January 9, 1995 1905

In April I am planning on climbing Mt. Everest.  Something could stop me, but knowing myself, I have my mind pretty well made up and I really think I am going.  I realize that I could die on that mountain, but I can assure you that I don’t want to!  (Dad says I have a death wish because twenty years ago his brother Lester misunderstood that I wanted to go through Harlem at night, when in fact I actually was let off there by the Greyhound bus and I was scared out of my mind! We didn’t clear that up until last week, and Dad has been thinking this–in the back of his mind–for twenty years!)  So I figure I only have a few months left to leave something of myself behind.  I sure hope I have a long, free and healthy life after the climb (and with all my fingers and toes!),  but sometimes I need just such a thought to get me moving.  Do you realize that life can end any day?

So I am thinking:  what can I do between now and then?  I can write out my thoughts, how I see things, which I consider to be one of my most valuable assets (from my perspective it is the one thing which makes me unique),  and to try and print up a storm of photographs before I go: because I really love making photographs and it is another way, in a sense, of writing.  So if I was no longer lucky enough to be in a position to do so, at least I would have made one last effort and left behind the best I could.

I am so happy just to be writing, as if I am making a witness out of someone who might happen upon these writings.  Just the act makes me feel a bit better, as if all is not lost, as if there is some chance that some day my many unfulfilled dreams may come true.

And as to my life (and I think I persist in using ‘and’ at the beginning of sentences because I had an English teacher who once made it sound like a cardinal sin to start a sentence with the word ‘and’.  But I like the feeling of it.  And I couldn’t buy the fact that I was supposed to not do it because it was against the rules.  There has to be a good reason behind the rules to make me want to follow it.  Anyway, someone will edit it out if anything I ever write will be important.)…as I was saying, as to my life, it is a bit complicated, or rather more than a bit, although I am sure there are a lot of people with more complicated lives than me.  I have some women problems and some work problems and so what else is new,  right?  There’s so much I have not achieved and so much I long for, so much I am afraid of, a whirling dervish of desire and reality, boredom and fear, some delight, lots of warm feelings and some peevishness at the way the world operates (the human world that is).   By definition I guess, the world is unfair.

It’s now January 9th 1995.  I am supposed to leave on March 29th which leaves only about 79 days before I leave.  Then it is almost a month before I even start to progress any meaningful level up the mountain.  I am really quite frightened, as well I should be. And yet I know I will do everything I can to make it there and to make it–even–to the top.  The stay in Katmandu and Lhasa, the ride to base camp, all should be a fascinating experience, especially with what looms ahead.  And there is the drudgery and exhilaration of getting ready–running and weightlifting.  I think my mental clock is ticking and ringing now, so I guess I’ll go out and get it over with…for today.

1995

Chronology of the Everest trip
March
29 Depart San Francisco
30 Arrive Bangkok
31 Arrive Katmandu. Meet Jon Muir and Jon Tinker

April
1 Tour around and outside Katmandu
2 Tour to Bhaktapur. Have sex at massage parlor.
3 Go to the burning ghats and sit with the holy men, Katmandu
4 Leave Katmandu, rerouted to Chengdu, meet Ma Dan, out on town
5 Spend another night in Chengdu. Fred and I run to town 1 1/2
hours
6 Fly to Lhasa. Ma Dan comes to airport to see me off. See Laura
in Lhasa. Lovemaking. Walk in evening.
7 In Lhasa with Laura. Lovemaking. Visit Dropori, photos.
8 In Lhasa with Laura. Lovemaking. Visit Summer Palace. Have
dinner with team members.
9 Say goodbye to Laura. Leave Lhasa. Drive across Tibetan
countryside to Shigatse. Walk around Shigatse with Sumiyo.
Photos. Have dinner with her. Feel her leg.
10 Drive to Xegar. Photos near Hotel.
11 Tour Xegar. Climb hill above Xegar, photos. See Mount Everest
-Qomolongma- from top, also, Makalu, Cho Oyu and Shisha Pangma. In evening, see pretty girl again, determine to photo in morning.
12 Photo pretty girl in morning. Drive to Base Camp. Spectacular view from Pang La of all four peaks (above). Interesting villages along the way.
13 Hang out in Base Camp.
14 Hang out in Base Camp.
15 Ride to monastery, photos, walk back, snow.
16 Hike up ice cascade to 5600 m.
17 Hike from camp to 6407 m, glissade down ice patch. Return
to Base Camp.
18 Rest at Base.
19 Rest at Base. Leo films me as Captain Knowles.
20 Rest at Base.
21 Rest at Base.
22 Rest at Base. Go to ruins with Sumiyo.
23 Rest at Base. Climb Paska Kasa (6343 m). Get lost.
24 Walk from Base Camp to Interim (about 6100 m)
25 Walk from Interim to ABC.
26 Rest at ABC.
27 Ascend to North Col and descend back to ABC
28 Ascend to and sleep at North Col (7010 m)
29 Rest at North Col, took walk to about 7100 m
30 Ascend from North Col to Camp 2 (7600 m)

May
1 Descend from Camp 2 to ABC.
2 Leave ABC for Base Camp.
3 Rest at Base camp.
4 Rest at Base camp.
5 Rest at Base camp.
6 Rest at Base camp.
7 Rest at Base camp.
8 Rest at Base camp.
9 Hike to ABC
10 Rest ABC
11 To North Col with French
12 To Low Camp 2, lost Luke.
13 To High Camp 2, to 8000m, sleep Camp ?
14 Return to ABC
15 Rest ABC
16 Rest ABC
17 Rest ABC
18 Rest ABC
19 Rest ABC
20 Rest ABC
21 Arrive at North Col
22 Arrive at High Camp 2
23 Arrive at Camp 3
24 SUMMIT DAY, return to Camp 3
25 Arrive and sleep North Col
26 Return to ABC
27 Rest ABC
28 To Rabu La
29 Return to Base
30 Rest at Base camp.
31 ?

June
1 Rest at Base camp.
2 Rest at Base camp.
3 Rest at Base camp.
4 Travel from Base towards border (take photos of children), three flat tires.
Arrive Katmandu.

JANUARY 1995

January 9, 1995 1905
[P] [L] [A]

I figure if I type out a little of a file each day that I can adequately begin to record my life and my frustrations, joys, etc.

I have for so long been remiss in not doing so, and I feel some regret, although I am not sure how much good it would have done me. Life is so fleeting. It is well enough to record things, but so much more complicated to make something of your records. So I can only pray that some day these recordings will come to some good, or at least interesting, end. Gam, my grandmother, said something that caused me to think. She said that she felt she had had the talent to write but that she was always busy taking care of the children or what not. And she commented if she would’ve only written a few lines every day!! This seemed somewhat profound in its way. When I consider how many years she has seen. It would have really amounted to something – but the real truth is that it is because of whom she is – she is someone very special – someone who has important things to say.

Dr. Ross, whom I call ‘my counselor’, suggested maybe I need a ‘witness’ to my life. And he is so right. I feel that I need someone or some people to bear witness to what I have experienced. He mentioned the ego’s effort to aggrandize itself. That didn’t sound too good! But then I think there is something more than that. And even if it is only ego, then maybe ego is not all that bad. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I am gregarious. And anyway, I believe it is quite a natural human thing to want a witness and to want to leave something of themselves behind.

And that brings us to a point of sorts. In April I am planning on climbing Mt. Everest. Something could stop me, but knowing myself, I have my mind pretty well made up and I really think I am going. I realize that I could die on that mountain, but I can assure you that I don’t want to! (Dad says I have a death wish because twenty years ago his brother Lester misunderstood that I wanted to go through Harlem at night, when in fact I actually was let off there by the Greyhound bus and I was scared out of my mind! We didn’t clear that up until last week, and Dad has been thinking this – in the back of his mind – for twenty years!) So I figure I only have a few months left to leave something of myself behind. I sure hope I have a long, free and healthy life after the climb (and with all my fingers and toes!), but sometimes I need just such a thought to get me moving. Do you realize that life can end any day?

So I am thinking: what can I do between now and then? I can write out my thoughts, how I see things, which I consider to be one of my most valuable assets (from my perspective it is the one thing which makes me unique), and to try and print up a storm of photographs before I go: because I really love making photographs and it is another way, in a sense, of writing. So if I was no longer lucky enough to be in a position to do so, at least I would have made one last effort and left behind the best I could.

I am so happy just to be writing, as if I am making a witness out of someone who might happen upon these writings. Just the act makes me feel a bit better, as if all is not lost, as if there is some chance that some day my many unfulfilled dreams may come true.

And as to my life (and I think I persist in using ‘and’ at the beginning of sentences because I had an English teacher who once made it sound like a cardinal sin to start a sentence with the word ‘and’. But I like the feeling of it. And I couldn’t buy the fact that I was supposed to not do it because it was against the rules. There has to be a good reason behind the rules to make me want to follow it. Anyway, someone will edit it out if anything I ever write will be important.) … as I was saying, as to my life, it is a bit complicated, or rather more than a bit, although I am sure there are a lot of people with more complicated lives than me. I have some women problems and some work problems and so what else is new, right? There’s so much I have not achieved and so much I long for, so much I am afraid of, a whirling dervish of desire and reality, boredom and fear, some delight, lots of warm feelings and some peevishness at the way the world operates (the human world that is). By definition I guess, the world is unfair.

It’s now January 9th 1995. I am supposed to leave on March 29th, which leaves only about 79 days before I leave. Then it is almost a month before I even start to progress any meaningful level up the mountain. I am really quite frightened, as well I should be. And yet I know I will do everything I can to make it there and to make it – even – to the top. The stay in Katmandu and Lhasa, the ride to base camp, all should be a fascinating experience, especially with what looms ahead. And there is the drudgery and exhilaration of getting ready – running and weightlifting. I think my mental clock is ticking and ringing now, so I guess I’ll go out and get it over with…for today.

January 10, 1995 2210

‘Rather see the wonders of the world abroad than, living dully sluggarized at home, wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness,’ wrote Shakespeare. ‘Simplification of means and elevation of ends is the goal,’ wrote Thoreau. ‘Every start upon an untrodden path is a venture which, only in unusual circumstances, looks sensible and likely to succeed,’ wrote Albert Schweitzer. And so on. These are the kind of thoughts I cotton to…and every one of them I have used as my phone message, probably irritating the busy person while they wait to leave a phone message. I left a quote from Reinhold Meissner that started: ‘Mountain climber Reinhold Meissner said…’ One message on my machine said: ‘Stan Pilc, car salesman said…’

I ran tonight in the rain. And then I drove to the pier near aquatic park, a few blocks from where I was, and I called Kiyoko from my car phone, sitting in my car, I, wet from the rain and sweaty from running, the rotating beacon on Alcatraz flashing in the distance…’Thank you for calling…’ she said twice, and when I had a chance to think about it, I thought, ‘Maybe she’s with her boyfriend…’ When I got home, Amy was in the bathtub by candlelight. I went downstairs and called Kiyoko again and asked if she was with her boyfriend and she said ‘Yes.’ I said I was sorry and asked if I could call her tomorrow. She said she’d be out in the day and home in the evening.

I called Dad earlier in the evening. His hello was so heavy I immediately became disenchanted and extricated myself from the grasps of the conversation, then rolled down the road feeling even heavier than before I called…I am not happy. I have too much on my mind—and there are several reoccurring thoughts that hamper my happiness. I wonder what I would feel like if I had a father who was happy and healthy, who enjoyed life with a positive attitude and supported me in my zest for living…but alas, how many children enjoy such a parent? My Mom is much this way, thank god; and I think that my father more or less turned me against my mother when I was younger. My Dad criticizes others for being ‘grievance collectors’ but in his own way, he is a champion at it himself.

What a shame that I should have to worry that my own Father may shut down my business out of spite. Maybe he won’t really in reality; but then again, maybe he will!

Right now my body feels tired, my head lethargic from too much tea and sugar and not enough rest. I couldn’t sleep well in a way last night. Amy made love with me before I slept. It was intensely pleasurable, and I came inside of her again (day 10). Before I slept I had read about some more climbing expeditions on Everest…when I made love my fantasies had me finding a large breasted woman in an alpine cabin in the European Alps…she let me in the door out of the cold and let me sleep in her bed since there was no where else for me to sleep…we naturally made love… she was very lusty, natural and beautiful…my orgasm was very intense…almost always the fantasies and orgasms are intense when I make love with Mimi…and for this I consider her a very good lover…we both just drift off, usually nothing is said…but I feel a lot. Earlier in the evening I had read about the early ice climbers in the Alps, so this is where the images came from.

As I said, in a way I tossed and turned…but still I enjoyed my sleep immensely. Images of the mountain haunted me. I awoke very early, maybe at 4:30 a.m. I made some hot chocolate for us both. Amy began massaging the knot in my calf with her foot. I told Amy I should call for Saeda. But Saeda’s mother said she went to Nara on business. So I called Jack in Taiwan and then conferenced Joy’s mother in. This conversation was really sort of sad – to recount the dismal state of affairs with Joy.

When I returned to bed, Amy resumed massaging my calf with her foot for what seemed an hour, and this led into making love again…similar pleasurable fantasies…and then a deep sleep until 8:30 a.m. I roused myself to work, arriving at 9:30 a.m.

I make hot chocolate for Amy and myself now…and return to the computer to type. Yes, my future seems full of challenges. In a way, deep down I sense I am up to them; On one hand, I worry profusely and make mountains out of molehills, and on the other, I take my life in my hands. I know I am not invincible. Yet at times my spirit seems so. On one hand, I am a ‘chicken’, afraid to take risks. On the other, I am quite bold by normal standards. Is this because I calculate things out and assess that the risks are not as high as they seem – or that I see a bigger picture, and can safely act within parameters unseen by others…and now I am exhibiting yet another trait…my ego wants to me to believe that I am really unusual…

Soon I will go to bed and read on Everest, cuddle with Mimi, and go off to sleep again. I think of Laura in Shanghai. I am going to see her in 9 days…One of the remarkable things lately is that Amy is aware that I fell in love with Laura and that I slept with both Laura and Saeda in Asia on my last trip. Yet she does not retaliate in any way. She treats me like an emperor. She has indicated that she would love to watch me make love to another woman…my how I would like to oblige her…I know she would be admiring me…it makes me feel sexy. Amy is very kind. Shamefully, it is a temptation to sort of advertise that she cooks for me and takes care of me, rubs me, loves me. But in fact, it is solely to her credit. She is just an unusually kind person, at least in my experience. She builds me up. She says I am irresistible. She comments on my beautiful body. She really thinks my body is beautiful.

January 11, 1995 2335
[P] [L] [A]

Now I am weary, it is late and I do not expect to finish typing. I have much to do, now that I think of it, much to do before I leave for China next week. Strange to think I will leave to so far off a place so soon. I must make a preparation or two prior to leaving. I must get my camera outfit repacked including loading my film holders. I must explain to Amy I am going, where and why. She undoubtedly will know and ask questions. She will undoubtedly be displeased and perhaps dismayed, but I do not know what her ultimate reaction will be. She knows about Laura, she knows I love Laura and she knows I want to go to visit her. What Amy probably cannot understand is just how much I appreciate her abidance by my behavior. My gratitude is great, and I am left speechless…I do not know how to express my admiration to her for her kindness and open-mindedness. In some sense then, it is as if I love Amy more than all the rest. For she treats me better than all the rest. And how ironic it is that I cannot bring myself to say this to her. I’m not really afraid to tell her, but I do carry somewhat of a notion that if I told her such a thing, then she would never be able to know if she treated me well because she loved me or I love her. She seems to accept that I want to love all kinds of women. In fact, she asked me if I loved them all and I said Yes. She asked me if I tell the young ones I love you (madly) and I admitted it, I even imitated it as if it was a joke…I noted to her that the young ones inspire this sort of response. But it was funny in a way. We laughed lightheartedly, as if after all, they were sounds, not words, as if all real meaning is in doing or not doing, but words were only as good as far and as long as they carried.

I am weary. Dad is constantly hammering on me. And others too. He has an insatiable thirst for confrontation. If there is not a problem, he will find one. If there already is one, he will soon augment it. This is how it seems. Still he is very wonderful in so many ways. Several times a week I get what he calls a ‘nasty-gram.’ He harasses me about all sorts of things. But I really gave him something to sink his teeth in with the BMW and the Mount Everest thing. He declared my desire for Everest an‘open rebellion against’ him.

This morning when I went to Bill Walters Architects, Bill introduced me to Lynn, a young Asian assistant of his. This evening Bill and I decided to shit-can the plans for the Pt. Richmond property. If Elizabeth wants to proceed with new drawings, O.K., but to proceed with her drawings is an abomination – they really don’t make sense…a poor use of resources and space. Just as he left I mentioned to him that Lynn was cute…_’She’s a sweetheart…she has a boyfriend…but he’s leaving for the Philippines for five weeks at the end of the month!’ He smiled a big mischievous smile…I was smiling too…it was as if he was giving me a tip-off as to when to approach her for a date. I really appreciated that.

I saw Joy tonight with Alyce, Antonina and Antonina’s (man) friend. We spent an hour and a half talking about her rent and how much I should pay, if any. It is a frustrating situation. But at least I got to see her. The last time I saw her was in the city jail! And I did not want that to be the last time (so now it’s not). Joy looked very beautiful, in a slick way…my but how she has become Americanized. She was very made up. I had the impression that she had a date and that she is in love with that person. Her mother confirmed yesterday morning that Joy is hanging out with the Chinese guy who was her (mother’s) student years ago. Ironic. This is the guy that left a note on the door that precipitated our first major argument two weeks into her stay in America.

There is too much that goes on each day to record it all here. I am too busy living to record it all. Instead, I heard the light go off in the dining room.

My biggest worries are my fear of Everest and of my father’s reactions to it.

Amy is going to bed. So I’ll go too.

January 13, 1995 1145
Taipei, Nan-Tou City
[P] [L] [A]

Today, appropriately, is Friday the 13th. In my country, this day has a special significance for being a day for bad luck. But the unhappy events of today did not have their origin in today, but in times past.

I feel so dejected, it is hard to put it into words. I feel my whole life is falling apart.

Today, Joy told me that her new lawyer’s name is Melvin Belli. He just happens to be one of the country’s most famous lawyers. As I have said before: one thing I learned about Joy is that she will always surprise you, for better or worse. The injustice of the situation is beginning to wear on me. She lies about what I have done, and she wins sympathy with her stories and her charm. She villainizes me, and I sit there, as if paralyzed. As Bob Dylan said: when you’ve got nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose. In her case, her tactics are hard to combat, because she has nothing to lose and everything to gain. On the other hand, I have something to protect, and that makes me feel like a ‘sitting duck.’ I feel that she’s vicious and without integrity. It is hard to have made this transition from being totally in love with her to being objective about what I can clearly see.

There is some debate about what I should do to protect myself. My feeling is that I should seek out the policemen that counseled her after she hit me in the face and after she bit me. It is my best defense from her vicious lies. Because she did not deny to them at the time that she did this, nor did she claim at the time that I provoked it.

Even as serious as this is, this is not the only unhappy news. I talked to Saeda. She just got an abortion. What an unhappiness! Even though I could not go through with a marriage to her, still, I feel so badly that I have thrown away the opportunity to be with her in a happy way. Communication in these matters is impossible by the telephone. And meanwhile, my life here goes on…she is so far away, it is hard to feel how hard hitting this must be to her…but I know that she is in physical pain and emotional agony. She became angry when I told her what Joy is doing. She said some Chinese are ambitious. She said Joy is using me and that this is what the marriage was all about for Joy. Whether or not Joy knows this is so, it must be so…some place in Joy’s heart, she was not true…she is calculating…yet she envisions herself – it appears – as innocent and guileless (!?)

And Dad. He is dictatorial, and there is no way of changing that. I find it hard to concentrate on the business in a truly enthusiastic way when he is pounding negativity into me all the time…

Everest…it is surprising how many people support the idea of this trip…yet it is wreaking havoc in my life…Dad demands an answer by the Board meeting…I blurted out tonight: ‘I am planning on going…so you can make your plans…and if you try firing me…good luck!’

January 14, 1995 2350
[P] [L]

I will write only a bit.

Today was full of anxiety. But I am happy to report, as bad as this is, it is no where near as bad as I felt last April when Joy left. I am not complacent about this. I feel I must be vigilant so as to avoid any further mishaps regarding her. I must not see her or talk to her, just as a matter of self-preservation. In my heart, I am over her. This has been the last and final straw (the hiring of this famous attorney), and I have no remaining faith in Joy’s integrity. I will try to be fair, but I must now focus on self-preservation.

I am frightened, but what can I do? All I can do is to go day by day and try my best.

I am somewhat disappointed in myself for even being slightly affected by all these earthly matters. I feel someplace inside me that I should be above it – or at least apart from it…these things do not matter. I must preserve only two things: my health and my freedom. My health includes physical, mental, emotional, spiritual and sexual. My freedom includes most importantly my basic freedom to move around. In another sense, it can also be meant to include my ability to maintain flexibility and vibrancy. Cannot freedom be thought of also as physical freedom, mental freedom, emotional…and so on? I must focus on strengthening my mind and my heart.

January 15, 1995 1100
[L] [S]

Good morning. I can hardly believe (or not feel guilty) about sleeping in so late. Actually, I was awake about 7:30 and lay in bed worrying with my eyes closed till 9:00. Then Amy and I talked about the why of Joy’s actions. Amy said she felt an ‘outbreak’ coming on (vaginal herpes, the first time since I’ve known her), so she could not make love. So instead, she fondled my penis and then sucked on it until I came. That always makes the tip of it very sensitive…

What I want to know is what consideration is Joy giving me or has she given me in order for her to deserve anything from me. It seems if anything, she has taken. How unfair it seems that I should be obligated to her. My father says that Charles Dickens wrote: The law is an ass. But I never actually read it myself, although I agree with it.

O.K., I admit I am shaking in my boots. Then a lot of people give me encouraging advice. Of course they are right. But then again, it probably will hurt anyway and be costly to split from Joy legally.

If it costs me $30,000 more than what I have already spent, I won’t be surprised. If it costs less, to the degree it does, I may feel I ‘got off easy’. If it costs more, so may my degree of being incensed increase.

As it is, I am so plagued by worry, it is difficult to feel really motivated to do much. I still plug along in my chores, but without much enthusiasm. For example, photography. Or work. Or training.

Yesterday, I jogged for 1 hr 25 minutes. I try to have a good run every week or two.

I can’t help feeling that I am wasting my time here, working, for what! So that I can pay it to Joy?

Why am I worried about money? I have worked so hard to get it and to save it. If the amount exceeds about $700 per month, I will probably have to be pulling it out from my savings to pay her.

As you can see, my thoughts are jumbled…I am not frantic or anything like that…just I am sad and a victim of a slow burning worry.

I have little heart to recite all the events of my life…Fumie called me during the week. Also I received a letter from her…It makes me feel that she actually is attracted to me and likes me. She wrote to me that she had a dream that she was jealous of other girls (with me), but wrote that she is really (outside the dream) not.

Dad and I are facing a big blow up tomorrow at the board meeting. He is going to try to do everything in his power to wrest control away from me… how do you think that makes me feel? His mind is already turning on the Melvin Belli thing…how they might take the company from me, how to protect it, etc. Of course, my mind is turning on the same thing…but I feel he is coming from a different angle.

I am unhappy! I see little to look forward to this year. I want…to be in love with a beautiful, gentle and rich (so I don’t have to worry about a repeat of this thing with Joy) woman…one that I can trust. I want to have a mellow work life…not to have the threat of all this debt and beholden-ness to both my father and the bank…not to have the constant threats of Larry (Dad) on my back (note: but to still have him as my father!). I want to have Mount Everest behind me and to have lived to tell about it. I want to be free from legal ties with Joy and to not have any kind of restraining orders on me nor to feel the threat of her being able to lie to the police about me. I want to be able to have the time to spend with photography, music and writing and to have a clear mind and heart.

Do I want too much?

And when I think about it I marvel how free I really am, only that I am not free in my mind. I have painted myself into this corner. In truth, there is nothing stopping me from quitting, nor from moving and adventuring…for ten years or more…from finding a completely new life. But see, I have become accustomed to the relative luxury of my position. Part of me is afraid to seek out a better life…alas! That is not to say that I cannot still do so. There is so much I can do. And I well might! But for now, I will probably face the three challenges I see ahead of me.

1. This thing with Joy.
2. This thing with Dad.
3. This thing with Mount Everest.

I hope I can resolve all three without difficulty. There are of course many, many challenges besides those. Just holding the business together for example. Or trying to manage my love of art within my working life. Or what to do about future loves. Or even how to view the world, how to perceive it best, how to formulate my philosophies or my next moves.

Amy talks about the importance of keeping complexity out of your life. How true this rings! I would like a simple life, but in some respects, I am not a simple person; I myself am complex. In some ways I wish I could change this.

Right now I dread the work I have ahead of me. Preparation for fighting all three of the above battles. I don’t find joy in these tasks. At least with the two latter there is something of benefit to be derived. Task number one is really all about escaping the claws of an animal who is after me. (That is what it feels like.)

The day is clear and windy. The bamboo in the garden floats back and forth. The smell of bacon comes from the kitchen. Soon Amy will bring me coffee.

This Thursday I will take a plane to Shanghai to visit Laura. I feel odd about doing so. On one hand, of course I am looking forward to it. On the other hand, I have so much to occupy my mind here, I worry that I will worry when I am there, and be eager to return.

8:30 p.m….

Now, tonight, I feel very, very different, something quite good, something quite strong, no mistake, something, perhaps several things, even mysterious, wonderful. How could I have forgotten? That there be the line of wondrous mystery in the world. There is something so special, what is it? A level of consciousness or of perceiving at which everything seems different…

I write by the light of this computer and by the illumination of the candles to my right, to their smell and flickering, and to my left, the window cracked… and the fresh air pours in…here is where Joy spent so much time writing and sitting studying.

First, I talked to Rick…by first, I mean the events that have me turned around…my mountain climbing buddy…he described to me his successful climb on Dhaulugiri…and he encouraged me and coached me as to climbing Everest…he joked that he would have the press releases out if I should go…because he thought it would really be something that I should both be President and go to Everest……but what he said that stuck was that every year he and his wife write out New Years resolutions on a 3×5 card, tuck them away and then look at them later. I thought I should.

I went to run on San Bruno mountain, and I ran straight up a steep path, gaining perhaps 900’ in 14 minutes, and I thought about what my resolutions might be…I thought they should be somewhat like Rick’s in the sense they should be qualitative…so I considered what my real problems are…they are not material but of a spiritual and character standpoint…and I came up with something like the following for this year:

1. To hold my head proudly no matter how difficult the situation…

This is important to me, because I have had a real tendency to become flustered when things go wrong…and I let things get the better of me…and I really shouldn’t, because the real problem is not what is happening on the outside but what is happening on the inside…if only I could remain harmonious and confident myself, I would be a much happier person, and I even think that things might turn out better for me anyway.

2. To have faith in myself and to believe in my ability to do greater things than I have ever accomplished before, and, not only to believe, but to attempt to push myself far beyond what I have previously thought myself capable of…

This is perhaps not worded as well as I would like. Still, it reflects more or less the thought I had. I have had a real tendency (again) to defeat myself. I would not write out a resolution like this unless I felt fundamentally that I was indeed capable of significantly greater things. I can name a few items that I might think about along these lines…One is that I have wanted a photographic show…someplace inside me I am unsure – but I should really try this year to do it! And to believe in what I see in my photographs. Another thing is Everest – not only the mountain but also my ability to surmount the difficulties with the company (my father and possibly the bank).

I think that these two are enough. They are complimentary.

My run was refreshing. I ran to the ridge, the air was brisk. I enjoyed the wind and the freshness of it all.

The next thing is that when I came home Joy called me. I had paid her rent with her landlady earlier today. At a time appropriate, I mentioned it to Joy. We talked for 37 minutes. I tried to keep things harmonious. (I want two things with her: I want our dealings to be harmonious…and I want my obligation [legal] to be finite.) It turned out to be harmonious. She told me how much she had loved me. Towards the end of the conversation, she said (one thing for sure was) that I had a ‘nice butt.’

Now I cannot describe this exactly, but on the drive to have dinner with Uncle Don, Mom, Donna, Mike and Julie and Gam, I felt something rather overpowering. I felt some incredible force, almost like a hallucination, from Joy. I felt some dam break and I could feel a woman’s love, no longer a girl’s. I became convinced that beneath or beside all the hostility in her, she still (miraculously) loves me. I could feel the pain as if simultaneously, that feeling of longing in her upon the sudden realization that she might be without me, that she could lose my friendship…and love…or that she had separated herself from me…had created a situation herself in which she was now deprived of me.

As I drove south in the dark past with Mt. San Bruno looming ahead, this vision came into my mind’s eye, the world opened up to her, a realization, an ocean, a crashing surf that enveloped my heart and my body…the ocean was her love, and the ocean joined her heart and mine…the hearts beat together…the waves crashed and settled in a soothing rush towards me…the world of realization came upon her…she suddenly saw my love, vast like the ocean, for what it was…and the child had disappeared…and to replace it a woman came forth and loved me in the way that only one like her could…it was a feeling also of her greatness…and I could see clearly how powerful was her draw and it was clear in an unconscious way why I had endured so much for her love. Yet there was a difference between the longing I had once felt, the painful longing, and what I saw now, now it was a certainty and a joy without pain…we danced together rhythmically…the music in the car carried me away into this reverie.

The whole sensation of paying for her, it was as if it relieved some awful pressure.

Also today, my attorney made me feel somewhat more calm about things. Dad was friendly on the phone…

January 26, 1995 1130

Dear diary:

For all the crummy things that are happening in my life, and for all the amazing things, there is one event that really overwhelms, for me, all the others. That is to wit that last Thursday I flew to Shanghai to visit Laura, my Shanghai love, but that the really amazing part about it is that Mimi, my San Francisco girlfriend, knowing full well that I was going to go to see and love Laura, drove me to the airport; then, on my return, she picked me up, drove me home and made passionate love to me. It was not as if I had to persuade her to do so, but on the contrary, I did not want to trouble her; she wanted to do it. There was no head-trip, no guilt or punishment. Amy genuinely accepted where I was going and why. I returned Tuesday morning. Wednesday morning, she [was] filled with anxiety that I, being left so free, would fall in love to her exclusion. She left me a phone message, saying she would remain alone for a while. I called her and explained to her how touched I was by her gesture of trust. She said that the sexual part of it didn’t really bother her, truly; it was fear of losing me. We talked awhile on the phone, and decided to keep seeing each other.

Tuesday night, she asked me to tell her about my trip. I told her I wanted to wait until we went to bed. In bed I described how we went in the room, how we made love, how it felt to kind of overwhelming in Laura with my powerful body. When I felt Mimi’s pussy, it was dripping wet. She found the description exciting.

By the way, it is worth telling a small Laura anecdote. When I walked into the Hilton last Friday night, Laura was waiting in a long red coat. When we checked in as Mr. and Mrs. Shea, she stood next to me. She’s about 5’6’ tall. Her pink, young, full lips hovered within kissing distance. What a rush to be near someone so young and fresh who is in love with you.

We went to the room. I went to the bathroom, and when I emerged, there she sat on the bed in black pantyhose. This is a delight for a man to find a desirable woman undressing. I went to bed after a shower and she showered until I was sleeping. I felt her get into the bed, sliding up to me. When we made love, it was the most perfect of lovemaking I ever had to memory. Because it was so simple, so natural, a fantasy in itself.

We made love another time that night, and it seems to my memory that we also made love again in the morning. She told me that she had an interview at 10 a.m. and she asked me to come with her (to give her confidence on the ride). As she dressed, she put on her black pantyhose, then donned her coat. I thought she’d take it off again and put on a dress, then realized that was it! I asked and she confirmed that it was all she had brought. She had not brought a dress, and only wore pantyhose under her coat! For the reader, it might seem suspicious, but really, you have to know Laura. She is such a free spirit, sometimes these details escape her.

After the interview, we met again (after a brief parting at an office building) at the Westin Hotel where we had tea. She was boiling over in her coat. Eventually, she exchanged it for blue jeans at her cousin’s house near our hotel.

When we returned to the room in the afternoon, she began to undress. It was so exciting, I lay on the bed turned on. She came to me and we had hot sex. It was scrumptious! During this day, she was very eager to have sex, and she made me feel that I was completely welcome to enter her.

Among the events of this week, Dad, Joe and I had a blockbuster, knockdown drag out Board meeting yesterday that almost had me in tears. Among Joe’s comments was:
‘I think we ought to shoot off your goddam head!’ They told me point blank they will fire me if I go to Everest. Why should I sell them stock??

I saw Dr. Ross today. He described Dad and Joe as ‘possessed’ with the paternal complex.

January 27, 1995 2330

Dear diary:

I am happy and disgusted at the same time. I feel confident and insecure simultaneously. Today has been another long haul, though pleasant and rewarding, still filled with uncertainty and a rather discouraging undertone. This is because the problem with my father rages on.

Today Bill, Doug, Kathy and I had lunch. The discussion centered around what should be done concerning whether or not to try to pay my Dad off what is owed to him or to go on with him as a powerful shareholder. The message from the three of them was quite clear: they feel the company would be better off if we just go our own way. The strategy that was unanimously agreed on was to:

1. Present a plan to the bank regarding how we would propose to pay Larry off all of his $ 350,000 in debt.

2. Send Joe his money back ($13,000) along with the promissory note.

3. Wait and see what Larry does. If Larry wanted his money, the trick would be to offer to pay him what he needed to be paid, rather than the whole thing at one time. (It would probably make more sense for him from a tax standpoint not to accept all of it at once.)

The thing that is really troubling is the age-old problem of taxes! Since we are making a lot of money, naturally, we have to pay hefty taxes. The company has lost money for so long, it is not used to paying taxes!

I do not know how it is going to turn out. I am hoping for the best, but even when I tried to do everything Dad wanted me to, I was still in trouble!

Note: Laura called me collect on Wednesday night. She said she could not stand waiting until Saturday. She greeted me, ‘Ya bleu bleu je bi ya!’ She says that means I love you in Russian.

Amy cooks me dinner most every night. She treats me like a king. Truly.

(Maggie has not called me. I called her Wednesday and left a message has not called me. I called her Wednesday and left a message at her work at night, but she has failed to call me for the last two days. I guess she is definitely not interested in me.)

January 28, 1995
[A] [L]

I am spending all my time strategizing to hold the company together and go to Everest without losing my job. I spend a lot of time writing letters that I may not send, but at least I clarify my own thinking through this process.

This morning I spoke with Laura. I really am in love with her. The thought of making love with her is wonderful.

Meanwhile, Amy treats me very well. She also wants to know all about Laura.

FEBRUARY 1995

February 1, 1995 2014
[S]

I keep trying to remind myself of my New Years resolutions. One is to hold my head high no matter what. Two is to believe I can reach to new heights that I have, through my own self-perception, denied myself in the past.

But it is hard, with my present life. It is not glamorous, nor even particularly rewarding or heartwarming. I have a lot to be thankful for, but always there is the nagging realization of just how far short of my goals I have landed. And what is even more, the unhappiness that surrounds and seems always to have surrounded, my home life. I am happy at home with Amy around. But I’m talking about Joy, her absence and the seemingly senseless problems in our association. And I’m talking about Dad: and the same feeling like ‘these problems don’t have to exist…they are only in your mind (Dad/Joy)….’ It seems to me that people just create problems. And I guess I am the same way at times. Emotions do not allow us to always see clearly or to make good judgments…but they still play their role in making life exciting.

I am facing Everest…. It seems like a nearly, or just barely, surmountable goal. It feels like the rest of my life is on hold. I guess I feel that I can’t make any plans for July because I don’t know if I’ll be around. (What a grim thought!) I asked Maggie: Do you think I’ll live? Do you think I’ll die?’ She said: ‘It doesn’t matter!’ She didn’t mean anything against me! I understood her comment and agreed. You have to go sometime. ‘What a great place to die!’ she said. ‘And you get your name in the record book if you die on the mountain!’ I joked, almost completely a joke, at any rate. By the way, a digression on Maggie:
I called her from Boston and her number was working again. I said I wanted to
visit. ‘Give me a call when you get back.’ So I called her tonight. She was
getting ready to ‘go on a date.’ I said: ‘Great!’ but inside it was half-heartedly
said. We made plans for a dinner after work next Thursday. This thing with
Maggie is just indicative of the kind of frustration I feel. I really admire Maggie
so much… yet feel nothing from her. I feel as if I am second rate in her mind.
On one hand I feel as if she has no interest in me. She never says anything
encouraging about seeing me, at least it seems so. Yet she draws my attention.
And, as I said, I really admire who she is. I want to bridge the gap between us,
make some kind of special contact, yet I feel she doesn’t want it. Then why do
I? She attracts me…what is in her mind? She makes me afraid to ask…she
seems quick to be irritated or at least to speak her mind…why do I bother? Yet
she make me feel, as when I got off the phone from Boston, some kind of
something overwhelming, as if she is a really old spirit…as if there is something
she is hiding…some part of herself…some part of her life…I don’t know…but this
feeling is nagging at me. I want to have sex with her….

I do feel if I can weather Everest and keep my job that come summer I would feel some relief…some hope for the future. But still, life is always full of problems. Like on one hand, I really love Amy and really care about her…but on the other I want someone new, some one younger….I love Laura, but I cannot be with her, at least not now….I want my life to be simpler, but I want lots of other things too, so my life is ultimately complex. Still I sense some light at the end of the tunnel.

Still, there is Joy way in the background of my thoughts. Diary, truly, I still love her. There is always the sorry thought that she doesn’t love me, maybe she never even did. I accept life without her. But I would be lying to say that it doesn’t hurt. And I am afraid of the divorce proceeding. At Antonina’s house, she claimed she did not know if she wanted a divorce. It seemed like such an enormous lie at the time. Still I wonder. And I feel like a fool for wondering. All indications are that she doesn’t have any interest at all in me.

So I feel I will be better off when Joy and I are officially divorced.

Saeda never wrote. I think she hates me.

How quickly both her and Joy have gone from my life. In both cases the final cause came in a few moments. For Saeda, the moment I made her pregnant. And for Joy, the moment I called the police on her.

But don’t new fields spring where old ones have withered? Is not Laura a blossoming flower. Or Fumie (who called last week). Or Michiyo?

By the way, I made the acquaintance of two beautiful women last night in Boston. May, a half Chinese, half Vietnamese Harvard student. Grace, a Venezuelan beauty. I saw May sitting near baggage claim. I got in the bus to the Hilton and could not forget her. I took the bus back, sure she would not be there. But she was still there. There was a seat free next to her and a phone next to that. So I sat down and called the office. She was reading a book and laughing. ‘That must be funny!’ I began. ‘Do you live here? I am stuck here for the night. Can you recommend a place to stay?’ Her friend (a guy) walked up. I turned to her ‘Can I call you next time in Boston?’ She looked at me and said Yes. I took her number and gave her mine ‘just so we’re even.’ I called her tonight, but just left a message with her roommate.

Grace was filling in for the Information Desk person who was ill. We talked quite a while. She reminded me of Phyllis. But even more beautiful…’perfect features.’ I invited both May and Grace to the symphony. Neither could go, so I didn’t go alone.

I wish Laura was here to love me every night.

Maybe before I go I can arrange for another woman to share the same bed with Amy and I. Amy seems open to it.

By the way, when I got home today, there was a fax from Dad. He delineated what he wanted in order to get out of ATS. In some respects it was unreasonable, but not altogether. If he gave in on a few of the more outlandish provisions (such as 44% of increased equity lump sum within a week of determining the number), we might be able to work things out. Maybe it would be for the best. But more importantly, I hope Dad and I could have a good father and son relationship.

Maybe it would be for the best. But more importantly, I hope Dad and I could have a good father and son relationship

February 7, 1995 2040
[F] [L] [A]

Dear Diary:

It has been awhile since I wrote to you to let you know how I have been.

Feeling fine at the moment. I had a brisk run this evening along the Richmond Marina Bay. I shopped at REI for climbing stuff (for Everest). I worked out at World Gym (mostly on my legs). And it’s before nine p.m. and I’m free for the rest of the evening!

Amy is in the kitchen cooking chicken, a baked potato (and a pound cake)!

Here I am at the typewriter.

“There is nothing to fear but fear itself.” I remind myself and think of Dad (and his attacks) and of Everest (steep slopes, high wind and high altitude).

Last night I told Amy that, before the Everest trip, I would like to have two women. She said: “You find the girl. I’d love to watch.” We talked about it. She mentioned “the girl who hadn’t had sex in a year (Maggie).” I corrected her. That was as of two months ago. Maybe Maggie had met someone. I thought and said I’d ask Maggie. (I have an appointment with her anyway on Thursday.) Or there is Kathy Biro. Amy had seen Kathy’s photograph (nude). A girl I’d met through the paper when I asked for nude models. Amy means it. It turns her on to watch. I’m thinking of advertising. (“My girlfriend wants to watch you and me together. Both of us professionals, normal and safe. Me, a fine physique, in my 30s. I prefer you to be young and petite, but large on top O.K.”)

Last week Dad wrote me (ATS) an offer to “get him out of ATS.” He’s been so nasty that ultimately, I have had a lot of laughs. In a way it is sad. But he gets so childish, that despite my fear of the situation, I just crack up. In my heart, I love and respect him. But when he is in this frame of mind, to be realistic, I cannot change him or arrive at a place with him where our hearts our joined.

He said he wanted his offer by 5 p.m. yesterday. Bill Horwich, the attorney who was preparing my response, was so busy yesterday that we were running late. At 4:56 p.m., in a stroke of sudden mischievousness, I filled out his name on a fax cover sheet and I put it in the fax. Before it could get to the line which says how many pages to follow (which I didn’t fill in because nothing was behind it), I pulled it out. So I could pretend that the fax machine jammed. To understand this action, you have to read his fax of the morning, in which he arbitrarily and dictatorially declared I must reply by 5 p.m.

Bill finally faxed Dad a reply at 5:42 p.m. on my behalf. I had gone over the thing with Doug and Kathy (and of course Bill). I think it was an elegant reply, well worded by Bill, combined with substance of merit. I cannot predict Dad’s response. He probably will feel wounded and terribly cheated. But, according to its terms, he would receive about $ 400,000 in the coming year (some of it repayment of loans, some of it debt, royalties, etc.). We tried to word it as respectfully as we could. It was really
kind of nice.

The one really bitter pill in it was a softly worded challenge to the validity of the replacement materials portion of his licensing arrangement. But I’ve gotten legal advice from several corners which declare that the provision is illegal.

For what it is worth, for better or worse, I feel it was a fair offer. And I feel relieved to have made it. Of course, I have been expending a lot of mental energy analyzing the thing backwards and forwards.

I believe Dad has embarked on a course to “disown” me. But then, that is Dad. That is his style. He refused to speak to my grandmother for years and years, and she is the most wonderful person I know. So am I supposed to take it personally? My personal feeling is that I shouldn’t take it on my shoulders, but to hold my head high and try to remain dignified and fair to him as well.

This morning at 6:35 p.m., I called Saeda. I thought it was she who had hung up on me when I called her office from the airport in Japan on January 24th. But she was surprised when I asked her, and it wasn’t her who had answered. I had expected Saeda to be very cold. But she, if not warm, was at least neutral. I had a feeling she was pleased, maybe cheered, by the fact I called. I told her I thought of her, how beautiful the photographs of her were, how I missed her and how I loved her. She just listened. I meant everything I had said.

At about 8:30 p.m., as I was preparing to leave, I got a call from Michiyo in Kumamoto, Japan. Soon after the conversation began, if you can call our very broken communication that, I led us into “I love you. I miss you. I want you.” When I would say such a thing, she would laugh in her beautiful, beautiful laugh. She did not seem particularly attractive when I saw her on the plane, but her voice has an edge to it that thrills me, so uplifting, sexy, happy. I said I did not know when I could come to Japan. She said: “If I go to San Francisco…” and hesitated to find the words. Finally I said “Yes.” She laughed. “Do you know?” she asked. “Yes”. I indicated I understood what she was going to say. (For example, if she comes, will I see her? Yes. Will I have time for her? Yes!)

– What a good life I could have if I could live past Everest. –

After I left home, I went to Bill Walters’ office, an architect who is working on my roof hot tub and on the Point Richmond property redesign. Although we did have business to discuss, my ulterior motivation was to see Lynn, a young Filipino girl who works for him. He had said that her boyfriend was away for five weeks starting the end of the month. I nodded Hello to her when she arrived. After I left, I called her. Bill answered the phone. “Hi Bill, this is Jeff, can I speak to Lynn?” He paused, “Yes.” I told her that I wanted to speak to her and could I speak to her after work. She said O.K. But when I asked her for her phone number, she suggested that she take my phone number and
call me. I said “Sure. When will you call? Tonight?” She said she would, but no phone call came, and I expected it wouldn’t. Nothing lost.

This past weekend I flew to Reno and spent two nights at Fred and Kathy Zalokar’s house. On Saturday morning, Fred and I drove to 8700′ on the road to Tahoe. Bearing 40 lb. packs, we sloshed through the snow to the base of Mount Rose (which took two hours). Then we ate a little and headed straight up the mountain, which took another hour or so, arriving on top at around 12:30 p.m. (10,788′) I had my cellular phone. He called Kathy and I called Mimi. The day was brilliant, clear and beautiful. The entire Tahoe basin was a bowl of fog, very impressive.

Two other guys were on top. One of them got out his cellular phone before I got out mine. This is the 90s.

On the way down the face, I glissaded as best as I could in the slushy snow.

Fred arrived ahead of me, snowshoe-ed. I arrived after in sopping boots, at around 4:30, a seven hour journey.

On Sunday morning, we added weight to our packs. I had around 57 pounds, Fred 60. We hiked about 2000′ vertical (similar elevation gain as yesterday), then ran down the steep parts. Fred led the way on the final mile or so, running with our packs.

(I think this exercise weekend pushed me into a new level of fitness. I noticed the last two nights I felt great running on the waterfront in Richmond.)

At 12:16 p.m., Dad called Fred’s house for me. I had told Helen (his wife) the night before that I would call around noon. I wasn’t even sure Dad would be there, and actually did not want to speak to him. I had hoped to go out to lunch with Helen to have a chance to talk with her. Anyway: Dad: “We’ve been waiting for you for a half hour, you said you’d call at noon.”
Me: “No Dad, I said I’d call around noon.”
Dad: “No you didn’t. We were here and the phone didn’t ring at all.”
Me: “No Dad, I didn’t say I called. I said I had said I would call around noon, not exactly at noon.”
Dad: “We’re going out for a walk and then going to lunch. If you want to talk to me about the offer, then I will talk to you. If you want to talk about anything else, I will not talk to you.”
Me: “Well, then, can I speak with Helen?”
Dad: “No.”
Me: “But I want to speak with Helen.”
Dad: “No you can’t. Goodbye.” Whereupon he hung up.
I called back. Fred said: “So you’re going to play their game.”
Dad and I went back and forth about why I could not speak to Helen. Finally he said: “If you want to speak to Helen, then you’ll have to speak to both of us.”
Me: “O.K. put her on the line.”
Dad: “No.”
Me: “Dad, just put it on the speaker phone and the three of us can talk together.”
Dad: “No. We’re going out.” He hung up again.

Yesterday morning I talked with Jon Tinker in the U.K. He is the expedition leader. I asked a lot of questions about equipment and logistics. I asked him if I could come a week late, and he urged me not to (if I wanted a real chance to “make it up that hill” – Mt. Everest). I liked something he said, as a rhetorical comment: “The harder you work, the luckier you get!”

Last Friday morning I talked with Laura for half an hour. I want her to meet me in Lhasa, or to visit her in Shanghai and go there with her. Now that I’ve talked with Jon, it seems unlikely that I could enter Tibet from Shanghai, but must really plan to go to Katmandu. In any event, I really want to see Laura before the climb.

Last night I printed images (photographs) of Laura from my last visit. She looks so beautiful. I want her even more badly when I see her image.

I called Joe Folberg at his house last week. I told him I wanted to show him my photographs. He said: “When?” I said next week. He said that would be fine. I asked him where I should call him, at the gallery? He said at the gallery or at the house.

If I were to really cover all the intricacies of my life, I’d have to write a novel, not a short story. It goes on and on. There are so many levels.

Work is rewarding and yet scary. There are so many potential problems. Still it’s one day at a time and one step at a time.

February 12, 1995 0900
[E]
Dear Diary:
I am a bit overwhelmed by all my chores, interests, and problems, great and small. I hope that I can stem the tide, catch my breath and make sense of it all, but by the time this begins, I find enough new things to crowd my week. I was told that to make a photograph, one should make it uncluttered, simple. Shouldn’t life be the same, if one desires, like the photograph, to make it beautiful? Or should it be the singular day, and not the whole life, just as a singular photograph, that should be left simple, and the collection to be as diverse as one fancies?

