Dec. 31, 1983—New York–I have decide to try and maintain a diary this year. It will be more like a ledger (Scott Fitzgerald maintained a literary ledger detailing a monetary and publishing history of his work as well as a month by month short hand diary of his life for use as raw material–I will try to do the same) than a “dark night of the soul.” I already make a practice of jotting down phrases which interest me, occur to me or I happen to read, so I will use this diary as a repository for all my little bits of paper.
It might be a nice place to maintain the weather and to reflect a bit on the news of the day. Since my business actually is carefully registered I will not concern myself with that but I know that I keep hardly any track at all of my social time so that will be recorded. A minimum entry requirement might not be a bad idea. A lot of nights I barely get my socks off, or not even, so I might use today as a prototype—the last day of 1983. A year book is a poor place to reminisce, so I will merely note that the year passes without great feeling or particular regret.
First Daybook Entry
Sat. Dec. 31, 1983—New York–The weather is cold and bright, the sky clear. Slept on the sofa and slept. Spent 2 hours on my play, rattled away on the guitar, then took a bundled-up walk down Fifth Ave. I walked part of the way behind a youngish couple, she with a very hearty laugh, and overheard her talking about her mother walking for half an hour every day round and around the same block. He said, “So I have heard.” I approved of that. Once I got home, I sat down and wrote a note to Spectra Films requesting a promotional still photo of Nathalie Baye, a French film actress who is a favorite of mine. J.M. is having a New Year’s Eve party, I probably will go. C.H. said tonight on the telephone, “Happy New Year with skates on it…and stars.” I hope so.