So I stayed up past 1:00 last night reading those very journals.
WHAT A TWIT I WAS!
Page after page details my latest obsessions as regards Ken, Dave, Richard, Richard, Richard, Bobby, Chris, Arthur, Dennis, Dennis, William, Robert, Robert, Dino, Lew, Lester, Frank, Joe and any number of nameless hunks of man flesh that passed through my 20 year old consciousness. I had to stop and concentrate to even figure out just who these people were who were causing me soooo much psychic pain. If there was ever a person who should have had his confessional singer/songwriter albums confiscated, it was me! And of course, my insights in my then-brand-new relationship with Robert were dead wrong. Mostly. At least I had the good sense even then to realize I was swimming in waters way over my head. Anyone with more sense and less desperation would have just swam for shore.
I put the journals away and went to bed. I guess I'll have another look in 10 years. Maybe.