The most significant event I can report since Tuesday when I last wrote is that yesterday, Joe Folberg of Vision Gallery said he would give me a show at his Vision North Gallery on Polk Street. I brought my portfolio in to show him. His compliments put me in a dream. No sooner had he gone through two or three of my latest 8×10 contacts (on 11×14 paper) of Laura that he said he wanted to put these aside and give me a mini-show. Later, after going through the rest of the 16x20s, it seemed he augmented the idea to a bigger show, perhaps contingent on what other work I had in stock.

Amongst the most significant comments he made…when looking at a photograph of Joy, he said, “Jock and Maia aren’t going to like this.”

I said, “I can take it out (thinking he meant that they wouldn’t like the fact that I had a picture of Joy in there, presuming I did not have her consent).”

He replied, “That’s not what I meant. I mean they’re not going to like the competition…Do you still talk with them?”

“Well no, since last year, whenever that happened, Jock said he didn’t want to hear from me anymore, so to respect his wish, I haven’t called…but he said that after things get settled with Joy, maybe we can resume.”

“Well, just leave it that way…I want you to number the photographs from 1 to 40, just like Jock does…” and he looked away and lowered his voice a trifle… “I want you to start them out at $400-$ 450, for this size (16×20).”

He said: You’ve really come a long way.”
“Congratulations,” holding out his hand to shake.
“You’re on your way,” meaning with this upcoming show.
“We’ll give you a show as soon as we have an opening.” (Said in the spirit of trying to make it soon, rather than later.)
Of Laura 16x20s: “This will sell. This will sell.”
Of the Madura girl: “Look at that. Look at the lines. Perfect. Can you take that out? (upper left corner)…Burn it in. Then it will drive your eye to (the center).”
Of Laura: “She’s gorgeous. You’ve really improved.”
Of Saeda profile: “This is beautiful, really beautiful.”
“What an eye you have now!”
“You’ve worked long and hard at this.”
“Do you have more?…Bring them in. I’d like to put them in groups (Japan, China, etc.). Do you see what I mean?”
I asked of 8×10 contacts of Laura: “Should I do these in 16×20?” “Do you have more…bring them in…we’ll leave them apart as a separate series. See what I mean?”
“My, how you can adapt yourself!” “I had a good teacher.”
“How did you do it? Well, I hung on every word of Jock’s, that’s true.”
Of Er Che Du Ma, with apple basket: “You’ve really gotten good, look at the lines”. He swirled his finger down the arc of the dress and around the bowl of apples.”
“Did you sleep with all these girls?”
“All the naked ones.”
“What a life you have!”
“Have you tried (to photograph) two at once?” “No, but with this encouragement, I can make it happen.”
Of Chengdu market: “This is lively too. Look at that. Can you lighten here?”
“These aren’t just nudes…these are thoughtful photographs.”

The second most significant thing that happened is that I received a reply from Er Che Du Ma. …”Let’s keep in touch. Shall we…”

February 14, 1995
[S]

February 14, 1995 letter to Dad
708 Vermont Street
San Francisco, CA 94107

~~~
February 14, 1995

Larry Shea
2809 Mountain Springs Road
Reno, Nevada 89509

Dear Dad:

I want to try to explain a few things. I feel I owe it to you.

I’ve paid Dr. Ross a visit. He seems to be very good. Bill described him as being ‘head and shoulders above the rest’ that he’d seen. (He and his wife go because they have a lot of problems with their adopted daughter. They have a daughter of their own as well, who is well-adjusted.)

For a long time when I started going to him, we talked about Joy. As you know, I was devastated when she left. Part of the process of going to him was to overcome the sense of need I had—almost like I felt I needed Joy back to become whole myself.

And Dave was pretty good in convincing me that I didn’t.

The other part of the process is that, once I was over the initial frantic shock of what happened, was to try to better myself and to make myself stronger.

In other words, I did not just go to see him to ‘get back to normal’, but also to use the process of self-understanding to actually become a more productive and happier, self-fulfilled person.

One day during our meeting, he brought up ‘my father’ quite independent of what we were talking about. I had not really focused much on our relationship. “Do you know who I sense in here?…your father.”

We did end up talking a lot about our relationship. But I’m not mentioning all this so as to be negative. [You said Bill] somehow influenced me for the worse, and this implies you see a change in me. Oddly enough, he was responsible, but indirectly, for it was he who suggested I go to see Dave Ross, Ph.D. of Psychology.

This was in April last year.

No doubt we had a lot of happy moments and good productive talks. But you felt highly frustrated with me at times, and vice versa. That wasn’t good for your blood pressure. And it wasn’t good for my stress level.

I don’t have any profound answers, but there are what I believe to be some profound subtleties underlying some of our great debates.

I think you instilled in me an admiration for ‘great people.’ Be it Aristotle, Plato, or Lincoln, Shakespeare, or Edison or Einstein. There seems to me to one thread that runs through why societies revere such historical images. It is because society recognizes that these people have advanced the human condition in some aspect.

In a convoluted way, I am trying to honor what you taught me to honor. Ironically, you see it as disrespect for your way of being, yet in fact, I have merely taken what you preached and personalized it in my own way. The only difference between our strivings is that yours were to respond to the conditions of your day and mine are to respond to the conditions of mine.

In your day, people suffered through the Great Depression (albeit you were quite young).

But nowadays, things have shifted. The world is generally in possession of many more material goods. Even welfare mothers have color T.V.s. It is not surprising that people of my generation may have, in a parallel sense, shifted their path.

For my part, I think that I think a little differently than most. In a way, I parallel my father in this.

I tried to see, albeit this process was somewhat a subconscious one, what it was that people lacked, what it was that made them unhappy. These ills I found to be somewhat universal.

For someone coming from your generation, and I say this without any disrespect, it may be hard to fathom that advancement of society may lie in something […] would lift you away from ever wanting again. And it is important, without question.

Something as simple as self-fulfillment. But to me, this is the key.

Dr. Ross was giving an example of some of the more esoteric psychological schools of thought in which certain proponents said that they felt they were doing more for world peace by taking a simple walk on the beach, or smelling a flower. That is, to not be involved in the media and the throng of populism, but to live out one’s philosophy, and by doing so, to (hopefully) set an example for others to follow. But what is more, to just be how one wants the world to be. It is the opposite of what Mao wrote in his little red book: to have peace, one must pick up the gun.

In my view, I sought (and seek) a balanced lifestyle, between work and recreation, between being ‘vital’ and being ‘content.’ Therefore, it would not do at all to be only an ‘adventurer.’ Because this would not satisfy the economic realities of existence.

My answer to the question of advancement was to give appropriate measure to each of the universal requirements of a happy life, and their corresponding universal hungers.

This includes, to wit:

Intellectual
Emotional
Sexual
Spiritual
Physical.

So for example, it was important for me to keep my body in top shape. But not to do so at the expense of developing my mind. And so on.

And so I grouped them in with activities that would give my life structure.

Intellectual – Financial

Emotional – The Arts (be it music, photography, poetry, writing)

Sexual – To understand the psychology and sociological […] of human interaction and to focus more on exploring the “love” aspect of relationships rather
the physical

Spiritual – To ponder the world, to always center myself in the belief that things are rarely seen in their entirety, and therefore are rarely what they seem – and therefore one should not be quick to assume, but to take a step back and just observe, without judgment.

Physical – To use the body, to Adventure.

These may seem mere childish musings.

But I wanted to try to expose the framework of my motivation.

For example, when I pursued my M.B.A., I ultimately did it because I wanted to learn about finance. The learning was what I wanted primarily; my primary purpose was not to make myself saleable. That was perhaps my secondary objective.

I am trying to bridge the gap in our thinking, with the hope in mind that you may come to accept that I do honor you and what you believe in.

But how can we make the world a better place if we don’t ourselves learn to overcome the universal ailments of society? This subject runs deep and bears a lifetime of examination and struggle. We all, in our own ways, are striving.

[….]

I do love you a lot. I admire you. And it pains me to see me cause you so much grief and (from what I can see) bitterness.

But still, there were aspects of our interaction, as I’m sure you (and Helen) would agree, that were unhealthy.

With love,
Jeff

~~~

MARCH 1995

March 12, 1995 10:30 a.m.
[L]

Dear Diary:

I have not written faithfully as intended because, in a word, I am just too damn busy!

Last weekend I went to Shanghai to see (and love) Laura. What a fantastic weekend. We went to Hangzhou. (Finally I got to see it).

We made love ten beautiful times, including once in the back of the van (first in broad daylight, then stopping and finishing it later that evening at our next opportunity) that we rented for the purpose of going to Hangzhou. A driver came with the vehicle. On the way back, we went via Huzhou.

And the usual. Dad still sending nasty notes. Etc.

I got a couple of calls from Michiyo. And Fumie returned my message, but we never spoke.

Amy has been a real love. She is fortifying me for the mountain, and takes superb care of me. She has been very jealous of Laura, and fears Laura will come to the States and take me away from her. But I love to be with Mimi, for she takes care of me and is stable, and she is a good lover in her own right.

By the way, sometimes, when I am not near this computer, I record my journal in handwriting and I leave it in my safe or safety deposit box or in my home office in a binder. (…in the event someone is researching my life…)

I have been working with Bill (architect) and Elizabeth (lot owner) on doing new drawings for the Pt. Richmond property. This morning Bill will come by. I am hoping to secure the property before I go to Everest.

In the meantime, I am buying Mom’s house. Everything has gone smoothly. I am hoping to close the deal before I leave.

My (family law) attorney (Kathryn) got a letter from Melvin Belli’s office that seemed a bit reaching into my finances, so I am worried about that. And I visited Galen, my tax accountant, yesterday, and to my dismay I have a rather large ($7000) tax liability from last year to pay, not mentioning the first quarter tax deposit from this year.

All this business…all these attorneys.

In the meanwhile, I am trying to train for Everest, but not training as much as I would like. Every day is so full, I have to go on full speed from about 8 a.m. till 1 a.m.

After this kind of lifestyle, something like negotiating the new union contract (which is almost complete) seems just a minor task.

March 14, 1995 2342
[A] [L] [F]

Dear Diary:

Whew! What a few days, what a few weeks, what a few months. There is no way to describe the speed-of-light type of commitment my life is requiring from me right now.
Each day is demanding a full effort.

I am still not working out as much as I would like to. Saturday, I ran up Mt. San Bruno and along the ridge (1 hr 22 min). Sunday I ran up and down mountains in the Marin Headlands (1 hr 50 mins). But Monday didn’t let me run at all. Today I ran 32 mins and weightlifted on my legs. Since Saturday I also did a shoulders workout and a chest workout. So it is reasonable training, but not excessive.

I met with Kiyoko Shintani today for an hour and a half, whom I last saw on the Tokyo- Shanghai flight in December, the night I fell in love with Laura. Kiyoko is ravishing, at least in my tastes. She is beautiful and charming. Surprisingly, she is going to have to return suddenly to Japan to help her family jewelry business; she had expected to stay here a long time, but her parents called her back, not even letting her finish her semester at school. So we said we would see each other in Japan. Everything in my life is conditioned on whether or not I live beyond Mount Everest.

Also, Fumie called me at home yesterday. She and I talked for quite a while. There is always a warm, special feeling between us. We talked about seeing each other both in the U.S. (if she makes a trip here) and in Japan.

The deal for Mom’s house is progressing nicely. It could close next week. Actually, there’s not much more time before I go!

It seems as if Elizabeth Marsh and I might actually come to a settlement and sign a purchase contract for her Pt. Richmond property before I go. She is kind enough, but she exhibits a lot of the same wavering characteristics as my Dad. She seems quite sick, and I feel sorry for her.

I’m trying to soak up all the warmth and food I can, figuring I’ll do without a lot in Tibet. What an adventure I have planned!!!

Amy is asleep in bed. She had to go to L.A. last night. I really missed her. I’m not used to sleeping alone. Being on the mountain will have that as a drawback (lack of female company). Wouldn’t that be something if I was able to meet a woman at base camp!? Anything is possible.

I think of Saeda and I miss her. She was pretty cute.

Dad is really being strange. I really think he is losing his ability to think clearly. Why all the animosity? He would say I didn’t understand. In a way, I guess he would be right.

March 15, 1995 2304
[S] [F]

Dear Diary:
If I make it to bed alive, then this has to be one of the best day’s of my life. There are so many developments today. I received the $ 50,000 check for my 401K loan, which I am going to use to buy my Mom’s house. I signed the new 3-year union agreement that I have been working with the Union on. And a really big event: I received the purchase order number on Integrated Device Technology today, P.O.# C10053. The initial P.O. is for about $ 1,090K, not including freight. They need it right away. One of the significant things about this order is that we were about $200,000 higher than the lowest bidder. I gave up $60,000 on the order. But I had already wanted to do so anyway. The purchasing agent called me and asked if we wanted to make a move on the pricing, so I came up straight away and gave up the money I had contemplated giving up.

But there are other things. My life is so exciting. I cannot remember it ever being so exciting. I love all the interaction, the rush, the people, having to make quick decisions.

I picked up my Vuarnet glacier glass and my extra mittens (Extremite).

I visited Dr. Ross and we talked about my idea for a Foundation.

I went by my property at 1201 Bowdoin to meet the painter and discuss the repairs.

Another important item is that I met with Bill Walters in the morning and showed him the changes Elizabeth and I agreed on. Later I dropped off a letter to Elizabeth, and it appears we are drawing close to an agreement. I spoke with her and Bill again tonight.

Galen called me and he already has my tax returns prepared.

I am working on a letter in response to my Dad’s letter to me. I am beginning to feel I have little choice but to hold firm on various points.

I went running in the hills of Kensington at nightfall for about 35 minutes. I climbed up with ease. I felt wonderful running. I really feel I am getting stronger.

I called Tak Sugama of Obayashi and hopefully can get a meeting set up with Horwich, Sugama and Sumikawa for next Wednesday.

I feel strongly now that I was meant to work this way, going rapidly from one task to the next. Still, underneath it all, I feel methodical (and light-hearted, humorous) in the way I am conducting myself. I think about the Foundation (the Greeen Hanab Foundation), and I ponder its greater mission: to challenge human conventions that are unhealthy, and to raise the divine spark from all human beings.

March 29, 1995
en route to Seoul, Bangkok, Katmandu
[F]

The past months have been an amazing push to get many times more things done than I would normally have to do in the course of a year.

It seems that it is more the rule than the exception that going on an extended trip forces one to focus on accomplishment. It is a phenomenon of sorts, and I believe it likely that more gets done than if the trip had never been envisioned.

But this period significantly outdistances all of my former experiences. In fact, this trip has inalterably changed my life forever, regardless of what happens from here out. There have been fundamental changes in the landscape of my life.

All of the business aspects of this notwithstanding, there have been many goings-on.

APRIL 1995

April 1, 1995
Katmandu, Nepal
Saturday, 5:43 a.m.
[A] [S] [F]

Early morning. Katmandu is rustling, yawning out of a giant slumber. I sit tucked up in the downstairs restaurant, waiting for some coffee and toast and orange juice. I type on a Macintosh 540c Powerbook. All has gone as smoothly as could be hoped for. Our flights were on time, we arrived safely, we were met by Jon Tinker, et. al., and most of all, our bags arrived safely and securely.

A trip, a travel, is always an adjustment. I slept the sleep of ancient dreams, and awoke in the middle of the night from people exiting a bar or some such, raising echoes in the streets. I was not disoriented, but knew where I was, having anticipated this time for so long.

I am both troubled and pleased. I am troubled because I never expected this trip to bring down such a house of cards as did this one. I am pleased because I made the leap, escaped the dragon’s breath, and took the opportunity, despite the trouble it caused me. But most of all, I am pleased because I walk on my path.

There is a sense of calm in me, but I always put before me the challenges I create for myself. This creates in turn some anxiety, however minimal it might be. For example, today, even though I have little to do, I want to use my time wisely. I want to rent a vehicle and go outside the city, or even in its womb, and take photographs with my 8 x 10 camera. Also, I would like to find a young woman with whom to spend the night. I’d like to revel in Katmandu, be somewhat on my own, follow the hours of the sun.

I am here to climb. The guys in the group (and the sole woman) all seem affable, seasoned in one adventure or another, and in good humor. But they are pub dwellers, and this interests me not even a little. We went to a restaurant across town last night for dinner. They drank beer and we had a good time. But I am so independent in this kind of a situation, in a foreign country, so much to see. Although I have varied interests, and most things can interest me at least slightly, still, when it comes to spending my time in a foreign country, especially a third world country, I am really focused on just a few activities.

They are as follows: taking a young woman as my lover, finding subjects to photograph and photographing them, walking and hiking and running, eating, and writing. During the course of these pursuits, I invariably end up socializing and interfacing with all sorts of people, and I enjoy this immensely as well. I also like to see what goods they have for sale and sometimes purchase a souvenir, preferably something precious and different, even if not expensive. I cannot tell you how much I enjoy these activities. It is like jumping into a pool of joy. Which reminds me, I should expand my list. I also delight in swimming and in seeing places of interest. Of course, I also enjoy climbing mountains.

Primarily, though, I really feel the strongest yearning and drive to seek out the favors of the fairer sex and to photograph things, especially a lover.

So here I am in the morning. It is a dual-edged sword of sorts. To have things to enjoy is a delight, but pursuing them can itself generate some anxiety. I would try to overcome that anxiousness, but I don’t think it is possible. I think it is part of existence. To try to wipe out all “negative” feelings is a type of running away from your own tail. But then again, the slow burning of desire can be savored and philosophized upon, bringing pleasure in itself.

Quietly, without words in a certain place in my psyche, I know where I want to go. I know what I want to effect in my life. I want to have and experience the things that I desire. There is a seed in me that is very driven to move towards my sought-after joys and to have an ongoing culmination of their synthesis into a lifestyle. This path requires much diligence. For my ends are manifold. It is not as if, for example, being a climber alone will do, nor being an adventurer. Not any single one thing. Not being a photographer, nor a lover. Not being a business man.

So today spreads before me like an open field of sunlit grass. I will and must choose where I will run.

What a thrill to be back here after eleven years. What a contrast between my life then and my life now! Then I was a happy vagabond, smoking hash, a free spirit, climbing in the foothills, in debt! Now I return. Instead of writing in a journal, I type into a laptop computer. Instead of the foothills, I am shooting for the summit of the biggest hill around. The company from which I was banned at that time, for the audacity to take a sail journey around the world, I now own 85% of. It is odd, all this. It is not as if this was planned. Not any one of these items. I have been lucky, smiled upon. In a way, I owe a lot to my father, for giving me the opportunity and education in the business. One thing apparently did not change: his strong opposition to my being here!

My pleasure typing in this morning-lit restaurant is intense. This laptop is “top of the line”. It is user-friendly and full of interesting features.

The sun begins to glare through trees across the street. When I first sat down here, there was a table of English sitting in this restaurant. As I began to type, I sensed such a strong desire in me to be where it is quiet. They have long since gone, and I am happily reveling in this task.

Just the quite sounds of the kitchen and the staff, muffled dishes clashing on the other side of the door.
– –

I also have a few chores to do today. I should find a floppy disk at a computer store. I should find some canned air at a photographic store. Does this bustling little metropolis even have such offerings?
– –

Soon I will be in Lhasa, then in the cold regions of the Tibetan plateau. What an adventure!!

I wonder if the business will fade into the background of my mind. There is so much going on. Business is taking off. There is the tragic problem of my father’s opposition. This has forced us to take drastic measures. He has threatened to call all of our customers and tell them we are violating his patents. Diary: this situation is incredible!

Truly, his actions are viscous and unconscionable. But even more so, it is just plain incomprehensible. When I said I was going on the Everest trip, he lost his control, it seems. First, he threatened not to invest any longer in the company. Next, he demanded all of his subordinated debt. When we paid him off, no doubt to his (and our) surprise – since it appeared that we would not be able to come up with the some-odd $270,000 – he did not stop there. True to his threat, made to Fred Zalokar’s (my climbing partner who is on this trip) wife, Kathy, he then pursued another action to put us out of business – or at least to bring us to our knees, under his control. A most dastardly action indeed! He threatened us with the notion that we were violating his new patents, and wrote to us notifying us that he would contact our customers and our resin suppliers and tell them if they did business with us they “would be potential co-conspirators in patent infringement.”

Our (Doug, Kathy and I) first impression was that we should try to stop this from happening. When I related this to our corporate counsel, Bill Horwich, who had heretofore been most reluctant to take any serious action with respect to Larry’s threats, immediately suggested that we might have to seek to stop Larry.

Bill: Well, that certainly escalates things, doesn’t it?
Jeff: That’s the understatement of the millennium!
Bill: This may require us to seek injunctive relief.

Larry’s letter was faxed to us and dated March 25th, last Saturday. I talked to Bill on Sunday, the 26th. On Monday at 9 a.m., I had a meeting with Bill Abrams. Bill Abrams happens to be three things. He is a very able litigator in contract disputes. Secondly, he is Doug’s’ wife’s husband (his brother-in-law). Thirdly, he just happens to be one of Bill Horwich’s best friends. Ironically, I had set up the meeting on Monday the Friday before, before we received Larry’s Saturday fax. Horwich tried to advise me, at a Friday the 24th Board lunch, that it was not necessary to meet with Abrams before I left. But I made the date anyway, spurred on by a threatening letter Dad had written the morning of the 24th.

I spent virtually the entire day in the conference room of Bill Abram’s law firm, Orrick, Herrington and Sutcliffe. Other than an outing for dinner, I was there until 11 p.m. And the day before my departure, I was there virtually the entire day again, this time until about 4:30 p.m. Our collective decision (including Doug, Abrams, Horwich, Streeter (Abram’s co-counsel) and myself) was that we would have Horwich write a two-pronged letter to Dad’s counsel, Ray Haas, of Howard, Rice: one was to offer mediation; two was to warn them of their liability should they pursue their intended course of action. Secondly, we decided that we would file for injunctive relief next week. The injunctive relief sought would be to prevent Larry from writing to our customers and resin suppliers.

Abrams and Streeter seem intense, brilliant and determined advocates. As Horwich said over a late dinner (with Doug, Abrams and Horwich) on Monday: if Larry (Dad) didn’t like him (Horwich), he really wasn’t going to like Abrams. Later, when Abrams, Doug and I returned to the conference room, Abrams said Larry really wasn’t going to be happy.

To me, the most favorable possible outcome in all this is to have our license reconfirmed in writing from Dad, without the necessity to pursue this in court. Still, Dad seems so hell-bent on destroying ATS, it seems he will fight this to the death. And his lawyers apparently are not unwilling to take money for advocating an attack that they ought, on moral grounds, not to aid. Importantly, I believe they must not be operating under complete information.

Since Dad started to become unreasonable in January, I started to organize all my files for records concerning him and me. I had all letters and such organized in reverse chronological order at home. When the actions of the last few days escalated, I was able to reach for these files at my fingertips. This was very fortunate indeed. As Bill Abrams said to me when I spoke to him from Bangkok yesterday: “You make it easy for the litigator.” Since Saturday, I have been poring over letters. So have Doug and Kathy and Ken. The amount of information we have amassed to support our case is rather amazing. In fact, it seems incredible to me that Dad would pursue such an action, given the evidence that stacks against him. While on one hand, I do not underestimate him or his law team, still, there is so much pointed in the direction that says we are licensed to use the Mark VIII. Clearly, in my mind, Dad’s action is emotional and unconscionable.

The substance of the dispute is that, a year after Larry sold the company, he developed a product called Mark VIII. This was in 1989-90. ATS paid for and carried out the development. In 1990, Larry filed for a patent, which application was subsequently (in 1993) divided out into two applications, one for method and one for product. ATS paid for the initial filing fees and upfront patent work. ATS continued to market and manufacture Mark VIII, often under Larry’s direction. ATS paid Larry royalties on the product from 1990 to present day. Larry demanded that we put in our literature that we were licensed under patents and patents pending to use the Mark VIII. Our licensing agreement says we are licensed to use the Mark VIII (both under Patent rights concerning phenolic resins, which comprise its outer shell, and for Know-how.)

Larry, even in his letter in which he informs us that we are not licensed to use the Mark VIII under his patents ’994 and ’299, argues vehemently that we are supposed to pay for the defense of ’994 and ’299 against competitors in the marketplace, under the premise that we are the only ones enjoying the benefit of these patents. In one sentence, he acknowledges us we are licensed to use the Mark VIII and that we are infringing on his patents which cover the Mark VIII. If all this seems unfathomable, then you have come the right place!

The logic of Dad is strange. Yet I know he and his legal team is dangerous.
– –
Dad is going to France from April 14th till some time in May. He wrote us on Tuesday saying he is demanding to enter our facilities on April 11th (he is coming from Reno to the Bay Area from April 10th to April 14th). Just another problem we have to prevent. He has indicated in previous letters that he wants to take photographs of our machinery.

– –

So, the sunlight now filters directly though the curtains in front of me. A freshly-squeezed orange juice is brought to me. I think now I’ll drop off this computer in my room and go join my climbing colleagues upstairs for a proper breakfast.

April 1, 1995
[E]

1 Bije, Katmandu (young woman) (or was Bije the baby’s name?)
Bije Shrestha
Alternative Furniture Industry
P.O. Box 1449
Nagar
Kathmandu
Nepal

Saw her as we drove on by the side of the road. Stopped, turned around and stopped at the shop. She sat on the ground with her baby. I think I may have taken a picture of her with color film, unwittingly. The pictures with her baby, they were moving around. But her alone, she was gorgeous.

2 Narayan Devi (name, young girl on balcony)
Shrestha (caste)
Washiku
Ward No. 7
Chapali Bhadra
Kali Village Development Organization
KATMANDU, NEPAL

Gorgeous scene with corn in foreground (about 8 shots)

The other girl in pattern dress was named Maya Shrestha. Afterward, Narayan Devi stood against a wall in the sun and I took a couple of shots of her there. Nice also. I have a weak recollection, but my remembrance is that I took these shots at about f16 1/15, except for the ones of Narayan in the sun, which I may have sped up a stop.

Note: I have another address, but I am not exactly sure whose it is. It was written on the same piece of paper and it looks like it was written in the same hand, if that helps:

Shyam Kaji Shrestha
Chapali Bhadrakali
Village Development Organization
Washiku
Ward No. 7
Kathmandu
Nepal

April 2, 1995
Katmandu, Nepal
Sunday, 6:37 a.m.
[F] [A] [E]

Yesterday was a pretty good day, all in all.

The more I think about it, the more incomprehensible are my father’s actions. Last night at dinner, the guy sitting next to me, James, told me that his father actually suggested that since he was contemplating going to this area of the world, had he ever thought of climbing Mount Everest.

The whole saga, beginning with last year’s increasingly contentious letters, is mystifying, and I cannot believe that his actions are the actions of a wholly sane and “in-control” man. He has actually built a wall around his opinion that is impenetrable, and he believes with a full force and vengeance that (although he has embarked on a vicious and unmitigated attack) he is a victim of sorts and that his cause is somehow righteous, almost to the point of a religious fervor.

Interestingly, Doug sent me a letter which Larry had written to him on December 4, 1995, trying to convince Doug that ATS should pay for his legal fees for a battle with infringers of his (new) patents. This letter is remarkable in its tone. He uses phrases like “open the floodgates to the barbarians” and other such medieval war jargon. It occurred to me that he has been reading William and Ariel Durant’s history of the world, and that this may have woven a fabric of righteousness in his mind, akin to the Crusades.

I know when I am in the middle of a book, I can become engrossed in its tale, and it can affect how I view things whilst I am under its enchantment. Can it be that this, however slight, has lent a hand to this situation? My recollection is that he has been reading this book since mid-summer or early spring of 1994, which somehow marks an invisible line of when this change started to come over him.

I am troubled. It is, as you can imagine, a most unpleasant circumstance, to have one’s father thrust one into a position where you have a choice: to give in to a string of seemingly ceaseless unreasonable demands, or to face having him destroy a company with 50 workers, most of whom support families. There alone are perhaps 150 people who depend in whole or in part upon the survival of ATS.

And deeper, the psychological import of such a crisis is indeed overshadowing. Despite this, my conscience is clear and free, for I really feel I have made a concerted and continuing effort at peace and harmony. A person, however, can only give in so much before one has to defend one’s position, or so, at least to me right now, it seems.

His attack seems relentless. Even now, Amy tells me, he has faxed a letter to us about Joe Parisi’s money. Now, if Joe were concerned, he would fax us himself. Consequently, Dad’s inquiry can only be significant beyond a simple question. My guess is it means another round of “big trouble.” Perhaps, for example, he wants to try to effect some default clause in the Security Agreement. Perhaps I should have Maria redo the Security Agreement as well (as she did the Licensing Agreement), that is to cut and paste the changes as embodied in the Stipulation of 1992. My father and I have worked together for so long, at least I have some insight into how he conducts himself in warlike situations. And it isn’t pretty. He is very aggressive, subversive, penetrating, intelligent, far-reaching, and he will say things even if their substantiation is questionable.

– –

Other than that, my mind is on this trip. This type of endeavor, at least in me, brings on considerable apprehension. For example, last night at the dinner table, Pat from Ireland told me that last time on the mountain a guy died from pulmonary edema at Advanced Base Camp. That scares the shit out of me. Especially considering that the had a Gamow bag, a pressurizing bag. It equates to being 2000′ lower, but you can only stay in the bag for two hours at a time. Despite all their efforts to save him, he perished – I believe in a mere 12 hours. There was nothing they could do. It is 14 miles to base camp, where there is a truck or jeep. It would have taken two days to carry him there.

I know at altitude unexpected things can happen. I think I am as fearful of these side effects as I am about the other, more objective aspects of climbing (wind, avalanche, falls, exposure). Of course, I suppose there is a higher probability of having one of these “objective dangers” befall a person, but the complete lack of true understanding of how to see edema coming on and the crucial timing and need to rapidly descend all add up to a devastating potential, particularly on a route such as we are undertaking.

My understanding, as of last night (from Kelly, a doctor who hails from Canada but now lives in Australia), is that oxygen doesn’t do anything to improve edema. I suppose it is simply the pressure of the atmosphere, or lack thereof, which can improve or worsen the state of one who has fallen prey to this killer.

My personal plan is to be cautious in the extreme in terms of evaluating myself on a near-continuous basis, and notifying my companions at the first sign of difficulty. Furthermore, I intend on moving as slowly as need be so as not to unnecessarily waste my energy or debilitate my ability to recuperate. For example, if it takes half an hour longer to get from point A to point B, but in taking the extra time I avoid getting completely winded, then it is my intention to approach it in the slower, more cautious fashion, trying to optimize the use of the energy I do have.

In any event, it is before me. I will try to enjoy to the fullest each day as I go, and I’ll approach each day as it comes.

– –

Yesterday, I had a good day. I awoke quite early, about 5:30 a.m. I typed 13000 words into this laptop while having a pre-breakfast, then went up to the upper restaurant and had breakfast with Jon Tinker and Fred. Afterwards, Fred and I went by rented car to Derber Square’s Bodinath temple. I didn’t get inspired enough to take any 8 x 10 plates (photographs) there, so we headed out of town for the villages. On the way, I saw a beautiful girl on the roadside. Turning to Fred I saw he also noticed her, and so we commented, and I instructed the driver (Hemraj) to turn around. Buying sodas at the store (presumably her family’s) I then asked, in a casual unassuming manner, if I could photograph her. First they said no, but quickly changed that to yes. At first I tried to take pictures of her with her baby in her arms, but the baby kept moving, so I asked to photograph only her (which I preferred anyway). She was a natural beauty. Hemraj agreed. I took about four plates.

Then we continued on to Hemraj’s village. There, there was a house of a most interesting aspect. A couple of woman peered out of windows. I asked to take a picture of the house, and again, I was told no, only to be told yes again after a few seconds. I set up to take a picture of the people in the windows when, in a neighboring house, there appeared some girls. I turned my camera around to photograph them, and they withdrew. Then in the original subject house, appeared on the balcony a beautiful young girl with eyes as still as stones. Her aspect was really quite remarkable, with the wonderful ground of the house to surround her, and the perspective of looking up from the ground to her balcony. It took a while to get the movements of the lens just right. But she was the ideal model, reminding me of Er Che Du Ma in Yunnan, and she remained still and beautiful through the delay. After some photographs, I put the camera up even higher and stood on an empty wooden reel, and took some more. Her sister appeared and I took some of both of them.

After a few minutes, she appeared down below, and I took two more photographs of her standing on solid ground, against a house, with the sun casting a shadow across her face and dress onto the wall.

All in all, I took about ten photographs of her (and her sister).

In the evening, our group went out to a “traditional” Nepali dinner. It was interesting enough for the trip. I fell asleep at about ten p.m.

April 2, 1995
[E]

Photographs taken Asia 1995

1 Old and young women in doorways.
We went to Bhaktapur. I walked around and around and could not find anything that was of interest to photograph. Later, I headed back into the back alleys just to the right of the entranceway. There, a group of old woman were parked in a doorway in the sun. The walls around them were brick. The sun shone by the buildings and cast a beautiful quality of light in this court. Children played noisily. I set up my camera in front of a well, the stone lip of which was worn from hundreds of years of elbow resting while hands brought up the rope and bucket.

A little girl popped into the scene. I liked the contrast between the old withered women’s faces and the young girl’s freshness. I thought it all the more remarkable, for they were of the same kin, the same faces separated by two generations of aging.

One of the women sat in another doorway, and I photographed her alone.

Since these shots were all in the sun, I stopped down all the way to about f45 on most of these. The shutter speed was about 1/15 or 1/30.

2 Four girls, Bhaktapur

Continuing down the path a ways more, I came upon a group of girls hovering under a wooden overhang and a doorway. Fred and Hemraj laughed and one commented: “I think you found what you were looking for.” One in particular caught my eye. She had mascara around already-deep dark eyes, clear skin, and was holding flowers in her hands. I asked a picture of her. Soon, as I set up the camera, people crowded around. The girl was reluctant. Fred left, but Hemraj coaxed her, and finally, with the help of her kin and friends, after five minutes or so, but thankfully before the sunlight left the spot I had chosen, she came forward through the crowd and sat down. Through the lens, her loveliness bloomed. I was admittedly enchanted.

After about four photographs of her, I then asked a group of two other girls, but three came forward. The middle one, I noticed before the first photograph, had a less desirable face than the other two, so after one or two photographs of the three, I asked for only two. The one on the right had a red dot on her forehead, and looked particularly lovely. The sun was just fading then.

These photographs were all taken at more or less f16 and 1/15 or 1/8 second. I especially think the first girl was lovely.

April 3, 1995
[E]
Photographs taken Asia 1995

1 Holy Man (Naga Baba), Katmandu, vicinity of Pashiputinath.

It was hot and I was feeling unhappy because the car smelled of gasoline, then so did my
Bags. Furthermore, the temple was closed to non-Hindus, and I wondered how Pat (from Ireland) had been admitted (since he described bizarre feats performed by the holy men). I was even ready to leave, when the driver walked me to the burning ghats.

The burning ghats are sort of mesmerizing. When I arrived, there was one body on the pyre, and another was being prepared. Another procession came by and they brought a child. One of the attendants prepared the body, lifting away the under cloth and discarding it to the river, whereupon it was retrieved by the river attendant, who raked the flowers and sticks from the slow-moving water to the center of the holy stream (the Bhagmati). The attendant washed the head of the dead man, then parts of the body, while lifting the white cloth only high enough to get his hands under it. Likewise, two young men washed a woman’s body.

This scene captivated me for thirty or forty minutes. It leads one to ponder on the transience of life itself. I looked around at all the people on the opposite shore where the bodies burned, and considered that all of them, all of us, will end up in dust.

When I stood up, I walked to the bridge and looked upriver. The driver explained that the burning ghats upriver were for the rich people (Brahmins). The one closest to the bridge was for the rich, and the last one upriver was for the King’s family. Monkeys screamed, played and ate tidbits from among the flowers.

I looked upriver. The turn in the river had an interesting, drawing aspect to it. Prayer flags hung in long lines down to quarters where holy men sat. The sides of the rivers were banked with stratified rock, forming a small vertical cliff. I walked slowly upriver. When the holy men saw me (to my surprise) they waved me to come down to see them. They pointed the way down. One man was naked except for a loin cloth. He was covered in white chalk.

I went and sat with them. I sat for quite awhile, maybe nearly two hours went by. I distinctly did not want to take a photograph of them solely on the basis that they looked different. It is appropriate of tourist photos, but art must be of something with an aspect that can only be expressed through an art form. In other words, some type of magic must be present, a special moment.

I laid in the sun with my shirt off, closing my eyes. The place was very peaceful.

I gave the five holy men around me a donation of 50 RP each. One of them had been able to communicate very well despite the fact that his English was far from fluent. He gesticulated, moved his eyes excitedly, made his point, then laughed. The Naga Baba (naked Baba) smoked marijuana from a chilum.

I was about to leave when I relaxed awhile longer. Then, the Naga Baba perched himself in a yoga position in the sun near a tree. He looked picturesque. I watched as his lips moved; it seemed he was praying. I asked the others if I could take a photograph. They said it was O.K., but I asked them to ask him. He looked at me a moment, then waved me to go ahead.

Of course, the camera took a little while to break out of the bag and set up. He sat patiently. He turned towards the camera. Through the lens, he looked even more picturesque. Prayer flags came into the right upper part of the frame, adding a descriptive flavor to the scene.

I took four photographs, all at about f16, 1/15 of a second.

April 4, 1995
on way to Lhasa, but diverted to Chengdu
12:14 p.m.
[A] [L]

We were on our way (me happily) to Lhasa a few minutes ago, we were descending into the airport, when there was a great deal of turbulence. I had two cups of coffee, and the coffee was flying around in the air, landing on the seat covers, etc.

That was tolerable, but to my dismay, the pilot announced shortly thereafter that we were diverted to Chengdu. This was the unexpected. Laura had warned me that the flight on Saturday had to overnight in Chengdu and then go on to Lhasa the next morning. The weather seemed so fine today, I did not even consider it a possibility.

The news is not good for me, for I was actually very excited, in fact, terribly excited, to see Laura today in Lhasa. After a month’s preparation, we were to be together today at about 4 p.m. today. But now, it is impossible.

What was originally going to be a three-day stay together in one of the world’s most interesting cities, was dwindled to two anyway. Jon Tinker had originally told me that it was going to be three days in Lhasa, but then shortened it to two. Laura told me that she needs to go to the airport (100 km from Lhasa) on the night of the 6th anyway so that she can fly out on the 7th. It was confirmed to me last night that we are leaving on the morning of the 6th anyway. The question now is when I will even get to Lhasa. I really miss Laura terribly, and I was so excited that I would see her, touch her, feel her.

Still I must take this in stride.

April 5, 1995
Chengdu, Sichuan, China
12:04 p.m.
[L]

What shit!

Here I am in a bus, waiting to leave, to go back to the hotel, to spend another night here again, only to wake up tomorrow and try just one more time (a third) to get to Lhasa. Poor Laura is waiting there going crazy, after all her (successful) effort and going on a week’s time from home. Today we were up at 4:30 a.m. and to the airport starting about 5 a.m. We took off again only to land at Chengdu perhaps 75 minutes later.

O.K. enough complaining. Until this morning I was a very happy camper, making the best use of my time in Chengdu last night. When we arrived at the hotel, there were a few young ladies commandeered from the airport services who were helping out at the front desk. The (by far) prettiest was Ma Dan, a twenty four year old graduate of English literature. I asked her if she would take me to town later on.

“I’ll have to ask my director. I’ll go to ask my director now.”

Tim, a climbing guide (with Russell’s group), and I hovered around her, as she tried to help me call (Laura in) Lhasa. Ma Dan asked me if she could bring a friend. I said: “Fine!” Tim told her that in the name of public service she should eat dinner with us beforehand. She asked her director if she could and her director agreed with that also.

During dinner, she helped me order a fine Sichuan meal. She sat at another table under directions (from her director).

After dinner, I went to my room for a few minutes to get ready. When I came downstairs, Ma Dan introduced me to her friend Su Lan. Then Tim, Su Lan, Ma Dan and I all walked by the other ‘expeditioners’, whom, I believe, registered some surprise, and we hopped into a taxi to the city, at about 6:30 p.m.

I sat in the back with Ma Dan in the middle (and Tim on her right). I rested my hand on her arm and touched her hair (which she had let down before dinner, and which was beautiful). I made a point of immediately establishing myself as her suitor.

Her eyes were very beautiful, sparkling, and flashing at me, her eyelashes batting twice rapidly, on occasion.

When we arrived in town, it was dark. We went up to the top floor of a building to have a look at the view. Then we walked the streets. I put my arm around her waste and occasionally tugged her a little closer. I fondled her hair. All of this she didn’t seem to mind, except when I tugged her a little harder, playfully, whence she sort of ‘shruffed’ my hand off her shoulder. We continued, with Tim and Su Lan walking ahead of us or behind us.

We lost track of them and Ma Dan and I walked alone together through the streets of Chengdu. She told me that she loved to read books, particularly Jane Austin’s “Emma” and “Pride and Prejudice.”

We arrived at the Jin Jiang Hotel and waited. Su Lan and Tim walked by without noticing us, and we let them pass us. We hid when the came back our way again. I grabbed Ma Dan around the waist from behind, but she freed herself.

We followed Su Lan and Tim and caught up with them (to end our practical joke).

April 7, 1995
Lhasa, Tibet
[L]

I am both happy and unhappy. On one hand, Laura is resting her head on my shoulder, so that is a happiness. On the other hand, there always seems to be so little time and so many problems. For example, at work. I have been on the phone for hours.

But presently, my latest problem is that this computer has a ruined screen. It seems that in all the shuffle of the last few days, I dropped the computer at the airport yesterday morning. Last night when I tried to start it up, it was all messed up. Miraculously, this morning, in a last ditch effort, it actually worked, but only partially, for the screen is only half visible. For example, right now, on this line, I cannot read the whole line.

April 8, 1995
Lhasa, Tibet
12:09 p.m.
[L]

Laura is in the bathroom singing up a storm taking a hot tub. I am relaxing in my bed typing on my laptop. We just left a little party downstairs in the bar. It so happened that our climbing group left the Ying Qiao Hotel because it was, though new, not in operating order. I really had a delightful time at the gathering. First of all, the lot of the group is great. Kelly, James, Jon (Tinker), Fred, Pat, Nasuh, Mick, Brigitte and Jon Muir, Graham, Bob. They are all a lot of fun to joke around and are, in their own right, a pretty special bunch of people, accomplished in one way or another.

Plus, I was relieved in a way. I really hate to admit it, but I was sort of anxious about whether they would like Laura or not. Laura and I were coming back from a Tibetan dinner and actually had dis-boarded the bus with the thought of turning around and going to see Fred at the Ying Qiao. After a moment in the cold street, we changed our minds and just came back here to the Holiday Inn, only to our surprise to see all of them in the lobby. (The toilets and all weren’t working at their other hotel.) Anyway, everyone was very gracious. They are really very lovely and sociable people.

Today Laura and I argued a couple of times. It was very unpleasant. I don’t know the precise reason, but I was getting down on her case. I think deep inside part of me was worried of what other might think, that they wouldn’t approve of her. I knew it was nonsense, but I have that tendency to worry like that.

Today was very frustrating in a lot of ways, but now I feel very contented and happy. Now Laura lays next to me and writes in her diary. Everything has turned out really well, after all, only it did not come about as smooth as I would have liked. For one thing, I thought this laptop was completely busted, but so far it looks like I’ll be able to type my journals. For another, Laura was not certain whether she would leave tomorrow (Saturday) or on Sunday.

April 8, 1995
Lhasa, Tibet
[S]

Beauty is my god, Deep Respect, my religion.
[!!!]

April 13, 1995
Mount Everest Rongbuk Base Camp, Tibet, 5200 meters
8:30 p.m.
[A] [E] [L] [S]

Hello from 5200m.

The night is cold, but there is virtually no wind. I am not uncomfortable, nestled in my tent, thick fluffy down booties on my feet, the whole of my body stretched out inside my arctic sleeping bag. Today was a good day, as have been most of the days since I left home. Last night was the worst night I’ve had, I was a bit dehydrated, and I was still adjusting to the altitude here. At times like that, the mental battle is worse than the physical one. To resist thoughts of despair takes a strong will, and yet to discern when it is advisable to abandon a project takes good judgment. I do not feel it is, on one hand, necessary to make the summit of this mountain, but still, to abandon it now would render all the effort I took to get here a folly. I have risked an awful lot to climb this mountain.

The greatest part of this journey is not the climb but in all the other combined sights and sounds. For one thing, the people here are a rather amazing collection of accomplished individuals. Some are great mountaineers. Some are adventurers and photographers, others doctors, or women attempting firsts in the climbing world. I think without question, the greatest aspect for me has been being able to see this part of Tibet and to photograph with my 8×10.

I have not written for many days, mainly because I have been exceptionally busy.
Laura consumed much of my time in Lhasa, along with all the additional activities such as business, photography, and keeping in touch with my team. When we left Lhasa, it was a mad rush. I put Laura into a taxi at 630 a.m., then called back to California and packed. At about 10 a.m., we were supposed to leave, but the box lunches were not ready, so we waited around for a long time. In the meantime, Sumiyo, an interesting woman from Japan, and I had lunch together. We left in a caravan of land rovers to Shigatse. I rode with Fred, Bob and Graham. Every so often we would stop for a piss break, or to have a photograph. Naturally, with my large camera, I wanted to photograph some of the villages along the way. There are pink blossoms on the trees, which rendered the already-picturesque villages even more stunning.

We stopped in one village and I walked to the end of the village with my view camera. I saw a pretty doorway and a pretty woman, and I coaxed the woman to stand in front of the doorway (with the help of her fellow villagers). James looked on as I worked quickly. I have adapted into being a quick operator to enable me to get photographs of an interesting quality in situations with time constraints. (Actually, it seems to me that life itself is one big time constraint – no matter how relaxing a situation might be, there always seems to be something coming up which infringes on the current situation.)

I took, to my recollection, a couple of black and whites and a couple of colors. I hurried back to the land rover. I feel that traveling in this type of group caravan is a nuisance. There is really no objective reason that we could not take longer and go at our leisure, but such is the nature of groups that the individual need is overshadowed. We continued on and stopped at a cluster of buildings where men ate inside or loitered outside.

The terrain was most interesting. For one thing, we followed a river. One the opposite side of the river there was a path along which traveled a lone donkey man. The path stretched on and on, leading us to speculate that he might be forced to spend the night out there. At intervals, along flat, sandy, beached sections of river, one could find ferries. Sometimes, these ferries were large, more modern structures, which were secured against the current by cables. On other sections, the ferries were simply yak skin boats. Their attendants waited patiently by the side of the road, for their clients to appear.

When we arrived in Shigatse, a beautiful walled monastery/city appeared. No sooner had we arrived than I noticed Sumiyo talking to Tibetan drivers of a jeep. I went over and arranged to go with her by jeep to the monastery. Within minutes, I had thrown my bags into my room and joined her in the jeep to town. We arrived at the gates and were told it was closed. She made some sign and said we were only going just inside the gate.

A girl rolled a wheel barrel of earth across our path. I set up my camera. When Sumiyo tried to photograph this young woman, she ran away. When she came back to get her tools (shovel, picks, etc.) I somehow convinced her to pose for me. Soon a crowd gathered. James and Kelly also showed up, having taken a trishaw there. I took about six photographs of the girl, partially because she moved slightly and I was never sure whether or not the image was just right, and partially because she looked lovely. Meanwhile, Sumiyo, James and Kelly had a field day photographing her, me and the crowd with their 35 mm cameras. Afterward, I photographed an old monk. It was a color photograph, where perhaps B&W would have been better. Having finished all my plates for the day, Kelly and James were helpful enough to offer to take my camera and tripod back to the hotel. They were going back for dinner but Sumiyo and I wanted to stay and to explore the walled city. James gave me his Instamatic camera for me to take photos of the city.

Sumiyo and I climbed into the upper reaches of the city, photographing doorways and dogs, stupas, windows. I wanted to get onto the rooftops, so we walked into a house where two young boys carried old milk pails slung across their backs with ropes across their chests. As we entered a beautiful scene appeared. There was a pink blossom tree. The boys carried their milk pails up the stairs, pausing to look at us as we photographed them. I used both James’ Instamatic Minolta and my Instamatic Leica. These photographs were strictly for fun, and I had a lot of fun taking them. We wandered up a couple of flights of stairs. The view was amongst the most stunning I have ever seen, really. For the monastery’s hammered brass decorations and red washed wall faced me, and below in the court of the house, the pink blossom offset the child peering at us in curiosity. Not only visually, but an indefinable peacefulness pervaded the atmosphere. There it was, as picturesque a sight to behold when exiting your front door as there ever was. For all the apparent “poverty,” these people had something truly priceless to behold every morning.

I wanted to return here with my view camera and make an image of the boys with their milk pails behind the railings.

Sumiyo and I wandered onto the rooftop, only to be perfunctorily asked to leave by a man of the house.

