-side-of-street driving while Dinah & I bought (with her money, to be paid back—she was the only one with British currency) a road map at the Information window. Walked back outside—climbed in the car, ready to go—and shut the door on Dinah's fingers! Fortunately, only the padding and rubber pinched her, not the metal, so she was bruised and hurt, but not broken. We found the airport medical office, where a very kind nursing sister bathed & bandaged the fingers and offered reassurance—and told us to be sure to see Bobby Burns' cottage, only six miles away.

And we did—a simple stone & stucco cottage, with four rooms—kitchen, sitting room, stables, & storage room—few windows, uneven cobblestone floor, thatch roof, low ceiling. Beds were little niches in the wall of the kitchen, with hanging curtains—either people were shorter then, or they always slept curled up. Outside, some gardens—but we were getting quite cold & tired, so didn't take time to see them. Paul spoke with the gardener, in suitcoat, white shirt, & tie, mowing the lawn. (Later on the road we saw a crew of men doing some construction—also in coats & ties. But there are also laborer's clothes, knee pants, sweaters, jacket, and cap.)

Checked Ayr for guest houses but found them rather expensive (£5.25 or £5.75 per night for the three of us), so we drove back up the coast. Stopped at Saltcoats—cashed a traveler's check—and found a very plain, unclassy, but inexpensive bed & breakfast spot (£4.00 the night). Slept the rest of the morning & all afternoon. I (Jinx) woke up about 5:00—Paul & Dinah still sleeping (I'd slept more on the plane) & went for a walk—picked up some information & amenities. When I got back, a bit past 5:30pm, we all got up, dressed, and went to dinner (not bad—a bit greasy—£1.30 for everything). Then took a long walk back along the shore—lots of rocks & tide pools, millions of tiny mussels, limpets, snails; a few hermit crabs—discovered the penny arcade with slot machines, a roulette machine, etc. and had a fine time in the course of losing aobut 15 or 20p, in an hour or more. Then back here to our room—discussion of where to go tomorrow—and so to bed. Our first day, a good one. And better to come."