Timothy Leary

10/18/90

I had a strange day today. This morning, there was an earthquake while I was brushing my teeth.

Then, during work, this very good looking blonde sorority girl took a pee while we cleaned out the lady’s room. I told her “bye.”

Then I went to see the G. Gordon Liddy / Timothy Leary debate. It was good fun / sinister Liddy arguing that he was right in breaking the law because of his own morality, like a true lawyer.

I snuck into the reception afterwards—they were checking the guest list, then a bunch of government in, so I slipped in w/ them.

We all crouched at Leary’s feet, eager to listen to him. I didn’t get a chance to talk much to him, he was being mobbed, but I got a chance to listen. He was in good shape, especially considering his age. His fluid movement reminded me of the Pink Panther, though he called Liddy: “Inspector Clouseau.”

I talked a little to Liddy, Leary left a bit early, though I talked to his entourage also: He said that he agreed w/ the basic premise of Libertarianism, but that in reality it wouldn’t work. He’s smart and sinister. I had to get his autograph.

Then, later on the candy machine gave me an extra dime, so I could get a bag of Lays, as well as peanut cookies.

Then, the fire alarm went off for bread baking & we all stood in the rain & freeze for ½ hour.

Harry looked up, ashamed, “Sorry about that momentary outburst of personal problems, it won’t happen again.”

The woman looked down, “Well, you’re forgiven this time, but we won’t be so lenient the next.”

Harry took the slip of paper that the faceless woman handed him. It said “proceed to department D.”

So, on he went down to the gray corridor to a door with a big brown D on it. He went in.

“Come, come here,” said another faceless woman behind a steel reception desk. Her hair was tied tight in a bun, and her eyes were dark and black like little black holes, pinpricks w/o light. She fidgeted beneath her grey syntho-wool miniskirt.

He handed over the card. She tore it from him.

“Do you have your identification number?” she said.

“Oh yes,” he said, fumbling for his card through his old leather wallet. “Sorry I haven’t memorized it. Here it is.”

He read his number off to her and she typed it onto the computer.

His file flashed up onto the black and white screen.

“Ugh,” said the woman, “I see the problem right here, you were terminated six months ago.”