We wandered among the stupas and she made friends with some young lads, one clothed as a monk. We shared some chocolate with them and took more photographs of them. In the process of meandering back, we happened upon a myriad of monk’s shoes parked at the entrance to a monastery, accompanied by a mesmerizing chanting bellowing the doorway. Unable to resist we tiptoed, now shoeless ourselves, to a steep stairway that led into the sanctum. The handrails, looking as if of yellow cedar, were polished to a lustrous and ancient gloss from decades of passing palms. We stealthily mounted the stairway, and, reminiscent of some little children whose curiosity had overtaken their caution… Peering over the edge of the floor, we saw young men sitting and rocking back and forth, while singing their prayer. I found myself all caught up in the magic of what they were about. For a moment of enlightenment, I saw what I had previously been able to understand. One might question, as I did, how they could devote so much time to the pursuit of worship and chanting. But suddenly, the magic they created pervaded my senses, and I could easily see the utility of what they did. The feeling was very uplifting.

We continued down and out of the city, meeting three young laughing women who walked with us part of the way. At the gate, the gatekeeper invited us into his guard shack. He offered us Tibetan tea, the salt, yak butter and tea mixture so well loved by the Tibetans. While we sipped on this odd-tasting brew, some of the group with whom we were traveling showed up, but were not admitted into the city. Bob, my land rover companion, was amongst them. They had waited until after dinner, but it proved to be too late.

When Sumiyo and I left, we took a motorized trishaw to an eating house. As it was cold, she offered me her coat, but instead I took the opportunity to throw my arms around her instead, it being a more natural response to the cold. She let out an “Oh” but did not move away. As the restaurant looked reasonably clean, I opted to stay there to eat. I watched the cook prepare a fabulous dish of pork and a local vegetable and then said I wanted the same. I had that dish served to me piping hot, along with rice, and I savored every bite. Sumiyo ordered something different – noodles – and also enjoyed her repast. We walked back to the hotel. We said goodnight.

I had wished, desperately, that I could have had my own room. I went to my shared room with Bob and Fred, then went back to the front desk and asked for a single room, but they had none. I really felt disappointed, because I had the feeling that there was sufficient momentum that I would be able to have Sumiyo to my room. Since there was none, I could only hope that she had her own room (that is, with no roommate). I knocked on her door. She came out. I told her that I could not find my camera and tripod, since I did not know where James and Kelly had their room. She endeavored to help me. Later she told me they were in room 205, just a few doors down from her. We stood outside their door in the dark, and she knocked lightly, but there was no answer. As we stood there, somehow, I began touching her arms and hands lightly. She seemed somewhat reticent, but rested her hands on my chest. There was some kind of energy flowing there. I noted to myself that her upper arms and forearms were soft, and I liked it. It was done with the usual comments, such as “Your hands are cold,” whereupon I would touch and hold her hands. Once I pulled her a little too aggressively and she pulled back a little, commensurately.

We said goodnight. I went back to my room but, even though I knew she had a roommate, I still had the scarf around my neck that she had lent to me, so I knocked on her door to return it to her. She said she wasn’t tired, so we sought out a place to visit. Unfortunately, the lobby area was freezing. I suggested we sit on a box spring in the landing area of her floor since they were stacked there for some reason. While we sat there, I caressed her knees and calves, as we talked. It felt quite nice. A few times, I threw my arms around her. She didn’t respond warmly, but then she also did not seem to mind. I caressed her for a while. After twenty minutes, she suggested I get some rest. I said good night. I felt that I had maybe come on a little too strong, leaving little to her imagination.

The next morning, I felt a little awkward. She and I sat at the same table (a typical Chinese table, round, with a carousel for the food). When we left, she asked me for some assistance with her camera. I had meant to get up early and go back to the walled city/monastery of Shigatse, but instead, I had slept in and our party headed off to Xegar (now called Tingri) shortly after breakfast.

The ride to Xegar went through more of the same kind of terrain, flat desert bordered by hills and mountains. The stops we went through offered little chance for use of my view camera. On one gas stop however, after many minutes of not finding any suitable subject, I took a few photos of two boys, one playing some kind of local stringed instrument. Interestingly, having set up this camera, I drew the attention of my fellow expeditioners, including, most notably, Leo Dickenson, who is a veteran adventure filmmaker. Graham noted the position of the feet of one of the boys in the photograph, and I thought it was quite interesting that he made such a comment, for I happened to agree with the comment and I thought it was perceptive on his part. I had consciously considered this in taking the photo.

After this stop, we turned left up into another gorge. We made a longer lunch stop along a river. Many of the expeditioners laid out in the sun. One Tibetan and his wife happened along. The man took considerable interest and astonishment in Tom Whittaker’s false leg.

We arrived in Xegar, but were sent back a few k to the Qomolongma Hotel.

(Continued on April 14th entry)

April 14, 1995
Mount Everest Rongbuk Base Camp, Tibet, 5200 meters
11:00 p.m.
[A]

Greetings again from Base Camp, the most lovely camp in the world. Tonight I will continue my story from when we arrived in the town of Xegar. I must also comment on a few things about the story of today. First off, I do not know how long these batteries will last because this computer is acting up still and I cannot read the battery level, so I will just hammer away. Today has been a pretty good day, somewhat predictably, since the weather has been fine and I did not push myself to do anything in particular today. Most of the other people are running around doing all sorts of day hikes etc., but I feel kind of happy with myself that I feel no sort of pressure from within to compete. My game plan is really simple. I plan to take it easy until my body wants to move. If that means doing nothing, then so be it.

Today Kelly, the doctor, administered a test to several of us. The device measured both saturation of oxygen in the blood and also heartbeat. It was done after breakfast. My heartbeat was actually lower than anyone’s at 80 beats per minute. For example, Fred’s was 85. Some people’s was 100. My saturation level was lower than most others, who registered about 80-85, while mine was 75. At sea level, your saturation level is about 97%.

I do not think there is anything to be gained in rushing, while I think there is a lot to be lost, including your life. Last night at midnight, there was a horrible sound coming from one of the tents. It sounded like a cross between a donkey and a human, a sort of wild breathing. It was discovered today that the sounds came from Yves, one of the Frenchmen on our expedition. Kelly has him under observation.

Again, as I mentioned before, the people along on this trip are a pretty good bunch. Most seem to be trying to help and to keep the spirit of the group up. Today some rested and others took walks. Today the yaks arrived. The yak herders have set up their camp adjacent to ours. All the leaders, including the Sherpas from Nepal warn us against having our possessions stolen by the herders. They seem to be recognized as an untrustworthy (but needed) lot.

Today, I pretty much just lazed around. Among my “big projects” of the day have been: i) taking a shower (the old hanging bucket routine), and ii) changing the film in my film holders. One unexpected event was photographing some (Ibex) sheep in the morning, which Bob from Alaska had pointed out to me. Another event was calling Doug and finding out that my Dad (hereinafter sometimes referred to as Larry) did sign a standstill agreement.

Tonight, I called my office and got an update on a few other particulars. Naturally, I forget to ask some of the important details. When I left Russell Brice’s communications tent, I could not help but to attempt to photograph Mt. Everest at night with my plate (i.e. view) camera. In the post sunset evening, an enormous lenticular cloud covered the summit of the mountain. In the full moonlight, it was truly inspiring. I fished out my view camera and set it up in the mild but icy winds. The first exposure was for about 15 seconds. I had to hold down the camera with my hand to keep it steady in the breeze. Probably 15 seconds is not sufficient for a proper exposure. The next plate, I moved the camera and I repeatedly exposed the same piece of film when the wind was at a low ebb.

Now, I will resume the story of Xegar. When I found that we would not stay in town, I was disappointed because there was a great high fort clinging to the side of a precipiced hill. It was in ruins, falling down to an active monastery and primitive town.

When we arrived at the Qomolongma Hotel, I immediately got out my camera and went for a walk towards a nearby village. Not long had I walked than a man and his family became the subject of photography (I had, of course brought along with me my camera). I only had three shots left, and soon expended them. My last two shots consisted of two women, one with a baby and then two boys. No sooner had I finished taking the last of the plates, while the local children rushed and tugged to sell us the fossils that seem to be everywhere in this vicinity, that I noticed amongst them a beautiful urchin girl that would have been a much worthier subject of my photographic efforts. Her face was grimy and dusty from exposure to the constant upheaval of dust and lack of washing, no different than any of the other children of the area.

I took my own room, by the way, in the hopes of being able to lure a lady, presumably Sumiyo, into my abode. But at dinner Sumiyo was not warm to me and seemed to run away from the scene prematurely. Maybe she was not feeling well.

Consequently, I occupied my post dinner evening fraternizing with the hotel staff, while keeping a close eye on what I thought to be the prettiest girl. I also took a walk, first taking the precaution to borrow a stick (with a strap attached) from the gatekeeper, since the dogs were making a racket outside. My walk did not last long, since I was spooked by the shadows.

April 15, 1995
Mount Everest Rongbuk Base Camp, Tibet, 5200 meters
9:00 p.m.
[A]

Tonight there is a mist on the mountain and the moon shines brightly once again. I just had dinner – mashed potatoes and some sort of meat sauce. As things go at Base Camp, it tasted pretty good. Prior to dinner, I had a strenuous walk back from the monastery. It took 2 hours and 5 minutes including the stops I made – one to rest and have a drink and one to put on some more substantial clothing, as it had started to snow in my face. I put on a wind suit and mittens and glacier glasses. What made it strenuous was that I was carrying my camera pack, which weighed about 60 pounds.

April 18, 1995
Mount Everest Rongbuk Base Camp, Tibet, 5200 meters
1:55 p.m.
[A]

Today is a great day. My power ran out the other night so I could not describe the events of the monastery day, let alone continue describing my experiences in Xegar.

The last two days have been fairly action packed. On the 16th, a good lot of us (being with the British is starting to affect me) took off before noon and climbed, replete with boots and crampons, up an unimaginably beautiful cascade of frozen, terraced water, formerly a full running river. We reached an altitude of about 5600 m, whereupon the Sherpas set up camp. Actually, since I had gone ahead of the entire pack, including Jon Muir, I ended up several hundred yards and some time ahead of the camp. I ensconced myself in a cubby of black rock and ate lunch while reading Touching the Void by Joe Simpson. I had decided on stopping at that point because I had overheard Jon Tinker and Jon Muir discussing going to one of two alpine lakes. I thought I had come to a crossroads. After lunch, I walked up a bit and saw them below me. I went back to finishing my afternoon laze and reading, then joined them below.

We all sat around b.s.ing and generally having a conversation of light humor and philosophy. Particularly Graham, Jon Muir, James and Kelly.

That night I slept in the same tent with Jon Muir and his wife Brigitte. Laying in the dark, we discussed my business and theirs, as well my adventures and theirs. About 9 p.m. we all dozed off. I awoke in the middle of the night, and went outside to pee in the frozen citadel of moon and bare rock swept canyons.

At 5:30 a.m., Jon Muir woke me.

“Jeff, look at this.”

I jumped outside the tent and I saw a noteworthy morning rise. The sun illuminated Guyang (?) Mountain in a pink hue, but the sun itself could not be seen. Just above the mountain, the moon hovered, near full.

Jon and Brigitte went up a ridge before I awoke. The French tents were full of laughter, awaking me at about 7 a.m. Our Anglo group was the last to leave, at about 8:45 a.m. I decided to carry my entire pack because of two reasons. One, I was paranoid that someone would take my stuff, and two, it was a better workout than going lighter. It probably weighed about 32 lbs.

Kelly, James, Graham and I started out up the steep scree slope. The ice patch was too hard to climb. Soon I was traversing while the others stayed close to the ice. At about 11 a.m. Jon Tinker and two French (Jacques and Patrick) were coming down after having touched the ridge at 6100 m. I traversed back to the others. I was a good 100′ above them, and I stopped and had lunch. I ditched my pack at the top of the ice patch and continued on with a light daypack. I reached the ridge at a few minutes after 12. Luke, Andre and Yves were just descending from the upper summit at 6407 m. I continued on to the upper summit. My comrades stopped at the 6100 m mark. I reached the summit and sat down to drink and eat. There was a 360-degree view. In nearly every canyon was a glacier clinging to the valley. It was awesomely beautiful. Off to one side, the mountaintops spread out like frosting.

At 1:20 p.m. I descended. I put on my wind suit to protect myself from losing too much heat on the windswept ridge. I stopped along the way to take photographs. When I reached the scree below 6100 m, I moved quickly, placing one foot solid and letting the next slide. I was cognizant of trying to protect my knees. When I reached my pack, I prepared to glissade down the ice slope. I glissaded all the way. I could make out three bodies down at the camp. One walked away. Later I found out it was Jon T., making sure that I got down O.K. When I got closer I could see that actually there were my three comrades left in the camp. When I arrived Graham said: “You’re just in time, get your cup out.” He poured me a cup of nearly tasteless, but much appreciated, soup.

We all descended the valley at varying speeds. When we reached the ice cascade, the other had their crampons on, so they descended quickly. I tried to boulder down the sides. Eventually, I donned crampons and walked down the frozen river. It was a strange sensation, especially because I could often hear the river flowing underneath the ice.

When I arrived back, the first thing I did was to take a shower.

April 19, 1995
Mount Everest Rongbuk Base Camp, Tibet, 5200 meters
[A] [E]

Again, I am having problems with my lap top: namely, getting it charged.

Before I lose any time, I want to write about the day in Tingri/Xegar.

In the morning, most of the crews left for the Base Camp. There were about 13 left at the Hotel. We all shuttled to the town of Xegar with the use of one of the Land Rovers. I took the last rip in, along with Tim Ripples, one of the guides for Russell’s group. He is the same guy who went into the town of Chengdu with Ma Dan and Su Lee. Tim was a lot of fun to talk to, since he and I are on the same wavelength when it comes to women. We had a good chat on the way into town.

When we arrived I was soon shooting photographs with my view camera. Two boys appointed themselves as my porters, and it was much appreciated for my camera gear was too cumbersome to bring up the hill by myself. After taking photographs of a woman at the entrance of a house, we continued counterclockwise around the mountain. There were interesting sights on the way. First, there were images of Buddha painted in three places in the flat rock forming mini cliffs along the riverside. Soon we came to a little hut. Here they ground barley into sampa powder. It was fascinating. The primitive and effective engineering was remarkable. The grindstone was connected to a water wheel, which was turned by water flowing through a trough, a river diverted for the purpose. A large bag holding barley grain was suspended to the ceiling by a series of strings. It was in turn connected to a goat’s horn, which jiggled as it rode the rough surface of the grinding stone; this action let a few grains of barley out at a time. These fell in a hole between the top grinding stone and the bottom grinding stone. Powdered “sampa” resulted. I tried to take a taste, but they told me not to. Tim explained that it was probably because it was not blessed. They brought some sampa from a bag and gave us a handful. We left 1 yuan as a donation.

The monastery, much destroyed (by the Chinese no doubt), clings to a high steep ridge. We continued around to gain access to the backside of the mountain. Up amidst the cliffs, there were two men, who were chiseling large pieces of slate from the mountainside. They were ensconced there precariously. Below them, the slated piled freely as a result of their efforts. I supposed that they would eventually push it down the mountainside, perhaps losing some of the size of the pieces through breakage. Furthermore, I wondered if the stone tablets seen around Tibet might some from this place or places such as this.

We came to some chortens at the base of the mountain. Tim explained we should circle them three times, clockwise, which we did. There were “windows” in the shrines, into which had been tossed, over many years, thousands of little stone tablets with prayers on them. Tim related how some people he knew had taken some of the tablets (from such a shrine), but had not told them until they had reached Katmandu. The valley spread out below and afar, in inestimable beauty, a beauty borne in large measure of the simplicity embodied therein.

We started up the hillside, meeting Kelly and James part way. They suggested there was nothing interesting on top to photograph and offered to carry my camera gear down, but I declined partly because Tim pointed out that it was good exercise to carry it.

When we reached the top, the camera crew (Leo Dickenson, Rob ___?) and the “actors,” Tom Whittaker and Eric Jones, along with Leo’s wife, Mandy, and others, were on top. Prayer flags inundated and undulated on the top. They were all over.

In fact, an interesting photo opportunity presented itself while we were there. Tim showed me the view downwards towards the monastery. He wanted a photograph of it. He helped me carry and steady my camera gear to photograph it. But what I found really interesting was the landscape that spread out before us.

(Continued at night in my tent. Laptop power still a problem.)

The delineation between the valley below and the foothills and mountains rising above them, then the clouds in the top of the picture was startlingly beautiful in a simple and expansive way. I really became turned on by this scene; and I shot several photographs of it just to make sure that in case one negative failed, I would have a backup. I must emphasize how beautiful I thought this was. Normally, I do not try to take landscape photographs because I think they are extremely difficult to do well. But this time, I must make an exception.

Afterwards, and when Leo and his crew had had their fill of the shooting, they went down, and to my happiness, Tim wanted to stay on top because he thought that the weather could clear and that we would be able to see Qomolongma. We sat and had lunch and shared it with the two lads who had carried my tripod and camera body up the hill. Sure enough, at about 4:30 p.m., the clouds cleared. Previously, Tim had shown me Cho Oyu, and Shisha Pangma, and Makalu. Now Everest towered excessively above the entire rest of the landscape. Tim said that a monk had told him. “You see Everest (from top), good luck. You no see Everest. no good luck.” After admiring the view, I took photographs of the two boys with the valley in the background. I followed Tim and the boys down to the bottom of the hill. We walked back to the place we were supposed to get the land rover, but the land rover (with Martin and Tom Whittaker) came to find us first.

Upon returning to the hotel, we ate dinner; then I wanted to go out and to visit the village near the hotel. I invited Tim and James (and whoever else wanted to come). Tim took too long and said he’d catch up, so James and I walked that way. Even before we left, there was a crowd of children surrounding us. Amongst them was the pretty young girl that had come out the day before. As we walked the children held our hands and sang French folk songs. I asked the young girl to take us to her house. James lagged behind. When I got to the girl’s house, I noted her sister was also quite beautiful, older. It was quite dark now. The young girl kept trying to sell me the fossils that she had. Through sign language, I tried to explain to her that I wanted to come again in the morning and take photographs of her. In a rudimentary way, she seemed to grasp, at least in part, my plan. James had caught up by this time and wanted to go back. I myself wanted him to go on ahead but he did not take the hint, and I was too embarrassed to admit that I wanted to be alone with the girl. When we walked back, her and a small girl hassled me mercilessly. At first I tried to touch her when she got close, but then she seemed to keep a little distance, while the young girl held on to me and tried to pull me.

When we got back, James and I related our story to Kelly and Tim. I was surprised that James stated that he was turned on by the pretty girl. I felt please that he also felt such a strong attraction to her, as if to vindicate me from my overpowering urge to touch her. I stayed up late that night in order to prepare myself for both photographing in the morning and leaving shortly afterwards.

The next morning, James and I walked down to her house. At first, her sister came out. I took a photograph of her sister, and meanwhile the young girl appeared. I soon realized that there was scarcely enough light to photograph. I wanted to wait, but James wanted to go, so he did, and I stayed. I took many photos of her, and eventually she became impatient, so I gave her 20 yuan, of which she seemed quite pleased. I took a couple of more photographs of her. After I was done, I was showing her and her brother and another young girl what it looked like through the glass.

I paid her another ten yuan. She really seemed delighted with the money. I also had handed a few yuan to her sister and brother and a few others, mostly giving to other so that they would not overly resent the young girl’s windfall.

April 21, 1995
Mount Everest Rongbuk Base Camp, Tibet, 5200 meters
[A]

It is 10 p.m. I am typing by the light of the screen of the laptop. My fingers are cold. My toes are even colder. I feel exhilarated. There are several reasons. The main one, I would like to think, is that I am getting at about the 85% acclimatization level at 5200 m. I have been here how long? About a week. I am also happy about having the time to acclimatize and socialize. There is a lot going on, in different ways. The world is turning, the seasons moving, and so is my life, even when I physically stand still.

Tonight we completed phase I of our practical joke, “wind-up” as Leo Dickenson calls it. My office just faxed a letter from “Bill Clinton” to Tom Whittaker. In the morning, he will wake up to find it.

Also, today and tonight I talked to Laura in Shanghai. It was really good to hear her voice, and to hear each of us affirm our love for each other.

Just now, I spoke with Doug. It seems that business it absolutely booming. The fly in the ointment is my father’s hell-bent, and seemingly inexplicable, determination to make life difficult for us.

The main thing on my agenda is to acclimatize and to stay healthy. In the meantime, there are lots of interesting people to talk to, though some of them have gone up to ABC. I will outline some of the personalities and some of what I understand their accomplishments to be.

Leo Dickenson. British adventure filmmaker. One of his latest accomplishments was filming and flying in a balloon over Mount Everest. Apparently, he has made over 60 films. I note that yesterday, he filmed me with my 8×10 camera to simulate Captain Knowles who came to Everest in the 20′s. He seems very pleased with the footage and seems to think he will use it.

Along with Leo are these other personalities:

Eric Jones. A co-filmmaker with Leo and a filmmaker in his own right. Also flew over Everest in a hot air balloon with Leo. Eric is intending on being the first Welsh man on top of Everest and they are filming Eric speaking Welsh all the way up. Apparently, Eric was involved in Messner’s and Habler’s solo climb up Everest.

Mandy Dickenson. Leo’s wife. She is a hot air balloon pilot and travels and works with her husband.

Rob Parker?; Leo’s assistant. He started out being a (premier) cave diver. Apparently has worked with Leo on many projects.

Tom Whittaker. Tom is attempting to be the first disable climber to reach the summit of Mount Everest.

Greg Childs. Premier mountain climber. Has reached the summit of K2. He is a long time personal friend of Tom Whittaker and is here to help him to the summit.

Paula. Greg’s girlfriend. She speaks excellent Chinese and hails from Utah.

Richard ?Price. Former director of Beazer Corporation. From what I can gather Richard has held some very high posts. It so happens that Beazer bought Koppers, with whom my father had a lawsuit. Further, Indspec was an offshoot of the buyout, and they are competitive resin suppliers in my business.

Russell Brice. Russell, along with his partner Harry Taylor, are the people to have climbed the furthest up the North East Ridge of Mount Everest.

Alison Hargraeves. Alison climbed to 8400 m last year on the South Col of Mount Everest, carrying all her own gear and without oxygen. She is attempting to climb K2, Everest and Kanchenjunga all this year without oxygen, the three highest mountains in the world.

Dick Martin, Doctor. I don’t know his history, but I believe it is also interesting.

The above people are all part of Russell’s group of people. In my group are:

Jon Muir. Veteran of at least four previous expeditions to Everest. Summited in 1988 on the South Col route. [Note: without Sherpa support.] Australian adventurer. Jon’s wife Brigitte, a climber and adventurer in her own right.

Jon Tinker. Summitted on the North Ridge in 1993, leader of my team.

In addition, there are many other very competent and even accomplished climbers and people. Nasuh from Turkey, Luke and Yves from France, etc.

George Mallory, grandson of the famous Everester of the same name, is with the American Expedition.

There are many other people in other expeditions who “have a name.”

April 22, 1995
Mount Everest Rongbuk Base Camp, Tibet, 5200 meters
9:40 p.m.
[A]

I was originally supposed to leave yesterday morning. But our leader preferred if we waited until tomorrow. So yesterday, the remaining people, Kelly, Bob, John and Brigitte and I were supposed to go up Paska Kasa (nicknamed Pile of Shit in Finnish —this is the only name I know it by). I was running behind, and I told them to go ahead. I was just about to leave when Sumiyo popped her head into the mess tent where I was standing. We promptly sat down and each had a cup of tea. It really seemed that she wanted me to go with her to the monastery, so I changed my plans. Fred came down from ABC before we left, so I told him where I was going. Fred looked quite worn out. I was very excited to go along with Sumiyo. She seemed prettier than before. She gesticulated when talking and touched my leg in a friendly manner. We talked around certain points. For example, I told her that I thought she had avoided me in Xegar. She said that she had not meant to do so.

At one point during tea, she had stated that there were three things she was not: charming, beautiful and intelligent. I told her that she was all three. She said no but said she appreciated it.

We walked down to the ruins, about half way to the monastery. I wanted to take pictures there and so did she.

We rambled around the ruins together. She walked around taking pictures and so did I. Qomolongma (Mount Everest) was often obscured by distant clouds. But the ruined monastery was in sunlight although windy. I took photographs of her from time to time. She looked very interesting in her hat and sunglasses.

After we had gotten our fill of the photographs, we were going to leave when I suggested that we find a place to lunch that was sheltered from the wind. Down in the ruins was such a place, against a rock. As we sat there, I touched her and got a little closer, bit by bit. I was stroking her legs, arms, hands, and hair. I even gave her a neck rub, as she indicated it was a little sore.

When we were about to go, somehow we sort of ended up standing face to face with her back against a rock. It was sort of like a dance. She did not resist enough to stop the eventual “forced” kiss. I had pressed my lips against hers for perhaps fifteen seconds. She said she did not want that. Yet she hovered there still even after I “released” her. Then she was going to take a photo with my big lens and she leaned into me to do so. I reached up and felt her breast for a moment. It was thrilling, however brief. She commented in some way and said that she was trying to take a photo. Shortly thereafter, we again ended up where I was kissing her a second time. I was sorely tempted to run my hands up her crotch, but for some reason I hesitated in doing so. Maybe it was because I was trying to pay delicate attention to the vibrations or not to scare her away. She was saying it was me, and I was saying it was her, that was the cause of this intimacy. At one point, she actually seemed confused as to who was making this happen, and she said, “I don’t know.” We stood there, leaning over the rock,
our heads in our hands, feeling confused with what to do.

In retrospect, I could have played it more forcefully. She asked me twice “What is it that you want me to do to satisfy you?” And to this I replied “I only want you to be yourself next to me.” Or some such. Perhaps I should have answered it with a more provocative and directly honest answer.

To her words that she really did not want this, I replied “Well then why do you make yourself so close to me.” Or some such direct challenge. Thereafter, I took a couple of photos of her and then she went off around the ruins. I took some more pictures of the ruins, ones that I felt some pleasure and satisfaction from.

When we left, we walked back up the moraine. She was a fast walker, but then I was carrying about 60 pounds of gear.

In the evening, since Sumiyo had brought over sake in the morning, we all had a party and Sumiyo ate with us. Doug called me from California. The call took me away for nearly an hour, at the end of which time, when I returned, the party was still going on, but Sumiyo had departed. I felt sorely disappointed. Instead then of walking her home, I listened to Russell Brice’s mountain exploits, which had an air of the brag about them.

…..

Today, I went over to see Sumiyo. We had tentative plans to go up the hill [close to our camp]. Instead, Russell had invited her to lunch. It was very awkward. She invited me for tea and we talked for fifteen minutes. I wanted her to want me, but she said she wanted only to be friends.

I took off up Paska Kasa. I climbed from 5200 meters to 6343 meters in 3 hours 19 minutes. At top the snowing created a lack of visibility. I had to come down disoriented. I went down the wrong valley and got lost. When the sky cleared, I could not recognize anything because everything was white.

April 23rd, 1995
Mount Everest Rongbuk Base Camp, Tibet, 5200 meters
[A]

Quickly, one day last week, I went up Paska Kasa in 3 hours and 29 minutes, a climb of 1200 meters. I got lost on the way down.

April 24th, 1995
Mount Everest Rongbuk Interim Base Camp, Tibet, 5800 meters
[A]

The next day, we left for interim camp. It is about a 6-mile walk, gaining about 2000′. I walked with Jon Muir and Brigitte and Kelly. I had an uncomfortable sleep.

April 25th, 1995
Advanced Base Camp, Mount Everest, Tibet, 6200m
[A]

Next day, we proceeded on to ABC, i.e., Advanced Base Camp at 21000′ (6400 m). The walk was pleasant. Not to mention the fact that it was outrageously beautiful. The walk takes you around the backside of Changtse, which itself is a gorgeous mountain. There is a slab glacier of immense proportions coveting the side of the mountain.

April 26th, 1995
Advanced Base Camp, Mount Everest, Tibet, 6200m
[A]

At ABC, I ate and slept. Next day, Jon and B went “up the hill,” that is they climbed to the North Col and back down. They always say they are “going for a stroll” and invariably take quite an outing. I myself decided to take a rest day. The views are monumental.

April 27th
Advanced Base Camp, Mount Everest, Tibet, 6200m via the North Col, 7000m
[A]

Next day I decided to go to the North Col. The first half of the walk approaches and traverses the glacier. The sun was shining. The wind grew up on the glacier. When I got to the foot of the ice cliff, I put on my Gore-Tex, my harness and my crampons. My harness alone took 15 minutes to put on as it was difficult to see the belt buckle with all my stuff on. I realized I should have put it on before I left camp. The walk to that point took 1 hr 25 min. But I consumed about 30 minutes there. Once I started up the snow slope, I moved quickly, soon passing other groups, including Kelly and Bob from my own team. Bob had a pretty heavy pack, looked like.

About 2/3rds of the way to the top, I reached a cleft where there were ropes leading each way. I contemplated moving to the left, more difficult, i.e., steeper, way, then decided to go to the right. Just at that moment I saw my crampon had fallen off! I looked and saw the reason: the wing nut (and accompanying pieces) had come loose and fallen off! My first feeling was despairing, for I knew that the pieces would be very difficult to find, if not impossible. Just below my foot was the bolt. Fortunately, about five feet below me was the washer and a lock washer as well. I went down and retrieved the parts, reassembled all and was on my way, having consumed an additional 15 minutes.

The slope traversed up and right, then steep left, and soon tents were visible. I passed all the tents and finally reached ours, the last. The whole trip took 4 hours 16 minutes, including (needless) delays. I ventured out onto the Col proper. There the wind was more powerful, the tents all being protected by an ice buttress. The view, correspondingly, was incredibly more awesome.

The North Face became visible in (more or less) its entirety for the first time. There before me was the famous Great Couloir. It was true, as James had described, the summit seemed as if “you could reach out and touch it.” I turned around and saw Bob coming up to the tents. I was frightened to go further because there were no ropes to fix to. I think I do well as far as fitness – that part of climbing. But when it comes to daring, I do not think I have the “climber’s daring” as I see exhibited in others. After awhile, Kelly pulled himself the last yards to greet us.

As he indicated he would use James’ sleeping bag. (James had told us both that we could use the bag that he had left there.) And, as Bob said, if I didn’t stay there, then there would be “less water to boil” – but most of all because Tinker had indicated in the morning at ABC that he admired my decision to go to the Col and return rather than sleep there – I decided to turn around and descend. It was about 2 p.m. I descended rapidly, using the technique suggested to me by Jon Muir, which was, namely to wrap the fixed rope around my arm, put a ‘biner’ in just in case, and to descend walking (confidently and) facing straight out. I reached ABC in 1 hr 30 minutes.

That evening Fred arrived. Jon Tinker seemed impressed by the fact that Fred made it from base to ABC in 7 1/2 hours. That evening Jon Tinker and Jon Muir discussed a plan. It was for Fred, Jon (M) and Brigitte to go to the North Col the next day to sleep, and to try to push on to Camp 2 the next day. I eagerly wanted to join them and wondered why Tinker did not suggest me. Then Jon Muir said, “Or we could go the four of us, Fred, Jeff, Brigitte and I.” Tinker said, “That’s fine, I like that too, we’ll just go with that.” And it was settled. Luke and Andre, two of the Frenchmen, sat by while this conversation took place. They had spent the night at the Col the night before and were going down the next day. We agreed we would decide whether this plan would begin being carried out the next day or the day after and decided we would make this decision the next day.

April 28th, 1995
North Col, Mount Everest North Ridge route, 7010m
[A]

On the following morning, exactly as I anticipated, Jon and company all felt like leaving, so I went with the flow even though I felt a rest day might be in order for me. Jon, Brigitte and Fred all left before me. This time I figured I would make it in better time, so I put on my harness and crampons, etc. before I departed. It took me a little longer to arrive at the bottom of the wall, probably because my pack was somewhat heavier. I spent a few minutes having a drink, etc. and was off up the wall about 1 hr 45 minutes from the time I left the camp. I lost no crampons this time on the way up. My form was direct and simple: step, plant ax, slide jumar, step. Once I get going in this way, I feel happy with my upward progress. I arrived at top 3 hr 46 minutes after leaving ABC, so I guess it took me 2 hours to climb the wall. On the way, I passed Fred (among others). He was suffering from a nosebleed. Blood was spilling onto the white snow.

When I got to the top, I chatted with Jon M., then suddenly realized Fred might need help. I had already taken off my crampons and harness. I refitted my gear and started down to help Fred. Just then a Sherpa also came; he told me that I could go back and that he would help Fred, but I opted to go down anyway. It wasn’t far to find him. The Sherpa took his pack. (Actually the Sherpa had previously exchanged his pack with Fred’s and was now merely recollecting his own.) Since I descended, however short, more rapidly than I normally would have, it threw me off a little, and after arriving back at the North Col (7010 m) I felt more wasted than I had when I originally arrived some minutes earlier.

Furthermore, Fred was pretty wasted, and as consequence I had to pretty much do all the cooking. Cooking revolves largely around melting snow for water. I spent virtually all afternoon and evening filling our water bottles and preparing meals.

I slept fairly well, marking the highest sleeping spot I ever stayed in.

April 29th, 1995
North Col, Mount Everest North Ridge route, 7010m
[A]

The next day we all decided to wait another day at the Col before attempting to move on to Camp 2. Jon and Brigitte took a “stroll” up the saddle and returned.
After they got back, I decided to do the same. I ventured out onto the saddle. The North Face suddenly becomes visible for the first time. The dimensions are hard to imagine, for there is no one on it. The Great Couloir runs enormously down the face, ending in an ice cliff of unimaginable dimensions.

I was happy that ropes had been fixed, and so I ventured forth without much concern. I kept my eyes on the weather a bit.

I turned around when my altimeter was about 100 meters higher than the North Col.

April 30th, 1995
Ascend from North Col to Camp 2, Mount Everest, 7600 m
[A]

The day we went to Camp II [April 30, 1995] started out to be a fine day. J&B left at about 8:25 a.m. Fred left a few minutes before me and I left at about 9:23 a.m. (all from the North Col). The sun was shining. The slope was fixed and I got in to the rhythm of using my ice ax in piolet canne (like a walking stick), planting it alternate to my other hand, which slid the jumar up the rope. I wore only lightweight Gore-Tex mitts on my hands. Meanwhile, in rhythm, my legs plodded. The snow was soft and firm, making it easy to get footholds as I ascended. The slope was not steep, but I used the rope as protection anyway, since a fall could potentially be fatal.

Whereas Fred wore his down, I wore only my fleece and Gore-Tex outers. At first, I was comfortable as the sun was out and the wind was just a breeze. I got up to where I had been yesterday. I was carrying a water bottle, 1.5 liter, filled with hot tea with milk and sugar placed inside a thermal receptacle made for that bottle. I stopped and had a couple of swigs. When it comes to things like drinking fluids, I usually try to bring ample and to space out and monitor my consumption of same. By now I had long before passed Fred. He obviously is not up to his usual form. On the other hand I do not mean to detract from my own seeming nimbleness at very high altitudes. Ever since I ascended about 1200′ an hour on “Paska Kasa” (from 5200 m to 6343 m), I have found a rejuvenated respect for my abilities to ascend at altitude. On the way from Camp 1 to 2 on this day, I guess I was carrying about 15 kilos of weight. I had my Dana Design Astraplane pack, my Marmot 8000m suit inside it, along with my North Face Curlew sleeping bag and sundry other objects: some sausage and cheese, a headlamp and battery, etc.

As I proceeded, almost without noticing it, the weather must have started to deteriorate. Gradually, the visibility diminished and the wind picked up. The changeover being quite imperceptible, suddenly I found that my fingers were getting cold. This wasn’t particularly surprising given the lightweight gloves I had on. What was quite surprising was that my toes were getting cold as well. I was wearing One Sport Everest Boots, a poly liner sock inside a pair of Patagonia Expedition Weight sox. This feeling of numbness was quite unexpected, as my feet had never felt cold when moving wearing these boots before. I continued on, only now I wiggled my fingers and toes regularly in order to prevent frost nip or worse.

Occasionally I could make out above me what I thought to be Jon and Brigitte. They seemed to be getting closer. There were others on the mountain as well, not the least of whom were two Sherpas with our group. One of them had left just after me and had passed me in the first few minutes. He was now well above me, perhaps two hundred land yards, about 75m of climbing and maybe forty minutes. The route became even more obscure. I note what a difference it is climbing when one has a rope to guide you and protect you as opposed to if one was forging one’s way by themselves!

Now it deteriorated to an even greater degree and the slope steepened. I did not feel the altitude and hard breathing was a problem, it was the cold and dwindling of my inner core’s heat. For the first time I could ever remember [I was] feeling that I was challenged to go on with respect to my physical resources.

In one sense, I was not at the limit of my resources, but on the other, I was very glad to be getting to the end of the climb. There was a rock on the hill to which were attached a lot of lines. When there I took a drink of my fluid that was now getting luke-warm. A man was coming down, so I asked him how much further it was. He said: “This rope length, one more rope length and then one short length and you’re there.” But I was not sure if the camp he was talking about was our camp. When I got to the top of the second tie-in point, I noted that the picket could be slid out of the ice! (Don’t put too much trust in the rope, I told myself.) The man had told me that it was half an hour. Soon I could see a small cluster of tents. When I reached them, I yelled above the ambient sound to the two Wild Country tents, hoping that these were the ones and I did not have to go further. At first there was no reply, and I waited. Then, I heard Jon and Brigitte call out. They told me to enter from the other side; then they informed me that there was no room in their tent. Finally they told me to enter from between the middle of the two tents. I dived into an empty tent, out of the storm.

I worked quickly and methodically to make myself most comfortable. First, I removed my wet socks and put on dry ones, then put my boot liners on again. I got out my sleeping bag. Jon sent over Brigitte’s sleeping mat and also two gas canisters and some tea and coffee packets. I set to work immediately to make a hot drink. Jon had told me that he had told the Sherpas to tell Fred to turn back, since he was coming up too slowly. I agreed. Fred did not seem strong. I was sitting there warming up very much to the idea of having the tent all to myself for the night. I would not have to cook for anyone. I could keep the fluids going all evening. I would not have to take care of anyone.

After awhile, though, I heard Fred’s voice. At first he did not come in, and I was hoping I was mistaken. But after awhile, the tent unzipped and Fred’s goggled face appeared in the opening. I had to make room for him. Soon the tent was crowded. I informed Fred that I was right, and that there was no food in the camp. He took over the duties of creating water from snow.

This went on until our water bottles were full for the night. At one point, Fred spilled all the water on the floor of the tent. I tried to be helpful by helping Fred scoop up the water with a cup from the floor and put it back in the pot. The water did not look very appetizing by this point. A short time later, Fred was offering to fill my water bottle. I did not think about it until after my bottle was full of tea, that I had probably gotten the water that had visited the tent floor. Later, when I teasingly asked him about it, Fred said we both ended up with some. But I think he gave me first dibs! Then I brought out my only two packages of soup mix. I really enjoyed mine, but what I didn’t realize was that Fred did not even drink his.

Soon after, I was fast asleep. I slept quite well. What this means at altitude is that you only wake up, more or less, just to relieve yourself and perhaps take a few swigs of fluid. When I did awake, I was constantly aware that the wind was blowing like crazy. I wondered what might happen if the tent ripped apart. I reminded myself that I had my down suit on, so I would be in a position to resist the cold. The wind continued unabated through the night.

Jon and Brigitte told us they were going to leave at 9 am but left at 8:22 p.m.

MAY 1995

May 1, 1995
Descend from Camp 2 to ABC, 6200m
[A]

In the morning, the wind was still blowing. I awoke at 6 a.m. I was hoping, being as though Fred was near the cooking apparatus, he would start up the fire and boil a hot drink. However, nothing happened. Two hours passed. By 8 a.m., I started to figure that maybe it wasn’t going to happen unless I did it myself. So I informed Fred that he would have to move over. It was this sort of hassle that I had wished to avoid by sleeping alone. I just did not feel that Fred was as helpful as some others, like Jon Muir for example, on the expedition. I took care of all my own needs first.

Fred and I took seemingly forever to get ready. We told Jon we were going to venture up higher. Jon indicated that Brigitte wasn’t feeling too well and that their decision was to go down. Fred and I were like two drunks, occasionally rousted by circumstances from our lounging, drunken stupor long enough to look up from our sleeping bags, then fall back into a senseless haze.

The turning point for me was when I had to get up to defecate. It had to be the most awful shit I ever had. First of all, I had to dress, which took forever. Second, I had to grab an ice ax as a safety as the shitting area was on a slope that fell off the side of the mountain. Third, it was icy cold and windy. I squatted in position, resenting that I had to endure such an indignity. As I was doing my business there, I looked up at the rocks. I felt acutely the icy wind, and I changed my mind about continuing on upwards. I dove into the tent headfirst and informed Fred of my change of heart. He concurred with the idea to go down. Still, we took until about noon before we were ready to go. Fred left a little before I did.

When I started to descend, I went very slowly, stopping to take a few photos, clipped into the line, persevering the cold. Fred was a fair bit below me already. The views were rather astounding. From Camp 2, all of a sudden, it began to give me the feeling of being way above it all. I could see far into the hills of Tibet, brown and austere.

I tried to catch up with Fred but he maintained distance from me. It was not until the slope went down and back up that last few meters that Fred slowed immensely. At the last step before the camp, I came up to Fred.

We stopped for awhile at Camp 1. George offered us a hot drink. Mike Smith was in one of the tents. Nasuh, who had been off for a week in Katmandu getting a tooth fixed, came walking up moments later. At about 2 p.m., we headed back down. Smith had said that it takes 2 to 2 1/2 hours to go back down to ABC, so I tried to see how fast I could go. I thought the previous descent that I had made it in 1 1/2 hours, but I wasn’t sure. I sailed down the face and reached the glacier. Since I did not want to overheat, though it was surely a stupid thing to do, I proceeded with only my expedition weight undershirt on top. I made it back to ABC in 1 hr 14+ minutes.

That night we ate and drank a lot of fluids.

May 2, 1995
Leave ABC for Rongbuk Base Camp, 5200m
[A]

The next day, Fred and I walked the 13 miles back to base camp. I stopped and talked, rested and shot photos. It took about 7 hours to descend.

May 3, 1995
Rest at Base camp.

May 4, 1995
Rest at Base camp.

May 5, 1995
Mount Everest Rongbuk Base Camp, Tibet, 5200 meters
4:40 p.m.
[A]

I just accidentally erased the beginning paragraphs of today’s entry.

Today I feel much, much better. I am sure everyone would agree that I have been like a zombie since I returned from up above. I have been bothered by dry throat, lethargy, shortness of breath, stomach aches, slight diarrhea, feelings of claustrophobia, cough, etc. since I arrived back here at base camp. Oddly, none of these things, save for the lethargy at extreme altitude, bothered me when I was up above. Last night, when I had to go to the “shitter” for the fifth time, I finally sort of threw my sleeping bag off of me in a gesture of what was akin to defiance, as I was sick of feeling sick!

Today, everything seems sort of normal again. In fact, I am feeling industrious. I am nursing myself, and I do not intend on returning up above until every detail is as under control as I can get it. For example, my lower lip is a blistered mess. I must have forgotten one morning (just one!) to properly protect it, and consequently, it is a maze of blood, blisters and puffiness. I want it to heal, because I don’t want it to be a distraction! Also, I have been coughing since I have been here. It is like trying to scratch an itch that I cannot reach. I want it completely gone for days before I leave. My right foot’s big toe nail is shot, and it is likely to come off. I at least want the pain to subside before I go up again. I am determined that if at all possible, I want to only go up to ABC one more time this trip. I figure that I will rest here for a week to ten days, and on about the 12th of May I will start up. Then I would rest the 13th at ABC. The 14th I might go up the North Col, the 15th to camp II and so on. I figure that this gives me about an 8-day window for weather while I either wait and/or climb as weather and acclimatization permits.

Last time I was high I really felt much, much better than I anticipated I would. Physically, I feel the altitude is within my capabilities.

We sit down here at Base Camp day after day watching the weather change. In the morning it might be clear, and by afternoon it might be snowing. The weather above all scares me when it comes to this mountain. If I am going to make a summit attempt, I will only do so (as I now see it) on one of those days that appears to be “bomb-proof,” that is, when the skies are clear, calm and hot for as far as you can see. I figure this is the only day that has any chance of being “reasonably safe” to climb Mount Everest.

Yesterday in the morning, the weather was very strange. When I went to the “shitter” in the morning (which has a near perfect view of the mountain when you turn to the side), I must have looked at the cloud above the mountain for ten or fifteen minutes. A huge oval cloud hung over the mountain skewed off four-fifths to its left and one-fifth to the right of the peak. At first I thought it was stationery, but then I noted that it was actually moving about 80 miles an hour (by my estimation) to the left. The right side of the cloud was in a constant state of forming. The white wisps just spontaneously appeared out of the blue background. On the other side it was either just dissipating or running off the edge of the scene, which is bordered on either side by hills on either side of the valley.

In the morning, the sun shone brilliantly on the snow whites, accentuating the shadows. In the left foreground was Changtse’s white slabs. On the right of the peak of Everest was its West Ridge, snow covered. But by evening, the weather had deteriorated to obscurity of the mountain and to snowfall at Base Camp. Not a lot mind you, but enough to make me feel happy to be at Base rather than on the mountain. The change in the weather seemed as expected by some of us. Whenever I see a certain type of cloud and wind happening on the mountain, I have this sixth sense that brings me to say something is changing and I expect harsh weather to move in.

May 7, 1995
Mount Everest Base Camp near Rongbuk, Tibet, 5200m
Base Camp, 6 p.m.
[A]

I am fighting a cough here at base camp. I was in better shape when I was up high. I am wondering if walking across the glacier with only a T-shirt may have brought on this ailment. Since I have been down here I have been a little lost. The days fly by. Each day, I manage to get a little done. For example, today I reinforced the suspender straps on my Denali pants. I finished and sent a letter home (a general letter, but addressed first and foremost to my grandmother). I exposed my back to the intense morning sun. My back seems to have developed sores, so I wanted it to have some UV exposure. The sun felt really good. I was reminded how good it felt to be at the beach. I also called Laura, as it was Sunday and I felt that she might be at her Dad’s. She seemed incredibly happy to hear from me. She said she loved me even more, that she thought that I loved her less, that she thought of me every day, every hour, every minute. I reassured her, and I told her I loved her more too, which I had thought about and concluded before the conversation began. I told her I would call her again in two weeks or three. She seemed pleasantly surprised to find out that I would be finishing the trip in three or four weeks, and asked then if we would see each other in that time, but I said we would talk about that later. It was an 8 1/2 min conversation. Before I felt that our conversations dragged on, but in this case, it was a very happy conversation and I felt well worth it. When I walked out of the communications tent, Jon, Brigitte and Richard (Allen) were sitting in the sun. Jon made some joke like: “Here I thought you were a tough guy and you were in there saying all these ‘I love you-s’.” I feigned extreme embarrassment: “Oh no! You heard all that?!!”

Most of me cannot wait until this expedition is over. In my heart of hearts I am praying with all my heart that I will live to see the end of the expedition. I do think I have a pretty good chance of surviving what is ahead, yet I realize that it is extremely dangerous and the time to give it 100% is drawing near. In a few days, I expect to be returning to the higher ground. I expect some time about Wednesday I will go back up to ABC, then shortly thereafter be pushing to 8000 m and maybe above. I am really, really hoping to live to tell about it. Sometimes, when you anticipate something with fear and apprehension long enough, the actuality of the activity is a welcome relief. In many ways, reality is usually not as bad as the anticipation of it. Actually climbing and being tired is not uncomfortable to me. Maybe when it is happening I will be enjoying it after a fact. Sitting around base camp is a bit nerve wracking. Tomorrow I should get out and get some exercise. I have been just sitting around doing nothing.

Today I looked at my thighs and I was surprised. They looked like they had atrophied considerably, and the skin did not look healthy. They look like an old person’s legs.

May 8, 1995
Mount Everest Rongbuk Base Camp, Tibet, 5200 meters
7:50 a.m
[A]

I have been up for about one and a half hours. The weather has changed for “the worse.” It is snowing lightly outside. Even though last night was cold, there is no morning sun to wallow in and it seems colder than it did last night. After a visit to the loo, I saw Richard Allen from next door (Russell’s camp) and he told me that the wind was very high at Camp 2 and the people did not sleep at all and that they are coming down to ABC. Then I spoke with Mike Smith for a while about laptop computers and about their business (OTT). Mike is going to ABC this morning. Afterwards I spoke with George, the guide from St. Petersburg.

