May 4, 1978 – Journal Entry

Shitting is a great release of tension. Antonio at the Ebasco dining room and I share the same schedule.

“Every time I eat here, I gotta take a shit 30 minutes later.”

“Right before we serve lunch.”

“Like clockwork.”

“And then at 2.”

Tick-tock.”

I had only been constipated once in my life at fourteen. I didn’t shit for two days and suffered an excruciating pain in my bowels. No one was home at my parents’ house and I finally sat on the toilet for an hour, then I found an enema plunger and followed the directions. Warm water up my ass. Ten minutes later release and relief.

LATER

Today I have not one cent. I jumped the turnstile of the subway, both coming and going to Ebasco on Wall Street. My bag was stuffed with left-overs from the executive dining room. I was prepared for the worst, but arrived at the SRO hotel to find a letter from the IRS.

$308.90.

The last money I’ll received for teaching at South Boston High School.

They are still having riots over bussing.

I’m glad to be away from all that hate.

Now all I have to do is find a place to cash my check.

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