January 30, 1988

Just a boring Saturday, painting, listening to Sade. Feeling slightly guilty because I am not doing homework.  But I did do the laundry.  Big deal. I have been thinking about going to that other college again.   I wish I could definitely decide.  I think I only want to go when I am bored.  Which is stupid because I will be twice as bored back home.  This is the weekend that we are moving into the new house.  Too bad I won’t be there to help move.  Oh well. I am dreaming a new dream.  I see a man murdered and he is part of the mafia so a CIA agent and I go into hiding. But a lot of cops and agents are involved so we go over seas to hide.  We spend some time in Paris but then we are discored.  That is all I have so far.

I need to write a great story.  I can’t think of any good ones though.

Let’s change the subject.  I am trying to write a collection of 1920’s slang words:

  • Cat’s pajamas
  • Bee’s knees
  • Take a powder
  • Scram
  • Hit the bricks
  • Humdinger
  • Don’t give a hoot
  • Buddy
  • Yammerin (talking)
  • Be a pal
  • Hooch
  • Bronze Cocktail
  • Dance the hoochie coochie
  • Cocking with gas
  • babykins
  • bear cat
  • shiek
  • eatn  him (bothering him)
  • floozies
  • lover
  • take a hike
  • In the flesh
  • Kick off your shoes
  • Scotched it (Messed it up)
  • Says you
  • Come on in, the water is fine
  • That’s what I figured
  • Rag top (Convertible car)
  • Big Shots
  • Go on
  • So long
  • It was a real gas
  • Piece of talent (girl)
  • Living it up
  • Out of the running
  • Great time of things
  • Swell
  • Can (butt)
  • Hittin on all six’s
  • Stiffo
  • Brother
  • Swell digs
  • How’s about
  • Stick around
  • Dime a dozen
  • It’s been a ball
  • So long

Check out H.C. Handy, the father of blues, Scott Joplin, Jelly Roll Morton, Duke Ellington, and Bye Bye Blackbird.

January 27, 1988

Three days since I have written, how will you ever forgive me? I am here listening to “Somewhere in Time” in between homework. Hey, I have a class with C. So of course he is talking to me. I would love to have him like me. It would serve him right. I am having a dream. I am going out with a smart, funny, sexy farmer who is a senior. He leaves to go to medical school. We write to each other but our letters dwindle over the years. Now, I am like twenty-three and I am at a party with a guy who is my husband but I have realized that I do not love him. Ryan, as I call him in my story, sees me from across the party. Our eyes meet and my breathe is taken away as he keeps his eyes on me as he walks towards me. And that’s it for now.

Goodnight My Dearest,