5:37 p.m. After breakfast I laid out in the gravel in the sun like yesterday and others congregated there as well over time. More and more people are coming back to Base, and I expect in a few days we’ll have a full house. Tim Ripples has been coming over to visit and to eat our “crisps” (potato chips). We have barrels full of the most delicious chips and apparently Russell’s group has none. By about 10:30 a.m. there were many people around and Graham was reading mockingly from a book by a guy that Tim knows in Canada (One Step Beyond – Rediscovering the Adventure Attitude), which had such wisdoms as “Triumph relentlessly.” We were all getting into the act of laughing at this guy. Tim informed us that on a previous Everest Expedition this guy, Alan Hobson, went to the North Col once and spent the rest of his time at the TMA hut (a building back of the camp run by the Tibet Mountaineering Association), probably writing the book.

At 11 a.m. Fred and I walked down to the ruins presumably to go into the cellar altar, a place where there is an “underground hatch” under which is an offering place with candles, etc. Only problem is that I forgot to bring my flashlight/headlamp. What I did manage to do is to shoot three flash photographs and was thus able to get some idea of what the layout of the room was. Fred and I walked back, arriving at 12:40 p.m., just in time for lunch. On the walk, Fred admitted that he has never felt 100% on this trip. He swears that he will never return to climb another 8000 m peak again. I agreed. This is it. Yet we both also agree that we are glad we came on this trip. It is damn good to know what these sorts of trips are all about. I would hate to do this sort of thing as a living. I long to get back to warm climates. It would seem like a complete lack of mobility to be virtually stuck here guiding for extended lengths of time. But then, to each his chosen profession.

My problem is that I just do not seem to be getting a whole lot better sitting here at Base Camp. The moment of truth is arriving soon. In one month, we are supposed to be flying home. Which means in the next three weeks, there should be a lot of people heading up to give a try for the summit. I myself have more or less resolved to only try once. I’ll leave here within a week to go to ABC and then I intend it only to be a one-go-er. If I do not make it, I’ll return here again and will not go up again, unless I take a day or two excursion to photograph between here and ABC with my view camera.

On one hand, I am really looking forward to getting out of here. On the other, I am not so sure what it will be like to go home again. My life there is a conglomeration of beauteous and malformed events. For example, I look forward to seeing Mimi, but on the other hand, I long to be fucking other young women and how will that all turn out? I wish in some ways that my life was simpler. Anyway, all in all, I am really looking forward to getting out of this cold clime. Usually after breakfast, the sun comes out. But when the sun goes down in the evening, it is time to get out your heavy coats, because the cold comes down in a hurry. Like right now, it is 6:10 p.m. and the wind is up. It has been all day, but when the sun goes down, you really notice it.

We just had a radio transmission from ABC/Camp 2. It appears Mick and Bob are at 2 and Jon at ABC is wondering where Kelly is. Kelly left at about 3 or 4 a.m. this morning. We’ll have another transmission at 7 p.m. after I talk to Yves, who came down from ABC today, to see if he saw Kelly at interim. Meanwhile, this is the crew we have collected here: Fred, Jeff, George, Nasuh, Graham, Jon, Brigitte, Yves, Luke, Jacques, Andre and Patrick.

I spoke with Bill Horwich, corporate attorney for ATS, last night. Basically, what he had to report was that Elizabeth, my potential house-mate, is crazy and that she is impossible to negotiate with. Consequently, they have not signed anything. What I am wondering is how much of a fortune she is costing me in his time. The Obayashi agreement was being done that day. The letter to Berg was going out the next day. He sort of made up of a reason why it had not gotten done (been busy). Other than that, he and I agreed that it might not do any harm and might actually be a good idea if we let Doug and Kathy meet with (Dad) Larry, especially given that it is Larry’s idea.

I am wondering why Amy has not called me. I had expected she would call in about three days and it seems it has been about 5.

May 9, 1995
Mount Everest Rongbuk Base Camp, Tibet, 5200 meters
Tuesday, 4:50 p.m.
[A]

I am almost losing track of time. It is afternoon, gray; black birds ride the wind just above my head as if on a Ferris wheel or other amusement park ride. I stand beneath them cold, urinating, and always wondering if the spot I chose would be acceptable to others.

Jon Tinker comes down from ABC, seeming chipper. He says I look dapper. I note my clothing, black down booties, black fleece bottoms with yellow suspenders (hand sewn), dark green fleece vest tucked into it all. “Welcome back.” “Thank you.”

I wonder who all will try to curry favor with Jon now for a place on the mountain.

Pat just arrived back. He is the lively Irishman that is intent on climbing the Seven Summits.

The generator kicks in at Russell’s place next door. It will run until 10 p.m. or so tonight.

My mind reflects: I have not seen Sumiyo lately. I wonder if anyone here had the pleasure of her favors. Maybe Russell. Kelly was after her too.

I slept in purposefully today until 7:15 a.m.. Soon I was in the sun drinking a cup of coffee. For my reading book this morning, I decided to bring out my book on Shakespeare. It is the complete works, published in about 1920. I decided on Taming of the Shrew. I was a bit apprehensive, afraid I would not be able to understand the old English. On the contrary, however, I found the reading immensely enjoyable. I sat in the morning sun, which was brilliant. It was an immense treat to read such a fine work and enjoy the sun at the same time. Some of the passages in the story, although a comedy, were so touching that I got the immediate sense that I was benefiting in a significant way from reading the story. For example:

39 No profit grows where there is no pleasure ta’en.
In brief, sir, study what you most affect.

and, when Lucentio is describing his feelings for Bianca to Tranio:

182 Tranio, I saw her Amber lips move
And with her breath she did perfume the air
Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her.

These kinds of lines moved me. This kind of word sends me to Heaven.

I got a call from Amy this morning (as I’d requested my office to have her call) just as I took my last bite of breakfast. She is as usual helpful, reading off to me the messages from the ladies in my family. “Gammy says that she is thinking of you every day, every hour, every minute! She sends her love and your Mom told me that when I talk with you to send her love, and your sister sends her love too!! Your grandmother (Gammy) says that this better be the last time you go off on one of your crazy, crazy mountain climbing trips, and if it is not, you’re going to hear from her!! Your house is fine, and your Mom is renting out the house in Oregon and the tenants are doing fine, and they’re moving in at the end of the month, so your Mom is moving out next week. She’s staying up in Oregon until the end of the year. She’s bought a rental house and she is looking for an apartment to rent at Rossmoor to see how she likes it. You have lots and lots of mail. So everything is fine from this end.”

I gave Amy the particulars about my flight schedule, so that she might inquire whether I can change my dates (so she and I might travel a bit before I return home). She’s planning on going to Hong Kong and then flying into Katmandu about the third of June. I’m supposed to be back in Katmandu on the 4th or 5th. “I love you.”

At about 930 a.m., we went back to the underground temple, Fred, I and we brought Graham along. Also I brought implements along with which to see. Two candles, a headlamp, a lighter. It was most fascinating. We left early enough so as not to have to rush, which made it immensely pleasurable for me. Just to stroll. I also found a pair of shorts in my personal barrel, and wore them over my tights, so in today’s intense sun I was not too hot as I walked along. The temple was a bit bigger than I supposed. Rather than have anything of particular value (although two slate tablet carvings of Buddha were impressive), the underground temple was interesting by virtue of the collection and nature of the objects and the structure. It was barely high enough to stand erect. It seemed as if everything was dripping with the liquid candle wax that was found in the little brass receptacles. The ceiling appeared as if it was the bottom of one huge boulder.

After a few minutes, we surfaced and walked a bit around the ruins. We three laid back against a rock, as if schoolboys playing hooky, and stared up at the magnificent stratified towering peaks which loom directly above the shambled convent. We discussed how dangerous it might be to climb such walls, given the rotten rock. Fred said he wasn’t wasting his energy on nothing (that he did not have to). We even tried to find any way up the walls, let alone an easy way up.

All morning, and now was no exception, the clouds around Mount Everest did strange and wonderful things. I was quick to point it out. And also quick to pay attention to someone else doing so. There were high cirrus in the sky. There was a variety of shapes passing by the summit. The amazing thing to me was that the entire panorama was traveling from West to East at speeds from 80 to 100 miles per hour and maybe more. And even more interesting, this was not even really noticeable unless you really watched it carefully. I said that one formation looked like Lilies. Graham corrected me and said they looked like Gladiolas. Then next to that, another shapes, completely different.

My mind wandered up the canyons toward the sky. I considered that I might come back some day soon and climb up the canyon to the right. I wonder what it is like from the ridgeline.

When we got up, I showed them the inside of the chortens, where the monks placed little tablets such as Graham had pointed out to me inside the underground temple. I appreciated that Graham appreciated the different qualities of execution on the steles. The monks carved prayers on tablets of stones of different hardness and left them in piles. I love the way the Buddhists seem to say with everything they do: Everything is impermanent. Then I could point a few out to him that I thought were special and he pointed a few out to me too. Meanwhile, the clouds above and around Everest continued their circus.

We walked back at a leisurely pace. Fred really seems to be losing his enthusiasm about the mountain. I feel better today than I have since I arrived here. My cough is officially gone, although sometimes I have to cough to get a speck of dust out of my throat. But still now my throat and chest need to rest, since my entire throat is sore due to all the coughing I did.

May 10, 1995
Mount Everest Rongbuk Base Camp, Tibet, 5200 meters
4:45 p.m
[A] [S]

Outside the snow falls, and it melts as it hits the ground, no doubt because of the thermal buildup from earlier in the day when the sun shone brightly. Still, it clings to the tents. I sit perched up in my “bed,” that is with my feet in the sleeping bag and my back propped up against the back of the tent. I look out of an opening I have made in the entrance. The snow falls at an angle just slightly less than vertical. It falls softly, gently, quietly. It clings to the clothing that people put out to dry. Won’t they be surprised when they go to collect it!

We are supposed to [move] upward to ABC tomorrow, but given the weather, I do not know…it could be postponed at least another day. I would not mind. I like the routine, especially this part, a new part, in my routine, where I cloister myself comfortably in my tent, ensconced in my bag, and I both write my journal and practice typing at the same time!

Amy called again last night as we had planned. Tim told me there was a ten-minute time limit, and I noted that Nasuh had just spent 32 minutes on the phone before me. Amy was in bed at home. She seemed cheerful and asked me if I missed my bed. I said I did. She said that sometimes she goes to my house just to get the atmosphere of it. We did not say too much, but that is what made it pleasant, we just relaxed on the phone together awhile.

Some news from the mountain. A couple of days ago a Sherpa man died in the icefall, I think, on the other side of the mountain, the south side. Also, last night Mike Smith said from ABC that the Polish/Italian team wanted to borrow three of our Sherpas to carry a Polish man down to Base, as he has some kind of blood clot in his leg, a thrombosis of some type. It was interesting that Jon T said that the problem was that such a maneuver requires twelve people. Russell said that last year they used twenty-two people to evacuate someone to Base from ABC (in five hours)! Instead they settled on the plan that they would send up nine Tibetan (yak herders) today to carry him down.

Now that Jon is here, he has raised the questions about who is going up when, etc. Since last night the plans have changed several times already. Initially, he suggested that Nasuh, George and Luke should form the first summit team. But this morning, Luke said he wanted to go tomorrow and George does not want to leave until Saturday, as he and Nasuh have expended a lot of energy, having gone to Katmandu for Nasuh’s tooth and then shot straight up to the camp at 7500 m. Consequently, Luke is planning on going alone for a summit attempt (with one Sherpa). Jon T is letting him solely because Luke is supposed to be one of the most experienced climbers in our group. For the rest of us, Jon prefers (strongly) that we go up and spend a night at 7900 m camp and back down to ABC before we make a summit attempt.

Last night, Nasuh suggested I could climb with the three of them. Since I am supposed to leave tomorrow, I told Luke I could at least climb with him and turn back when he leaves Camp 3 for the summit. He seemed perfectly amenable to that. We talked awhile about the logistics of our moves up the mountain. He wants to sleep at the North Col and then get up early and push to Camp 3 in one day, making a summit attempt the next day. He feels it is easier to push to 3 and then use oxygen to sleep rather than sleeping without it at the 7900 camp. I am happy to push high and fast now.

I also told George that I would be happy to climb with him and he seemed amenable to that. He said, “That’s fine then, we can climb together. A good team would be Nasuh, Luke, you, me and two Sherpas.” I told him I would like, by the time he arrived at ABC or the North Col, to have “proved myself” by going to 7.9 or 8.0, and having completed Jon T’s prerequisite (of sleeping at 7.9). I said I hoped I would be back down and to be strong and ready to go for the summit.

So that, more or less, is a loose plan.

Last night after dinner a group of us was sitting around the table when Jon Muir looked at the fireworks that Russell is storing in our mess tent. He got the inspiration, since it was Russian victory day in Europe (and, I believe it was Victory day for everyone else two days earlier), to shoot off a skyrocket. Like a bunch of idle schoolboys, we all filed outside and Jon and Nasuh set up the “launch pad” for the projectile. Half the fun was because we weren’t supposed to do it. The rocket went up in the air to our cheers.

I finished reading Taming of the Shrew today. What an incredible story. I cried like a baby at the end when Katharina spoke out. I basically understood the story, but the subplot of Lucentio and Bianca was a bit confusing. For example, how did Bianca love the actual Lucentio when Lucentio was being impersonated by Tranio? I should probably read it again. There is so much to the story!

Did I mention that I got the financial result for March from ATS? It was incredible, an operating profit of 237K. I would imagine that similar profits should be realized for April and May as well. We have really exceeded the profit objectives that were laid out a couple of years ago. The operating profit, unadjusted, since October is 793K. Let’s estimate another good month for April (based on sales of $791K) at about $ 150K. So that makes about $ 950K. Also add on May to June, and July to September. I think July to Sep was about $ 130K and May and June collectively about $ 50K, so that is about $1130K unadjusted. Adjusted would add on about $ 270K, for a total adjusted figure of $ 1400K. The original goal was $ 750K. Or, a combined two-year total of $ 1250K. The previous year, we realized about $700K in adjusted profit, which then means our two-year total will be in the vicinity of about $ 2100K, nearly doubling our original goal. And the most amazing thing is that at the time the two-year goal of $ 1250K seemed a wild dream.

So much has happened that has been unexpected. If only we could come to a happy conclusion with Dad. I think he has been unreasonable. My reason for this is that he has approached the situation being demanding and what is more, he has not really sought resolution. It seems, rather than resolution, he has sought domination.

I guess I had hoped that in this journal (of the last month), that I would have been able to write something profound. To put it in another light, I wanted to outline my philosophy.

In my will and living trust, I began to outline a “foundation,” but in the haste to leave, I did not really have time to think seriously about the precepts of the foundation. Horwich, my attorney, seemed to think it was an interesting concept. But I have yet to “flesh it out”.

Like most people, I want to leave an impression on my fellow man, and further, I want to help and to do some good work. Unfortunately, this is a rather large undertaking. Where does one start? It seems very unrealistic to start with a mere manuscript. For example, Rene Guyon outlined a blue print for a new society, one that was based on more sound principles with regard to sexual activity. But even though he achieved a certain fame and notoriety, I do believe that this portion of his manuscript was not even published (to date). Therefore, what influence can I have, jamming away at this little laptop in Everest Base Camp Tibet?

First of all, the idea really had two parts. Initially, I wanted to complete something so that in case I died on the mountain, I would have left behind an outline of how I wanted the foundation to conduct itself.

But this whole process got me thinking: Why should I have to wait to die in order to effect such a foundation? Would it not be better, certainly more exciting, and also with an astronomically better chance of flourishing, if I undertook the work during my lifetime. This basic idea would be this: I am not working for material gain, really. In my mind, the reason I labor is not really to have more things. Of course, in part, this is true, but deep inside I am really striving for something of a philosophical bent, a higher aim. Therefore, rather than proceeding along in life with only a vague idea of what this end might be, why not try to focus on exactly what it would be if it could be. Why not force myself to realize what aims I see that are really [important] to me, and then to build my life around them?

I am not new to such a concept. I previously, twenty years ago, following the precepts in a book, outlined not only the material possessions I wanted but also the qualitative issues of my life. But that effort had crucial shortcomings compared to the effort I could put out now. For example, I was young and inexperienced. Secondly, the book I followed was primarily concerned with making money, which is a distraction to what I am about now. Thirdly, at the time, I did not have nearly the resources that I have now with which to effect any end. I am speaking not only of the financial resources but also experiential resources.

So if I now took a fresh look at my life and my philosophies, I would find that in some areas I am rich in abundance, and there are other which I sorely lack.

If I were to set up a foundation, what would it be about? What would be the precepts? What philosophies would it engender? Later, I should ask, how can I effect the flourishing of these notions?

Firstly, I will make some broad sweeping statements. There are a few broad observations and corresponding directional philosophies that I hold dear.

One is that man should not fight violently.

Prisons are an abomination.

Money itself is archaic as a form of exchange. Mankind wastes a significant overhead in the calculating, charging, collection, etc. of money, which itself is just a medium of exchange. We should work to eliminate the need for money, so that more time can be spent in actual productive tasks.

Legal systems should be to protect people from true harms. To the extent that the legal systems generate harms themselves they should be eliminated. Many laws are economic rather than truly moral in nature. Peace should be the overriding consideration. To the extent that legislation creates, rather than solves, aggression, it should be de-armed. For example, people wanting to live peacefully, should not, by virtue of government legislation giving government the right to levy and collect taxes, be subject to any sort of direct or indirect punishments, such as forcible collection of personal properties, nor incarceration. Other examples are victimless crimes. These would include any sexual acts that are performed willingly (that is without coercive and forcible inducement) between people of any age or use of drugs. To wit, the cure is worse than the crime. One precept should stand out in enactment of law and order. That is the recognition that no one has the right to incarcerate another, to deny another’s freedom, unless in extreme circumstances wherein certain or immediate bodily harm may come to innocents by not doing so. In our society, the irony is that we place significant and heavy financial demands on those who break a changing and shifting code of ethics, but we allow those who do direct bodily harm to escape without any literal form of compensation attributable to their actions. This should be equalized. In studying more primitive forms of culture from all over the world, the concept of compensation to balance out egregious events is universal. However, in techno-society we have bowed away from such administrative procedures. It makes more sense to incentivize people who have truly cost others with the doors to freedom, by working it off. The sooner they work it off, the sooner one can resume a free life.

Concerning lawyers. The lawyers oath says that they will vigorously defend their clients. Be it better to change the oath to say that the advocate will vigorously defend justice. This should be the duty of righteous people. What will protect innocent people will be their innocence. Why leave a place for the truly dangerous people to hide?

Ownership: One of the basic problems with our society (American, Western schools of thought, etc.) is the concept of ownership. On one hand, it has greatly enhanced the motivation of people to strive to build. On the other, it has torn apart the fabric of sensibility. What we need to do is to examine closely where this concept enhances our lives and where it debilitates our lives. Simply put, we carry this concept into law and order to an extreme that is not healthy. A case in point is when we persecute someone for taking something that in real terms we should share with him anyway. For example, if someone steals a bit of food when starving. It is natural for those who do not have something to be curious about the possessions others have. I myself take ownership seriously, but we must not overdo it. Rather, let us consider ourselves “custodians” of possessions, rather than owners. We merely need to look at the utility of our “ownership” to differentiate as to whether we really have an “entitlement” to it or not. For example, if we use something a lot, naturally it is upsetting to have it taken away. We become rightful custodians to that thing because we get utility from it. There are, in all our stores, many possessions from which we gain little or no utility. Intrinsically, then, can we ask ourselves if the use by others may not make more sense? Why not circumvent a fair portion of “crime” of theft by sharing more?

By eliminating ownership, we can eliminate theft. Do not misunderstand that this scenario is workable in all ages in all situations. I suggest that as the techno/computer age flourishes, there will be a great deal of “plenty” and this will make it possible to restructure our conceptions of “theft” and ownership. If there is nothing to own and no example of people hoarding things, do we not in good measure eliminate the very basis of the “crime of theft,” of envy, of covetousness?

Energy. We should strive for some obvious things. Electric or solar cars. We desperately need to replace the internal combustion engine. Solar and wind powering. We desperately need to pour a good portion of our resources into studying and empowering the “clean power movement.”

Government appropriation of resources. To this end, we need to drastically change the way government resources are allocated. Government can be an obvious good if we merely look at the benefits mankind has enjoyed by pulling resources of many people as opposed to trying to do everything individually. The problem comes in that people rarely feel they can see the benefit of their appropriated monies. Mankind’s propensity for war has created the need for an incredibly wasteful system. One world “tribal” government will result naturally, I believe. This will obviate much of the need for defense. As economies become inextricably tied together, it will lessen the incentive for interests to war.

Governments can appropriate, then, vast resources to solve some of the basic and obvious problems.
1. Clean energy.
2. The study of what makes people happy (and other basic fundamental social considerations).
3. What constitutes good government?
4. How to enhance the peace of the populaces?
5. Striving to live in accordance with sound environmental policies and how to integrate them into our culture.
6. Recognition of and preservation of our cultural and natural heritages.

May 24, 1995
Summit Day of Jeff Shea on Mount Everest
Tibet
[A]

On May 24th, 1995 at 9 a.m. I reached the summit of Mount Everest with two Sherpa men, Lhakpa Gelu and Lama [Tsering Dorje]. At the time, I could definitely not believe that I had done so, and even now, I can scarcely believe it. It all seems like a dream. In truth, it was the most terrifying 18 hours of my life, 9 hours to ascend and 9 hours to descend. During this time, I really could not believe that I would make it to the summit and or make it back from the summit. But somehow, with help from my two Sherpa friends, I managed to do both. We left at 12:08 a.m. May 24th and returned to high camp at about 6:11 p.m.

The ascent was not bad, largely due to the fact that it was dark and we traveled by headlamp and consequently, I could not see the drop off to my right hand side. Also, as everyone knows, going up is easier than going down. Because of this phenomena, and the fact that at some point in the expedition, it seems someone, perhaps Tinker (the expedition leader), suggested one might ask themselves the question “Can I down climb what I am now up-climbing?” The answer, when I asked myself was: “No,” or “Probably not.” One might ask, then, what the devil was I doing up there climbing? It is a good question. Basically, I found myself at high camp with two Sherpas who were expecting me to climb. I was asking myself, “What am I doing here? It is not too late to change my mind….”

We were supposed to begin climbing at 11 but I figured that we would be late. Jon had requested by radio that we all sleep in the same tent. I awoke at 10:00 p.m. and was cold, and my oxygen had run out. I went back to sleep until 10:30 p.m. and then, as both Sherpas were still sleeping I called out.

We left at 12:08 a.m. and began traversing upwards towards the ridge. I hadn’t gone 100 steps when Lama pointed out to me that my crampon was coming off: those damn crampons again! I sat down and put them on again. The next thing was that we came on a red bag and some refuse. As Lhakpa Gelu shined his light on it, I noticed that the nametag was from San Francisco. He urged me to forget it and to keep climbing up the mountain, letting out an utterance, though indefinable, which meant “Come on! We have a long way to go.”

Since the Sherpas naturally climb faster than I, they took one of my oxygen bottles, leaving me only one to breathe on. I was silently thankful, for they were moving at a rapid rate, and in order to hike at their natural speed, something had to give. More or less, I was able to do an adequate job of keeping up with them.

I had heard from Jim from Seattle that there was a 40º ice slope (which was exposed) at the beginning of the climb. Soon we were on the slope, though it did not seem as bad as I expected. The only thing I was wondering about it was what the exposure would look like if I could see it!!

Next we came to some fixed ropes that went up through some gullies of snow and rock. It was not particularly difficult. But it seemed to go on forever, on up to the right towards the ridge. At a couple of points I thought that I was nearing the ridge, only to find out that it continued on. Because it was dark, I could not make out the ridge clearly. Finally, we started to descend a bit along the ridge, and I realized that we had reached the actual ridge. Although I knew on one hand the ridge might be harder, still, I was hoping not to have to climb steep ground anymore.

After awhile we came to some snow, which we had to traverse. Although the traverse was short, still I hated crossing exposed ground. We came to a level patch of snow onto which fell some fixed ropes. I had to adjust all my things. My pack, my balaclava, I had to take a pee, etc. As Lhakpa Gelu mounted the ropes he yelled out something. At first I didn’t understand and called out to repeat. Then I got it: “The First Step.” Soon I was on the ropes. It wasn’t difficult to jumar and walk up the snow slopes, and soon we were on our way to the Second Step.

The terrain was up and down horizontally on rock. There were ledges that sloped outwardly. Strung along were ropes that were held in place by “pitons,” flat pieces of metal that were wedged into rocks of questionable integrity. The rock was shalely and eroding, so whether or not it would hold in a hard fall was of some doubt. But it was dark going up, so therefore conducive to climbing, quite simply because I could not see the exposure. I simply followed the Sherpas as they wound their way slightly upwards and along the ridge, following their head lamps with mine, occasionally stopping to adjust some of my equipment.

The Second Step was visible from some distance, a high ungainly outcropping of rock. Lama and I waited at the bottom while Lhakpa Gelu worked his way up the fixed ropes. He grabbed a whole lot of them (there were between five and seven) and pulled himself over the edge of some rocks. Further up was the vertical section, where, to my surprise was what looked like the Chinese ladder (which I had been told had blown off and was replaced by the new “Japanese” ladder). (This being from the recent “Japanese [i.e., 32 Sherpa and 8 Japanese]” first complete ascent of the North East ridge this Spring.) I followed. I in turn pulled on the bunch of ropes and hauled myself over the rock edge, scrambling over the edge. It was like scrambling over rocks in the Sierras in California. Then I ambled over to the base of the ladder. It was a solid steel (or, more probably, aluminum ladder) about 8 feet in height, with about 8 rungs. At the base of it, curled up in a coil, was the “electrical ladder” that the Japanese had used. Apparently, someone had found and reinstalled the famous Chinese ladder.

I switched my jumar over to one of the ropes that led upward from the ladder on the right. There must have been about eight ropes hanging down, all in different stages of wear and fraying. In addition to my jumar, I grabbed the ropes en masse. My crampons rattled against the metal rungs. I ascended to near the top of the ladder. Off to the right above the ladder was a flat ledge. On the ledge, closest to the ladder was a large rock. The problem with ascending it was the transition off the ladder, off and up to the right. It was a bit awkward and it took me a little wrangling to pull myself up onto the ledge. Still the whole process only took maybe five or ten minutes. Once on the ledge, I looked up and over to the right where there hung another cluster of ropes. I grabbed them as a group and hauled myself onto the top of the Second Step!

Lhakpa Gelu came over and shook my hand. I also felt the feeling of having surpassed a barrier, because in the coming dawn, I could see that from here, it was a gradual walk up the ridge to the summit snow triangle! It suddenly seemed like a possible reality that I could actually reach the summit of the mountain! We sat a bit above the Second Step, changed oxygen bottles, stashed our headlamps by hooking them on to a rope, and generally got ready for dawn and the continuing the climb. It was 5:30 a.m.

Lama, Lhakpa and I began to ascend the gradually sloping ridge. The feeling I had was absolutely sensational. The dawn was coming on. The views were unimaginable. The ridge was easy. I looked up at the summit triangle, not far off. I remembered what George had told me. (George is along as a guide. He is a Russian man, from St. Petersburg.) He’d said that the most difficult part of the climb, he thought, was the third step. But beyond that, I wasn’t expecting to have any problems, namely: going up the summit pyramid.

As we walked, I couldn’t resist taking a few pictures. The Sherpas wanted me to continue walking. A couple of times, our path came within a few feet of the east edge of the ridge, marked by a snow drop off or an arête. I looked down! What I saw was in the realm of the amazing. It was probably 8-10,000 feet of near vertical relief. Looking over the edge and up, I could see part of the Kangshung Face, the East Face, of Everest.

I thought I saw what was a couple of tents at the base of the “Third Step”. I figured it was the abandoned 8500-meter camp of the Japanese, the high, high camp I had heard of. But as we got closer I more clearly saw that they were merely stashed oxygen bottles, this fact denoting that the distance was much less than I had at first supposed.

The Third Step was surprisingly easy. Perhaps George had not found the same rope we did, as the snow was thicker the day he went up. I watched Lhakpa Gelu go up and followed. The roping was quite clear and good. It wasn’t very far up, and then the walk traversed a small section of arête, protected on our side, but only requiring to stay to the right of the arête a few feet in order to be safe. Again, the view opened up tremendously on the east side of the arête.

Now we stood on the base of the summit slope. Lhakpa Gelu was already using a red fixed rope to climb the snow. I followed and Lama followed just behind me. The sun was now fully out; it was a glorious day.

Going up the fixed rope was very easy. It was a nice thick rope, newly laid. After the fixed rope, the route traversed up to the right through deep snow for a distance of about 20 meters. This was also easy because the snow was deep and safe. I watched Lhakpa above me. After this section, he went a bit to the right and then up to the left. He seemed to wait for a while and then powered up, kicking his crampons in. At this point there were rocks straight ahead. He stayed to the left of the rocks on the snow. At the end of the deep snow, I was apprehensive. One option open to me seemed to be to stay in the center of the snow slope, which was slightly bowl shaped and made of relatively deep snow. This seemed safest to me. While I stood there and contemplated the route I should take, Lama had come up beside me and continued on to the right where the footsteps of others could be seen. I tarried there trying to figure what I should do. I decided to stay in the deeper center of the snow slope. As I started up it, Lama yelled at me to go his way, but I kept on, trying to point out to him that I would soon meet his route. It crossed my mind: until now, I had just followed them and everything had been all right; would I be creating my own problems by deviating from their direction? I kept going upwards slowly, kind of digging my way up, making sure my footing was solid with each step, realizing that this way was a bit more exposed, perhaps, than at first supposed. When I began to rejoin the route Lhakpa had chosen, to my surprise, Lama was going off to the right. He called out for me to follow him. It was perhaps a seemingly inconsequential detail but my position was a couple of feet higher than where Lama stood. This meant that I would have to walk down rather than up, and the exposure at this point in the climb was clearly dangerous.

I stood there looking in two directions, up to the left at Lhakpa Gelu and over towards the rocks at Lama, simultaneously. Their instructions weren’t exactly clear, but it seemed they preferred for me to go over to Lama “to the rocks.” They seemed to indicate that it was safer to go to the rocks, but I couldn’t really envision that there was another route so far to the right. I decided to follow the route Lhakpa had taken, up to the left.

I had only covered a few meters when I discovered that I was in an extremely precarious position.

I was clinging to the snow slope, which was about 40º and some of it was kind of icy. At this point if you fall it will take you straight down the mountain and to the Great Couloir and below, probably a ten thousand foot drop. I was very unsure about the footholds and handholds and, given the risk level, I really needed to be as close to 100% sure as possible. I looked up and could see a white rope dangling from the rocks above to the left. I figured if I could get to the rope, I could tie in my jumar to the rope and get the extra support I needed to make upward progress safe, even if I did not put my full weight on it. It was perhaps 20 meters above me. I thought back to Yvon Chouinard’s book, Climbing Ice, in which it seemed he’d stated something like: “When all else fails, chop steps.” So I decided I’d chop steps, even if it took me 1/2 hour to get to the rope. The weather was good and it was only about 8 a.m. So I methodically set about chopping steps up the slope. Mind you this was at an elevation of about 28,750′. Meanwhile, I breathed through my oxygen apparatus at a rate of about 3 liters per minute.

I put in a foothold and then decided to make it deeper or to have a down-sloping aspect to it to make it safer. Then I made another a bit up to the left. Then I swung my ax and tried to get a good purchase as far up in the slope as I could. It sort of bounced off the ice underneath the snow, and I discovered that to the right there was ice. So I tried to swing a little left in order to try new ground and see if I could get a hold. The ax stuck, but the snow was too soft. Consequently, I tried digging a third and fourth handhold/foothold higher up on the slope, for added protection. Then I clunked my ax twice in the spot to the right and got the nub of the ax into the snow, enough to pull myself up given the good footholds I had made. I stood up and took two steps upwards, using the hand hold on the left to further secure my position on the mountain, while my right hand was through the loop in the ax’s wrist loop webbing.

I continued this process methodically, moving slightly left as I moved upward. At one point, I was tempted to rush, but I disciplined myself to go slowly. Soon the rope was only 20 feet away, then fifteen, etc. As I got very close to the rope, I was able to see Lhakpa above me. When I motioned to the fact that I was going to use the rope, he seemed to indicate that this was O.K. I jumared onto the rope. Once secured into the rope, I realized that I was actually able to move easily up the slope. The problem was not so much one of difficulty with the actual ice climbing, but rather with the fact that it was so exposed. Once on the rope, I found it unnecessary to dig steps, and walked up. Still I used my ice ax as an anchor, and firmly I imbedded it as far upwards as I could in order to increase my speed. It was about another 30 meters up and clockwise around the rocks. The rocks at this point seemed no less dangerous to climb since they were quite steep too. Looking up occasionally and seeing Lhakpa, I got the sense that the top was near now. I had gotten through all the summit-bound difficulties and soon would be on top. But I dare not allow myself to think as if it was already accomplished, and I sort of denied to myself that this was so. Momentarily (after five minutes), I stood up on the platform that marked the top of the snow triangle. Off to the left, perhaps 200 meters away, was the summit of Mount Everest!!

Now, reaching it seemed inevitable!

The terrain to get there was easy, although I was just a tad disappointed to see that in fact it was up and down and required some caution as parts of it were in some ways exposed. We three sort of regrouped and then Lhakpa was off again. Just ahead a fifteen-foot section of ground was angled at about 40º and I told myself: this may be easy ground, but do not lose your concentration!!

In the distance, the summit loomed unbelievably. I told myself that I better keep progressing because there was no telling whether the breeze that I was feeling would not grow into a problem. It seemed like it would take about 15 minutes to reach the top. I could see a device on top, which I had heard of. It was some sort of monitor off of which hung multicolored memorabilia; amongst them were prayer flags. Also, I had heard of how a summit pole was stuck in the middle of the cornice which overhung the summit, this pole once having been on the summit, but over the years the cornice grew over, pushed by the wind. The pole finally ended up about twenty feet below the summit, stuck sideways in a vertical mass of ice.

Up and down we went, rising gradually upwards. Progress was rapid. Lhakpa was ahead, and Lama almost next to me. As we approached near, Lama overtook me and went to the summit ahead of me. Soon, my two companions were standing together on the summit, with me perhaps twenty meters below, gradually plying upwards.

At this moment, I had a thought, as if Chomolungma way saying: ‘You are amongst the best of the breed.’ This thought will be with me the rest of my life.

Soon I was there myself. I arrived on top at about 9 a.m. Perhaps it was 9:11 a.m.

In situations such as this there is a natural tendency for jubilation. We hugged each other. Lhakpa and Lama were themselves overjoyed to be on top. For Lama it was his first time to summit Mount Everest. For Lhakpa, he had before summited once, from the south side of the mountain, so this was his second summit and his first from the north side. For them, not only was there the personal satisfaction of summiting, but it also would provide a boost to their career. We were exhilarated with the achievement.

They had a camera between them. I had brought my Leica 35mm point-and-shoot. We helped each other take summit photos. They had with them the Nepalese flag.

It was really hard to assimilate the fact that the view was that of the highest mountain on earth. After climbing so many mountains in my life, a view from the highest mountain in a surrounding area has the same aspect. For example, on top of Denali, all other mountains visible were smaller than the peak on which I stood. It was the same here, but with a few differences. For one thing, the peaks from visible from the top were amongst the highest in the world. For example, off in the distance was Kanchenjunga in India, the third highest mountain in the world. Just below was Lhotse, the fourth highest of the world’s mountains. In all directions the mountains and Tibetan plains spread out. In a way, there was little or no time to contemplate the view. Better, I thought, to take photographs and study them later.

On the top, we walked around without oxygen. It was truly breath-taking(!), though not as bad as one might expect. I could walk from place to place: of course it took several breaths to recover, but it was do-able.

Lhakpa got the radio out, and in his excited Sherpa tongue rattled off the fact that we were on the summit. Before the broadcast was finished, he handed the radio to me. Mike Smith was talking to me on the line.

“Tell me, Sir Jeffrey of Everest, are you sure that you are standing on the summit of the highest mountain in the world?”

“Well, Lhakpa Gelu tells me it is, so I am assuming it must be.”

“Well, if Lhakpa Gelu says it is, then it must be so.”

We talked for a few minutes. Then Mike said: “Before you get off, Leo would like to talk with you from Base Camp.”

Leo got on the line. “Jeff, do you have anything you would like to say for posterity?”

“Well, I’d just like to say thank you to everybody, because in this world you can’t do anything without friends.”

Mike encouraged me to get down safely. His closing comment, which I did not catch at the time, was something to the effect: “There you have it folks, the first (Forest) Gump Summit of Everest.” He was referring to last year’s blockbuster movie, Forest Gump. But then Mike is a real smart ass.

Soon after, we donned our oxygen apparatus and started down. Now it was about 9:40 a.m.

In the back of my mind, of course, I had dreaded the prospect of down climbing the snow patch, let alone the rest of the route. Certainly, the snow patch loomed as the worst and most dangerous section of the return, the part I most feared. Since Lama had come up a different way, I knew there might be hope to go down a different way. When I asked Lhakpa, as we began, he confirmed that we would go down by the rocks. This was the single biggest relief I could have. In retrospect, I am not sure if I could have successfully down-climbed the snow patch. I suppose that if I had to, since it was a matter of life and death, that I could have, that I would have been able to make it down. When climbing up, I considered that the steps I chopped would also have served well for a descent.

As I said, we went down the rocks. Still, even though there was a fixed rope, I went extremely slowly down through the rocks. For one thing, again, I did not want to end up in the situation where I had to rely on the rope to hold.

After a brief descent through the rocks, the path traversed over to the snowfield. There was perhaps 20 meters of exposed traverse to get to the deep snow in the middle of the snowfield. Again, this exposure was deadly and it was also psychologically disconcerting to know that if I fell, I was going for a long, long ride. The traverse wasn’t difficult, but it was the fact my life was on the line that made me hesitate. So many times on the descent to come was I to think of what Tinker had said on the phone from England: “You wouldn’t think twice about it if it was at sea level.” So true. Whereas if there was no exposure, I would have taken but a few moments to cross this, instead, I hung up there on the exposed slope a long while, making sure that each step counted and was safe. Consequently, I went across on my ass part of the time. The Sherpas could scarcely understand what was taking me so long.

When I got to the deep snow I went cautiously down the deep snow, but still at a much faster rate than the traverse. I hooked on to the fixed line and just walked down to its end.

When we went across the Third Step, we crossed that small section of arête. There was a rope emanating from a rock there but I did not tie into it. On the whole of the descent, this was the only place where I took out my camera to take a photo, for the drop-off the East side was unbelievable, and even, once it dropped, the glacier at the foot of the mountain on that side stretched out in the far distance, and beyond that still was Kanchenjunga, though I did not identify it by name at the time.

Now, in addition to the trouble of descending on such rotten ground, I had additional problems. The main one was extreme dehydration coupled with the effects of the dry air and the dry bottled oxygen in my throat. Even for the previous weeks I had suffered from extremely dry throat and coughing, but now, high up on the mountain, the condition grew into something of great discomfort. My throat would become so dry that eventually, when I tried to swallow, and there was nothing to swallow, there came an inevitable gagging, which would result in a dry retch for a moment, followed by coughing and then a settling down of the situation for a while. If I had time, or the place, sometimes I would take a sip of my Gatorade, which once accomplished would help, but usually before I could unscrew the bottle, I would have to go through this miserable “procedure” first. I had all sorts of ways to try to avoid the gagging. For example, I would purposefully force some short quick coughs, which sometimes would produce some small modicum of fluid in my throat. Or breathe deeply while holding my head in a most downward position towards my chest. Still, these gimmicks would only delay the real problem. And the symptoms and discomfort grew as we descended.

Among my other problems was the oxygen apparatus. In front of the mouth is a bag into which the air from bottle and environment are mixed. Whereas the Sherpa’s bag was of an inflated nature, mine was like a collapsed bag full of ice. In fact that is exactly what it was like.

I clumsily scrambled down the Third Step, never encountering the difficulty George had spoken of. It seemed quite straightforward to me. Perhaps, as I had mentioned before, the rope had been buried before when he had climbed. Again, moving down to the area of the top of the Second Step was of no difficulty. Once there, we picked up our headlamps that we had left behind. As I looked lost as to what to do with it (rather than take off my back pack), the Sherpa signaled to me to simply stuff it inside my down jacket.

Lhakpa Gelu showed me how to get down the Second Step. He showed me that he wanted me to just grab all the ropes at once (while clipping into one) and, trusting my life to them, walk back out down to the ledge. I waited while he went over the edge.

I lowered myself in the fashion described and got to the ledge. Off and on above, I had given Lama my ice ax to hold for me. He then had stuffed it into my pack (which wasn’t exactly what I wanted). This interfered with all the lines, so I took it out on the ledge and wedged it in between the rock that sat on the ledge and the wall next to it.

The problem with lowering myself onto the ladder was the same that I had going up but worse, namely that if I held onto the ropes for support and they were all on one side, I might find myself swinging off to the side. I tried to lower my foot down onto the ladder, but I found that by putting my foot on the top rung of the ladder, I was unbalanced and could not possibly make the transition onto the ladder itself. So I decided to try to get my foot as far as the third rung (from the top) on the ladder. This time it succeeded, for I could put enough balanced weight on the ladder to make the transition. I got my hand on the left rung on the ladder and then I was safely on it. In descending the remaining portion, while [a] very short in distance, I was plagued getting my pack and feet caught in the multitude of ropes, taking a few moments to extricate myself.

Then it was a matter of down climbing the rock scramble using the same technique of grabbing the big handful of ropes that were there.

I did not find the Second Step to be difficult in any significant degree. But now my difficulties were just beginning, for my anathema was traversing and gradually descending the ground between the Second Step and the point where the route meets the fixed lines which descend to camp, a distance of perhaps half a mile. From that point on the Sherpas were probably most impatient with me. I crawled, I pondered every move, and my motto to myself was ‘Don’t let the Sherpas make you rush, go slowly, you’ve got all the time you need to ponder and make sure of each move before you make it.’ Lama, when behind me and thinking I was taking too long sometimes made some sort of grunt or said something in his own language to make me move or move faster. Once I did move faster in response, and I was afraid and it seemed that I was encouraging him, like teaching him that he could force me to move on in this way. Afterwards, I made a distinct point of asking myself if I truly was moving because I was sure of the move or if it was because there was pressure from Lama.

As I indicated I moved as a snail moved, taking literally hours to descend from this point. I would sit there, catch my breath (being also part of the rationale of moving slowly) and think about what to do next. At first I would not like any aspect of a move, not seeing anything that could make it safe. Then slowly, I would see that, for example, I could hold onto a rock, one that looked stable, which could insure that if my feet scraped off, I had a good chance of stabilizing myself.

Another idea I employed was using my ice ax as a cane, for the same reason as stated above, even though on rock, not ice. We wore, as did everyone, our crampons all the way up and down. All over the rocks, you could see scratch marks from crampons. The problem I found was the uncertainty of the crampon’s spikes on the rock. The thought of slippage was naturally constantly on my mind. So I figured if I put a lot of weight on the spike of the ice ax against the rock, or preferably in a groove that could not slip, then when I placed my foot down, if it was not the most secure of places and moved, that my whole body would not tend to follow. It seemed reasonable. Thus, by a combination of methods of using the ax as a cane and sitting and using handholds to stabilize myself, I made my way down slowly, slowly but surely. I could see Lhakpa Gelu way ahead waiting.

Then I started to think about whether he would get cold while waiting.

Lama went ahead of me at one point. I was really fearful that they would leave me. I would say to him: Please don’t leave me.

I moved so slowly that I saw Lhakpa in the same place, at a snowfield, for the longest time. I wanted to move more quickly, but I was less afraid of everything else than I was of falling. Falling was certain death. At least, even in bad weather, I would have a chance to survive. Even if the Sherpas left me on my own and they descended, it was preferable to falling and dying! I analyzed the weather and figured it would probably hold. The wind was coming up a little, and it was cold. The main weather problem seemed to be sticking, almost as if by invisible barrier, to the East side of the ridge. As I walked down the ridge, wispy clouds were forming and blowing right up to the ridge, but not crossing over to the west side on which I walked.

At some point, we descended the First Step. Again, I found that relatively easy. Just clip into a line and more or less walk down a steep ice slope; but what made it easy was that the availability of the rope which allowed me to wrap the rope around my arm twice, which acted like a brake, while my other arm employed my ice ax, which added additional support through placement on the ice.

At the bottom of the First Step was the ice platform that I had remembered. After that there was a small and easy traverse on snow. But again, I was so fearful of a fall, and this place being exposed for a fall, I went gingerly, slowly across this area.

In retrospect now, I wonder how so many hours passed up to this point. It was now, say, about 4 p.m. If I left the summit at 9:40 a.m., then this was over six hours to get to. Say it took me about one hour to get to the red fixed line, a second to get to the bottom of the Second Step. Then perhaps three more to get to the bottom of the First Step. And so on.

After this, more rock, more slow movement, more traverse.

At some point, the path demanded that in order to get around a rock, I had to descend a few levels on the shelves that we were walking on. I took seemingly forever to do this. Analyze each step, figure out what I would do to support myself if my foot gave away. The Sherpas waited below, in a cleft between rock and snow, some distance below me. The time was interminable, watching them waiting for me.

As I inched along and around the rock, I came to an exposed but relatively flat area. I inched along on my bottom, sliding along, holding on with each hand. I occasionally looked to where the Sherpas were. I could imagine how impatient they must be. I looked around at the weather. From here I could see the other side of the ridge, the East face side. The tufts of wind-driven clouds swirled up to the edge, but the edge seemed to form a barrier over which they would not go. Thin clouds flew by the Sherpas two hundred feet overhead. I thought: they must be getting cold. But I must push on slowly, even if they leave me! I was quite concerned that they leave me, but I thought even if I had to spend the night out there, it was preferable to falling. And I felt I was close enough to camp that I should be able to make it, even if I did have a close call, even if it wasn’t till the next morning.

I finally reached the other side of the rock, from which there was a gentle sloping and some snow for a while. It wasn’t the distance but the terrain that determined how long it would take. I had taken forever to move half way to the Sherpas, but now it would take relatively little time to complete the journey. I walked quickly for awhile and then carefully descended, still afraid, towards their level, about 100′ below me and along the ridge. Even when I got close to them and they thought I would arrive momentarily, I stopped and went very slowly the last 75 feet, to their chagrin.

From their location the camp was visible about a mile below. It didn’t really look very far, and seemed significantly closer than before. Lhakpa and Lama were on the radio to Jon and Mike. They put me on. Mike scolded me. He said: “The Sherpas are getting impatient because they say you are taking too much time taking photographs. Jeff, you have got to move on, you have to get down, keep moving. Over.”

I told Mike that I wasn’t taking photographs. I wanted to address Jon. “Jon, despite what’s being said, I am not taking photographs. I am moving slowly because I am afraid. As long as I am moving slowly I am alive. I am making progress. I want to keep moving at this pace, because I think it is safest. The weather is holding and we still have daylight. Over.” Jon was understanding. “Jeff, I understand completely. Just keep on with what you’re doing. Over.”

Ironically, after that point, the complexion of the terrain changed. We had just about reached the fixed and descending ropes. I tried to communicate to Lhakpa and Lama that as long as they raced ahead, I would take twice as long. If they climbed one before and one behind, I could move much faster. Lhakpa finally seemed to catch on. He instructed Lama to stay behind. Lhakpa then told me to wait. He went ahead a rope’s length and then stopped. He waved for me to come. I was clipped in to the rope. Lhakpa held one end of the rope and Lama the other. The difference to me was one of confidence. Previously I had not faith in the ropes to hold. Now, they were holding either end of it, so I practically ran to Lhakpa, trouncing through the snow, downward, bobbing, almost falling. I made it to him, completely out of breath and wasted. Lama followed and came up behind us. We repeated this procedure, down through chutes of snow and ice, rope length after rope length. Often the ropes were a discombobulated mess of age-old ropes, tie in points, and knots and we had to unclip and re-clip time after time. We descended, came down steep drops but with the security of being tied in, I could lean out almost perpendicular to the terrain.

In about 40 minutes, we had descended all the way from the ridge to just above the final snow slope. We came over a rocky edge and down three or four more chutes whereupon we unclipped and rested a moment, the camp only a quarter mile down the slope and between it and us a gradual 25-degree snow slope. I remembered my apprehension going up this in the morning. Not because it was terribly steep but simply because it was steep enough that if one slipped and hit an icy patch, one could travel far enough. I was not sure if this meant all the way or not, but I did not want to find out. I imagined that I might fall all the way. The ground had a weird aspect as if it gradually became steeper and steeper until your eyes were drawn all the way to the Rongbuk glacier several thousand meters below.

But the snow slope did not prove too scary. We descended unroped but there was some feeling of security with Lhakpa and Lama directly above and below me. The time was getting late, getting close to 6 p.m. There was not a moment to spare. It was important to keep moving. On the other side of the snow slope was some rocky terrain, again not terribly dangerous. I urged Lhakpa to rope to me, so he tied a rope around my waist and held the other end. But the main reason that I wanted this was so that he would not inadvertently get too far in the lead. Lama went ahead to camp, presumably to make tea. I staggered behind and felt that something was wrong, as I couldn’t breathe. We were only about 150 meters from the sloping Camp III. At this point I would not let myself believe that I would make it, even now that we were so close. My “strategy” all the way down was that I would keep myself in check by telling myself that I knew I could not make it, that I might but I probably wouldn’t or that I might but I couldn’t be sure. I could not let my guard down.

I tried calling out to Lhakpa and I removed my mask and yelled out. I checked my oxygen cylinder and sure enough it was empty. The feeling of trying to walk without it was incredibly hard after that eighteen-hour day, with only about 4 hours of sleep the previous night. Lhakpa had a little gas left in his cylinder and he changed our cylinders. I pumped it up to full volume as we had very little left to go. I was on 7 liters per minute. It was an absolutely incredible difference to go from no supplementary oxygen to 7 liters in an instant. I went from a case of near hopeless lack of energy to feeling like I could keep up with Lhakpa, who remained strong. Closer and closer, more hopeful and more hopeful, now I could clearly see there was no problem in finishing this task.

Feet, just feet away, the tent getting bigger. Finally, Lama came up and told me to wait at the other team’s tent, perhaps 20 yards up slope. I guessed they were getting things organized in the other tent. I collapsed at the door of the tent and lay there, my pack still on my back. I lay back and closed my eyes. All I could think was: “I made it. I made it. I made it. I made it.”

After about ten minutes, they came and got me and I went into the tent. They made preparations to leave, as they wanted to descend rapidly to a lower camp. I was in no position to do so. They set me up with a hot drink. In the tent was oxygen, a stove, fuel, food. I just lay there resting. In a few minutes the Frenchmen Patrick and Andre appeared at the opening of the tent. Andre left for the other tent and Patrick said something to me. I thought that he asked if Andre could come into the tent and I said, “Yes.” In a few minutes they reappeared and started throwing all their gear into the tent. I moved over. Patrick said, “Move over more!” in a demanding tone, but if I moved over anymore, I would have knocked the stove over. I said, “I can’t.” I was surprised that they were trying to cram into the tent with all their gear, and I felt irritated by Patrick’s tone. When they were inside they offered no help at all. I am sure they were tired, but I was absolutely wasted. They didn’t say congratulations, nothing. I figured that they liked my tent better because it was flat. After awhile, perhaps sensing my displeasure, they said that if I gave them some of the sleeping mats in my tent they would go to the other tent. I said “O.K.” and they took them and left. I was much more comfortable by myself. Soon after it became dark. Then I realized that in the rapid, almost running descent, my headlamp had fallen out of my jacket, meaning I now had no light at 26,500′.

I searched around for the matches and managed to find a soup packet. I dozed off and on in a sort of stupor. Over a period of time in which most of the water boiled away, I finally roused myself, had a cup of soup and then put my oxygen mask back on and fell away to sleep. I had given up feeling around in the tent for other types of food, and abandoned the idea altogether of cooking a meal. During the night I awoke a couple of times, found problems with my oxygen, felt restless, fell away to dreams.

End of summit day.

May 25, 1995
Descending from high camp to camp I, Mount Everest, Tibet
[A]

After a reasonably good night’s sleep I felt much better. I had more or less quenched my thirst and my mouth, which had been sticky with dehydration, now returned to a more comfortable state.

I was slow getting up, listening to the morning radio reports. I talked with Jon Muir and George Kotov at Base Camp and with Jon Tinker at ABC; however, my communication with Base was much better, as there was an adjacent mountainside between me and ABC. It seemed there was a need to get an exact fix on the oxygen and fuel cylinders, which were good and bad. In the process of counting I ran into a confusion that George finally explained. If the regulator was on the bottles when the pressure was checked, it would affect the height of the measuring piston on the bottle. So that explained why the night before we thought our cylinders mysteriously half full even though we checked them before going to sleep. The only way to get an accurate reading was to have the cap on and no regulator. Then the piston would measure full (three red lines worth) if the bottle was full. While I counted bottles, I sucked on some oxygen. I went over to the other tent (the French were up climbing now) and counted everything there. I threw the empty bottles outside the sloping tent. I relayed the information to Base. By now it was past noon. Bob from Alaska arrived at camp. He parked himself at some tents just above ours. With feeble energy I offered him some advice. One was that on the final summit slope, go to the right to the rocks. The other was that he should be careful not to let his guard down. I always felt a little that Bob didn’t put much stock in what I was telling him, but later he told me he took my advice to heart. (He came very near dying the next day, despite that.) Also, Ang Baba, five-time summiter, came trucking up the steep slope. He dropped an oversized pack. I went over to it and pulled on it to estimate its weight, which must have been about 80 lbs!

He made it look easy. Ang Babu, it is generally agreed, is somewhat of a rare case. Interestingly, he doesn’t look as if he would be a superman type, but rather, he has a small pot-belly and a gentle face. He is even apart and above his fellow Sherpas in terms of high altitude ability. He was going back up to make his second summit of the year! (He ended up summiting twice without oxygen, including a rescue attempt on his second summit, where he had to travel back down to the first step to retrieve oxygen bottles and then carry them back up to the second step to Bob and company, but that’s another story in itself.)

Unfortunately I was getting a late start, largely because of the counting of the bottles. I considered that it would be difficult to reach ABC. I figured that there would be people at the North Col, in case I had to spend the night there. I started down at about 1:30 p.m. There was no particular danger in descending by myself, as long as I was reasonably careful. I headed down the 20-degree snow and rock slope towards camp II. There was a group of three that I passed as they were heading up. Also, two of our Sherpas who had dropped a load passed me on their way down. I came around to the right and stayed roped as I reached the 25-degree snow patch that marked the 8000 meter point. Then down to the right more and I could make out our Sherpas nearing high camp II at 7800 meters. I continually looked off to the left to the enormous basin of the Rongbuk glacier and the various other valleys towards the southeast. The weather was cloudy and sunny and windy, the clouds hovering and blowing past at 50 mph 500 feet above us, sometimes obscuring the region above the North Col. I reached the bottom of the ropes, where the trail ends coming from Camp II, then slowly picked my way down the rocky trail, veering to the right, a different way than how I had come up. A little more to the right and the slope fell quickly away to the valley where ABC was. I veered back left and picked my way across an ice patch to Russell’s tents, in order to retrieve my daypack where my other headlamp was.

Mikko was holed up in one of the tents. But my pack was no where to be seen. I pushed my frame halfway into the empty tent, but nothing. Oh well, not too important, I’ve got to move on.

Just below were my comrades. The tent that had gotten crushed by the wind was re-erected again and inside it were Kelly, Pat Falvey and Mick. James and Graham were in the next tent. They invited me in and poured me a hot drink, which I appreciated. Now this is the sort of mountaineering courtesy that is customary! I noted the contrast between their behavior and Patrick’s. James and Graham came over. Everyone offered me their congratulations. We shared stories. Apparently Mike Smith and Brigitte were in the tents 200 meters below. After awhile it was clear that I should continue on down. I had really appreciated their warm welcome.

I decided to take advantage of the fact that there were ropes going down. I wrapped my arm around it once, as Jon Muir had shown me, and I leaned back on the rope and sort of hurried in a stumbling way down the rocky slope. I reached Russell’s low tent and reminisced about the mishap the first time I came up this way (where Luc and I had gotten the camps confused). I continued down left, still noting the holding and quite picturesque weather. The winds blew unabated, but they were light, perhaps 30 mph. I got down to the top of the long snow slope leading down to the North Col. I looked to the right to the tent where Mike and Brigitte must be; I considered going over to the tents to retrieve my other bag, but I opted for the safety of descent over the unnecessary material consideration. As I had no headlamp, I was concerned that I get down before dark. I assumed incorrectly that there would be people and lights at Camp I. I made decent time down the long drawn out slope. There were a few people down below that were going slower than me. I almost caught up to them at the bottom, just before the gentle rise back to the Camp. The last bit was tiring and I moved slowly. As I got to our tents, the first you come to on the way down, the sun was just setting. I had arrived not a moment too soon. I called out Hello, but no answer came. I got closer to the far tents but there were no responses and no lights in the growing darkness. To my dismay, I realized it was going to be another night without light!
Futility!

I scrambled to find the essentials: a stove, a bag of snow for melting water, and of course matches. Oh, yes, and an extra gas cylinder for the stove. I was damn lucky to find the matches, I can say that. I got everything inside the cleanest Himalayan Hotel I could find and settled in for the night. The problem was that there was no moon during these nights, and there were particularly dark. I went, not only another night without a light, but another without dinner. I just boiled a couple of soups and hot chocolates, falling asleep between them and mostly evaporating pot after pot of water into thin air and drinking very little of the water produced. I was focused on the thought of getting to ABC tomorrow and filled my head with exaggerated fears of the glacier being melted to dangerous proportions. I imagined the decent to ABC as a chancy and challenging goal.

May 26, 1995
Descent from Camp 1, North Col, to ABC
[A]

Morning came without event. I awoke early, at about 6 a.m. and I started getting ready to leave at once. The sky was clear. I mustered the energy to move without breakfast. I figured I could get to ABC in about two hours and that I could eat there. I put my gear on, had a cold drink from my water bottle and I started to descend in the morning sun.

Since our camp was the last on the way up the North Col, I walked by the sites of all the previous camps, which by now were nearly all dismantled. It was a lonely place. There were only two other sites left, one of them being that of Russell’s team. Dr. Dick Martin was there, getting ready to make his summit attempt. He congratulated me and I encouraged him; I told him I knew he could do it provided the weather held out.

I moved very slowly downward, even though I wanted to move quickly. I clipped and unclipped till I reached the main slope. I tried to take a lot of photographs on the way down, to depict what it was like. Truly the effects of the sun could be seen since our first ascent to the North Col a month ago. The seracs on the slope were gigantic, overhanging the entire slope along the length of the saddle. It was unlikely they would fall, but if they did, they would make a very wide path along their way.

JUNE 1995

Circa June 1, 1995
Mount Everest Rongbuk Base Camp, Tibet, 5200 meters
[S] [A]

Precepts of Awesomeness

I am indebted to the Goddess Mother of the Earth (Chomolungma) to know the top of her.

1. Do not compromise your original nature.
Compromise comes from giving into the pressures of convention.

2. Life is to celebrate life, relationships to celebrate relationships, love to celebrate love.
Life is not for worrying. Love is not for jealousy.

3. Remember: what is the use of living if you can’t live while you are living!?
We all too often forget that in our efforts to protect what we have, we give up the joys of spontaneity, freedom, dignity, and unseen benefits.

4. Go straight to the heart of a matter, and do not get sidetracked by insignificant details.
Avoid digression onto meaningless topics. Then the original purpose is clouded and eventually lost.

5. Be aware of when things have changed and accept the need to modify the context of your existence.
This means to discard old possessions that no longer have utility. This also means to acquire new friends as life progresses.

6. Keep your life simple.
Do not clutter it with unnecessary things; this not only means excluding unnecessary projects and material goods, but also conventional thinking! The “plane of thought and perception” should be like an open field. You put what you want there.

7. Challenge your thinking processes and defy tacit acceptance of convention.
Be defiant towards the ills of life. Question yourself. Strike out towards improvement. Fill your life with your own conception of what is best.

8. Think carefully about priorities.
What is really important? What brings the most happiness? For me it is lovemaking, socializing and eating. Music and levity. Beautiful things. The beauty of nature.

9. Be fearless, yet cautious when required.
Be natural in your approach to things.

10. Don’t let thoughts of what others think make you alter your natural way.
If they don’t like your way of being yourself, the alternative of compromising your nature is a losing proposition. Let yourself show outwardly. It is likely that people overall will themselves feel freed by this and thus attracted to your natural manner.

11. Absorb the content of things before taking action.
Do not allow circumstances to drive you. Take everything into account and then move into the most sensible direction. Do so with confidence and awareness of time.

June 15, 1995
San Francisco
[S]

Knaves:
Controversy was blessed “free” on the spirited Mount. No need to answer knaves and foolish imaginings. Sticking to the course of the ever-free wind, being ever swifter around the offending obstacle than blunted by its path. You, not beholden to any foul-sayer, pursue the vaporous, divine celeste from which we were born, then to must go; fashioned after the skies, fleetness your feet will know.

June 24, 1995
San Francisco

This morning, Amy said:
“Honey, You know your thing, next to your thing?”
Looking at the question mark in my face she elaborated:
“Your round thing. Your round pink thing next to the wall?”
ABOUT A MONTH LATER I FINALLY FOUND OUT SHE MEANT THE TOILET SEAT!

June 28, 1995
San Francisco
[S] [L]

Only a paragraph, for lack of time.

I cannot describe, dear diary, the magnitude of the change in me, nor can I explain the reason for it. I can only say that it is indeed profound. Let me speak around the point, to paint a circle around it.

I feel powerful, no nonsense, believe in being not afraid, to
have a tempered defiance. I feel calm and sure, and as if I do
not need to speak an inner voice to the question of what [???], for I
know what my path should be, and thus, I am clean and free from
internal clutter. I “feel” my path clearly.

I should not waste time arguing and should avoid vexatious
people, regardless of who they are. I do not need to answer to
any man or woman. And I feel that the future and all of life is
an open field for me to plow, an open space as yet undefined. I
do renounce former man-made parameters of morality and convention
and feel I know what is good and I feel compelled to head
straight for it as far as possible.

I feel I should not allow any individual to daunt me, as so often
in the past I have allowed to happen.

I feel each moment should be savored and that life should be a
celebration, every day to be lived fully, with enjoyment,
entertainment and lovemaking.

Today, Ling Fung came by and fucked me; Amy found out, got
angry and left. But later I called her and made sweet to her,
and then we fucked in the car outside the restaurant. Yesterday
I called Fumie in Japan. She called me back later and we talked
a while. We seem quite fond of one another. She was surprised I
climbed Mount Everest.

Also, yesterday, Angelica returned my call and we talked a bit.

Angela from Trinidad called me a few days ago for money.

Michiyo called from Japan. I told her I am coming there. We say
I love yous and I miss yous, etc.

I am supposed to call Laura on Friday morn.

Lots happening.

My celebration party put on by Amy was the best party of my
life. About 60 people.

In any event, the predominance of people who emigrate must wait for extended periods to return home. Again, why is it my fault and responsibility? Her item (j). They are, to use…. [???]

June 30, 1995
San Francisco
[S][E]

Why live if you can’t live while you’re living?

I am trying to mold the new felt power I feel into my life here. I feel a need to be cautious. I lose the sense of direction and purpose I feel. I feel I should write down the feeling so that, lest I lose the sense of direction and purpose I feel. I feel I should write down the feeling so that I can ‘refer to my notes.’(!) And I fear that the pressures that once forced me into oblivion will whittle away at me again.

Compromise seems to be a bad word. A potential pitfall is to compromise myself into obsequiousness towards life.

It seems that since I have returned, nearly every morning I wake up with an early morning hard-on (EMH).

The opening title of this entry kind of summarizes what I am feeling. In my life I have not celebrated the joy of living. Take relationships for example. The purpose, in my way of thinking, should be to celebrate the relationship, whereas, all too often we spend time bickering over jealousies. What bullshit. And all this kind of B.S. is what I am against. I have been in a shell.

As I stated before, life is an open field. We unfortunately are hemmed in by the ‘walls of convention that never let us see out of them. Like prisms of distortion, our rules do not let us ever begin with fresh and untainted perceptions. In fact, most of what we do and say is dictated by convention. We react with jealousy, unthinkingly. We accept its precepts as gospel. In fact, jealousy is unnecessary bullshit. What is the reason for it, other than the fact that, given the context of our mean sense of love, if we lose our partner, it is so hard to find a replacement? If we did not have such a narrow vision of relationships, everyone could have what they wanted in abundance. Hence, no need of jealousy.

Ironically, the actual behavior of individuals is to migrate from one mate to another. Yet we still live in the myth of monogamy. The laws of our land only serve to severely worsen everyone’s plight, introducing the concept of financial responsibility in love’s arena, where it does not belong. At first glimpse law appears to be a protector.

But take a better look. Men want to be promiscuous. Women want to have children. Women do not want men to be promiscuous because they need the man’s fatherhood for their children. Consider the problems we cause.

A man avoids giving the woman what she needs, children, because this will prevent him from having what he wants.

I envision: why not encourage women to have babies? How many women do I know whose biological time clocks are ticking and they worry about having to find a husband? Why do they have to do so? Obviously, because of practical considerations, namely three:

1. To handle the economics.
2. To have a Father figure [for the child].
3. To maintain their dignity.

Dignity because convention dictates that a woman is less of a woman if she can’t land a man.

Is marriage and laws of support and monogamy the only way to protect people? From loneliness. The laws only look to solve a specific problem but do not analyze the problems generated by their solution?

What a sad state of affairs! What a sad world!

I envision: why can’t we have no laws, have no jealousies, and honor birth, while honoring the needs of women and men?

I do not want anyone to judge my need for variety in women. I do not want to live in this state of nonsense persecution. A woman cannot know what it is like to be a man. I am suppressed. We talk endlessly in the media of human rights, when the oppression of men is underneath our nose.

I want to modify [the song] Your Love to be a bit more ‘sinister’, giving the originally happy song a twist to denote the truth. And change the lyrics.

(Funk) (Open E next four strings 7th fret e.g. up to 9th on Thank)

Your Love

Your love is like the setting sun that
makes the sky violet when the day is done
What can I say but Thank you?

Your love’s like a turning world,
and Springs eternal,
whether it’s day or night
my fears take flight
like a falling moon
falling in the month of May or in the month of June
It falls upon the sun,
swirls the birches
stirs the poplars
and kisses the ocean.

JULY 1995

Circa July 1995
[S]

Manifesto for a Changed World

People make a difference. Our human world is made up of its human inhabitants. It is therefore a direct product of what we make it. Namely, our social conventions dictate our happiness and our sadness.

Our social conventions, in their diverse varieties the world over, have evolved naturally in response to existing conditions, mostly geographical, economic, climatic. The human world has been dramatically changed through the industrial age and the advent of leaps in technological advances in communications and transportation.

I propose that whereas social conventions more favorable to our happiness and well-being may not have before been possible, that now due to these much changed circumstances, it is possible for the world to re-think from scratch how it looks at basic economic, governmental, interpersonal and environmental conventions and then enact institutions which are in keeping with newly formed and more acceptable ones.

I will outline examples in each area as illustrations.

Economic.
Money is obsolete. Money as we know it has been used in one form or another throughout the ages. All over the world, each person fiddles with coins, notes and credit card bills each day. This amounts to literally trillions of hours spent to account for ‘where we are,’ to physically handle all this money, etc. Look at the trend of societies as they progress and there is a drifting away from actual money handling. For example, instead of cash, credit cards; instead of carrying a payroll check to the bank, an employer deposits it electronically. The trend can be seen in the policies of stores. More and more, the ‘return’ policies of stores have relaxed. Whereas before if an item were opened, the store would not accept it back for return; now they will. What effect do these policies have? They encourage people to shop, inevitable spending more money at the store. Sure, some people abuse the system, but overall, people will help the business by buying more. It has the effect of making the spender more confident of satisfaction, so they are more willing to take a risk.

I do not have a solution to how to do away with money. I only know that if, instead of spending so much human energy accounting and handling, this time could be spent in a way that is more conducive to propagating happiness.

Governmental.
Politicians are consumed with thoughts of reelection. Therein, they try to please their constituents with satisfying ‘indicators’ (mostly economic), such as the GNP. These indicators simply point out that more and more products are being produced. It does not address whether these products are intrinsically adding to human welfare or happiness. Secondly, many politicians are interested in their own enrichment, to maximize their own holdings of material possessions.

So our highest authorities are often driven by forces that do not translate into the good of the people. How can this be ideal?

I maintain that what politicians should be consumed by is the research and implementation of policies which translate into the most satisfying solutions to the dilemma of human happiness. What could be simpler than to survey the populace with a questionnaire that asked: What is it that makes you happy? What is it you would like to see in a new world? And other such penetrating, basic questions.

Interpersonal.
We have inherited a plethora of conventions regarding sex, marriage, and upbringing of children. The world over, all sorts of variations of these conventions have been experimented with, all meeting with greater or lesser degrees of ‘success.’ But one thing is sure. Diametrically opposite conventions have maintained societies in good stead. In other words, no one-way of living is inherently ‘right.’ Muslims can have four wives. Tibetan woman can have four husbands. And so on.

Yet despite the obvious truth of this, our laws remain in all the ‘glory’ of their repressiveness. I fear the reader will have trouble getting by the emotional and moralistic aspects of this question long enough to see the situation for what it is. So I will put forth some of the hypocrisies. Do not underestimate the psychic weight they hang on everyone:
Nudity: the laws against appearing in our natural state are the most sinister fallout of ‘gentle society.’ What could be more ridiculous? It robs us of our original nature. Nudity gains the aspect of criminal behavior. In fact, only the first few hours of nakedness is even that noticeable. After a short contact, one tends not to focus on the fact that someone else is nude. Whereas nature has bequeathed her greatest gift to us, we peremptorily hoard it in secret. What man would not enjoy seeing the joyful nubile young woman in all her natural glory? What fools we have been to deny ourselves this basic joy.
Fornication. Something every normal person loves to do is to have sex. Yet we have, in most places where the Christian right has asserted itself, criminalized it. Another grotesque hypocrisy against nature.

Marriage…
Marriage. We have institutionalized the joining of two people to too great an extent. We have sanctioned every aspect of it. In the most progressive societies, divorce happens in most cases. We blame it on ‘moral decay,’ but never stop to examine how ‘in keeping’ our notions of what is proper jibe with the natural order of our sexuality.

Statutory rape. We set limits for the ‘legal’ age of women some six to eight years beyond their puberty. We talk about women’s rights, yet deny a young woman the right to choose the lover of her choice. Statutory rape implies it is consensual sex. Yet it leaves one of the parties open to severe criminal prosecution. Sex should be outside the domain of government.

In essence, we have taken the realm of what is most delightful in our world and commercialized and criminalized it. The product of love is children. What a sad world where we must ‘force’ people to care for their children. Does criminalizing it help or create the situation?

Environmental.
Everyone prefers a clean environment. Environmental issues should naturally overrule special interest groups. Case in point. Why not eliminate the need for money exchange and appropriate vast sums of money [of energy???], and correspondingly manpower, for research to develop solar cells which are efficient enough to power high speed automobiles, even on a rainy day? If you put enough effort into it, it could be done.

July 1, 1995
[E][S]
Shakespeare

91 We cannot weigh our brother with ourself.

91 That in the captain’s but a choleric word, which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

60 The world’s mine oyster.

62 If money go before, all ways do lie open.

60 The world’s mine oyster.

75 Be not as extreme in submission as in offense.

81 What cannot be eschewed must be embraced.

416 A wretched soul, bruised with adversity,
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry.
But were we burdened with like weight of pain,
as much or more we should ourselves complain.

117 How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!

118 And wherefore: For they saw every why hath a wherefore.

121 Be not thy tongue thy own shame’s orator.

121 Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word (?)

121 When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife.

86 Our doubts are traitors
And make us lose the good we oft might win
By fearing to attempt.

312 Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, which we ascribe to Heaven.

111 Best men are molded out of faults.

87 Well, heaven forgive him!
and forgive us all!
Some rise by sin,
and some by virtue fall.

147 Well, everyone can master a grief but he that has it.

154 Strength of limb and policy of mind,
ability in means and choice of friends.

156 ‘tis all men’s office to speak patience
To those that wring under the load of sorrow.
But no man’s virtue nor sufficiency
to be so moral when he should endure the like himself.

1022 There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.

1001 Give sorrow words:
the grief that does not speak
whispers the o’er-fraught heart
and bids it break.

1009 …colleagued with the dream of his advantage…

86 and let him learn to know,
when maidens sue, men give like god’s;
but when they weep and kneel,
All their petitions are as freely theirs
as they themselves would owe them.

19 the strongest oaths are straw to the fire i’ the blood.

97 Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful.

111 That life is better life, past fearing death; than that which lives to fear.

49 Love will not be spurred to what it loathes.

The evil that men do lives after them, the good is often interred with their bones.

“Rather…see the wonders of the world abroad than, living dully sluggarized at home, wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.”

July 1, 1995

Photography is drawing the beauty that is there into a cup.
[!!!]

July 5, 1995
[L][F]
Night time

I feel tired. I want to just make a note or two.

There is a lot going on in my life.

Amy set it up for a call girl to come over, but I found her completely unsexy and did not fuck her. As soon as she left, alone with Mimi, I got quite excited and we had a good fuck.

Since time is always a problem I think that what I should try to do is to capsulize [summarize] my life in writing once every week while I am at home. I want to keep some kind of record.

I talked with Angelica tonight and set it for us to meet Friday to eat and visit.

Last week I fucked Ling Fung and Amy found out and got pissed off but quickly calmed down.

She has sort of agreed to let me have my outside fucks as long as I use a condom, tell her what I am up to, and do not spend the night. I have it made but do not know how long it will last. Amy is very important to me. I do not know where I could find another woman so open-minded as her.

I had my big summit party two weeks ago. I am disappointed that the newspapers do not seem to be interested. Meanwhile, as I heard from Brigitte Muir today by fax, the Australian media has made a hero out of James.

Business is great. June sales were $ 790K. Dad is still acting like a total asshole.

Jack and Amber and Amy and I were together three nights this four-day weekend. I have a blast being with Jack. We act crazy while ‘our women’ look on. We are all constantly teasing each other. It’s really a lot of fun.

I am supposed to lunch with D’re tomorrow, the girl Kenny wants me to meet. Ken is newly made a friend since I came back from Everest, although we were getting to be friends before I left. A cool dude.

Among all my activities, I am trying to maintain sort of a balance between being happy and carefree with the way I behave, yet to maintain a sort of very high standard of expectations for my environment, which brings a sort of dissatisfaction, a healthy one I hope. Part of my program is to spend a little more time just looking and thinking and staring at the clouds and taking my time. Life is so important. I just want to make sure I do not waste my time anymore. I want my moves to be careful and yield a cool life. I am trying to listen to a lot more music. Be more friendly. And by always putting things through the perspective of the fact I might have died up on the mountain, I have a benchmark to measure whether something is worth it, worth worrying about, worth having, worth trying for, etc.

I sometimes fear I will lose my newfound vision, but in another sense I sense that what has really happened is that some great new thing inside of me has been born or reborn. How, then, could I lose what is innate to me now? I just feel I must act and make each day count, not wait to live, not wait to grab the moment, and to disregard insignificant worries as shadows.

Laura called me collect a little while ago. I have to call her back. I am in love with her, true.

Also, being with Amy has been great.

July 6, 1995
[E]

It is midnight and I am going to sleep.

I contacted about 40 8×10 negatives tonight. There are several
images that I will undoubtedly add to my portfolio.

I had an idea tonight and Amy helped me to develop it. She is a
great help.

The idea is to gather models and pay for them to all come with me
to a location in a foreign land. They get a free vacation and I
get a group of beautiful nude models whom I can photograph in
grounds of my choice. Later, perhaps this can form an avenue for
my ultimate goal. I can gather a group of models from one ethnic
background and transport them to the country of their origin and
do nudes of them in their native environment. Perhaps this can
circumvent the obvious problem: how do you get a Nepali village
girl to pose nude in her own home? Perhaps I can approach this
problem in the way described.

I had lunch with D’re (Dree) today. What a beautiful, interesting
and accomplished girl she is. Besides being pretty, she has a lot
of spunk. She was second place Junior World figure skating
champion, and a pro mountain biker. She’s 26 and Kenny Boyd, my
new friend, introduced her to me.

I called Ling Fung and set a movie date for Sunday.

I had a long talk with Amy in bed last night till about 1:30
a.m. I had decided at dinner to approach “girl” subjects in bed
right before we fuck, so that any feelings of jealousy will be
softened by the warmth of my body and subdued by good sex after
the discussion. It was great. We had a warm talk. Amongst the
things we resolved were that if I am going out with another girl,
I can just say a white lie and say I am going on an outing. Even
though she knows, we can avoid direct mention of it at the time.
The reason in part is that I feel that I will be more effective
with the women I go out with if I have my meetings with them sort
of “on the side”; I speculated that perhaps the “secretive”
aspects of “clandestine” meetings makes me more aggressive than
if she gives me direct “permission.” On the other hand, I do
intend on discussing things with her. We both agreed that in
order for her to feel secure, basically all she needs to know is
that she is important to me and that these “outings” with other
women will not jeopardize her relationship with me. Further, my
stated purpose is to have sex with women. This is in contrast to
the past in which I nearly always mingled sex with thoughts of
falling in love. Now I am trying an experiment, more to focus
just on having the thing I want most with women that attract me
(and hopefully satisfy their fundamental needs too). This is
very exciting for me to contemplate. I would like it that I have
several pretty girls to fuck and to have them wondering after me,
instead of the other way around, which all too often has been the
status quo in my life.

Last for tonight, I just want to say that I am trying to
capsulize the raw powerful feeling I have. I keep pondering
‘What is its essence?’

July 13, 1995
[L]

Been busy, busy, busy, too busy to write.

There is a lot going on.

Last night Amy and I hired a call girl and while I fucked her,
she fingered Mimi, which they both seemed to dig. The girl was
too much of a whore to really appeal to me, but it was all right.
The main thing was that I could see that I could get into it,
especially so if we had a nubile partner, a young sensitive fresh
creature.

I walked up to a woman at the booth across from ours today and
simply said:

Would you like to date me? We made plans to have lunch.

July 14, 1995
[S]

The night before my birthday.
I am beat.
I am tired.
I am worn out.
I fear that I am going to lose the excitement, all confident feeling I felt when I returned.
Yet I know this will not happen.

It’s so important for me to record the essence of what I feel, yet, even if I did, what will this effect to the world at large, or even to my own world?

It will sit in my computer memory until someone comes along and erases it?!?

Nevertheless, I must try!

O.K. I will merely record it all, all of what I am doing and feeling. It will not lay to waste in my computer memory alone, if I can help it. I’ll record my plan, my love, my aspirations.

The basic theory is this. I believe that we are hopelessly weighed down by our possessions, not only material, but the social baggage we carry around as well, and psychological, emotional, etc, conditioning, etc.

It is kind of like this: imagine a person with a 500 pound backpack trying to get anywhere with it.

I believe that by judiciously paring down all the baggage that we have, both material and other, that then and only then can we regain that primordial vigor that we should enjoy. Lately I have been thinking of many examples of this.

I will list a few here. It is easy to start. You can think of anything that exists in your perception and ask: do I need this thing? How about your car? Is it necessary? It is probably an item of utility. Maybe you should keep it.

The next thought that comes into my mind is whether this thing is the appropriate item for the purpose. Also, is it the best that I can find for the purpose. One of the criteria is, is this thing giving me enjoyment? If it is not, then I might likely discard it. Or change it in for a new one.

I keep coming back to a raw momentum I am feeling. This core feeling questions the worth of nearly everything. This is another component to my feeling. That is to persistently challenge what is existing.

I look around at society and slowly I am wondering more and more how much of the substance really passes the ‘smell test.’ How much of this do we really need, I ask myself.

i) How much of this do we really need?
ii) How we can improve on what we have?
iii) Is this thing causing happiness or something other?

These are simple but thought provoking.

It goes on and on. Our laws, our libraries full of outdated books. Our preoccupation with money as a medium of exchange. Our preoccupation with history of days gone by, usually hopelessly inaccurate.

I want my environment to fulfill a few basic requirements.

i) I want the things around me to have a use pertinent to my life and my path.
ii) I want those things to be as useful and beautiful as they can possibly, the best that can be gotten.
iii) I want those things to contribute to happiness and not detract from it.
iv) I do not want to have more of anything than I need.
v) I want to have as little as possible while still being able to pursue my personal path and succeed in it.
vi) This economy includes economy of energy and trouble while still being able to pursue my personal path and succeed in it.
vi) This economy includes economy of energy and thought.
vii) Since I live in an environment that forces the proliferation of possessions, and is …. [remainder of entry lost]

July 17, 1995
[S]

Today was a better day than yesterday.
I have been thinking so much on what to write, but I haven’t found the time to sit and put down my thoughts.

These are some of the things that have been going through my mind. They mostly have to do with how I see my life differently than I did in the past.

1. In the past, I feel I made too big of a thing out of tasks. I viewed them as burdensome, when in fact they may have been small and easily taken care of. This pertains to day-to-day chores and also to greater life issues. I used to let the consideration of the various things on my mind bother me to the point that I would get stressed out. Now I am trying to handle things on this basis:
i) Prioritize them and figure out what really needs doing.
ii) Plan to get the really important things done first.
iii) To always bear in mind that, in a way, ‘getting someplace’ is not really so important. What is important is:
a) Having a good time on the way.
b) Maintaining one’s clarity and peace of mind on the way.

[remainder of entry lost]

July 19, 1995
[S] [L]

One change in me is that I don’t feel as sorry for people anymore, for the simple reason is that we are all so damn lucky to be alive. Who gives a shit if one person has a stereo and another doesn’t?

I have been so busy, I have not had a chance to write as much as I would like. I realize that someday perhaps all my writing may go the way of dust, yet I still feel compelled to write down my thoughts. I admit that in my view, I am a special person. True, we all are, and I welcome everyone to feel the same way. However, additionally, I think I am like a ripe apple, ready to offer the world a taste of something really special.

As you know, dear diary, my main love is women and all about women. That is, not only do I love to make love to them, I also love to photograph them and talk with them, be held by them and admire every one of them of beauty. So this explains where my head is at, where my mind is, what occupies the foundation of my thinking. I am planning so many different aspects of dealing with them. Let me outline them:

1. I put an ad in three papers for nude models. I have gotten 7 phone calls from girls. Sunday I will be meeting with a girl named Tracy in the Haight to take photos of her. I haven’t seen her but she assures me she is really beautiful. I think over the next few months I ought to be able to make some real progress with getting a broad spectrum of women to take pictures of.

2. Amy and I put in several personal ads. They are free, for one thing. We have not checked to see if there are any responses, but these are the ads:
a) She put in an ad seeking a second woman to join us.
b) I put in a similar ad.
c) I put in an ad for women who like to pose nude and suggested there might be more, as in relational aspects as well. (This is separate from my ads for nude models.)
d) I put in an ad that says I am a married man seeking a cute girl on the side. I’m not expecting a call on this one, but I thought it was an interesting ad to put in and I would be really curious to find out what kind of woman might respond to it.
e) I had another ad that did not get processed last time, so I faxed it in today. This one says I am a single guy, etc.

3. Amy and I have tried three escorts who came out to fuck me. It was pretty unsexy all in all and I only fucked one of them, a semi black girl who blew me more vigorously than you could imagine. It actually hurt. One of them was just not my type and wore her boots in my bed. I did not get excited. The last one was a real bitch and pissed Amy and I off. I didn’t feel excited with her either. As a result of a lot of money spent and too little satisfaction gotten, I feel that maybe pursuing this avenue is not worthwhile. We are much more interested in finding a woman that wants to fuck with us as a friend/lover. See below.

4. Amy and I also responded to an ad by a woman who was open to meeting a couple. To my surprise, she responded to Amy and said she would like to meet with us. I am really excited by the thought. It is a dream.

5. I have a program in mind to approach, as a beginning, 100 women in a direct way. I have begun a paper on this that you can find on this computer disk. So I have a few interests here, such as Pilar and Shirley.

6. I have my interests abroad. Namely Laura in Shanghai, who I am going to visit and Michiyo in Kumamoto, who I also plan to visit in a couple of weeks. There are other international acquaintances which may prove interesting, such as Fumie in Japan, perhaps Kiyoko.

7. The most interesting of all is the most curious of all. This all came about just yesterday. What a surprise. It is Jack’s wife, Amber. When I met Amber a few months ago, I practically had a hard on just thinking about her. She just attracts me a great deal, although I could not explain exactly why. She has the type of body I really like. Well, I of course, felt quite reluctant to mention to Jack that I was so attracted to his wife! At first I assumed that they were in love and that he would be jealous. But over the last month I have come to learn first that Jack isn’t that attracted to her. Then I learned that their sex life is practically nil. Still I thought maybe I could help to bring them back together, as I like them both. But yesterday I talked with Jack about the reasons that he doesn’t want her anymore and also as to why he doesn’t leave her. He does want to leave her, but when he mentioned it in the past, she got sort of hysterical and threatened to kill him and to kill herself. Jack said that sometimes he wished she would take an interest in someone else so that she would want to leave him. When we talked, I felt some sort of an opening to say something I could never imagine saying:

‘Jack, I might be able to help you out. I could seduce Amber (and make her fall in love with me) and then you would have a reason to leave her.’

To my surprise, he actually welcomed the suggestion. Of course I led up to this statement. First I said ‘Are you sure that you wouldn’t be jealous if she actually did go off with another man?’ He said he wouldn’t. I have a lot of respect for Jack and trust his self-awareness.

Anyway, the situation is so intriguing! In fact, I get quite excited just thinking about seducing Amber. It seems so sexy! I would really love to fuck her.

I won’t do anything at the moment. I will wait. I told Jack I would. I told him if I ever decided to do anything that I would tell him before I did. I asked him: ‘If I ever did anything, I would tell you what I was up to. Wouldn’t you feel funny if you knew that I had made a pass at her and she didn’t say anything to you?’ He said that he would (I forget exactly what he said) be curious as to what was happening, but he wouldn’t mind. He said the best possible outcome for him was if I wanted to marry her. I teased him about me getting Amber pregnant and him having to take care of the baby as if it was his own!

We didn’t finish the discussion because Miguel from OTT Expeditions came by to interview me. Jack went home. We said we’d talk more later on this.

As far as other things in my life, I feel as if I have enough photographs in my portfolio that I can make a show. I will be printing a lot in the next week. I will be going to China next Friday, July 28th, to see Laura and hopefully go to Xishuanbanna, then to Tokyo for business and Kumamoto to meet with Michiyo. I met Michiyo on the flight to Tokyo last December. I rubbed her leg (and tried to rub her pussy) on the plane underneath my jacket. I was bold.

I feel stuff brewing with Dad on business. A war with Dad and a war with Joy may be inevitable.

I met this morning with Jaquelyn Tulley, an investigator. She has been hired to interview the policeman who saw that Joy bit me.

[Remainder of entry missing]

July 28, 1995
San Francisco to Tokyo
[L] [S]

I’m on my way to Tokyo/Shanghai. Ah! A chance to relax. A chance to write. And so much has been happening.

O.K. This last week has probably been the most important in my life as far as my development with women. I feel as if I have reached enlightenment. Yet enlightenment is a relative thing. Some more, some less. It is not only with women, it is with life. I can describe it as if everything has opened up, nothing matters. I know what to do. I can think on my feet. I can feel and interpret things I have never been able to sort out before. Everything seems simpler, understandable. I am enjoying the hell out of my life. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not claiming other people aren’t enlightened. I think a lot of people are to a greater or lesser degree. Yet now I feel as if I can easily see those that are, and to what extent. My grandmother is, for example, and she to a vast extent. I can see in her reactions her light. Now I can more fully comprehend what is behind her easy-going state.

And it has a lot to do with the fact that most things we fret over aren’t worth worrying about.

What an awesome life I have at the moment. My life is full, and I have been filling the holes in it, for example, making sure there is plenty of good music about me.

Reports on Traci, Lana, Mimi, Kathy, Pilar, Shirley, Michiyo, Snezhina, Ling Fung, Laura, Amber, D’re.

TRACI Well, as you know, on Sunday, I had an appointment with Traci, a model. When I showed up at her house, I immediately could tell that her body was not what I was looking for. Her breasts were too large through her loose robe. I knew they were saggy. Exactly what I am not looking for. But I had a hard time to reject her straight out. And anyway I thought I’d just go through with it. Fortunately, she had a roommate that wanted to model too. Traci asked me if I wanted to shoot her friend. I looked at her and was drawn to her pert breasts pushing out through her loose white robe. O.K. I said.

Sure enough Traci was sort of unsightly. So I took just a few photos of her as a courtesy, then focused on Lana and some of the two of them together. I had a lot of fun. Lana’s body was really quite beautiful, and she is a natural model, the way she holds her body.

During the shoot, Traci asked me about my car (Porsche 911) and asked me if she could have a ride later. I kind of got a strong feeling she liked me. I paid them each $60, instead of the $35 I advertised, mostly because they indicated they were really hard up for cash.

Traci and I took our ride. She was poor and seemed so excited about everything, like me offering her an ice cream. I was supposed to take her to her aunt’s a few blocks away, but we never got there. Instead we drove to Noe Valley for her to drop off a video and then to my house “to drop off my camera gear before we went to her aunt’s.” We went on my roof. Since I had my shirt off, eventually I became chilled in the wind, and I pulled up next to her. She said, “I guess I’ll keep you warm,” in a joking way and put her arms around me. When it got too cold for her, we went to “catch the sun in my bedroom” in the back of the house. We laid there and eventually our clothes went off. She insisted on using a condom, which was a pretty good idea, but I hate the damn things. During this time, she mentioned something about liking women, and that gave me the idea to have her, Amy and I have a threesome. Traci said she would suck on me if I wanted and she put a condom on me and did, but at that moment we did not fuck.

When I called Amy to tell her about Traci, Amy was pissed off. Mostly her frustration came from the fact that it was now about 9 p.m. and she had been wondering where I was and I did not call. It was Traci’s idea for the three of us to [go] out to dinner together. Of course, Amy agreed and came over, while in the midst of trying to get over her upset. I met Amy outside before she came in and I said: “Don’t worry, there’s no way this girl could replace you.” After Amy met Traci she told me privately: “I see what you mean.”

We are at a Thai restaurant. After dinner, Traci and Amy went up on the roof and talked. I sat downstairs and worked at my desk. When they came down, Amy occasionally came to the room I was working in and gave me a hard time, either by her words or by her silence. She was really frustrating me, no doubt purposefully. Later she essentially let me know I was being punished for not calling her. I asked Amy what the word was and she said it was O.K. for Traci to spend the night. Amy went and took a shower, preparing herself for bed. I hugged and kissed Traci a little. Her breath and new smells attracted me. It excited me to be affectionate to another woman while Amy was in the house.

Amy came out in her green robe, all fresh and clean. Traci then showered, and lastly I did. I got in bed first and they followed shortly afterwards. Traci got in and pushed against me from the left and Amy from the right. Suddenly I was surrounded by soft warm flesh, a feeling I had never experienced before. It was heavenly, and I had a new rush of a sensation I had never before had, a feeling as if I was in heaven. When I faced Traci, I felt Mimi’s encouraging hands around our bodies. I became excited and reached for the rubber. I put it on. Just as I was starting to penetrate Traci, she said: “You better put a rubber on boy!” This sudden “order” turned me off. Still we played around. The rubber was so uncomfortable and Amy was trying too hard to get me going. After a few changes in position, I ended up on top of Traci with a condom on. I was kissing Mimi, whose face was just to the right of Traci’s. I fucked Traci and came. It was O.K. (If only I could have two changes: one, to have the third woman be really attractive and two, to not have to wear a condom with either of them.) Later, I fucked Mimi, beginning when Traci left to go the toilet, yet she came back in bed while Amy and I were fucking.

After all this, Amy tried to suck me off, to put a condom on me and to get me to fuck Traci again, but I wasn’t into it. I was tired: it was about 4 a.m. In the morning, I was hard and began to fuck Traci, but I couldn’t come. Amy was pushing my ass into Traci as I thrust. This was very nice. I ended up fucking Amy (without a condom) till I came.

Diary, if you denote a less than totally enthusiastic tone to this, it is just because the experience had some lulls in it. Still, there were some really awesome moments, such as the one I described. This sense of being surrounded by the bodies of two women was really amazingly nice. Also, the sensation of having a woman who loves me pushing me into another woman’s body was great, that feeling of encouragement. I can see that I could really get into having two or three women as simultaneous lovers. (I’m having a good year so far, first climbing Mount Everest, then having my first ménage-a-trois.)

The thing that was really nice about it is that both women were there because they wanted to be and there was no money involved in the deal. Also, Traci really liked Amy (she has a preference for women) and they touched and kissed, which sort of gave the feeling that there were no barriers between any of us.

The other thing that was neat was simply the satisfaction I felt from having something I had long wanted to happen happen!

We took our time in the morning. After Amy left, I drove Traci home. My recollection is that Traci and I kissed goodbye. I find it very awesome that Amy accepts this behavior.

LANA
Lana: what a fantastic model. One of the shots I took of her, I believe, is a classic. Amy agreed it was the best nude I ever did. The night before I left for Asia I brought it over to show Traci and Lana. They seemed to like it. Traci said: “Lana has such soft skin. Go ahead and touch it.” I playfully touched her belly (her shirt over her belly). And then I grabbed her breast. It was momentary and it was playful. She naturally backed off a little but other than that did not react. This vignette was significant to me in this respect. I don’t really have a great desire to fuck Lana. But that is not what I see in this. What I feel is significant is that I felt I achieved a higher state of innocence. Almost childlike. At that moment, I could reach out and touch her breast out of innocent curiosity, rather than a sort of “prurient” interest. This plane is something I am feeling. It feels like a calm invincibility. Invisibility against the ills of guilt, apprehension and fear.

I feel that I am reaching some sort of state with women. I think of it like this. I feel that in order to reach maximum effect with women, one has to be “on the cutting edge.” This means that one has to transcend their fear. It is difficult to describe, but lately I feel I have momentarily entered into a state of knowing. Where I no longer wonder what is the right thing to do or say. I merely act in a knowing way, where “failure” is no longer possible. It also seems to contain some sort of power. Shirley said to me, while sitting across from me in the lounge: “You are hypnotizing me!”

I am attracted to this state of being. Let’s call it the “state of being Green” for want of a better description. I am attracted to this state of being because it feels directionally correct. Not only with it comes some sort of valuable advantage with women. It is much more than that. It seems an achievable state of enlightenment, that can be reached by avoiding certain preconceptions and being in a constant state of challenging old fears and former beliefs. It is connected to what I can call my new “minimalist” philosophy. This philosophy adheres to the simplest form of being and the simplest answer to a complex question: “Do you really need that thing?” In the case of women, it can simply be a challenge to a thought. Suppose a thought enters your mind that is discouraging. It is simple enough to ask: Do I even need to think this thought? What is its purpose? Often, the surprising answer is that you (I) will find absolutely no reason to think about a certain thing. We even will wonder from whence such a notion existed. So many of our thoughts (and possessions and relationships) not only do not serve us, but prevent us from leading a happy existence. I cannot adequately relate how freeing this challenge to myself and my old ways has been. It seems every day I become more and more liberated in my thinking and behavior. Something as simple as thinking that I have to wear a shirt inside the post office, then finding out that when I do not wear one, nothing happens, no one says a word, I attract women, or…? Something good might come of something we formerly considered only as a negative.

When I say this Green state feels “directionally correct” I mean that my intuition is leading me to a higher state of being. I need to reach a higher state, and I am only sensing my way to it. I feel quite positive that minimalism is the proper technique to reach nirvana in a lifetime. We need space in everything, in thought, in materialism.

The next vignette touches on this again.

MIMI
I can only say that she has captured my heart in a way all the rest cannot. I told Mimi: “The only time I feel completely whole is when I am with you.” She is a friend, a lover, a nurturer. I am eternally indebted and appreciating her. There are no words to express that.

KATHY
I originally felt immensely attracted to Kathy Jones when I met her on the waterfront the first day a couple of weeks ago. She had applied for a modeling job. We drank beer there and talked in the sun. The next two days I felt somewhat overwhelmed and disturbed. She canceled out on our Sunday meeting with an excuse, and I sensed that it was her fear, of what I did not know. She called me Wednesday and said she could model. I changed my schedule so that I could photograph her. When I picked her up, she seemed much less attractive to me. We went to my house and talked for quite awhile. She seemed reluctant to take her clothes off. I couldn’t get an interesting picture of her against a backdrop and her body was not quite perfect to my eye. I took her to the garden and perhaps got an interesting picture of her against the maple tree. The curve in her back looked interesting, lovely. Back in my room I took a couple of shots against the backdrop.

She admitted to me that she had been fearful and canceled because she was afraid that I would not like her body. (She trims her pussy hair, which I do not like.) I approached her for a hug. She let me but also let me know she was not interested.

When I was getting ready to go, she was on the phone, laying on her stomach in the sunlight. Her ass looked so nice, so when I walked by her, I grabbed it. She sort of made some weak protest but kept lying there.

When I dropped her off, I was explaining to her that I did not like her trimming her pussy hair. To show her the redness and stubs, I reached over and pulled her shorts and panties aside to show her. She did not protest, but let me. It was not a sexual move, just like a friend. I also grabbed her breasts a few times.

In relation to my previous comments about being “Green,” this experience was also a surprise in a way. It was like I felt comfortable doing this and she sensed my comfortableness and my power. It made it O.K. After all, I really believe that we should be able to be free about touching. It is hitting which should be taboo!

PILAR
She failed to call me for breakfast on Friday. This brings up another very interesting item. Normally I would be hurt. Instead I called her and told her off. I really think she did not expect this. Somehow I think this works. I wasn’t angry. I just told her I wish she would be courteous enough to inform me. Even if it meant telling me that she did not want to see me again. She wouldn’t tell me that. She seemed noncommittal. Still she left the door open. I feel if I did not tell her what I thought that she wouldn’t respect me. Respect must exist for the possibility of winning.

SHIRLEY
Meanwhile, Shirley, the Chinese beauty I had boldly met in the Embarcadero had been on my mind. While I was on my way home to get ready for dinner on Tuesday, I got a call on my cellular. It was Shirley. She said: “I thought you were going to call me!?” I told her I was just about to call her and rattled off her pager number to her as some sort of proof. I asked her if she wanted to get together and she said Yes. I had the impression that she wanted to meet with me right away, so I made plans to meet her in an hour outside her work at 400 Montgomery.

I had approached her because I thought she was beautiful, but I still had some doubt if she was as pretty as I remembered her. Yet when I saw her, I was charmed. She was the perfect type for me. About 5’2″, 94 lbs. Her face I found very attractive, she had a shapely figure for a girl who was exceptionally petite. She dresses nicely too. The thing I really enjoyed about her was her directness and her sense of playfulness. We talked for an hour and a half. I coaxed her to give me her phone number, and finally she gave me two numbers but I don’t know if they are correct. She told me an interesting story about how her mother doesn’t want her to go out, so she is very sheltered. I like that about her too. She gave me a portrait of herself that was done in a photographic studio.

She walked me to the parking garage, and when I went to shake her hand goodbye—and this is the part I like—she sort of slapped my outstretched hand as if a lioness swatting her courting lion in the face with her tail. She is very tantalizing, as if she has a sense on how to make herself interesting. I love it.

MICHIYO
I got faxes and packages from Michiyo this week. And a call. She is planning on meeting me at the airport in Kumamoto on August 10th. Keep in mind, the only time I have ever seen her is when I was touching her on the plane to Tokyo last December.

SNEZHINA
The next most exciting day was Tuesday. Monday night I was beat from that experience. I had called D___’s house on the weekend and Snezhina answered the phone (and was the only person in the house). She is his Bulgarian au pair. We had met on July 4th after the fireworks display when Mimi, Jack, Amber and I had gone over D___’s. Snezhina and I made plans for her to have me to dinner on Tuesday. On Monday, D___ mentioned that when he came home Snezhina, who had previously been feeling down, was now dancing around the kitchen. He said: ” Snezhina has a crush on you, you know.”

Dinner with Snezhina. When I walked in, D___ and Snezhina were talking in the kitchen. My first thought was how lovely she looked. She is a beautiful girl, with a (n Eastern) European charm. D___’s wife, children and mother-in-law were around, so we did not talk as much to Snezina about her home as I had expected to. I sensed the obvious care she had taken for the occasion, and I wanted to do something to focus on her directly, so when she went in to get the dessert, I went in the kitchen and gently touched her back and asked if she needed help. A moment later, she reached and gently touched my arm in response.

After dinner, when the others had gone into the next room, I asked her if she wanted to take a walk. She unhesitatingly said yes. Once out the door, I looked at her walking beside me and felt like putting my arm around her. It seemed a bit bold since she’s D___’s housekeeper, but I did not hesitate but a moment and then put my arm around her. She did not move away.

Not long after we were walking in a darker part of the block and we were holding each other. She said to me: “You have a (very) strong bio energy.” I asked if that was good or bad. She said: “Good.”

When we kissed I felt very attracted by her smell. She smelled European. She had very nice lips and mouth. It was romantic.

Just now, before I caught my flight, I telephoned Snezhina. She seemed delighted to hear from me, and touched that I should call her just before I left. I think it made her feel important, romantic. She said: “I am thinking of you.” I said: “I’m thinking of you too.” I told her that I would call her when I got back. She said: “I will be (here) waiting for your call.” It was very romantic. I think we are in love.

LING FUNG
This girl is (both appropriately and inappropriately) suspicious. I really wanted to see her and fuck her before I left, but I just ran out of time. She was kind of pissed off when I called her before I left. But in any event, I don’t want to get involved with her in any deep way.

AMBER
I talked with Jack more about the possibility of fucking his wife. He really said it is O.K. Their sex life is non-existent from what I can gather. I also said that I have no plans. But I think it is now understood that I can make the play. I teased her on the phone about giving her a photo of “my buns” (my butt). I was trying to entice her. Slowly, over time. To make her feel, over time, that it is natural for us to be open, then close, then intimate.

D’RE
I called her to let her know I was thinking of her. She is very friendly. I like her and hope she can become a good friend. I failed to call her back when I said I would but I think she understands I was just very busy.

July 29, 1995
Shanghai
[A}[L]

I arrived a few hours ago. That “girl in white” that Laura told me over the phone to look for was not there. After about 1/2 hour I started to wonder why she was not there. But then I looked up. “Laura!” She was dressed in a white gown, looking attractive.

We taxied to the Lansheng Hotel. I love this place. It’s a bit out of the way, and it never seems too busy or noisy. The staff is well trained.

We came to the room, and I just wasn’t of a mind to “waste any time”…

“Turn off the lights, Laura,” said I as she came out of the bathroom. The dress came off and I removed my casual pants. The rest of her clothes and mine came off. I rubbed her pussy. God, does she feel good!! She is like a little animal/flower. Her ass is so small and soft. Not long after I got on top of her in the dark and kept rubbing her, then grabbing her ass tightly as if to relax her vagina. As a little wetness came to the opening, I very gently put it just inside and worked it slowly, or rather let her work it slowly inside.

During our lovemaking, I kept coming to the same feeling, like: Here is this beautiful sweet young thing beneath me and I can do whatever I like to her. She is completely yielding to me and we are alone, I can just savor her, with no worries. I could feel everything, and I savored each moment. I could feel her small hipbones against mine, which turned me on. I could feel her small but very firm and soft and supple breasts pressing up against my chest, and this also turned me on. Towards the end of the lovemaking, I reached behind her ass and felt a river of wetness that had flowed down her underside from her excitement. It was, do I need to even say this?, very luscious.

Later we had a late night dinner, which is just another reason I love this hotel. A perfect, airy, quiet place to eat at 11 p.m. At dinner, Laura said something which “should not have upset me but did.” She told me that she had fantasized a few days before of my coming to Shanghai and that she had been overwhelmed with desire, but that the reality was not as exciting. At first I tried to handle this intellectually, but as the hours after that passed I could not help but absorb it on an emotional level. The bottom line is that, to my surprise, Laura did not have and orgasm that first time. Actually, in the past, we had gotten into a habit of me licking her sex before intercourse, and the first time tonight I did not. It was not that I did not want to because I did, but it was because I wanted to feel the juices without my saliva. I wanted to feel her pussy enlarge to my penis, wetten, and to push against her walls and pubic hair and snuggle my penis slowly, slowly into her. I was so devastated the more I thought about it because I had thought it was one of the most beautiful experiences in bed I had had, and I could not deal with her being disappointed by it. She made the comment, in all fairness to her, as merely an adjunct to our conversation, in a light way, without any inference of disappointment, but I built it up to be more than the way it way intended. It was really just like a comment between friends.

Before we went to sleep, we made love again.

July 30, 1995
[L] [S]

Laura asked me if I, supposing I had some children, say, between the ages of 6-10, would I kiss her in front of them, would I show affection to her in front of them. I said I would. I said the world is backward. We censor affection in the movies, yet we bring our children to watch people blowing each other up, shooting each other, robbing from each other.

“In my view, the world is a very simple place. Gentle things are good, violent things are bad.”

Take the rating system for movies. PG means parental guidance and the movies show a lot of shooting, etc. R means a higher level of restriction, namely no one admitted under 18 unless accompanied by an adult. What’s the difference? Essentially, the language includes swear words. Most of these refer to the organs in our crotch. Like ‘shit’. Or ‘fuck’ refers to sexual intercourse. And they have sex scenes.

What a backward way. Why don’t we show children our affections freely, and they will grow up knowing the joy of sex and closeness.

I tell Laura I love her, several times over, since she looks and feels so fresh and has such a gentle nature. She says: “I drown in the river of your love.”

Shortly after, I wind my hand from her crotch to her shoulder three times, saying:
“This is the river of my love.
This is the river of my love winding down the front of your body,
across your breast.
This is the river of my love winding its way to your heart,
over the waterfall of your soul,
to the pool of your eyes.”

The first time we made love last night was one of the best of my life. So sweet, she, so luscious, loving and tight! Small, soft, yielding, womanly. Loving.

I read Anais Nin on the plane yesterday. She was a lesbian and a sexual adventurer. But the overwhelming feeling I got was one that she was sick in the head, and there was an underlying feeling that she was shrouded in guilt. Odd. Rather than truly basking in the light of loving, as we should all be able.

[Casey ??? omit above “sick in the head? Gray above]
A: Yes, omit.

Right now I have a blessed life. I really feel that Chomolungma has blessed me and that this blessing will last a lifetime.

I had an exhilarating dream on the plane yesterday, half-sitting in my exit row chair, I dreamt that I could see the landscape of Doug’s emotions. Doug is my partner at work. I could sense yesterday that he was stressed out about something. I could see (in my dream) his emotions, like a topographical cloth, many colored, with bumps in it, undulating. I also had a dream that took place at our business. First, Kathy called a “CIP” driver through a microphone that was connected to our plant. I was surprised that we had such a system.

Next, I observed the plant door open and he drove out in a forklift. Everything seemed so mechanical, it was grotesque. I walked to the office and noticed some Paraformaldehyde on the ground. (A noxious substance we use in our plant.) A worker picked some up in his hand and let it fall to the ground. As I walked on, a ray of sun illuminated millions of particles of dust from our plant. I was overcome with a feeling of disgust and wishing that I wanted to get as far away from the business as possible.

But upon awakening, I felt more an impulse to “Green-ize” the company, so that none of these images could be possible. For example, the mechanical movement of the door opening and the “CIP” (whatever that means) were incredibly “ugly”. Even the background all concrete and steel. So…give life to everything…lot’s of trees, etc. Lushness, wind-blowing trees just outside plant.

Also, when I awoke, I felt that I could feel all the subtle emotions of people and their sensitivities. Snezhina. Mimi.

What can I say? My life is flowering. Every day feels like such a treat. Like: I get to live another day!!!!!!! I get to photograph or print or talk to people or love another woman! God how I love girls! They are so intriguing and continually mysterious.

Last night at dinner, Laura related that before I came, she was day-dreaming in the office of my arrival and got so excited. She commented that when I arrived it was not as exciting as her daydream. I said: “Your mind is sexier than reality.” She agreed. I was a little disturbed by her comment. But I understood. Still it made me feel that I could be more conducive to a daydream-like excitement. As in: what reality really matches a woman’s fantasy? I guess there is still much I have to learn! Thank God!

August 1995

August 1, 1995 Tue
Shanghai (Jinjiang Tower)
No entry.

August 2, 1995
Guiyang , Guizhou, Guiyang Airport Wed

We have just arrived; it’s 2:20 p.m. I like what I see so far. It doesn’t look very developed, and I imagine that 50 miles from here it could be quite primitive. Call it intuition, but I think that this could be a pretty good trip. You know what I am looking for: primitive people, interesting and different dress and artifacts. Something new to see, some new people.

August 3, 1995
Leishan Thursday
(From 950804…’Laura and I have been having wonderful sex ever since we arrived in Guizhou.’)
[L] [A]

We left Shanghai very early and took a taxi to the airport from the Jinjiang towers. The passage onto the plane was hectic and I alternately verbally caressed and then was short with Laura. We just made the check-in deadline. The flight was O.K. We took a taxi to town, about a 45-minute drive. I was rather intrigued by the countryside and fantasized about the primitiveness we would be witnessing in the next few days.

We arrived at the hotel and spent hours arranging and negotiating, in essence creating our own tour of Guizhou. Laura did a good job translating. Early on, I got irritated with her own irritation and I told her that this was her part of the deal. I paid and she translated.

We went out after and had dinner at a local sidewalk restaurant. It was a wonderful meal, especially the fresh-killed fish. They cook it while it is alive! We walked around and I got a poor haircut for about $ 0.60. Then we returned to the hotel.

On the first night, in Guiyang, I was in bed and she was getting ready to take a shower. She was trying on a new blouse and looked so sexy as she came by the bed. I grabbed her and kissed her in a natural reaction, not really thinking we would make love. We were making out and she asked me to suck her breast. It was salty from sweating during the day and it turned me on. She was also getting turned on. We removed her shorts. I wanted to kiss her pussy and she wanted it too. I told her, you can sit on my face if you want to. She slid onto my face and my tongue shot up her engorged pussy. After a few minutes of this (delicacy), I told her I wanted her to sit on it. She wanted it too! As she came down onto it, it was rather an incredible delight. Her pussy was so turned on from excitement that it was very tight. She moved up and down and up and down, getting herself off. I had my hand on her hips. The outside of her hips are incredibly soft and the texture is smooth but almost waxy. This sensation of touch increased my excitement. It was such a wonderful feeling, like a feeling of sexual freedom and lust. She writhed and moaned as she came to orgasm. We continued for a while in this position. I began to feel that she was getting tired from being on top so long, but as I moved to reverse our positions, something in her body language told me to continue in this position. As we moved, I could feel myself getting closer and closer to orgasm and I was hoping that I could get it in this position because I knew it would be really good. As I felt it getting closer and then become a certainty, excitement pitched to a frenzy of pleasure. When I finally came, I had to pull it out (for pregnancy prevention) and I let out a loud groan. Immediately following, I moaned and writhed in humorous and delighted pleasure, while Laura laughed at my antics. This continued for minutes. My body language and sounds said: I am totally, no, more than totally, satisfied. You have made me reach some sort of nirvana. It was the best orgasm I can remember. You have pushed me over the limit of pleasure. Thank you. I love you.

After, we lay about for a few minutes and then Laura went to take a shower. I laid back and drifted off to sleep. When she came to bed again, in the dark, I awoke. It was one of those evenings when I knew we would make love a second time, because the first time was just so good. I began by kissing down to her crotch and tongued her again. This evening, and this trip more than before, I recall kissing her body a lot, down her neck, licking and nipping, her ear, her breasts. This time when I entered, I was on top of her. I heard and felt her as she had another orgasm. Then I kept thrusting into her. I put my left hand on her hip and then at times loosely on her backside, but not so deep as I usually hold a woman. Usually with her, I will put my left hand completely behind her so that my fingers are touching her anus area, and at times brushing lightly against my own sex, and playing intermittently and lightly with her anus. Also in this play of hands, I will grab her buns, and sometimes sort of flatten the buns to the outside. All of this is a natural response to the woman, and an attempt to control both her pleasure and mine, at times making it tighter or more penetrating. Also, through this manipulation, I can sort of push her buns together tighter around my penis, and very lightly press her anus against my penis, increasing her sensation, by pushing in and against from the inside. I enjoy playing with a woman in this way. Alternately, I pull my arm on the inside of her leg, pulling her leg up more in the air and grabbing her ass in a different way with my hand turned out, thumb to the outside and four fingers towards her crotch. I do all of this rather unthinkingly and writing it only makes it sound like some sort of technique. It is first and foremost natural.

So on this evening, the second time we made love, my hands were placed in a different way than usual. I most enjoyed the feel of her hip on my hand, then pressed her buns inward, feeling and enjoying the mass of flesh of her whole ass region. She has a very small ass, but I love it like that. For me, it is built for pleasure. At this moment in our lovemaking I had faint images in my mind…they are never just like Laura, it is like a free floating image, a beautiful girl, maybe local, maybe lusty and young, sort of naughty. It flowed freely, it is like a dream, a sexy dream, a fantasy. When I came the second time, it was great as well. We slept deeply, very deeply. Few sleeps can be as deep and pleasurable as those induced by previous lack of sleep combined with fantastic lovemaking.

August 4, 1995
Depart Leishan, Langde, arrive Kaili
[L] [A]

We are just getting started for a new day. We are in a lazy town called Leishan that inhabits maybe 5000 people. The weather is hot but not as humid as Shanghai. It was a good choice to come here over Xishuanbanna as far as weather is concerned.

Laura and I have been having wonderful sex ever since we arrived in Guizhou. (See 950803.) Today on the bus, we spent many hours kissing, touching, etc. etc. Taking bus trips in a private bus with a woman is one of the sexiest things I know. There is nothing to do but sit and watch, and invariably it ends up being a long, long session of foreplay.

We drove through the countryside. I was fascinated by the size of the road just out of the capital. It was basically like a two-lane country road. In the afternoon, we passed a beautiful village roadside. The houses were made of wood with curved Chinese roofs. Along the walls were drying tobacco leaves. The walls themselves were chocolate brown, while the leaves were yellow/orange/green in hue. The contrast was beautiful. Around the windows and the doors were orange paper painted with black Chinese characters. Long ago, Joy explained to me that these were like blessings for the portals. Around the grounds were other plants drying and growing. The windows were old Chinese style.

Sometimes I am just drawn to a scene because of the backdrop and then I put a person into it. This was one such situation. I got out of the bus and brought my camera over to the scene. I look around and found only one person who I really felt fit. She was a grandmother, frail looking, in a blue frock blouse, the edges of her hair squared off in front. They said she had recently been ill and so I looked around a moment for another person, but found none. In the meantime, she decided to pose and I took 7 photos of her. I think at least one will be good.

Later in the day, we came to Kaili. The “guide” Xiao Shui (Shao Schway) was getting on my nerves by this time. She demanded that I pay her then, etc. They had planned to spend the night in the town of Kaili, but I said I didn’t want to. We ate lunch, I bought some firecrackers and we set off down the road in the late afternoon.

After the turn off to Leishan, we soon passed a row of houses and structures on the high side of the road. They looked all covered in dust. In the same way as the previous photographs I took that day, I was quite attracted to the backdrop. As we drove by I noticed a young girl coming down steps carrying two buckets by means of a stick across her shoulders. She looked beautiful. I got out of the car without my camera and Laura and I walked up the road. I caught up with the girl and saw she was bringing the water to some men. I thought she might return. We walked back down to the van and I retrieved my camera. I set it up in front of the steps and the girl did come by. We asked to take her photograph.

I took eight shots and then ran back to the van to get the last shot left, returned and took the ninth photograph of her. She was truly lovely.

Further down the road, Xiao Shui wanted to stop. I followed her to the roadside river and Laura followed me. They waded across the stream and I went downstream, stripped to my underwear and swam upstream to where they were. It was now dusk. It was so refreshing! Afterwards, the driver Lao Pu joined us among the rocks riverside and we tried to scoop up small fry from the small pools of water. They apparently wanted them to grow them up in their own ponds. It was a lot of fun, childish excitement.

I did not know it but our destination was Langde. We passed it in the dark because there was ‘no place to stay there.’ Before we arrived in Leishan, a small town, the sexual heat became too much for us to bear. I had my hands down Laura’s pants. The feel of her pussy was too delicious and I wanted to kiss her there (and fuck her). We moved to the back row. We started making out, but I interrupted the flow to set up my dark cloth as a curtain, and we made it.

She was trying to put her legs higher but I couldn’t manage in my position. Just as I came and pulled out, though I did not know it until a few minutes later, she was just about to have her orgasm. She told me that one more second and she would have come. Anyway, there was nothing I could have done. I discovered this because of the subtle inflection of her mood right afterward. She seemed to be less happy than she should have been. In Shanghai she had only had one orgasm, though last night she had had two.

We drove around looking for a place for a long time. Finally we went back to the original place we’d tried at first. I felt that the guide was sort of incompetent. Maybe a more accurate way to put it is that I felt I wanted control of our movements. She seemed to strong-willed to allow me to assert myself and be heard graciously. We ate dinner in town.

Back in our room, Laura and I looked out at the warm night. There was no electricity in the hotel. The room was very clean and surprisingly nice for this town. I read in bed by the light of a candle, inside the mosquito net hanging from above the bed. When Laura had finished washing she came to bed. She was very tired. I started to rub her. I gently warmed her up. She was pliable, sweet to be next. When we made love, she moaned and let out free, whimpering sounds, sounds of pleasure, measured in half sleep. I was delighted by the half-sleep aspects of her way. When she orgasmed, she let out cries that echoed along the concrete floors and out the open windows. I imagined that somehow Xiao Shui could hear Laura. I fantasized that Xiao Shui lay there in her bed, aroused. I delighted myself to orgasm on top of warm, luscious Laura. The night enveloped me in the sleepy town atmosphere into a deep sleep.

August 5, 1995
Leishan to Langde to Kaili
[A] [L] [E]

This was one of those memorable days, a day full, when I sweat, run around, take numerous good photographs, a day of passion, lovemaking, adventure. All days should be such days.

We had noodle breakfast in the town. Laura said they were special noodles. They were quite good. I changed film during breakfast. I took my shirt off as it was hot. I think I am being admired by Xiao Shui.

We drove back to Langde. But before we did, Xiao Shui had her own hidden agenda and stopped by a village that was not on the way. She finangled her way on this trip, I felt, to take care of a few things that she needed to herself. The village had something that I came to see as a hallmark of the Miao villages: waterwheels. It is rather ingenious. I imagine the first person to think of them must have been elegantly intelligent. The wheels turn under the force of the flowing river acting against trough-like pieces of wood attached to the wheel. As they rise, they are set at an angle such that when they near the top the water flows out of the trough into an aqueduct. In this way, they irrigate their rice fields!

The village was interesting but I didn’t find anything of particular interest to photograph. Xiao Shui took off the moment we got there and was late in coming back. When she got back, I was pissed off ’cause I could tell she had her own agenda and she wasn’t owning up to it. She came back with three flutes for herself. Laura and I took a dip in the river before we left and that was wonderful.

We proceeded on to Langde. When we got off the bus, Xiao Shui said that I didn’t like her. (Laura translating.) I caressed her hair on the side of her head and said, “You’re all right.” As we exited the bus, with Laura behind me and Xiao Shui in front of me, I did not resist the urge to pat XS on the ass, which I did. I ran up ahead to examine Langde, while the others waited behind. It was one of the first times I’ve run since leaving Everest. I ran hard, feeling proud of my ability, showing off. I ran into and around the village. After a few minutes, I realized it was a great place to be for photographing. One girl was dressed in a traditional Hwa Miao outfit. In this case, Hwa means bird, signified by their silver wing-shaped headdress, which is quite dramatic. I ran back (to the cheers of the road work crew) to the van.

I told them it was O.K. to come on. XS was leaning over and I was staring at her bra, trying to see her breast, which looked much like it was shaped like Laura’s. Laura asked me what I was looking at. I said I’m just looking. I had not noticed Laura’s dirty look. Still I persisted for a moment. The rains came so we waited. Laura and I talked in the back of the van. She wanted to know why I was looking and told me she noticed the pat on the butt. I told her it was just friendly, and convinced her by saying “I knew you were just behind me looking! Why would I do that if I had something to hide?” Eventually she was happy again.

We went into town. They had a festival going on. In order to get into the village, you had to go by a few ‘guard posts.’ The purpose of the ‘gates’ was to insure that no one entered the village without having a sip of alcohol. I mean, they didn’t charge anything for that. So I thought, ‘What an awesome custom.’ All bureaucracy should have such a noble purpose!

The first thing that I photographed was the group of men lined up with their horns. There were about 20 men and boys in black robes. It looked awesome. I took two shots of them standing looking at me. Then I moved the camera and they started playing, kicking their legs to the right and then to the left. It was a spectacle, invoking some sort of spell into my heart. I yelled to Laura to bring the film. On the exactly last kick I snapped a 1/125 photo of them.

When we got to the square they were about to have a dance performance. Rather than bother at all with what I was ‘supposed’ to be interested in, I saw three old women sitting. I took a few shots of them. I like to take photos of old women. I think I feel empathy for them, probably in some way they remind me of my grandmother.

Then I looked up and saw a girl just standing. She was (I found out later) 15 years old. She, I felt, was striking. As I am wont to do, I asked Laura what she thought. She gave me her seal of approval. The girl looked quite different from all the rest. The other girls had long hair, but she had short hair, cut to neck level. She wore an unusual, simple yet elegant black tunic-like shirt. We asked if we could photograph her and she agreed; I said we would pay.

First I photographed her sitting on a wooden pole stair. Next I photographed her standing next to a vine. I had her remove her red plastic shoes, and pull the elastic bands on her pants up so they weren’t visible. I find these will be distracting to the viewer of the photograph, as if to cause them to say ‘oh look at those elastic straps’. I prefer the impact to contain a feeling of mystery, as if trying to preserve the mystery that is there.

Meanwhile the village representatives were hassling me for 100 yuan. I really didn’t mind paying, but I was afraid that they were just anyone looking for money. Finally, after a heated discussion, I paid them and they were off.

I next took her picture sitting at an interesting doorway of a house.

Next we went to another doorway, but out of an adjacent doorway came an older woman, so I took her photo instead. Then her daughter came through the doorway, so I took her photo as well. This one looked terribly picturesque, so I took her photo in front of the original doorway as well. At this point I was out of film. I told the first girl to wait if she wanted, that I was wanting more of her.

We went to where I had left my pack. It was now inside a building where there was little light, so I changed my film there. While I did this, the local girls looked in the doorway. They in their flowered headdress and the sunlight flowed in simultaneously. When I was finished, I asked the one that most appealed to me to stand in the doorway alone and I took her photograph.

We walked around. The girl in the black tunic posed by a pool of water. Then we walked down to a gate where some younger girls sat, socialized, read. I tried a few photos but despite the beauty of one girl in particular, there was a lack of cooperative-ness and, frankly, visible soul. So I brought the girl in the black tunic to the old gate I had first gone through when I toured the town in the beginning. I posed her in several different ways there, but in particular, the last pose was, to me, incredibly beautiful. I took my usual four photographs of it and then a couple of extras to make sure. God she looked beautiful and timeless.

It was the end of the day. I was done. But then, going back through the other gate, I wanted to take a couple of regular 35mm color photographs. Once I had posed her in a wooden box, I just had to shoot an 8×10 of her in this and so I took a set of photographs there. I laughed to myself. “Woman in a Box” by Ruth Bernhard is in my bedroom, a famous nude; here was my version of that. By accident, not by intention. Anyway, it so happened that I thought that this was one of the best shots of the trip.

It was growing dark. I still had no shirt on. I get to feeling like Tarzan de-shirted and like a Don Juan with my dark cloth flashing over me all day like a cape. I could not help but feel that Xiao Shui was thoroughly aware of her attraction for me and was aroused. Even a little look at my crotch as I walked towards her adds to my sense. Also other looks during the day.

We all walked back together including the girl with the dark tunic. I asked her for some souvenirs, and after we got back to the bus, we waited, whereupon she arrived with a basket of them. I bought a bunch of different things. I was particularly thirsty, not having drunken for hours.

We took the ride back to Kaili City in the dark. When we got to a dinner place, I was tired so I lay in the bus for a minute. Laura came back in just minutes later and sort of nagged me as to why I had not come to dinner. I felt her nagging was completely unnecessary and could not understand how easily she took it negatively. After that I kind of ignored her. After dinner we drove around and around and finally found a place to sleep. It was quite late and we were all beat. The room was damp and smelly from the bathroom but I made the best of it.

I went up to Xiao Shui’s room under pretense. I stood at the door. I think she could sense my energy and redirected it by motioning that if I did not get back to Laura’s room Laura might cry. Lao Pu peered around from his door and I left.

The last part of the night was the best. After Laura and I had both showered, she stood on the bed in the dark and sang a concert to me. It was great. Her voice was mellowed by the natural reverb in the room and it sounded lovely. She sings with so much heart. I was singing and she with me and she swayed her head to and fro. But she became so spontaneous that she accidentally bumped my head with hers and I saw stars. That ended the merriment. I recovered after some minutes, in time to make it with Laura, again beautiful it was, before sleeping

August 6, 1995
Kaili to Guiyang to Shanghai,
Sunday
[L]
I am in love with Laura. Despite my fantasies and wish to sneak to Xiao Shui’s room last night, I did not.

7 Mon dep Shanghai arr Tokyo

8 Tue Tokyo

August 9, 1995
9:01 a.m. to Aizu
Tokyo, Shinkansen for Aizu-Wakamatsu
[L]

It is Wednesday morning. I am on my way to a business meeting with NML, Nippon Motorola Ltd., Genta Torisu, and Kubo. I am a little sleepy as I haven’t gotten proper rest for several days. Somehow, amazingly, I am always busy, even when I am not. I must have 6 or 7 lifetimes worth of backlogged things to do.

I am not unhappy, but I basically miss fucking, as it has been two and a half days since I made love to Laura. Also, I feel frustrated because I want to be with Laura and I cannot be. When she and I make love, it is the most wonderful thing. I love the smell of her skin, it is like a baby. I love the feel of her body, her shoulders, so delicate, womanly, her soft skin, her full kissable lips. I love her long hair, the way it falls in her face. I love her girlish ways, the way she argues one minute and then laughs the next, the games she plays, trying to hold her ground, then giving in; the way she sings with all her heart, the way she teases me, makes up words, acts silly. The way she makes love, orgasming and then letting me finish, the way her pussy smells and that she loves me to put my tongue deep into it. Her ratty underwear, her carelessness, her intelligence. Her gentle way of addressing an issue, her reluctance for arguing with people, almost a helpless quality in the overpowering world.

I miss making it with her. Sometimes we don’t do it right, maybe she’ll say something to hurt me, maybe some glitch will come up that causes us to postpone the inevitable ecstasy. Mostly, it is perfect. Like a formula. I will kiss her between her legs, she will take me into her, she will orgasm, then I will. If she sleeps in my arms, she sleeps like a dove, like a gentle and loving bird, feathered.

When I reflect on what she brings to me, I cannot help but recognize it is a great thing, a great gift. Then I cherish what I have. Yet it is met with some anxiety. Like, why do we argue? Why am I so impatient with her, or negative at times. How do you hold on to a love who is so far away? I suppose the answer is to just keep doing what I am doing.

A touch of sadness enters into my mind when I am here in Japan. I called Saeda the other night. Without saying a word, she hung up the phone on me. I called back and her father said nothing. When I said nothing, he finally said, angrily, “Moshi Moshi!! Moshi Moshi!!” I hung up silently. Here was a case when I lost something precious out of stupidity. I could have “pulled out” but instead I came inside of her and got her pregnant. If this did not happen, perhaps I could have kept my relationship going with Saeda for a long time. Every time I came to Japan, I could have had this beautiful young woman come to my room and make love to me. I could have had her as a free, loving and beautiful model. Would this have been fair to her, if she had seen me thinking we would marry? All is fair… And yet, was this ordained? At the moment I lost her, I gained something even greater. As Saeda left my life, Laura entered into it. There is no question in my mind which of the two I prefer. Yet there is no question I would prefer to have them both if I could.

I am trying to put my finger on what feeling there is when a relationship is about to happen. One reason is so that I don’t needlessly waste energy pursuing a woman with whom it won’t happen. I think I know the sensation when something (sex) will happen. Sometimes, when I sense a woman really likes me, I will be a bit more cautious with her, waiting for the right signs. Sometimes when I sense a woman is not really interested in intimacy, I will just turn completely cavalier, as if there is nothing to lose¬¬ – why not find out early if she won’t? Sometimes, when I sense a woman is not interested in intimacy, I will play cautious in the hopes that she will change her mind. I suppose it has happened, but I think that in most such cases, it has not. I wish I knew exactly what the score was. I hate operating with only a vague idea of what is the right way to proceed. So much of love is done by “feel.” I think the only way that I know of to get to the bottom of the situation is to set out experiments in which I replicate efforts. The hard part is to keep the situation within a set of constant parameters. What I mean is: suppose that you want to know whether a particular set of clothing is more attracting to a woman than another, so you wear it in front of 5 women. Say one of them wants to get close. How do you know that it was not something other than the clothing that turned them on or off? It could be a thousand other things, it could be the way your hair looked. It could be you said the right or wrong thing. It could be not the first meeting but the second that made a difference.

I suppose that most men pursue women by feel. They just act according to an innate intelligence and sex appeal. Of course, that is what we all do. But for me, I pursue enough women that I have a need to spare my time. I also have a great appetite to meet women. It is no longer just a casual pursuit, but it begs that I know what I am doing. My nature also calls for certainty. I was a math major, I focused in statistics, so that influences the way I look at things.

One of my great dilemmas is: what women would love me if they knew the totality of my interest in all women? Mimi, she does love me, and she knows the truth. At least this once in my life I have enjoyed actual acceptance. And I appreciate her and love her dearly and deeply for that. She is human anyway, so she cannot totally accept it, she merely tolerates it. The main concern for her is that I still love her. I understand that. It is how I feel for Laura. I can’t stop her from being a bitch or doing whatever she does when I am gone. The only real concern I have is that I want the romance to continue.

Since I have been in Japan, I have seen Fumie, yesterday. When she first entered my room, I felt somewhat overwhelmed with how cute she looked. When we walked in the streets, we nearly always held hands. I played with her, toyed with her. I squeezed her and told her she was beautiful. I admired her lips and tried to kiss them, but she kept me away. At the end of the day, I was drained of the initial feeling I had.

I was supposed to see Mariko, but she sent me a fax saying that she had broken up with her boyfriend in the afternoon and she needed time to think and be alone. I was supposed to see Kiyoko tonight, but she can’t see me until tomorrow night, at which time I will be on my way to see Michiyo. I was supposed to see Sumiyo on Monday night, but she changed the idea. Last night I was supposed to call, but I ran out of time. I talked with Laura for nearly two hours last night.

Michiyo sent me a beautiful fax. She draws Mount Aso and generally makes an artwork of her message. The title of the page was: “Jeff and Michiyo Plan 1995 Summer in Kumamoto.” It sounds like a bill for a theatrical performance. She had originally sent this to my house. Amy told me about it over the phone. She didn’t seem angry. She agrees that Michiyo is sweet. We laugh uproariously over the scantiness of my communication with Michiyo. I describe our phone conversations like this:

“Jeff? Michiyo!”

“Michiyo-san!”

“Jeff! Jeff? Bye!!!”

Actually it is a bit more involved. We often say ‘I love you, I miss you…’

I think events in my life happen at a much faster rate than I can record them, and that is troublesome to me. For example, I still have not finished writing about Everest summit day. I have not written about my recent experiences with Laura. To what end are all my writings!? Nothing seems to matter. I would feel there was more use if my writings were published, or if somebody cared. The world seems stupid, indifferent, ignorant, or in some cases, more interested in other’s exploits because they are truly more interesting. I think I have led an unusual and interesting life. I think it is worth someone writing about it. Yet even when I climb the tallest mountain in the world, my hometown paper won’t even put an article in about it! They would rather write a short blurb about three men being arrested in Tijuana for drug smuggling or some such thing, the change in the weather. I fear I am hopelessly inadequate when it comes to marketing myself.

10 thu to Kumamoto

11 fri Kumamoto

August 12, 1995
Mount Aso Area, Japan, Saturday
[A] [L]

Today was one of the greatest days of my life. We awoke in Kumamoto and went to Mr. Donut for breakfast. We visited her girlfriend before we left town. She was really nice. She herself was a mountain climber and longs to go to Everest as a support team member. I felt a little like Michiyo wanted to show me off, and that made me happy. We went to Taoshin temple in outer Kumamoto. After strolling the grounds and admiring the giant bamboo (about 6″ diameter and 47 feet tall), we tried to find the gate that led to the old teahouse there. Since there was none, we went over the bamboo gate. I thought the door was locked, but it was unlocked, and we went in, amongst the racket of the cicadas and the atmosphere of a deep forest, just us two alone in the entire temple grounds. Inside it was quite dark. The floors were made of tatami. As we followed the corridor, we came to the back room which, our eyes being unadjusted to the dark, seemed nearly pitch dark. Upon entering the house, it had not occurred to me to make love to her there, but after a few minutes, I realized the possibility. We were alone, no one knew we were there. It was quiet, secluded; the tatami mat was soft and inviting.

Once in the back room, kneeling, I pulled Michiyo to me and kissed her softly, her hair in her face. I gave the slightest pressure for her to lay down and she seemingly unthinkingly responded to my wish. When I began to take her pants off she protested gently, Jeff! She helped me take off her pants. I laid her down, and pulled her shirt up. She motioned that she wanted me to take my shirt off. I took mine off then hers. We lay, me on top of her on the tatami. It was hot and humid and our lips were sweaty as we kissed, our bodies wet as we melded them together. My penis went in between her legs and we kissed. I felt her hair and rubbed it against her head in silky patterns. The feeling of her yielding to my passionate and forceful advance was one of the greatest things I have ever felt. With each kiss, my penis grew and pushed against her ever-wetter sex. The warmth and passion was somewhat consuming and overwhelming. I felt like I was taking a maid in the house a hundred years ago, feeling her protesting mildly but her body encouraging me with her juices. My hard penis penetrated her and fucked her passionately.

After a time, we heard some voices. Her body tightened up. Her face contorted in the fear of being found out. I whispered over and over, don’t worry, it’s O.K., no one will come in. When I calmed her down, I had to resume my own excitement. Once inside her I pumped her, held her, felt her dripping wetness, kissed her, enjoyed her hair, and orgasmed into her.

After we lay there for a moment. “Michiyo, great.” “Jeff great.”

It was like the experience of a lifetime to make love in a cultural relic. The mood, since the rice paper screens and wood boards made it dark, was as if it was nighttime. It was the re-creation of an ancient night.

When we got over the pass to the Aso area, we ate lunch. Then I drove around the mountains. I tried climbing a ridge, but the grass was up to my head and I abandoned the attempt. I was thinking mostly of getting back to the hotel for another fuck. Although the previous one was so great, I was not totally satisfied with the ending, and I wanted to get it right. I wasn’t totally satisfied because after the interruption of the voices, I did not feel as hard as before. I had been very strong prior to the interruption and close to climaxing, so it wasn’t long after we resumed that I finished. One of the factors with making love with her is that even though I may be totally erect and her pussy totally small, she is so wet that it some positions it may be hard to tell. Also, usually when I make love to a woman I hold her in such a way that we feel maximum pressure against my penis. Michiyo at first was a little reluctant to have my hands in certain positions, so at times, I could not get that little extra bit of pleasure.

When we got to the hotel near Mount Aso, I needed her again. This time we had the comfort of the bed to do it in. Our sex was passionate and fabulous. It was one of those all time fucks, and I suppose that every fuck should be this good, but there are several ingredients that are needed to make it work: both people have to be ‘into’ each other; for me, her body must be fairly small and shapely; she must have one of those pussies that is very moist and wet; she must be totally into what is going on, absorbed by the feel of my body and my penis: I would venture to say a new relationship is merited, I think it is inherently more exciting; also, the mood has to be right, there has to be a time and a place. In this case, the previous fuck[s] and the way [it]/they happened added [add] a lot to the situation. I must be totally relaxed with nothing to prove. So it helps if the prior fuck was perfect or near perfect. That way, I am already feeling ‘loose as a goose’, feeling light and breezy, in a good mood. All these components were involved. Oh yes, one other thing that contributes to the perfect situation, and that is anticipation. I think it helps to have a knowledge that the situation is approaching, so that I can want it for a while. In this case, it was as long as it took us to get to the hotel.

I was on top of her. Her buns, her butt, is immensely squeezable. I felt totally relaxed. Each movement was like an ecstasy. Towards the end, I grabbed her ass with both hands and pumped her deep and hard, which I think she liked! Her ass is really lovely to touch. She has extremely soft skin there and it is shapely. It was a fine ending. I told her afterward: “Michiyo is great.” She returned the compliment to me.

We went to dinner. It was supposedly Japanese French style, but I have been to Japanese French before, and this was as far afield from French as I could imagine. But most of it was tasty. The dishes were beautiful, the music light and airy. After all the good living [loving] and luck, I sat there eating in a sort of ecstatic haze.

We went for an impromptu ride in the car after dinner. Michiyo is good about these sort of things. She is like me. She makes illegal U-turns, she takes short cuts, and is generally adventurous. She spied a building and it turned out to be a spa. We went into it 5 minutes before it closed, but I stayed about 20. I sat in the water alone on the men’s side and looked out the window and thought about ‘controlling the world,’ my thought being to direct human energies towards more beautiful pursuits instead of the nonsense that pervades power circles (nuclear testing, weapons manufacture, unclean energy production, etc. etc.).

The problem with so-called democracy is simply the foundation of ignorance and brainwashing that it rests on. People are locked into one way of thinking. It is a gargantuan task for any of us to look above the clouds of our own thought and see open sky and realize what can be, what can exist in our lives. With heaven just underneath our nose, we trod the paths of tradition with mind-set blinders on. I think there are times when things just have to be demonstrated and one cannot subject themselves to asking the permission of others to deviate from the path. One must just do it, and people will say, Hey that’s great! But if you try to verbally convince them before the fact, they will nay-say forever. Or if they are inconvenienced by a change for the better, they will resist it. But once it is made they will quickly adjust and be happy. I mean, if you told people that we had to have electric cars, that the energy had to be derived in a clean way such as solar, and that internal combustion engines no longer could be used on a widespread basis, they would have a fit. They would cite a million reasons why this was impractical and not desirable. But the obvious truth is that it would be awesome: no more breathing in other people’s exhaust, no more noisy streets, reduction of cancer-related diseases. And more benefits. See, if one person with the right mind controlled enough wealth, they could simply divert those huge resources to putting people to work on it, to legislate, etc.

After the bath, I drove the car down the back roads. We ended some time later at a convenience store; we stocked up on goodies, such as ice cream.

Back at the room, we made love yet once more. By this time, I was so hot I felt like I could fuck even better than before. But as it happens, sometimes the woman has a little sensitivity. Even though I felt super-strong and made love long and strong, I felt her uncomfortable-ness at times. I came inside of her and we slept. My sense of her pain drew away from my drive. Early the next morning, I wanted to fuck again, but I withheld because I didn’t feel hot at the thought of her wincing in pain. When I awoke, that luscious drive was gone. I did not feel that overpowering, totally relaxed urge and drive to fuck strongly.

August 13, 1995
Kumamoto, Japan Sunday
[L]

This weekend has been one of the awesomest I ever experienced. From a meeting on a plane, Michiyo, in just a few days has become a full-fledged lover. Her pussy gets so wet. I haven’t quite figured out how to make love to her the best, what her body movements mean, yet some of our sex has been incredibly satisfying.

This morning when we awoke, I lay on top of her only to do so, I was too groggy to have sex. But she wanted it and I tried to no avail. I had lost the fire I felt the previous day. I needed breakfast.

We checked out, but before we left the hotel, I called Megumi who, to my surprise, was at home. It was good she was, for we made more precise plans about our meeting tomorrow. She also said that she would come with me to Tokyo. I said Wonderful. I did think it was wonderful, yet I worried how I would see Kiyoko on Tuesday night. I figured that I’d work it out somehow. Megumi seems hard to get a hold of, yet when we connect, she does come through.

Michiyo and I went to lunch in town and then drove towards Takanake Peak with the idea of climbing it. I really could have cared less about climbing and I wanted to fuck her; that’s how I wanted to spend my time. I told her to stop the car. I tried to kiss her and she hesitated. I asked her if she liked me. She said seriously that she liked me but only a little. Then I tried to talk with her. She asked me if I enjoyed our time together. She thought I wasn’t enjoying myself. When I told her sincerely that it was the greatest time, she smiled and the cloud lifted. Then she told me she loved me. She joked that she didn’t like me but she loved me. We joked like this later too. I love to tease and be teased. The one thing she learned this weekend was the word “dork.” Every time she did something stupid, I would call her a dork. She picked up on this and every time she [I] did something stupid she would call me a dork. In either case, we would laugh. We drove around the long way back but without stopping to try to climb. I drove when she tired. When we got to the hotel, I immediately took her to bed and fucked her. I wasn’t as strong as I wanted to be, but still it was excellent. We slept till about 7:30 p.m. When we awoke in the dark, I made love to her again, this time in a new position, sort of from the side and on top; I had her body curled up. We moved in unison to the point of my orgasm. She wanted even more, but I was wasted. Then after awhile, I got excited yet again and started pumping her. It was really good. I had her legs up and my penis felt large against the walls of her vagina. But I didn’t have the energy to orgasm again.

I told her I wanted to photograph her and to my surprise, she agreed. She asked me: Nude? I said Yes. She shook her head Yes. It seemed as if she wanted it. The reason it was such a surprise was that she is so incredibly shy that she will resist me looking at her naked at all costs. Of course this only spurs my curiosity, also [I am curious to photograph her] because I think she has an unusually nice curve to her waist and hips and a nice stomach area.

We went to MOS Burger on the corner and really enjoyed the fast food and had good coffee. When we went up to the room, I set up the lights, etc. It was a little after 9 p.m. But I realized the transition from clothing to nakedness would be easier for her if we started by making love, not that I minded. This time, I laid on the bottom and I felt her bottom moving freely in the air. It was one of the nicest things I ever felt. She was so sweet, soft; what a sexy ass! I came inside her again after resuming being on top of her. Again, I wasn’t as strong as I wanted to be and yet it was quite excellent. It seemed she wanted more and more. Her pussy wanted me.

The photo session was actually a success. I put on Brian Eno “Thursday Afternoon.” At first it was painstaking. I shot about 7 frames. I had only one left and I felt we needed a break, so I turned off the light and we lay on the bed together. We made love again and I climaxed for a fourth time since we arrived at the hotel. Again, it was just a continuation of the whole evening of lovemaking. During the photographing, we would kiss and hold. It helped her to look relaxed too. Again, feeling her small delicate shoulders and her hair, her beautiful buttocks and crotch, her tongue darting into my mouth, all made the experience delightful, even though my energy was ebbing and wasting from the deluge of sexual rain. Then, with my one frame left to take, I put her in a position that showcased her nice hips. It is uplifting, lofty, heaven-like. As I said, Michiyo is a dancer. She started to dance with her hands. I was immediately turned on by what I saw. I ended up changing film time and time again until I had consumed nearly an entire new box. At that moment I felt I was witnessing something truly special, the manifestation of who Michiyo really was, of her soul, in visible form.

By now, it was about 2:30 a.m. The coffee drunk earlier made/had kept us awake. We were both starving. Also, our plan was to blow off the firecrackers I’d brought from Guizhou. We went to MOS burgers again and had a midnight snack. Then we blew the firecrackers off underneath the bridge across the river. It was kind of exciting.

When we got back to the hotel, we showered and packed for the morning. I lay in bed drying off and waiting for her. The last time we made love was like a culmination of all the favorite positions I’d learned to love with her. When she is on top, I can feel her ass, so smooth and shapely. I can feel her crotch from behind, the hair, the wetness; I can play with this region with my fingers. I can feel her silky hair lay across my face, or her lips through her hair. When she is on the bottom, I can grab both of her buttocks and drive deeply into her. I can kiss her easily and feel her tongue, cat-like, play in my mouth. I can feel the side of her hip with one hand, or draw my hand around her backside and pull her more closely to me. This last time, I orgasmed from the bottom as she pumped me. Pictures run through my mind, I feel a warm and sexy young woman fucking me. My orgasm was intense, as it often is from the bottom. I was sort of surprised that I could have such good sex after so many times and so late at night. It was about 4:30 a.m. We slept.

August 14, 1995
Osaka
[L]

Miraculously, Michiyo and I got up on time. We went to the station and she saw me off. Good-byes are usually difficult under these kinds of circumstances, but this wasn’t. Michiyo tends to be very good humored, in many ways, and this is what I like about her.

On the train, a man was dressed in traditional Japanese garb, kimono-like, with wooden shoes. He tried talking to me and writing his name, but he was confusing.

Megumi was there as I exited the train. I said “Michiyo” clearly and felt embarrassed for about an hour afterwards, though I don’t know if she heard me.

She and I went to the Osaka Tokyu Hotel. I didn’t like the room. We quickly undressed and began fucking each other. I didn’t know if I could do it inside her and asked. She said it was O.K. I came. Later we started to make it again, then stopped and went to lunch. When we returned, we fucked some more. I think I came again, but I don’t remember the exact chronology. The main thing I do remember is that I felt wasted. I mean, I am not surprised I felt so. Even though we were fucking, I couldn’t get that into it. We went to a great sushi dinner. I really enjoyed the food. When we got back to the hotel, we got in bed. Suddenly, something came over me. I felt as if I was totally in love with her and that she was very beautiful. We started to make love and it was really beautiful. I could be wrong, but it seemed she orgasmed over and over. She was on top. I felt so beautiful, moving to her and loving her. I don’t know where the feeling came from, maybe from her. Her pussy grabbed on to my penis very tightly and when we moved, it felt lovely. Most of the movement was smooth, light, not heavy. When I wrapped my arms completely around her back and moved with her, it felt so nice. After what seemed like many of her orgasms later, she tired and I got on top. I don’t know if it was because I was just on empty (!) but I just couldn’t come. So what was a really satisfying fuck in most ways ended up falling short at the end. We slept.

Tuesday August 15, 1995
Osaka to Tokyo
[L]

The most incredible thing has happened to me.

This morning I awoke with Megu. I knew I should probably wait but I fucked her first thing, for a while, but I did not come. I feel myself losing power, drained. We went downstairs for breakfast. After, we went upstairs again to the room. She didn’t want to make love because she had cramps, as her period just started. I realized I should talk to her. I explained that it helps cramps when you make love. (Which it truly does.) I rubbed her awhile, in her lower back and stomach, then left her alone. Finally, she wanted to make love. I made love to her from behind and came inside of her, which offered some kind of satisfaction, but still I just don’t feel very stimulated since I left Michiyo. Megu and I went to the train station and had lunch, then said goodbye.

When I boarded the train, I entered the car from the front and walked passed a young lady who looked up at me with comely eyes. I dropped off my bags at the back and then came back to take my seat. My seat was in row 9 and she was in row 8, so I took a seat in row 8 but on the other side of the car, so I could look at her and contemplate if I wanted to meet her. As I have written, I was feeling kind of burnt out on all this loving, but my instincts prevail. The ride to Tokyo was about three hours. I kept looking at her; I could not help it. She looked simply lovely, and her breasts looked so beautiful, as I imagined, through her button-up blouse. Her upper lip had a little pucker to it. Her eyes reminded me of Laura’s, very beautiful, clear. She didn’t look at me but a few times the entire trip. I kept telling myself that I would make a conversation with her later in the ride.

We were due to arrive Tokyo at 5:07. At about 4:30, looking back to see the passengers directly behind us were sleeping (there was no one else in our row), I finally got up and went to her. I said: Do you speak English? She said: ‘No,’ sweetly. I had brought over my notebook, as a conversation device. In it, that Japanese gentleman had mysteriously written in Japanese a message that Megu could not decipher. So I set out to ask this young girl about what it meant. We pored over the details of the characters, and she actually made out quite a bit of it; she actually did know a word here and there of English. But the translation was of course only an excuse to be next to her. This is what it was like:

We I sat next to her, the immediate sensation I had was one of warmth. I could feel the heat coming off her body, I could smell her hair, her skin and her breath. I was overwhelmed with a very definite good feeling by being close to her. My hands wandered so slightly. When she was showing me a word, I dropped my hand next to her leg, touching her ever so slightly. I tapped her delicate arm as I teased her. I put my hand on her shoulder in a friendly gesture. I wanted so badly to reach out and touch her breast. It was so close, all I had to do was reach for it. But I restrained myself. I thought ‘I have nothing to gain in doing so, just one quick moment of satisfaction. The thing I really want is to have them for mine to touch freely, and if there is a chance for that, it must wait.’ The way she looked at me was encouraging, though not as if she was trying to encourage, only insofar as that she seemed completely pure and wholesome, completely gentle and innocent, taking me at face value, not reading into my approach anything. I loved sitting next to her. I asked her how old she was. She seemed so incredibly innocent I began to think that perhaps she was only 15 or 16. She said she was 23, and I happily touched her shoulder. She told me she lived in Tokyo. Now I was really psyched up. The station was approaching, so I motioned to her the question: do you have time to get a refreshment in Tokyo station? She said Yes demurely.

She was incredibly sweet. She wanted to help me with my bags, but I insisted in carrying them. At the turnstile, she took the lightest of my three bags while I searched for my ticket, and she could barely handle it. As I took it back from her, she was holding it close to her chest and it gave me an opportunity to feel her breast. I reached for the bag and let my wrist come against her breast twice as I took it from her. It was so full and so soft; it was really divine. We stood on the curb and were wondering where to go from there. My bags were so cumbersome, I suggested that if she had time, we could first drop them off at my hotel which wasn’t far away. She said that she could. We got a taxi. The air conditioning was a relief from the heat of Tokyo. We sat next to each other in the middle of the seat. She fanned us with a folded brochure she had in her hands. Then I took it and fanned her. She took my hand for a moment and brought our hands to her lap and then almost as quickly she withdrew her hand. I left my hand in her lap. She did this again after some minutes. I felt this gesture said that she felt very close to me naturally, but the she was shy and didn’t want to seem forward. I liked that very much.

When we got to the hotel, I suggested we get a refreshment in the sunken, well-lit lounge. I talked to her a few minutes and then I excused myself to check in. I went and called Kiyoko and told Kiyoko that I was running late and that I’d call her back before 6:30 p.m. I had had plans for Kiyoko to come to my hotel lobby at 7 p.m. I went back and talked with Haruka. She told me her name meant ‘far’ in Japanese. I made a joke telling her my brother’s name was ‘away’ so that was ‘far away’, that my other brother’s name was ‘enough’ so that was ‘far enough,’ and other such silly meaningless banter. I thought the next step was to ask her if she wanted dinner, but I thought it was best to take her hand and look her in the eye pointedly. While we were there, she sat adjacent to me on a 90-degree seat, and she sat further away than in the taxi. I took this to be evidence of her shyness in front of others. I took her hand and said ‘Can you have dinner with me?’ She said she thought so but needed to make a call. I showed her where the telephone was and then I went to the men’s room. She in turn finished her call and went to the lady’s room, but I did not ask her what her answer was. It was now getting late to call Kiyoko. At first I thought I would wait until Haruka came out of the lady’s room to find out whether she could dine with me or not, but I asked a passing clerk what the time was. It was 6:20, so I thought I should call Kiyoko immediately. I thought ‘I am not sure if Haruka can come to dinner, but my feeling is that she can, and it is certainly worth the sacrifice of my date with Kiyoko, which had heretofore been extremely important to me, to have the chance to be with Haruka. Once before in this same lobby, I had a drink with Mariko when Saeda was coming at 7 p.m. I couldn’t break the date with Saeda at that time, I thought, but now I have a choice. I called to Kiyoko and told her that I had an important business dinner come up and asked her to forgive my cancellation. She was very sweet and gracious about it.

When Haruka and I sat back down, I was afraid to ask her lest she tell me that she could not come to dinner. Then I thought if I had waited till she came out of the restroom before calling Kiyoko, I would not have hesitated, only now that I had committed myself was I afraid. I asked her and she did not seem to understand, but when I repeated the question, she said she could make it. She was looking in her purse and I thought for a moment if I should say what was on my mind. I deduced it could not hurt to say so. I leaned over to her and said in her ear: “You are beautiful, and I love you.” She responded by waving her hand at me in a symbolic hit and said in a happy, smiling way: “Ushotski. Liar.”

I made more small talk, and this gave me the idea to engineer a reason why we should need to go to my room, so I brought up the subject of where she had been to in Japan. As she had been only a few places, this did not require any need of a map, so I began to tell her all the places I’d been. Tokyo, Kyoto, Beppu, Shikoku, Takamatsu, etc. When I got to the mountain location I could not remember its name (truly) and I said we could find it in my guidebook. Soon after we finished our Coca Colas and I told her that we would go to my room to get my guidebook, as in our conversation we needed a map of Japan, as we were talking about where we had each been in Japan.

When we got to the room, I did not pull out the chair for her to sit in, as I preferred she sit on the bed. When I came back from the restroom, she was sitting on the edge of the bed. Naturally, I sat next to her as we talked about different things. I moved to and fro, now and then changing the subject. On the train she had told me she was a pianist. I asked her if she knew Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. She said Yes. So I had that CD with me and I got it out and we played it and listened. In all this time, I was trying to maneuver her to lay down on the bed. I asked her to take her shoes off. She was so demure that it made the process easy, and we looked up the word ‘tease’ and the word ‘tickle’ and with that she reached out to tickle me and I returned, now facing her on my knees by playfully lunging forward and onto her. Then we wrestled a bit. I let her up, but then I lay down and in a friendly way pulled her next to me. She lay next to me and I looked up words in the dictionary and had her hold up my guidebook while I drew with a pen where I’d been.

In the process of it all, this naturally led to kissing, then to fondling her breast. At this point, I was so desirous of seeing her breast that I put my hand inside her blouse and then I started kissing her breasts to her protest. But my desire overwhelmed any other consideration, as her breast was exquisite. I pulled open her snap-up blouse and underneath that another snap-up garment, which made it easy. She struggled at this. I persisted and tried telling her I only wanted to look. But she protested so much that I finally decided to forget it, so I let her up. She buttoned up her blouses and put her bra back on, but then she did something that aroused me. In an effort to straighten her wrap-around skirt, she opened it up, holding both sides with each hand. She had it outstretched when I looked up and saw this, in disbelief.

As I believe all these things are signs, I let go [of my inhibitions] and grabbed her to the bed. As she protested, I doubted myself, but the alternative of letting her go without ever having seen her just could not happen as she was far too beautiful to let go. Amid her strong protest I pulled off her pantyhose and stripped her naked. I pulled her to my side and felt her sex, which had some wetness to it. I slipped my finger in and rotated it inside of her. She protested and I fingered her. I was trying to talk to her but her banter in Japanese precluded any verbal connection between us. I let her up, regretful. She, in feigned disgust, tromped up and put on her clothing. I went to the bathroom and went to the toilet. I noticed that my finger that had been inside of her smelled wondrously sexy.

I exited back into the room completely naked, as I felt it was only fair to show her my body. As she dressed she did not look up. She knew I was naked and she didn’t look, but then she did look for just a moment. I put on my clothes and then I feigned anger. I said ‘All I was trying to do was talk to you but you won’t talk to me. I just wanted to see you,’ and so on. She could not understand my words but she did understand my inflection. I watched as she put on each piece of clothing, each piece being like another step away from love, as I felt it in my heart. She got everything on and then put on a shoe. She started to put on her other shoe, her very last piece of clothing, when suddenly her body went limp. She stopped. Still. Nothing. ‘Gomennazai. I’m sorry.’ I couldn’t believe my luck. I knew at that moment that everything would be O.K. Those moments are worth ten times more than when someone tells you something. In those moments the feeling is more real than words or the feeling words can impart.

I was sitting in a chair just across from her on the bed. She was very close to me facing me as she sat on the edge of the bed with her head hanging down, her hands, so recently clutching her shoe in defiant protest, now posed demurely, almost helplessly at her side. I sat there. “Gomenazai.” “I’m sorry.” She reached out unconsciously, just a little, for me. Our heads touched. Everything, our bodies, felt in synchronized poetry again. We drew closer, a light kiss. “I was angry. I am sorry.” We fell back on the bed momentarily and we came back up. She wanted to use the phone. I got up. She undid her shoe. She talked a short while. I went to the bathroom. When I came back, she was crouched next to the bed, with her hand in her bag. She looked up at me. She was a bit hesitant, very polite. She said with bright eyes, hopeful, not meaning to offend: “So…I spend the night?” “Yes. Good.”

In the next few minutes, delirious with happy expectation, she looked at me and motioned with her eyes to the bed and put her hands on the snaps to her clothing, questioning me if it was O.K. to make herself at home. I nodded my head. She then, in a quite natural way, as if she was now my loving and loved wife, began to dissemble her coiffure, one piece of clothing at a time, the pantyhose and underwear, which she unrolled, and placed down, the blouse and bra which she folded and put on her bags, her skirt, and crawled shyly into the bed. I was stunned with gladness, with gratitude to the heavens for bringing this nymph goddess to my room.

I undressed too and crawled into bed next to her. No need now to advance, the battle having already been fought and successfully secured. We drew close into each other’s arms. I scarcely need to say the obvious: I surely never felt before in my life such sweetness, such complete and total innocent trust and devotion. I felt her warmth, felt her hair against me, studied her breasts, their texture, the absolute perfect nipples, in the raised flat portion of the exact center in which there was almost a star-like indentation for a hole, the lack of hair on her nipples. The hair on her legs was the most perfect thing I have ever seen.

All the hairs were about the same size, all minute small light fine black hairs, like a silky fleece, probably unnoticeable from a short distance. Not ugly hairs, nor shaven hairs, such as most women now do, but a faint covering of never-needing-to-be-touched hairs, not changing the appearance of her legs, still appearing like white cream, still feeling like silk. I was overwhelmed, absolutely. The hair around her sex was flawless. It was not too bushy, nor too thin. It was undisturbed, the natural borders of it were contained well within the line to her leg, as if the gods themselves had decreed to give her hair befitting a being of perfection. Best of all this, best of all, was the delicate yet overwhelmingly attractive heated scent that arouse from her crotch. She had the most beautiful bouquet coming from her crotch that I could imagine. There was a mild heat to this scent that I cannot explain (the relation of heat to scent). We kissed, then kissed again. She was the most beautiful creature, both inside and out, that I had ever had the pleasure to be with. So I said to her, this time with feeling: “I love you.” She looked at me a moment and turned her head away girlishly, and as her head turned, I heard her say something. She buried her head away from me. What did you say? She would not answer me. “Did you say ‘Me too.’?” She was silent. “Did you?” I said this with rising enthusiasm and picked up her vibe that she had, making my certainty rise. “Yes.” She said this in her very soft direct and certain tone, a thrill to it.

I turned down the light and she seemed to think that was an improvement, softer. I felt her pussy. She was very shy and squirmed around. I lay there thinking only love and amazement and feeling so fine, as if nothing mattered, as if I did not have to do anything, no, for I had everything, feeling so overpowered by the sweetness, a little incapacitated by it, a little unmotivated because to do something would detract from my feeling of just laying back and savoring, morsel by morsel, the delicious fact that she was near, close, the feeling of her being mine. Her pussy was not wet nor was it dry. I wanted so much to savor her pussy with my tongue but when I playfully tried to move my head in that direction, she would say No and squirm around some more. She said No a lot, but I took it, most of the time correctly, to mean nothing more than that she felt obligated, no, enjoyed!, saying it, that it was part of the game, for ‘after all, she was a girl and could not want such a thing, she had to be taken.’

As I worked my finger back into her, we constantly changed position a little. I then had my finger completely inside of her and was feeling around the walls as she moved and whimpered shyly and pleasurably. I pulled her over onto me and I felt her ass with both my hands. I tried to press my penis against her and manipulate it into her pussy, although not erect, with my fingers. I threw my arms around her shoulders. My penis was not erect and we started to do it. She seemed to really get into it as our bodies moved quite in sync with each other. After some minutes, she adjusted position a little, and I started to feel I needed to relieve my bladder. She began to pump really hard on me, as she was getting very passionate, but the feeling of passion subsided to me and I told her to stop and I went to the bathroom.

She wanted to sleep, or at least was telling me I should sleep, but I was completely restless next to her. I could not help but caress her, kiss her, study her body. I could not help but fondle her. She also participated to encourage me at one moment but at the next she might turn away girlishly. Still I could understand that she was merely acting on very natural, girlish feelings.

It got quite late with all this, and in the very early morning, we started to make love in the dark. It was sweet, still I was shy and nervous. I sometimes wonder if, when I feel this way, it is merely a reflection of what the girl is feeling, for I am very, very sensitive to what a woman is feeling. I wanted so much to come in her, and I was afraid that perhaps I could not finish. When I had been with Megu, I felt somewhat the same way, as if I had nothing left in me! Haruka and I moved and grinded and I felt an orgasm coming on after some minutes. During this lovemaking, she kept up saying No and moving in a squirming way, whimpering. It was kind of memorable that just as I was about to finish, her sentence was: “No! No! Sugoi! Sugoi!” Sugoi means Great or Awesome. I would have liked to keep going to her own excitement but it was already beyond the point of me holding back. I moved faster and deeper and then my semen popped into her in spurts. I was happy to come into this goddess of a girl.

Shortly afterward, she held me and said: Are you happy? She said so very, very sweetly, because she wanted to please me and relieve me. I of course said I was.

Diary, can you understand it when I say that although the actual quality of the sex was way below what she and I are capable of, that still it was one of the sweetest experiences I have ever felt, the holding, the petting?

Now, I was finally able to go to sleep, and we drifted off to slumber, part of my body slumped against hers. Her smell, like the most intoxicating perfume, strong and clean, pervaded my senses, surrounded me. Her hair lay next to me.

August 16, 1995
Tokyo Wednesday
[L]

We awoke quite early, about 7:30 a.m. and lay in bed. Of course all I could think about was being able to fuck her again, and when she might have to leave. Would she be able to spend the night again? Shortly into the morning I told her I was scared that she might leave at any moment. She said she could stay the whole day, but that she would have to leave at 5 p.m. because she had to be home at 7 p.m. I still could not quite envision where she lived. We lay around in the bed. Every so often, I would try to make advances, or finger her, then try to lay on top of her. I would not be too excited, or if I did, she would move about or say no. The truth is that if I was perfectly erect and could stay so, I could have made love with her, because I sensed that she wanted it, or at least would accept it. But then, the question of ‘if I was perfectly erect’ is not an individual question, for it involves two people. I must remember that. I am quite sure that if Amy walked into the room and laid next to me, she would have had little problem exciting me perfectly, regardless of how tired or worn out I was; but then that is because Amy herself wants it and appreciates it so much, and she knows how to manipulate the mood and her body in a way to achieve the most stimulating atmosphere. In this situation, regardless of how beautiful and sweet Haruka is, she squirmed about and said No constantly and it was distracting.

I got it inside her a couple of times for a moment here or there. She seemed to enjoy, then I lost interest. Intermittently she would turn her body away then, momentarily, she would turn back and hug me for some time. I enjoyed her luscious and unfathomable body. I was conscious of the time. When would I have the energy to love her again? Should I eat breakfast? At midday we ventured out into the hot humid streets of Tokyo to find a bite to eat. This week is holiday week in Japan so many of the places that would normally be open were closed. I tried to find the Chinese restaurant that Fumie and I had spied but it was closed. So we finally found a Denny’s (American restaurant). While we walked the sun beat down mercilessly. We held hands while we walked, and again, with the fear of reiterating things too often, I will say that it is the sweetest thing to be with her. Intermittently I would say I love you and she would say Me Too, or I love you, in response. I would say I Am So Happy, and she would say Me Too and laugh a girlish, joyful laugh. We enjoyed our lunch and I was stuffed by the time we were done. We walked back to the hotel. We got back in bed together again.

We resumed the same behavior, alternately sleeping and cuddling and being, in general, love birds. I talked with her about our plans for the next 24 hours. We decided that although she had to go home this night she would return again early tomorrow morning and that she would go to the airport with me.

I wanted so much to take a photo of her, but she had indicated there was no way she would pose nude for me. So I had planned a secret plan. I took my little pocket camera into the bathroom and pressed the button so that she could not hear it activate, then walked into the room again and came next to the bed. Pulling the sheets away, with my hand on her belly, I snapped a quick photo of her without looking through the viewfinder, and the flash went off.

I was not prepared for her reaction. I said “Ha Ha Ha. I took a picture of you,” in a light hearted way, trying to make a joke out of it, but to say she didn’t think it was funny is an understatement.

She got up and there was fire in her eyes. She tried to open the camera and take the film but I told her not to. I got up and removed the film after rewinding it and I gave her the film. I told her that she was far more important than the film and please, not to be mad. I looked at her eyes, and I was afraid, not of her but of the fact that I could see she was totally enraged by what I had done. She said I Hate You. She put on her clothes and told me that I had broken my promise to her, that I had promised that I would not take a picture of her and that I had anyway. I was at a loss, and I felt the situation sinking away from me. It went through my mind that as easily as she had come into my life she was now going out of it. I wanted to clutch and hold on to her presence, and I did not feel I had the courage to face giving her up, I was so enamored of her. The power of her anger seemed to hold no quarter for compromise. But she was not violently angry, no, she was indignantly angry, ladylike.

I began to dress too, and searched in my mind for an answer of how to proceed. I was willing to try anything that might work, within reason. I thought that verbal communication was not working, so I thought to write her a spontaneous note. I began to write Dear Haruka… and I told her how I was sorry and how I made a mistake but that she should not be angry. Just before she left the room, I was sitting on the edge of the bed and she took the film canister I had set on her bags and she threw it at me. It hit me in the shoulder, and I thought, “She likes me.” It fell to the ground into the sheets laying on the floor.

She walked out of the room and I thought She thinks that I am not going to follow, but she doesn’t understand that I surely will. At the elevator, she said Sayonara and I felt a terrible pang that she was gone. In my room it had gone through my mind that perhaps I was not a good enough lover and that all this was only an excuse to get away from me. Then I told myself that was total bullshit and I knew it. I rode down in the elevator with her and walked next to her out the door. I was trying my best to talk to her. As we walked out the driveway, she whispered, “I’m sorry” and stopped in her tracks.

Again, as yesterday, I was amazed. She stood there and her body begged for comfort, so I put my arm around her and she drew close to me and she cried into my shoulder. I told her that we should move and led her away outside the hotel grounds to behind a hedge and I held her and talked to her. She said she was sorry a few times. God was I relieved! As we spoke I got an inspiration to augment my letter and I added some of the words I was telling her. I read her my letter out loud and then added words and read those, and as I spoke more I added those. For example, I told her I promised her I would never take a picture of her again without her permission. So I wrote that down and read it to her. The mood improved gradually. I don’t know exactly how to describe it, but it was as if she didn’t leave me because she could not leave me, because she did truly love me, as I did her. Diary, I cannot describe what a powerful feeling of attachment there was between us.

So we walked to the subway together, the Tozai line, right near the hotel, which took us all the way to her stop without changing trains! As we sat on the subway the mood became quite happy again. Since she had ripped up her address, she now wrote it on a new piece of paper. Since she forgot mine at the room, I gave her mine again too. She told me that next time she gets so mad, she had to learn how to calm herself down (rather than being dependent on me to do it).

God, it is wonderful to be in love!!

We got off her station. She called home and talked with her mother. I walked with her towards her house. She pointed out a Pachinko parlor (a Japanese gambling game) and told me that her father played there most every night and came home broke!

We walked on a side street in case her father should see us. She said that her mother had told her that her Dad was on his way home. She told her mother that she was with an American and her mother was surprised (but not angry). Of course, she did not tell her mother that she had spent the night with me.

We actually walked right to her house and she pointed it out to me. She couldn’t kiss me goodbye lest the neighbors see. We said our good-byes and we parted with the plan that she would come to my room no later than 9 a.m. tomorrow.

I marked the spot where she lived in my mind and counted the blocks back to the station lest I should forget the residence of my true love. I rode back to Tokyo feeling ecstatic, blessed.

Once back at my hotel, I got prepared for Kiyoko to come at 7 p.m. She was late, which gave me time to call Amy for a few minutes.

When Kiyoko came, we sat in the lobby for a few minutes and then we went to Ginza to eat. She is such an attractive girl. Whereas before when I met her in SF, I felt that she wasn’t interested in me, now I felt some rather strong vibrations at dinner. She asked me if she could model for me, saying that she really admired the photos I showed her from China. I had shown her these photos the first night I met her on the plane to Shanghai. She also asked if she could come to visit me. I said Of course. She said, So please do not be busy when I come. I said I could arrange some time to be with her. She suggested maybe next year. I took it to be in the Spring. Kiyoko had sort of a distance thing where she had to stand about three feet from me. I teased her about it. I told her how I had thought that she was exquisitely beautiful when I had met her, and how it was my dream for her to be my model. I spoke around the point a little, but in a very natural way, I let her know I was interested in her and I felt a little surprised at myself, for I felt so comfortable to say those things to her. Every moment was a pleasure to be with each other. In her own way, she made it clear that she was very happy to be with me. She said it many times, Jeff, I am so happy that we could see each other tonight.

As far as analyzing the thing with Kiyoko, I have a few things to say. One is to address the question of why I felt a change in vibes. I felt it was due to two things. One is that I felt that climbing Mount Everest set me apart and gave me some distinction in my [her] mind. The second is the fact that she was now stuck back in Japan. Being an American now gave me an allure. She really wanted to go back to the States; so I feel that she associated me with the USA somewhat, perhaps that she had developed a faint romantic fantasy that somehow I would fall in love with her and help her to come back to the States. It did in fact go through my mind that if I were going to marry that Kiyoko would be the type of girl I would want to marry. She’s very pretty, smart, she has a good command of English, she is Japanese (a plus in my mind) and she has a grace and elegance about her.

The other thing I wanted to mention was I felt it interesting how confident I must have, in retrospect, been feeling. I mean, the night before I had fallen in love with a gorgeous Japanese girl, and in the last month I have had 5 Asian lovers, three Japanese women and two Chinese women (one being Amy back at home). I feel just about invincible. So I wonder if those positive vibes aren’t just flowing off of me. Also, the night I met Kiyoko was the night that I fell in love with Laura Wang. I was on the plane to Shanghai from Tokyo last December. Also at that time I was in a hot way. So most of my contact with her has been at times when I was riding high.

I went with her for a ways on the trains and then I went back to my hotel. Once to my room, I made a round of phone calls. I called Laura and she was very relived to hear from me. I was very remiss in my promise to call. I told her I would call her Sunday or Monday, but as you know diary, I have been indisposed. So now it was Wednesday. Laura had been in a bad way, worrying excessively. I felt pretty bad about the whole thing. I made up a story about having to have made an unexpected business trip to Arizona immediately following my arrival in the States. I had previously reported to her that I was returning to the States on Saturday (lest she question why I did not return to Shanghai for the weekend). I cannot deny that it was nice to hear Laura’s evident relief upon hearing me. Her first words were something like: Fucking lobster, I hate you. But she was saying it lightheartedly.

I also called Michiyo and paid my respects. She said that her parents said Hello to me. Of course, with her it is always light and breezy.

I made a follow-up call to Mimi. I felt that in this conversation I ultimately soothed Mimi’s hurt feelings. Between this conversation and the last, Amy had admitted to me that she had snooped through all my paperwork at home and that she knew I went to China to see Laura. She also recited to me some other things I had done and felt. But I downplayed all that. I told her that just because I had written something so flowery for Laura, that was how I felt for the moment. So this went on, her divulging the other things she’d read and me downplaying it. At the end of the conversation, I wouldn’t say she was happy but at least she agreed to pick me up at the airport.

I was reflecting, now I have four lovers. I have never been in this situation before in my life.

August 17, 1995
Tokyo to San Francisco Thursday
[L]

I slept well, alone in my room. But I kept thinking of Haruka, truly. My mind pored over and over again, her breasts, her legs, her body hair. In the early morning I was conscious and lay there, wondering when she would come. I thought to myself: will she come? and then I thought if there was anything I was certain of it was that. I felt insecure for being so confident (?) but then resolved that I could only tell the truth to myself and that was that I felt quite sure she would come. It is the way she makes me feel, an overwhelming confidence, because her love feels so pure, so strong and so real.

At 8:30 a.m. I thought I heard a knock on the door. I called Come in. Then the knock came again. I said Come in again. But no one came, so I went to the door. I looked outside and I saw the edge of her blue dress hiding behind the wall. She looked around and we laughed. “I knew you were there!”

She walked in, wearing a dark blue dress that complemented her figure, and carrying a white lace parasol and a bag of breakfast food from the local convenience store. I could not be more touched and happy by her simple and well-placed thoughtfulness. What a wondrous thing this love felt like! She sat on the bed and motioned for me to lie down and relax. I tugged at her to join me but she remained out of the bed. I didn’t persist for I felt confident that she would come of her own accord in ten minutes or so, which she did. Meanwhile, she gave me a rice cake wrapped in seaweed. It was a foreign food to me for breakfast but to my surprise it was tasty, although soon I felt the need to gag! By and by she undressed and came to bed. I absolutely adore watching her come to bed, watching as each layer is removed voluntarily by her and placed neatly in a stack. What luck! What kind of fortune I have!!!!

We lay in bed and did our normal thing of kissing, cuddling, turning, having her say no and mean yes, getting her wet, fingering her. After several attempts to maintain my erection under these erratic circumstances, I began fucking her from behind. It felt good and I pumped her hard. I came inside of her. After she told me she was pregnant. So I explained over the course of 5-10 minutes why she did not need to worry. I drew a diagram on a piece of paper showing her that if her period had just finished, we could make love for up to ten days from the time her period had started and still enjoy nearly complete safety. After that she lightened up and everything was O.K. Still as we lay there, I felt more horny, so we would alternately lie and kiss or rest and then I grabbed her and brought her on top of me. She fucked me from the top, but again, as she pumped me ever harder, I was not as excited as I needed to be to withstand the force of her pumps, so I motioned for her to stop.

Then minutes later I was fucking her again from the top, reaching around and grabbing her anus and thrusting it up to my penis so that we could feel the lip of my penis pushing passed her entrance. Of course I would have liked to have come again, but I did not have it in me. I felt that all this intermittent sex was still a good thing, since I felt it created a mood more or less similar to what it would be like in the future. That is, I felt that in the course of our future relationship, we would probably have a good sex life, varied and repeating over and over and after that gentle, passionate dance of our two bodies. At one point in the bed, she said something and turned away and wouldn’t tell me what it was because she was embarrassed. Finally, she told me that she had said that she felt like my wife, and I, overwhelmed with happiness, told her I also felt she was like my wife and that I would like to be married to her. She said Me too. I felt surprised at the strength of her devotion, new and total.

The time flew by and I was amazed when 4 hours had gone by and it was time to get ready to leave. She was very helpful in getting ready and we went down to check out a few minutes before the airport bus arrived. I got some refreshments at the store and we boarded the bus. The ride to the airport was romantic. We kissed and hugged and felt. I put my hand into her bra. We were the only passengers on the bus. Towards the end of the trip we sat back a few seats and I felt her breasts and legs and crotch. I put her hand on my pants outside my penis, and I grew hard as we kissed. She said something as we got up. I thought it was something about my penis, but she was too shy to tell me, and afterwards no matter how hard I tried to get her to tell me, she wouldn’t say. She said it was her secret. I asked her if it was something nice (which was the feeling I felt when she said it) and she said Yes.

We checked my luggage in and went downstairs. I took some photos of her against a dark wall with her white parasol. Before we left that spot, she was drinking a cold can of oolong tea and she kissed me. I felt her spurt the cold tea into my mouth through her warm lips. I then took the can and put some tea into my mouth and did the same thing to her. Then she to me and me to her, until nearly the whole can was finished. The last time she kissed me in this way, I put my hand inside her bra and used the other to pull her ass and body close to me. It was a divinely happy kiss.

We went upstairs and said goodbye. The poor little darling cried. I told her that I was going to return in September and that I would write and that I would call. I wanted to give her every assurance not to worry. It was sad to leave her. I can’t describe it but I am sure you can understand, a love so fragile, so new and so wonderful, a girl so young, so fresh and so innocent and newly and totally in love. It is a very sensitive moment to say goodbye. But even though it was sad, it was mostly happy, for each of us, in the last 48 hours, had gained something quite profound, beautiful.

As I walked down the stairs, I looked back many times and each time we waved until I was out of sight.

I almost missed my plane, but I asked a woman to cut into the immigration line and then I rushed to a duty free store where I bought two lacquered vases for Mimi. I thought to myself, I would rather miss the plane than to get on it without something for Mimi.

During the plane I alternately watched a movie, read and wrote letters. I went through some moments when I was overwhelmed with guilt and fear. The fear spoke: What are you doing! playing with so many women’s hearts! Someone is going to be sorry, it will end poorly, what is your problem!!! But after I slept and awoke, I felt refreshed and I opened the windows to my soul and let the warm sunshine pour in. Then I reflected on last night’s fear and I challenged it. I thought What bullshit! That’s all it was, was bullshit. Why, there is no need to feel so. It is perfectly all right to try to maintain my relationship with each woman and to try to be as good as I can with each. Wouldn’t there be certain heartbreak should I attempt to undo what I had started? Why, the thought that this situation was negative was pure poppycock.

Then I resolved myself to pursue the dream I have, which was to have women all over the globe to see and love, as many – as many! – as I could manage.

When I landed I took the opportunity to meet a young woman that was sitting across from me. She was really quite beautiful. You can read about this in the 100 Women Direct file.

When I exited from immigration, I look for Amy but did not see her at first. When I did see her, I snuck up on her. It was kind of humorous, like a moving bush, I crouched down and pushed my cart in front of me as a decoy, passed her. Like the cart with no driver!! When I surprised her, I threw my arms around her and hugged her for about, literally, 15 minutes. I felt so much love for her and so much relief to see her. I was just so damn happy. I told her: “I swear to God, you are straight from heaven.” I meant it. Later, “I am studying your magic to see what it is that you do to make me and keep me so excited.” You see diary, whereas all these other girls make me in love with them too, Amy does something extra. In addition to all the excitement of being with a woman, Amy actually knows and understands the real me and therefore, when I am with her, I feel loved in a real way.

I was naturally worried that Amy would not make love to me. The thought of this was troubling. After all, only Amy delivers the best sex every time. But as we stood there she quelled my fears; as she held me her hand stroked me and ran down to my buttocks. I used to feel this was inappropriate in public. Today I thought. Why am I so uptight about that? For god’s sake, it is much better to do stuff like this than to fight!!!

We drove to home. I wanted so badly to take Amy to bed. I tried to be coy, yet within about ten minutes, I came up behind her and grabbed her breasts. She turned off the stove and I knew that was a good sign. Then we went, her in my arms, to the bed. It was only moments before we undressed and started to make love passionately. Despite the fact that I had been tired, etc., the lovemaking was strong. It felt so good to join with Mimi. Good for the feeling but also for the symbolism that I had not lost her.

When Amy and I got up I checked my messages and discovered that D___ had called and that he was going on vacation. I almost called his house but didn’t for I feared Snezhina would answer and I was not ready to talk to her, though in retrospect I cannot understand why not for now I am hot to see her.

Later I went to work in the afternoon. When I did so, I called Shirley on her pager. She responded in the matter of a few minutes. She said she would rather see me tomorrow night because she needed a shampoo (!) but I told her it would be more exciting to see her tonight. She said she’d call me at 6 p.m. I also called Jack, my buddy, and we made plans to have coffee at 5:45 p.m. I wanted to tell him about my meeting Haruka.

I went to work for a couple of hours and then picked Jack up at his work. Shirley called and we made plans to meet at 7 p.m. Jack and I had coffee and I told him all about Haruka and the other adventures of my trip abroad. I dropped him off at work and then went to pick Shirley up. She was dressed very sexily and I sat her in my car, saying to guard it while I found a restroom. When I returned, I ran full steam towards the car and dove into my driver’s window full headfirst. See, I felt so free from all this good loving I have been getting that I felt light, airy and energetic.

Shirley seemed a bit uptight and I playfully shook her saying “Loosen up!” She did not appreciate that either and said not to touch her. She complained that I was not acting professionally. That is approximately how the evening went. She was too neurotic for my blood. By the time I dropped her off after dinner at about 8:45 p.m. I almost felt I could cry. She had said too many times: Don’t touch me.

When I got home, I paged her but she did not return my call. She made me feel sort of under her power, sort of like a Joy or a Maria! I talked to Jack about it on the phone and I said, If she doesn’t like it, then fuck her! This was supposed to make me feel better and I suppose it worked.

When Amy came home later we made great loving before going to sleep. She is an awesome lover. As I said, I was studying what she does to get me and keep me so turned on. She strokes me with so much warmth, I feel enveloped, loved. Another factor is that I feel so strongly that she herself is free from inhibitions and that she wants me very badly to fuck her. She is also willing to do whatever it takes to please me. She loves to suck on my penis.

Another factor is that she had nice size, very firm tits, and, since she got her nipples brought out in a corrective operation, erect nipples. Her legs are smooth as silk, with almost no hair whatsoever and she has never had to shave them. So she is soft and voluptuous all over. The other thing that comes to mind is that Amy feeds me and takes care of me so well, so I am not upset by her, I am pleased by her.

August 18, 1995
San Francisco Friday
[L]

I awoke at 6 a.m. to call Haruka as planned. I was so happy when she answered the telephone and her voice belied her own happiness in turn. We spoke in broken English and the words that warmed me more than any others were: I miss you so much! We talked for perhaps ten minutes and then we made plans that I should call her again Monday night her time at 10 p.m. (my time 6 a.m.). It was a good connection to make, for I feel the first such phone call is confidence-building for both of us, in terms of looking to the future and being in love long-distance.

I talked on the phone for business and I dallied around the house taking care of odds and ends. I drove to D___’s house and left a message on the door for Snezhina, in case she was still there and not in Hawaii with D___’s family.

In the evening Amy and I planned to go see Gammy. Amy and I made love on the bed. She came, but I didn’t. We saw my dear Grandmother and that was great. When we left I found a dark parking spot. Amy had been enticing me. I wanted her before we got home. I fucked her in the front seat of the car. It was awesome for us both. She felt overpowered and loved it, and I likewise felt powerful. I had her pinned with my dick against the seat and I was having my way with her. I imagined, ironically since we were parked near Burlingame High School, that she was a schoolgirl whose boyfriend had just left and that I was a stud who seduced her and she was loving it. It was just delightful, really.

When we went to bed at home, we slept.

August 19, 1995
San Francisco Saturday
[L]

In the morning I made some business calls and then drove to the plant. Jack was there, so we talked about women for about an hour. I showed him the photo of Haruka’s body. The mail woman came by and we flirted grandly with her. She, though she was married, actually gave us her phone number. When she left, we wondered if she would cheat on her husband.

Jack and I talked about the subject. He admitted to me that he was attracted to Amy and wanted to fuck her. He admitted that he found her attractive on the first evening when he met her and I met Amber. Even though I had told him partly before, I now emphasized the passion I had felt towards Amber beginning from that first night. I told Jack plainly that I did not want him to fuck Mimi. I explained to him the difference: my sex life with Amy is very active and great, whereas his with Amber, from what he tells me, is almost non-existent.

I did some work and I raced home in time to get ready to go to dinner with Kenny. Ken delivered on his promise to surprise me. He presented me with a Proclamation from the mayor that July 15, 1995 was Jeff Shea Day in San Francisco. He also had one from Oakland. It was totally awesome and visually impressive as well.

I talked to Laura before and after the dinner and although we had a nice conversation afterwards, I felt somewhat troubled by her and I cannot place my finger on it exactly. We agreed to talk Wednesday at 11 p.m. her time and again her time next Sunday morning at 8 a.m. I have been feeling as if Laura has changed. On one hand it seems silly to assess this as her falling out of love, yet what is it? Is it only imagination?

At night when Amy came home, I was still on the phone with Laura so I went to the roof and put the phone on hold. I called to Amy and told her I was on the phone. “So what else is new?” she joked. By the time I was off the phone, Amy was ‘asleep’ in bed. I took a shower and crawled in with her. We made love fantastically. The feeling was so strong and sexy and my penis penetrated into her so hard, so completely in control.

When I got to bed, she played with me a little. Since I did not respond so quickly as the last two days, she asked me how many beers I’d had at dinner. I said three non-alcoholic beers. “I thought I could smell the alcohol” she joked. And this was supposed to be an indication of reduced loving prowess. She fellatioed me until I was completely erect and then some, and then she turned on her side and placed her sex in position for mine to enter. The whole thing was so satisfying. I fucked her and meanwhile grabbed her breasts, pulling at them, fondling, pinching, having a field day and mostly knowing she just plain loved the breast attention. My other hand or the same one alternately tugged at her hair very gently, or felt her pussy from the front, or her buttocks from behind, and in that case I lift them up or pull them down or fondle her opening while I fuck it, or [fondle] her ass.

She tried to get off but then stopped. “Did you do it?” “No.” So, laying there with the utmost erectness outside her, I resumed inside of her and continued the happy moment. Again, she tried and moved in ecstasy, building, then stopped. “Did you?” “No.” So I put it back in and we resumed. This time I rolled on top of her a bit then full tilt so that she was directly underneath me. I fucked her hard and the sensations are quite memorable.

I was remembering the night before, the images that being near the school brought on. So I keyed into that and it just was like a template over her passion by which mechanism I could monitor it and respond to it with my body. I could feel that schoolgirl being overwhelmed, despite herself, despite her “upbringing,” loving the cheating, yielding to the raw sexual energy of the seducer, me. Each thrust was as if her desire [was] something to burst, and mine to burst it. It just felt so good. Somehow in this way I was able to respond to that desire that welled up from her body. I cannot exactly explain it. Desire or the sense of someone’s desire is not a tangible touchable thing in itself. It is intangible. But it is as if that intangible thing is so intense that it is as if I could touch it, turn it, love it, fuck it, and with each moment follow its course, pursue it, stop it, tease it and let it run again with the knowledge, the ecstatic knowing, that it will be caught again and depleted of its energy, dissipating in a radiant satisfying pleasure.

(!!!)

I do not know if it is the image picture in my mind that creates the energy or the energy that the image picture allows me to ride. This image picture is in one way manipulated by “me” and in some ways I am manipulated, or carried away, by “it.”

(!!!)

August 20, 1995
San Francisco

I am getting over my jet lag.

Do you know, diary, that now there is/was a Jeff Shea Day in San Francisco? Ha!

Last night, my friend and personal Press Secretary (as he himself refers to himself) Kenny Boyd invited me to dinner at Roti’s whereupon the maitr’d, Nina, placed a legal-size folder on my desk [table] from Frank Jordan, mayor. It was a proclamation declaring that Whereas Jeff Shea had climbed Mount Everest and Whereas … etc…. Now therefore be it resolved that I, mayor Frank Jordan,…proclaim July 15, 1995, Jeff Shea Day in San Francisco!!!!

All I can say is that I appreciate it no end what Kenny has achieved. It may just be a piece of paper, but it is meaningful to me. I must later elaborate on my desire for fame.

August 26, 1995

A breather in which I can finally settle down a little, after a good rest, and write. This week has been a business week and I have had little time for other things. I was at the office till 7 or 8 several nights. I spoke with Laura a few times and the conversations were pretty much jubilant ones. I called her at her office.

Monday was tough because Amy was angry and hurt. I had called Laura late Sunday night and Haruka early Monday morning and it was just too much for her. So she was really upset and it took considerable tact and discussion to win her around again. The truth is that Amy is very important to me in a lot of ways; for one thing, I truly love Mimi. I don’t know if I give that impression to my friends (like Jack) since I am always stressing the other women in my life. Still I talk about what a great sex life Amy and I enjoy and that is true. Amy and I are very compatible in this regard.

I had hopes of seeing Snezhina this week while D___ was away. She’s their au pair. Maybe she went with them to Hawaii or maybe she went someplace else. At least, she did not call. I left my phone number and a photo for her pinned to their door last week (Friday) and went by on Tuesday. I rang the door three times and finally it opened. I was all ready for a romantic encounter but his niece Barbie (visiting from New York) happened to be there. So it was embarrassing a little for all of us as she was with her boyfriend. The unanswered question was: why was I coming by there? Oh well…

Dr’e never returned my call. I even thought I might meet with Ling Fung who is working across the street now at the high school. I thought maybe I might have a little encounter after she got off, but she is playing a little coy. I am so afraid that I might get her pregnant and then what?

Shirley called me on Sunday morning last week and said she was still angry but not to worry because it would not last long. But she did not call again. So I am feeling a
little bored with the local extracurricular love life.

Amy said to me: You’re due for a threesome. What an angel she is. She wants to see me fuck some other woman. Now all we have to do is find her. Which reminds me, Lana and Traci didn’t return my call either. Maybe they never got the message.

Michiyo sent me a fax and a video. She is such a sweetheart. I talked with Haruka. She and I are so much in love it is unbelievable. I just cannot wait to see her. I had to tell Laura that the idea of me coming two consecutive weekends is off but I did not tell her that it was because one of the weekends I am spending with Haruka.

Besides all this sort of stuff, I am feeling dissatisfied. Mostly because I feel overwhelmed by the amount of things that I “have to do.” I wish that I had more time. And, even though – and to me this is unbelievable – I have been back from Everest little more than two months, things just don’t seem to be going fast enough.

I want to record Creation. I want to be recognized as an author of matters dealing with love. I want to make a significant contribution. Etc. And yet, if my path does not feel exciting and does not overwhelm me with mystery, what use is it???? I find myself crabbing at my staff and short of time. This is not the existence I want.

I still have the issues of my Dad with the license and with Joy over the divorce. This week she lowered her demand from $ 145,000 to $ 30,000. Still I don’t think I should have to pay her a dime. She has cost me so much. If I can get the situation behind me, I can take more of a salary for example, without fear.

Another thing: I am confused about what to do for photographic paper since Oriental is going out of business. Since I have not found a replacement paper, I am worried that if I proceed with the current paper, I will reach a dead end.

Another thing is that my trips to Asia every six weeks to maintain my love life there are taxing on the other parts of my life. I need to settle in yet I am gone, coming or going most of the time it seems. Of course Amy does not like it. All the time my life proceeds, there is Amy in the background, loving me, cooking for me, cleaning, washing, advising and being a good friend. She is the backbone of my life as I now know it. I feel so lucky for this woman. And the best and most unbelievable part of it is that she tolerates, even sometimes encourages, my forays with other women. Still she doesn’t want me to take it for granted, and she wants to be loved specially, which she is.

21 Mon San Francisco
22 Tue San Francisco
23 Wed San Francisco
24 Thu San Francisco
25 Fri San Francisco
26 Sat San Francisco

August 28, 1995
San Francisco Sunday
[L]

Dear Diary:
Last night/yesterday was awesome. I did not fuck Amy Friday night when we went to bed, so in the wee hours of the morning I did. Then again in the morning. Then again before she left the house in the morning. Ling Fung had been trying to get a hold of me all week and I also called her back but I could not figure how I was going to get her into my schedule. And she wanted me to take her to a show so I didn’t really want to take her out. So yesterday evening I told her it was too late and I wasn’t feeling well. She said, “It’s only 8:15 p.m.” I told her I’d explain more about myself when I saw her. She said: “You can come over tonight and explain. My parents are gone till tomorrow.” So, on the way to dinner I talked to Amy and I explained that this was an opportunity. Amy was so cool. She was perfectly O.K. with that. Also, we decided to try to get together with Traci tomorrow night. So I called Traci when Amy and I were at the Old Clam House and she and I made plans. I asked Traci if she would like to go out to dinner with Amy and I tomorrow night. Anyway, after dinner I left for Ling Fung’s house, at about 10:30 p.m. Amy told me to be back in a couple of hours but I told her it would take at least a few.

28 Mon Chicago
29 Tue San Francisco
30 Wed San Francisco

August 31, 1995
San Francisco
[L]

I have a fuck of a lot going on. Yesterday LingFung called me at 8:30 a.m. “Why did you lie to me about not seeing anyone?” I didn’t say anything but called her back at night and she hung up on me.

I am supposed to have dinner with Missy, an airline stewardess tonight, see Lyte for lunch tomorrow, 16 year old Courtney—a potential model—for coffee Saturday, Snezhina Monday, call Haruka Sat @ 7 am, call Laura Sat @ 5:30 p.m.; Jack said I can “go to step 2″ with his wife Amber (since he doesn’t want her) now. Etc.

So much going on. Life is so short.

September 1995

September 2, 1995
San Francisco Saturday
[L]

Amazingly romantic first meeting with 16 year-old Courtney. Before she ever met me she was writing poetic romantic things in her diary. We touched in the Shakespeare Garden then kissed in the grass near De Young.

September 3, 1995
San Francisco Sunday
[L] [S]

Crisis of guilt and fear and the inevitable effects of having so many women. It’s really insane! (Figurative). Ling Fung said she could not handle me having another girl.

My life is incredible, wonderful, terrible, filled with Eden and with fear.

My thought Saturday…’Joy comes from letting go of things. Happiness is wanting nothing.’

I am in a quandary or maybe three or four or five or ten of them. It all or mostly all revolves around women. I think of what Snezhina said: “You have a strong bio-energy.” I think it must be true. It seems that the more I expose myself openly to women the more they adhere to me and love me. Yet I have to monitor these things so that they do not dominate me. Amy is going through a hellish time, and so, I live out her pain as well. But then there is a more serious issue pressing….

On Saturday morning I met a young prospective model. She had originally wanted to come over last Sunday, but when she told me she was 16, I told her I wanted to check out the legality of the issue. Even more important, I was afraid that no matter how legal taking photographs of her might be, I left myself open to false accusation. If I was alone with her in a room, I might be accused of something I did not do. Still, I might be tempted to actually love her.

She suggested we meet for coffee. We met at 11:10 a.m. at the Jammin Java on Cole Street. As I had alluded in my short entry from Saturday, it was strange, yet romantic, how she appeared to have built up the anticipation before ever meeting me. I feel no matter who I was, by my ad, to her I was an adult male who had experience with women, who, by force of the ad, she would have an opportunity to undress before. I can understand how this was an easy way for her to seduce a man, if he happened to be reasonably attractive to her, and it appears I was…her last line in the diary was… “I have found you.” (Ya te encontre.)

At the park, I had said: As long as society makes being naked illegal, we’ll always have wars. She thought this was a rather special comment and said she must write it down. But I wrote it.

I saw her again this morning. I told her all my fears. I said that I was not trying to put her off but that I was terribly paranoid because of her age. She agreed to talk to her mother about me. Meeting her mother would have to come before anything, picture-taking or otherwise. On one hand I acutely recognize I am putting myself in danger because of the law of the state and yet on the other, she does everything she can to convince me that there is no need for me to worry. She looks at me with her big blue eyes, her skin glows with a child’s blush and flawless complexion. Her lips ripe and shapely, her teeth a row of pure straight white. She has a large bottom but curiously, when I touch it, though wide and plump, it is firm and not uncomely.

We went to my car and I gave her the little gift that I had bought in Japan, four spinning tops which assemble into a Japanese mouse, complete with hat. We kissed and I smelled her skin, again, baby-like, like fragrant cream.

I told her ‘What if I told you I have a girlfriend.’

‘It wouldn’t matter. It’s not important.’

She is so nonchalant, seeming so sincere; I am convinced of her sincerity yet suspicious of where her sincerity comes from.

I ran through all the scenarios of why she might get vindictive. “What if we were involved for awhile and then I just told you one day that I had found another girl?” She said that she would take it in stride. She said that she would have enjoyed the time we had together and she would let me go on my own way.

I told her that when I came into the coffee shop on Saturday, I was not leading a celibate life, that I had other women who were interested in me, who loved me. She said: ” I did not expect that you were leading the life of a celibate monk.” She was completely unfazed.

Oddly, despite the tremendous fear I feel on the exterior, deep inside I feel I can trust her. She says, when I suggested her calm and placid way might be a veneer, “You can talk to people who know me, I am always like this.” She said she is not the type to be vindictive, that she had never been.

Now I must stop writing. Snezhina is pulling up in D___’s car.

September 4, 1995
San Francisco
[L]

I tried to tell Courtney that I could not see her but she nearly convinced me that I should. This weekend I told 3 women I had a girlfriend. Amazingly different response. Courtney said it doesn’t matter at all. Snezhina Did not seem to mind.

September 5, 1995
San Francisco Tuesday
[L] [S]

“Oddly or maybe not so oddly, I am missing Courtney. Despite myself, I was wondering why she did not call. I imagine that maybe she has only been setting me up. I worry her mom had a bad reaction. I am missing yesterday, all day kissing.”

My constitution:
People should be free as long as they don’t harm each other.

(While having a conversation about interior decorating, Jeff gets a sociological brainstorm.)
Jeff: “People should be free, as long as they don’t harm each other.”
Mimi: “You’ve got to change the rug?”

Morning thoughts:
I don’t believe in being either “liberal” or “conservative”.

To be liberal, you have to be conservative and to be conservative, you have to be liberal.
My thoughts fly. I really think that I have to have trillions of dollars at my disposal in order to make a dent in the world situation. I don’t think I can personally amass that kind of wealth, but I merely need to have it influentially under my control. If not, I don’t think I can change laws significantly. I wish I could recount my conversation with Amy before I left her house this morning. Sometimes when I tell her my worldviews, it just all comes out right. I feel I can adequately express how I see things. Usually they are broad overview comments. I feel I want to change the sociological landscape of the human world. There are two basic reasons. One is that I have to live amongst my fellow mankind. The other is that I see that, simply, there is so much unnecessary and self-induced suffering in the world today. One of the basic things that I see is that our laws and customs are not aligned with who we are. I believe that the answers to questions of how we should govern ourselves can be found by looking within ourselves. For example, if we have a need for diversity in sexual partners, then why do we make this taboo?

September 12, 1995
Nashville
[L]

I have not had a chance to write.

Life is a dream, a dream, a deeper dream.
(!!!)

My life has been so hectic and it is a wonder that I am not even less spiritually stimulated than I am. I have gained weight and although my physique still looks very nice, I am concerned that I can’t stop this fattening. I felt really good when I was only 150-160 pounds. Amy didn’t like it.

The most significant news that I have gotten in the last few days was that Courtney’s Mother surprised me with a phone call. It was disturbing in many ways. For one thing, Courtney had said that she did not give her mother my phone number because she wanted to ask me first out of courtesy. I asked her Mother how she got my phone number and she said that Courtney gave it to her. I was surprised by this, because I feel that Courtney should have called me and warned me that her Mother would call me. Perhaps the Mother coerced the phone number from her, but in that event, she still should have gone outside if necessary to call me and warn me. It could also have happened that her Mother found my number and called me without Courtney knowing.

The other disturbing thing is that Courtney told her Mother that I approached her at the museum and asked her for a pencil, which is completely untrue. Courtney had told me that she was going to tell her Mother that she met me at the museum, but I at least would have wished that she would have made it sound more mutual, such as, we were looking together at the same piece of art.

The last major disturbing thing was that her Mother, out of the blue, said that once when Courtney was 14 she lied to a 21 year old about her age and her mother met the guy, having insisted on accompanying her daughter. When Courtney went to the bathroom, her Mother told the guy her age and the guy left immediately, leaving Courtney in tears.

What Courtney had told me was that when she was 14 she dated a 22 year-old guy and her mother had no problem with that. What a difference in their accounts!

Unfortunately, her mother seemed to have overreacted a bit. When she told me about me asking for a pencil, I told her that was not the way it happened. Her mother said: “Did she respond to an ad in the Bay Guardian?” I said that she did, but then I felt it necessary to correct the impression that I had left a personal ad. So I told her it was not a personal ad, it was for photography modeling. Her mother really seemed more concerned at that, for several reasons. Not only did Courtney lie, but her mother thought she had used bad judgment and would possibly have gotten herself into a compromising, perhaps dangerous, situation.

Her mother asked me to let the thing die down. She does not even allow her daughter (officially speaking anyway) to date. She said she did not want me seeing Courtney unless she (Isabella) was present. Even at the beginning of the conversation she seemed to have already ruled me out, with the comment: Oh, 40 years, no, I don’t think so, I don’t think it is a good idea.

September 16, 1995
[L]

Hello. It’s midday on Saturday, I have had too little sleep and too much sex, if there is such a thing. I’m at Mimi’s. Last night Snezhina and I made love for the first time. She was upset that I left early, at about 5 a.m. The first time we made love, it was really pretty nice. In fact, I wasn’t surprised, since we felt so close. After that, I was hungry and as we started to do it again, I was too wasted to keep it going. She took it personally for a moment and asked me why. I told her that I was hungry. We got an ice cream. Later we made it again. It was O.K., I think she might have gotten off, but I didn’t enjoy nearly as much as the first time.

September 23, 1995
Tokyo
[L]
I think I will die if I cannot photograph Haruka nude with my Kodak Masterview 8×10 camera. She has absolutely the most beautiful body I have ever seen. It is not just a good body with good proportion, but it is a body with many special elegances. The curvatures around her hips, the textures and shapes on her nipples, the way one part flows into the next. I could do exquisite work if I could photograph her, because I see it, I sense it and appreciate the overall and the nuance. I could bring it to light, I could manifest what is there on film in a way to capture this moment’s heavenly form. All will pass, now is the moment, the feeling and the love.
(!!!)

I am so in love with her. I scoff at all those who make love such a complicated issue. Love is so simple. I cannot stop holding her, touching her, wanting to put my penis inside of her. It is beautiful to want a woman so much, and it is beautiful for a woman to be wanted so much. There is not a woman who would deny it. I love the passion of life, of music, of poetry, of women, of love.
(!!!)

When she came to the door of my room last night I could not believe it, it was actually her, after all this wait. We hugged. We were on the bed. I had eaten and she hadn’t, so (thinking of Virginia Wolfe’s comment about good food being important to good lovemaking, and to be fair) we took her around the block to eat. When we got to the room she took a shower and came to the bed with only a towel, slipped into the sheets.

I took my clothes off and told her she didn’t need the towel in bed. I was on top of her and in her in seconds. She loves to say “No” as a matter of course. We made love for a short while, but I stopped without coming, only to resume later and pull out when I finally did. Between then and now, which is actually 10:40 a.m. the next day, I came four times, but we made love on and off in between. She so often says No or Wait or Chotto Mate, and all the time whimpering, that sometimes I find myself distracted, worrying that she doesn’t like it; then she will interject a Sugoi (Great!) in between the Hanaste (Let go of me). I think she kind of likes to protest. Once this morning when she stopped protesting I felt the excitement level drop! That tells you something! If I ask, “You don’t like me?” she’ll say she loves me. She will occasionally say something to indicate she actually likes it. Or she’ll say something in Japanese and when I ask her to tell me, she’ll comment ‘I’m shy.’ I think she sort of has to prove that she’s a good girl; still, miraculously, we are making love a lot since I appeared in Japan.

September 27, 1995
Tokyo about to depart hotel for airport to Shanghai
[L]

In some ways, I get more love and support being a man with multiple lovers than I would if I had only one – besides the obvious plethora of opportunity, what I mean is that the situation seems to build on itself. For example, Amy gives me so much support, even in spite of the fact that she knows that I have other lovers. Almost in a way, I feel that it makes me more exciting to her.

I have not written a journal entry since I arrived in Japan other than my daily record of sexual activity. The culmination of my five nights with Haruka was last night. Something happened sexually that went beyond bounds of pleasure. We made love just after eating, this time from the front, this time being much better than all the previous times from the front.

But the second time was unimaginably pleasurable, taking her from behind. Under my body, she felt so small, I felt like a giant, like a roof over her hovering little body, all softness and womanliness. As I made love to her I went crazy, as my hand that wrapped under her shoulder and was imbedded in her mass of flowing hair, [it] gave off the strong yet delicate scent of her vagina’s juices, which I had been touching. When my body lifted from hers, my stomach from her back, the aroma would waft in a warm breeze. I love her smell so much, it is remarkable. Some time through this physical and aromatic journey, I had light flowing fantasies of a beautiful brown-haired woman, one very elegant, who was the kind of woman desired by many but who maintain a mystique and seemed inaccessible; here she was, showing off the kind of man she would give herself too: me, big, strong, powerful and irresistible to her. In my presence she just yielded without restraint. This is how such a woman gave herself. So long seeming inaccessible and incomprehensible, even cold, now, caught by my perceptions in her moment of passion, below me.
(!!!)

Then this sensation migrated to another type of woman, perhaps a blond-haired Parisian, elegant. This woman was in my company and found that she could absolutely not resist my overpowering sexual energy, so just almost literally succumbed to the passion of my arms, unexpected even for her. As I made love, these fantasies flowed. Then, at a moment, it occurred to me that what I considered a fantasy might really be based on reality, insofar as that in many ways, Haruka might feel these feelings that I felt I was projecting. My being disintegrated in a pool of pleasure. I held her breasts and pulled her body down and up to my orgasm. I let out a yell. I muffled my own cry of jubilation moments later.
(!!!)

The last two nights, Monday and Tuesday, the sex was very good, even great. I loved the fact that since she had gotten off of work, she still had her feminine odors and had not washed them away. When I told her that she cried No, No, in her girlish modesty. She tried to stop me from smelling my fingers, which I did partly to tease her but mostly to enjoy the fragrance. It strikes me that so much of my enjoyment of sex comes from a woman’s smell. How silly is the trend in society away from natural smells as if they are unpalatable. Perfumes smell nice, they can make you woozy, but they don’t make me excited. I keep impressing Haruka with how much I love it so that I can encourage her not to worry to make herself “clean.”

On Sunday, I asked her if she would kiss my penis. She said Yes quite readily and leaned back and gave it a kiss. I later expressed to her that I would like more than that, and she willingly sucked on it. Since then, if the mood is right and I asked her, she would agree and suck on it very nicely.

On the other hand, she couldn’t bear to let me do that to her. She is shy and traditional. This kind of frustrated me, especially on the weekend, when, after so much sex, I wanted to excite myself again. Every time I would try to lick her pussy she would cry No, No and move away so that I could not. Then last night, when she was leaning off the bed, with her naked and gorgeous buttocks facing me in the dark, I seized my opportunity and buried my nose in the pocket formed by her ass, vagina and legs and I thrust my tongue deep in her pussy. She said No, No again, but I felt I sensed that it was now with less [negative] enthusiasm. As she dressed in the dim light coming from the window, I tried to tongue her again, and, although she still moved away, the very fact that I could get my face to her buttocks made me feel that since I had already licked her once, it was not as big a deal and she did not mind as much.

By the end of last night, I realized that Haruka and I had the potential as sexual partners to have an outstanding sexual intimacy. Of course, I knew the first time I saw her naked that this was possible by default just because she appealed to my eye so much, and the first time I smelled her femininity because it overwhelmingly delighted me. Still, in the first contacts, the newness, apprehensions and “getting accustomed” to each other was like an introductory phase to sort out the basics between us. For example, she told me she liked to be pinned down, like having her wrists held, as if she was being taken by force. I came to realize that the best frame of mind to be sexual with her was to avoid being too fawning on her, to carry myself with sort of a “hard guy” approach. It set the mood to be one where she was being “taken,” where she was all woman and I was the aggressor. This fit well with her own set of likes and dislikes, and I enjoyed it too. This consciousness of how to carry myself really seemed to have a tangible affect on our lovemaking. When we would meet in the evening, I would be quite sweet and put my arm around her when walking to get dinner, but I would not overdo it or fawn on her too much. I figured that it might dissipate some of the sexual energy by satisfying the need to be caressed. I waited till we went to bed, and let her come to me a little, turn her over and then dominate her body with my male lust. I can sense, and I think it not uncommon with women generally, that this feeling of being taken was a major factor in her being turned on, [and] that I as the male, was merely almost unconsciously satisfying my male urges, in a way without any thought to what she was going through. In reality, I am quite concerned with whether she enjoyed it or not, but it was like a game, like an overlay of feeling onto the situation, in order to foster her enjoyment of being taken, wherein I could play the satisfying role of her stud.
(!!!)

I recall that on Sunday or Monday, Haruka asked me the following question: “If I learn to speak English perfect, will you marry me?” This comment is only an indication of her basic simplicity and innocence. I told her that she did not have to speak English for me to marry her.

Last night after our first lovemaking, she asked me the proverbial question: Do you love only my body? I reassured her in several different tones that I loved her mind, her heart, her laughter. She smiled. Once she was reassured, I admit as the evening passed and we made exquisite love, that I kept commenting how greatly I enjoyed having sex with her, to which she would respond Me too. Also, I did keep commenting on how much I loved her body, which was totally sincere, because I find her shape an exquisite enjoyment, a work of art.

When we finished making love, I would exclaim ‘I’m so happy.’ She would say ‘Me too.’ She’d say ‘I’m so happy.’ One of the ways that we used to express the level of our pleasure was that I would say, while holding each successive hand higher in the air: Before I loved you this much, now I love you this much. She’d then lift herself slightly from the bed and hold her hand higher than mine and say “I love you this much.” We’d use this device over and over in different ways.

We are really in love with each other, repeating often “I love you” and “I love you so much” and “Me too!” It is really great to be in love like this.

On plane to Shanghai.

Other things are going on and have been going on. I should make a report here of the happenings with women that I am interested in.

Kiyoko I almost hesitate to put Kiyoko in a list, which is a sign that I could probably really love that woman. When I met her and for a long time thereafter I felt that she didn’t like me. Now I am feeling other vibrations. I can’t really put my finger on them, but I feel as if she is interested in me. I felt that last month when I was in Tokyo and we went out to dinner. Even before we went to dinner, I had started to sense a change in her. For many reasons, as I stated before in my diaries. For example, I felt that she was lonelier and more entrapped in Japan than she was in the United States. Perhaps I now represented a return (or possible return) to the place (USA) that she loved. Also, my summit of Mount Everest may have taken some of her uncertainty away and given me some prestige in her eyes. Suddenly, I felt that she had taken notice of me, that maybe she had had occasion once or twice to think of me in her off moment.

But when I talked with her last night on the telephone, I had even a different sense than that. I would say that maybe it was not even from the phone call that I got it, that it was really after the phone call that I began to feel some strong vibrations. I wonder sometimes if I have a sixth sense about stuff like this. I found myself starting to feel excited by the thought of seeing her tomorrow in Shanghai. But diary, it is important to understand the difference between thinking thoughts and having thoughts come to you. I felt as if these feelings just appeared spontaneously. Like I had a glimpse of her white panties, just for a moment, come into my mind. And it was as if I felt that she was undressed for me, that she wanted to undress for me, to give herself to me, or to take me. I just felt romantic towards her.

Before, I would think romantic thoughts, but I did not feel they were reciprocated, so to some extent, I lost some interest. Now it was as if they were initiated outside of me and the vibrations were coming to me and soothing me, kissing me, enveloping me, wooing me. Then on the plane, I started to consider the situation more carefully, consciously. I started to think about how I might see her, then how I could see her tomorrow night, not just during the day. I started feeling that I wish I could get out of seeing Laura just for the night, or for the evening, so I could be free to see Kiyoko. Then I suddenly remembered that Kiyoko had offered to model for me, that she had seemed so definite, eager, complimenting the photographs as ‘beautiful’ that she had seen on our first meeting last year in December on the flight to Shanghai. I hadn’t asked her. She offered. It was in her mind. Then I started to consider, since she had offered, why didn’t I see if she would model for me on my return to Japan, perhaps next weekend. I considered, ‘What kind of modeling had she intended? In modern clothes, in traditional clothes, nude, what? If this question arose, or if I chose to bring it up, what would I say? It occurred to me, it was really unimportant. It would take care of itself. I considered that there is a side to Kiyoko that I haven’t seen. She is reserved, just a little cautious and proper on the outside. I pictured her naked, posing for me, free, comfortable in front of me. It seemed to fit together. I felt an excitement to think that this could actually come to pass. What a lover she would make! I felt that I probably could not help but take her seriously as a love.

When we spoke, it went like this:
K:I am flying to Shanghai tomorrow.
J: So am I, but I will be leaving for Tianjin right away (I caught my mistake!)
K: I will be going around looking at merchandise on Thursday.
J: Maybe we can get together for lunch or something. Can I come with you for awhile when you go around?
K: Sure.
We decided that I would call her tonight from my hotel and we would make plans to meet.

Fumie I feel that I really took a set back with Fumie the night she called my home and I suddenly got off a growingly intimate conversation because Amy was getting P.O.-ed. After that I tried to get a hold of her and could not. Finally just before I left she called. I asked if she wanted to see me and she grunted (a feminine type) meaning yes. I have not called her yet. I feel that Fumie would make a great lover. Mmmmm. I don’t know where I stand because just when it was warming up I ducked out. The practical problem is getting to see her, since I am so tied up in Japan already.

Shinobu I met her on the subway the other night. See, I believe in fate. She was talking to a guy and I needed directional help. I very innocently asked them which way to go. When I got off at the station I was looking at the sign and she came running up to ask me if I was situated. Now she was alone. I looked at her while we chatted and I felt interested. I felt very smooth in the way I asked her for her phone number. I wasn’t too eager about it, but I said that if she didn’t have to make a train connection I would invite her for a soda. I said perhaps we could do it another time. I said that I did not have any way to reach her. I said Could I reach you at your home. I said I did not have a pen. She gave me hers. I felt that she did not want to appear too eager, but I felt that she had some interest, which perhaps she was coming to terms with there, on the spot. She is a university student studying English living at home. She indicated that she is quite busy and may not have time to meet with me. But it didn’t seem a put off at all. I also gave her my phone number.

May This is the woman that was standing in the lobby of the Jinjiang Tower last month in Shanghai. She looked at me and smiled and followed me with her eyes as I walked toward the elevator. I looked back and sensing her interest I walked back to her. I thought she was a hooker because she seemed so beckoning. We got coffee. I felt she was available and that she would come to my room, which seemed natural to me at the time since I thought she was a pro. I touched her hair and put my hand in her lap under the table. I saw Laura coming in to the hotel and I had to excuse myself. When I got back to the States I was talking with my friend Jack and I had him translate her business card. It seemed a legitimate card. In talking with him I considered that maybe in fact she wasn’t a whore. Maybe she was just plain interested. I had felt such strong sexual vibes from her that when I went upstairs with Laura, I felt overwhelmed by the thought as if it was May that I was fucking. When Laura and I walked towards the elevator, I saw May following me with her eyes from across the spacious lobby. The feeling that I had at that moment was this overwhelming sexiness of being wanted on an animal level by an attractive woman. May turned me on. Today I called the States and I asked Jack by message machine if he would call her. Before I left for the airport, I called again. He said that he talked with May’s colleague and that her colleague would relate to her to meet me in the lobby of the Jinjiang Tower on Friday at 2 p.m.

Sumiyo Again, she had seemed standoffish at Everest Base Camp. I had forced a couple of kisses on her. Later when I had dinner with her in Tokyo, I had just been a friend to her. When I was getting off the train she jumped up and kissed me on the cheek to say goodbye. When I talked with her a few days ago and asked her if her house was still haunted, she said that now that her house was cleaned up, I could perhaps visit it. Again, it is just a subtle vibration. I would continue to just behave as a friend to her and see what might happen. She is a very different type girl, a Japanese mountain climber type. She’s not the little feminine type. Still, I find her attractive. I would like to fuck her.

Zaneta I am waiting for the right hour to call Zaneta. She is the Czech girl that I met in Prague a year and a half ago. I had been eating in a restaurant. I had received an invitation from a female friend of Glen’s to go to a gathering earlier that evening, so I was dressed in a suit. I went to my favorite little restaurant and watched what I thought to be a very striking gold blonde-haired girl and her girlfriend talking and drinking. I left the restaurant and was walking by the window when we made a friendly eye contact. I continued down the street when I thought I would turn around and try to see if I could meet her. I went back in and ordered a hot milk or some such thing, sitting near them. We struck up a conversation and all ended up leaving together. I wanted to continue partying with them, but at my hotel door they said good night and continued on their way. She and I started to write and then lost contact for a long time. Then she wrote and I wrote back and she gave me her new phone number a couple of weeks ago. In her letter she suggested we meet in Mexico. She would make a very good lover I think.

Michiyo I think that Michiyo is very in love with me. I haven’t contacted her much, but I have called her and it seems enough to have let her know I am still interested in her. I would like to keep it going with her. She is such a sweet woman. Amy and I still crack up as Amy imitates her saying “Now?” This is what she said when I laid her down in the dark teahouse room in the temple to make love to her. (It was great).

Angela When I was in Trinidad two years ago I really wanted to fuck Angela. She swore by her Christian faith that it was not a possibility. She’s been calling and asking for money. I tried to send it to her but I haven’t had time. She is getting to feel that I don’t care for her. When the operator said, “You have a collect call from Angela” I said something like “Oh my God” in a way that said “What a nuisance.” I didn’t know but she had heard me. I felt bad, like I had hurt her feelings. Anyway, in her letters, she says, “I love you” but always keeps it on a borderline of ‘as a friend’. I started getting these vibes the other week and I was getting off really well fucking Amy and thinking that it was Angela and that she was giving herself to me despite her halfhearted convictions, because she needed the economic support. I admit that the domination I entertained in my mind I found exciting.

Snezhina She is my new lover at home. I like Snezhina and have fun with her, but to some extent I am wondering something like “what does she have that is really special that I want?” Even an ugly girl might have some special quality that I cannot find in other women. There is nothing really unpalatable about Snezhina, it’s just that she doesn’t have any really special physical quality that I really relish. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy her; but just nothing really, really great. Plus Amy is pretty uncomfortable about her being so close to home. She has nice eyes. I don’t really know how to control or monitor the situation as it is. How do I keep seeing her but not have to confront the issue of not sleeping with her. I told her I have a girlfriend, but since then we have not discussed it.

Mariko?

Ma Dan?

September 6, 1995
San Francisco Wednesday
[L]

When I called Haruka this afternoon and suggested I couldn’t come on the 22nd she became very sad and cried and cried. I finally made the decision to go anyway, regardless of the fact there may not be any business in Japan.”
September 7, 1995
San Francisco
[L]

I haven’t been feeling too well lately & so I thought I would try exercising more, perhaps running. One of the things I don’t like is the fact I’ve gained weight. I’m about 182 now & it feels too heavy. When I came back from Everest I was thin & felt good.”

8 Fri San Francisco
9 Sat San Francisco

September 10, 1995
San Francisco
[L]

I think it proves that a nonalcoholic beer might even be good for me. I mean last night I had two and then today I was pretty horny. Actually, I was fantasizing like crazy about Angela from Trinidad. It seems the thought that excited me…

September 11, 1995
New York
[L]

(continued) was the thought that last time she was a Christian and wouldn’t get sexual. Now I thought that maybe she would and partially because she needed money/support. The thought that she would yield from circumstance was exciting.

September 12, 1995
Nashville
[L]

I wish I had a woman. I don’t have the time tonight or a dying inclination to go and try and find one or an escort. I always think it’s so interesting if I have not had a woman, in a short time I feel more horny, even if I masturbated.
September 13, 1995
Dayton

September 14, 1995
San Francisco
[L]

It was great to get home and see Mimi. Just as I had indicated the time away made me hornier even though I had masturbated. So it is not physical release, which determines horniness. Even with adequate release, desire builds.
15 Fri San Francisco
16 Sat San Francisco
17 Sun San Francisco
18 Mon San Francisco

September 19, 1995
San Francisco
[L]

The first time today with Snezina was a little slow going but once we were up and running it was literally great. The ending was real nice; I was surprised. We tried a second time, frustrating. At night Amy was really great when I came home late at 9:40. Amy knew I had been with “Bug” as she calls her. She was quietly upset. She said she wanted me to tell her the truth but I pointed out to her that she had gotten upset just because Bug had called on Sunday.

September 20, 1995
San Francisco
[L]

The sex was really good with Mimi, as we are consistently good. I feel as if I can interpret what she might be feeling and it charges me, that sense of overtaking her, making her feel taken and lusty. She is always magic lovemaking. It seems that so much attention from women has a magical affect on my feeling of well-being. I feel so confident. Women somehow derives into a tremendous confidence. [???] Not always. The better the sex, the better it is. Tonight Amy flew off the handle when I came home late and then got on the phone. I found it interesting that my feelings of guilt seemed to accommodate her anger, insofar as I felt guilty and I had done nothing “wrong” tonight, so I reflected on all the things Amy could be mad about and I felt guilty. She was a real bitch. She said stuff to upset me. Still when we went to bed we made love and it was really great. While Amy stepped out Laura called me. I enjoyed talking to her and I was feeling feelings of looking forward a great deal to seeing her. Earlier in the evening at work, I thought I called Haruka late and I called, only to find I was early. We said, “Goodbye, love you so much.” Before Amy left Fumie called me. I said, “Do you want to see me?” She answered ‘unh’ which in her lingo means Yes.

September 21, 1995
enroute to Tokyo
[L]

Before we got up we made love. I felt without energy as I often do first thing in the morning. Still, I was charged up from the fantasies of last night, the ending in which I felt as if my penis was very large and the _____ girl I was fucking could feel it sliding in and out. My fantasy moved in and out of this sense of fucking a really innocent _____ girl, or incestuous, and or a really, really beautiful girl, as started Tuesday night. With Amy it doesn’t seem to make much of a difference what state my body is in, somehow it is always at least very good. Our sex is usually about 20 minutes and both of us have orgasms. She often has one earlier and then tries for a second, which she often misses.

September 22, 1995
Tokyo
[L]

When Haruka first came to bed, I was inside of her within seconds. The feeling of being with her was outstanding. Still I couldn’t get the feeling just right to really have an orgasm on target. But God, did I love her body and warmth.”
September 23, 1995
Tokyo
[L]

I made love to her in the first part of the day before we changed hotels and then once afterward. I was getting kind of worn out. I found myself trying to fantasize myself into being excited in a strained way. In the night we didn’t finish making love because she got off and slumped into motionlessness. By this time I was frustrated because she was so fidgety. Still, when she did want it, I found myself frustrated because I wasn’t turned on. On the way home at night, I felt a lip herpes attack coming on and dosed myself with vitamin C. I never did get an outbreak but I could even feel my lip tingling the next morning.

September 24, 1995
Tokyo
[L]

I felt frustrated with the whole situation. She won’t let me photograph her. She won’t let me kiss her pussy. She will get excited, then she will have an orgasm, she’ll go limp and not want it. One minute she will say No, then the next she wants me. Basically she is too erratic. But on top of that I just didn’t feel excited today. It is like a Catch 22. On one hand I made love so much (or too much) in the last 36 hours that I don’t really want more, I need a rest, but still I cannot stop wanting her when she is near to me. Then I tire myself out even more. It is a combination of her attitudes and jerkiness and so much sex and maybe jet lag. Only on the last fuck of the evening did I feel I did any justice to her body. This is the one thing, I really love her body and feel determined to stay with her and want very much to fuck her in alignment with my aesthetic attraction. Also I should note that there could be an effect of the herpes near attack that came on last night and was tingling this morning. Could it be that either the mechanism of the herpes itself or the thing that brings it on (stress, lack of sleep) could affect my physiology with respect to sex? I do remember some connection in the past, but not a definite remembrance of loss of sexual prowess such as I felt today.

September 25, 1995
Tokyo
[L]

This was by far the best night with Haruka yet. We only had two hours [to] make love. We ate nearby then went to my room. Almost immediately we undressed. I turned her on her stomach and within a minute I was pushing my penis into her. Everything seemed to work right. I was afraid I would lose the feeling to bring me to orgasm, but she felt so good, her breasts and all in my hands, that I came. It seems we had adjusted. My talk to her about how sex would be better if she didn’t talk during sex. Also, that I think she understood that it was O.K., in fact even good, to tell me that she liked it. Also, she let me know Sunday night that she liked to be pinned down. All this helped. Not long after she told me that she wanted it again. I was afraid I might disappoint her.

Laying on top of her kissing her didn’t really turn me on at that point, so I turned her over again and quickly got excited. The second time was really very, very good. I felt as if my cock was 12” big and she so small. It was really outstanding. We were both very, very happy. I impressed on her how excited it made me to smell her. Today she had not showered and her pussy odor was sexually exciting me. She was so shy on this point. She could not accept it and insisted it wasn’t right by saying No, No. But I kept telling her so that she would know. Later we dressed and walked her to the subway.

September 26, 1995
Tokyo
[L]

Tonight far in excess surpassed last night. In fact, tonight the sex was so good that it surpassed what I normally consider to be reasonably good sex. I first fucked her from the front and that was really good, especially at first. But the crowning moment was the second time. Her feminine odor drove me crazy with pleasure and her thick hair in my hand, my arm across her chest, coming from behind, my hand near my nose. She seemed so small, I felt so powerful. We were very, very happy afterward. It seems that Haruka and I have gotten over the initial getting to know each other type of phase. Now I feel that we truly have the potential to become superb lovers with each other. God, I love her body!

September 27, 1995
Shanghai
[L]

After Haruka left, by the time I was in bed, I felt so horny, I did not know if I could last the night! I wanted her so bad. When I got to Shanghai, I felt less attracted to Laura. I felt a little aloof. But when we got to the room, we went to bed. I much enjoyed the sex with her. At about 2 a.m. I finished watching a movie and she was asleep. I gently kissed her breasts and then rubbed my lips against her vagina lips. Gently I worked them till they were wet and then took time to gently insert my tongue. Shortly, she was ready. I slid up on top of her and was slow to insert my penis into her. It was delightful lovemaking, so complete. Slowly, slowly it built until she moved rhythmically, passionately. It was an absolutely delightful interlude, so good!
September 28, 1995
Shanghai Thursday
[L]

After dinner in the evening, I knew I only had perhaps 1 hour to make love to Laura before I had to excuse myself and sneak out to call Haruka. I took Laura to bed. Again, the lovemaking was tremendous. I did not kiss her vagina this time. Instead, I rubbed her gently, slowly. I had had diarrhea as a result of the Vitamin C tablets I had taken, but it did not seem to affect my ability to make love. This time we made love in the position where she lays on her back with one leg up, me on my side. She likes this position. (So do I.) She kicked her leg up so high until it was over my shoulder. We made love a good while in this position until I came (perhaps 15 or 20 minutes in this position). I feel very natural and confident making love to Laura. It seems that the strategy of being a little aloof helps the excitement level. Basically, it is an insurance that when we make love, she is into it. It seems that when Laura and I get into a groove, where when we make love, it is completely mutual. At these times, it seems it is always great. Once in a while, we get out of that groove, and then we don’t connect.

The following is a separate file, but since I wrote it today and it reflects….

Compiled September 28, 1995

Description of values on rating of lovemaking

10 Completely blissful, something special. Usually for this rating to occur it means that both the lady and I have an orgasm, that the fucking lasts some decent time (normally this would be 15-20 minutes), that I am quite excited and that there is a smoothness about the affair

9 Almost perfect but perhaps there is some moment or two where there is a lull. Or it could essentially be perfect but maybe there is not some really special blissful feeling. Or physically it could be well perfect but perhaps there is not a beautiful fantasy or dreamlike quality to it.

8 It means that the fucking is really good. Even at an 8 it could mean the fucking itself was perfect but maybe the girl did not get off, or seemed a little dry.

All the above ratings usually mean that there is either perfect fucking, where I am truly quite excited; or it could sometimes include fucking where there is a lull or some moments of not being as excited as I’d like but this in some way is compensated, perhaps by a great finishing, or that the girl feels exquisite.

7 This rating could also indicate that the fucking was really good. I might be totally excited, but the rating might not be higher due to some sort of interruption, or maybe the girl didn’t seem perfect in some way. This rating indicates good fucking but with some aspect which would make it less than perfect. Maybe I felt irritated or rushed. Still, a 7 indicates the lowest rating in the category of satisfying lovemaking. A 7 is still pretty satisfying though not perfect.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

6 When I rate a 6 it indicates that the fucking was not totally satisfying in some way. It still indicates it was satisfactory, that it generally felt good, but that maybe for some reason I was not into it as much as I’d like. A 6 indicates general excitement, but perhaps I was not psychologically into it as much as I like to be.

5 When I rate a 5 it means it was barely satisfactory. It does mean however that I felt reasonably good afterwards.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

4 When a rating of 4 is given it indicates that it was deficient in some way, usually that I was not really turned on, and that I feel disappointed afterward.

3 A 3 means it was not good. It indicates that I was not excited, but that there was perhaps some redeeming quality to the lovemaking. For example, maybe there were at least some good moments.

2 This means that it was pretty bad. The only thing that prevents a 2 from being a 1 is that there was some small thing better that utter hopelessness. It usually indicates that I was not excited at all except for at the very last moment. It usually indicates that I had to try to fantasize in order to make myself excited and that it didn’t really work either. It is associated with a feeling of frustration, that I wanted to perform but could not.

1 A 1 indicates that the lovemaking was pretty pathetic from my perspective. Usually it indicates that I was not even erect when I came, which is pretty weird, plus all the negative qualities mentioned in 2.

There is no zero rating, since that means that there was no fucking.

A note about fantasizing: I don’t consider fantasizing as being a bad thing. Sometimes the best fucks I have had a fantasy associated with them. What I mean is that even though I am fucking a particular girl, I may picture an imaginary girl in my mind. Sometimes the best fucks have this going on, but when it is good, the picture comes of its own accord. I do not have to try at all or very little to have it going on. Sometimes a very low rating fuck may have the same process going on, but usually it will be very forced, as if I am trying too hard. A good fuck flows easily, a bad one doesn’t flow at all. So the concept of fantasizing itself is not an indicator one way or other of the quality. It is more so that the quality of the fuck and or the quality of the fantasy go hand in hand. A good fuck flows freely and lustily as does a fantasy if that happens. A bad fuck is characterized by “trying”. “Trying” is like ‘defeating the purpose.’ After all, the joy of sex is largely giving into the lust and feeling overwhelmed by passion itself.

In my experience, I normally go through an initial phase in which I am shy. I want to please the girl so much that sometimes I can’t relax. Almost like a game, if I find she accepts me for being imperfect, that in itself excites me, and, in an ironic sort of way, that breaks the spell of apprehension and I begin “performing” up to standard. The other thing is that just by having good sex with a girl, I gain confidence and thus enter each progressive sexual situation more relaxed and “powerful.” Perhaps also the girl is gaining more confidence in my abilities and her attractiveness to me; maybe she is also experiencing shyness and apprehension. It never ceases to amaze me what a dramatic change occurs between the initial experiences and after relaxation is achieved. Examples are like with Laura. At first the sex was timid, uneven; later it became quite flowing and regularly wonderful. This is typical for me, however, it is not always like this. Some women make me feel relaxed right from the beginning. Amy for example. I find that the women that make me feel this way are usually somewhat older and more sophisticated. Maybe they themselves are more relaxed and I correspondingly feel more comfortable initially.

So, at 40 years old, I am still trying to perfect my style with women. I am not self-complacent. I find that I am growing more and more adept at meeting women. Getting them into bed usually flows naturally. After a while the sex usually becomes quite exquisite. It is only the first few times that I don’t feel at par. I am still uncertain how much of this is due to me and how much is due to the girl. I wonder if I can improve on the process by handling myself differently. I think that I have had a tendency to fawn too much over a woman’s beauty and thereby lose my centered-ness on my own self and masculine power. So I intend, while certainly maintaining my charm and natural admiration and vocalization of appreciation, on being just a little more reserved in that way, letting a woman come to me just a bit more, and acting just a little “tougher.”

Also, since a woman’s own “readiness” may be an issue, I want to pay attention to whether, by making a woman feel more at ease and bringing her psyche to a level of freedom towards me, this may also render a marginal improvement. Sometimes a new woman is ready, wet and willing and I am not excited. But so often it seems that a new woman has some sort of worries associated with a new liaison. Usually the worries are associated with the following:

i) fears of becoming pregnant, and
ii) fears of disease.

Still, sometimes there are other factors as follows:

iii) not wanting to appear “too easy,” a “slut,” “not a lady” and other such things,
iv) fearing that they will be fucked and abandoned, or
v) thoughts that they are, by making love with me, being untrue to some other person, a current or former lover.

These fears can be overcome, usually, by some small talk, as follows:

i) Pregnancy. I assure them I will pull out. After they make it with me a few times, they learn that I am controlled and reliable in this.
ii) Disease. I reassure them that I don’t just sleep with anyone and that I am quite careful as to the partners I choose.
iii) Image. After giving themselves once in some ways this becomes a moot point, but after a few times, I think this concern is lost in the passion and the here and now. It just dissipates.
iv) Permanence. I think I often overcome this because I feel love for a lover beforehand and I tell them so. I tend to be reassuring in this aspect and I am generally sincere and try pretty hard to make a girl feel loved.
v) Faithfulness. This item can be tough, depending on a girl’s disposition. First of all, often a girl with this problem will not allow the interlude to begin anyway. Secondly, if they do, they usually are free spirits and don’t much care. In the final case where a girl is hung up, it can be sort of painful, and I don’t like dealing with this situation. Worry takes all the fun out of love, and it is not what it is all about. Loving is all about letting go, being free and looking forward to something.

September 29, 1995
Shanghai
[L]

I am just taking a taxi now to the Jinjiang Tower hotel to meet Mei, the girl whom I met while entering the lobby there a little over a month ago. I am supposed to meet her at 2 p.m. I am excited about the prospect of seeing her. The last time I saw her the sexual energy was so immediate as to be rare.

I just had lunch with Kiyoko. She is troubling to me only insofar as that she is a little of a mystery to me. She is beautiful and ladylike. I do want her, but as yet I do not sense the invitation, although I feel she is warming. I feel as if I should have planned some significant subtle gesture, or should I have only put forth that which I did, that which came naturally? I felt all sorts of warm vibrations, then I looked into her eyes and the conversation came around to what I saw in her eyes. She said she was happier now than last month, and I asked her jokingly (knowingly?) what had changed since last month. She seemed a little shy, and I feared that what it meant was that she had a love life now that she had not had before, and that that was the difference. Why should I care? Certainly it could mean the difference between she and I being lovers and not being lovers. Shouldn’t I be happy for her if she was happy with a new lover? Of course not! Love, mine, not yours, is not fair, there is no justice about it, it is empty if it does not have fulfillment, so why should it stand aside and be well-wishing for its own demise? I feel I “respect” Kiyoko too much, that perhaps I should just treat her like the woman that she is, like a living breathing desiring animal like myself. This is the level that must be reached if there is to be love, is it not? Love was not born from intellectualizing someone’s beauty. It was a release from constraint, a swim in a forbidden pool of warm water at night.
(!!!)

Later, 5:50 p.m. I don’t know what is happening to me. Why am I so lucky with women? I just left this goddess of a woman, her saying, laying in bed naked, her exquisite voluptuous breasts showing, “I will wait for you.” She did not say it once, but every time I tried to communicate to her in the closing moments, she would say: “I will wait for you,” as her response to the thing I was saying that she did not understand. I don’t understand who May is and what she is. At first I thought that she was a prostitute when I met her, and only later did it occur to me that she might not be. Jack described her as a saleswoman, after talking on the phone in Mandarin to her colleague. But the business card could be a front. She could be a high-class whore. So when I met her I was completely forward, stroking her leg under the table ten minutes after I met her. When I was going to see her today I was just the slightest bit uncertain about whether she would be as friendly. There she was in the lobby waiting for me. I walked up and she put a red carnation in my pocket! We hugged in pure warmth as if we had known each other and were lovers. I asked her if she wanted to eat and she said that she didn’t. Neither did I. We sat for a moment. I put my lips on her shoulder and my arm around her shoulders. Shortly after, she said, “We go to your room?” I had already booked a room and they had upgraded me so my check-in was on the 34th floor. We checked in, her hand on my shoulder as I wrote out the check in register. We got in the room and frolicked a bit. She brought up the fact that last month I said I would pay her. She wrote 100 on a paper and I agreed to that. Dollars. At this point, I had my hand on her huge breast inside her bra. We undressed and got in the bed, but not before she had brought a condom out of her purse. She handed it to me (as if I was just supposed to put it on without being excited). We sort of tossed it back and forth. Finally she laid at my side and moments later I was excited. So she put it on me. By the time that little bag was on me I was all but excited, but she laid down and I laid on top of her. It was an utterly awesome feeling. Her body is awesome. I got excited and we started to make love. After awhile the condom wasn’t doing it for me. I turned her on her stomach and I took my hand and rubbed my penis through her vagina lips. I inserted it into her and we began again. I had one of my hands helping on the base of my penis. In the condom I wasn’t as excited physically as I would be normally, but still the situation was terribly exciting and we fucked until I came into the condom. During this I was saying I loved her. The sweat, the breasts, the warmth, the overpowering womanliness of her body, her beautiful hair, fine face and clear eyes was something as if I had long forgotten it and was now reunited.

It was a powerful union; that I could feel. After I carefully removed the condom. She kept getting calls on her pager, which I found distracting and suspicious. Nevertheless, I was telling her I loved her and she was repeating it to me: I love you. She was acting like a woman in love, as she began to ask me all manner of questions about me, when I would, if I would, come back, and why did I have to leave at 5 p.m. Soon, laying on top of her back, my penis became physically excited again. I started to push it in her. She asked: ” You want again?” I indicated I did, and she reached for another condom. I threw it on the floor. We tossed it back and forth. She said she was scared, and I asked why. A simple answer: Baby. I tried to explain to her that I would pull out and she did not have to worry. She lay down, but nothing happened even though I tried to be excited and make her excited. Her mood changed and it was aloof. This went on and I watched the clock. When I saw it was hopeless I pointed to the condom and said O.K. Her mood brightened. I put it on my soft penis and got on her back again. Putting my hand around to the front, I rubbed it on her vagina lips and inserted it into her again. We began fucking, but the rubber was coming off. Finally I thought to hell with it, I want her raw anyway so I threw it away. After a short while, I was hard again. And in a few minutes I was riding her to orgasm, feeling the full fury of my passion for her. I came and pulled out simultaneously and fell on the bed next to her.

After a few moments she inquired about the condom. I guess she figured that if I had it on, why would I pull out? I tried to play cute and wouldn’t let my stomach come off the bed. I fell off the bed onto the floor as she searched the covers around me. I finangled around and produced the condom which I had thrown off. No dice. She knew I had not used it. Actually, in case it is not apparent, the game was not to really deceive her, for I wanted to get her adjusted to the idea. The idea was to let her know that I was humble about it, that I cared. Of course she chastised me and went to wash.

We made arrangement that I would come back late at night and she would wait for me there. She seemed to want me to come back awfully much. I hated to leave her and I just wanted to stay with her, but I could not be so cold to Laura. I was thinking how I was going to pull all this off. I told her that I would return about 2 a.m.

I said goodbye and stopped in the lobby long enough to call Laura at 5:46 p.m. to say I’d be right there. I showed up a little after 6 p.m. She was naturally very glad to see me. I pretended everything was the same, but in my heart I longed for Mei. I wanted to be with her and had a sense that Mei was the underdog and Laura a spoiled brat.

Laura and I went next door to the Chinese restaurant for dinner. We had a beautiful little trainee for a waitress. After, Laura wanted to go see the acrobatic performance at the hotel theater. We came in late but did not have to pay. It was really a fine performance. When it was over, all the people were cramming out the doors and I just decided to sit. Laura didn’t seem to understand that and got up and then seemed slighted somehow or other that I didn’t stand up too. I did not like the way that she spoke with me so I kind of “flicked her off,” like kind of rolled my eyes and thereafter didn’t pay any attention to her. She had left the theater by the time I stood up. When I left I noticed her but I pretended not to and I sauntered out of the area and back to the room. I was sorely tempted to just leave, but I realized she didn’t have a key and wasn’t registered and so I waited for her. When she came in we were kind of cool to one another. She lay on the bed and I walked around the room and eventually lay down in the entrance path, on the floor on my back with my knees propped up. She lay on the bed, watching TV. When I got up it was about 11:30 p.m. and Laura was asleep, or at least seemed to be, on the bed with the light on. I saw my chance. Rather than wait for 2 a.m. as originally planned, I decided to leave while I had the chance. I had the added excuse that we weren’t on good terms, so I took a walk.

I walked straight to the taxi stand and without any delay went straight to the Jinjiang. The taxi went to the old Jinjiang and I redirected him to the new. I went to our room 83511, and I thought I heard music, but it was coming from the public speaker in the hall. I knocked but there was no answer. Finally, I called for help and a man came and unlocked the door, but the catch was on and it would not open all the way. May appeared and the hotel clerk left. I went in. She had been sleeping. It was not long before we were making love again. This time more passionately even than before. I had to help her overcome her fear about me being inside her without protection. There was some hindrance there, but it felt so good to fuck her and hold her huge breasts from behind. When I came she was arching her back and it increased the sensation a lot, helping to being me to a very satisfying climax.

I formulated a plan whereby she would take a room at the Portman in the morning and that way I could be with her even though I was with Laura. She knew all about Laura because of our first meeting in July in which Laura had appeared in the lobby; anyway I had told Mei that I was waiting for someone at that first meeting in July. Mei had followed me with her eyes the whole way that Laura and I had walked to the elevators. Now, scarcely more than a month later, Mei and I were united in the same hotel. I called the Portman and made a reservation for Mei for the next day. I then made pains to explain to Mei that she was supposed to check out of the Jinjiang and check into the Portman. She seemed to understand.

Before I left, my passion would not listen to reason and I tried to mount her once again. I was worn out. I would fuck her awhile from behind, then stop, then rub my soft dick against her pussy, which would turn me on again and we would resume. It utterly excited me, the way the sweat dripped off our bodies, the feel of her thighs inside mine as my whole body slid up and down. Finally I got my satisfaction before I left. Happily I said goodbye and took a taxi back to the Portman at 2 a.m.

When I got back to the hotel, Laura was awake. She opened the door when she heard me fucking around with the key. She was very reserved for the first few moments. Then she broke down and put her arms around me and cried. She wanted to know where I had been; she had been worried sick. I tried to comfort her, but when we were in the bed she kind of showed me she was angry and I just rolled over and we both went to sleep. I would not have minded, but on the other hand, I was kind of tired.

RETROSPECTIVE… (Another diary entry same day….) In the early morning, I made phone calls and faxes abroad while Laura slept. When I finally came back to bed, I nimbly excited her and we made love from behind. It felt really wonderful. I felt not only my enjoyment, but sensed how she felt too and this made it even more exciting. It was like double pleasure. She seemed like a girl from Thai country or some such, who, being surprised by an anonymous lover in the wee hours, gave herself completely to the pleasure, and enjoyed it, animal-like. Laura herself lived up to this fantasy. When it was over, I awoke from the dream and realized it was probably not a dream at all, but reality, because Laura is likely to have felt the emotions I ascribed to the dream girl. At noon I had lunch with Kiyoko, and then went to Jinjiang Tower where I met Mei for the 2nd time in my life. Within an hour we were making love in a room there. The 1st time we did with a condom, the 2nd time I finally threw it off since it was such a hassle. I was so surprised to see what an awesome body Mei had. She is really beautiful. I fell in love immediately with her. When she approached me she put a red carnation in my pocket. I let her stay in the room. I went out with Laura in the evening. Laura & I had a little fight over leaving the acrobatic theatre. About midnight, I snuck out of the room and taxied back to Mei, waiting there at Jinjiang. We made love twice more. I returned to Laura at about 2 a.m. She was in a panic. She questioned me as to where I had been. She had been out looking for me for an hour. We did not make love that night because she was upset and I was worn out anyway.

September 30, 1995
Shanghai, Saturday (recapped 951009 in Tokyo)
[L]

By the time we woke up the feelings of wanting each other overwhelmed any negative feelings of the night before, and we made love quite nicely in the warmth and relative darkness of our curtained room. My recollection however is that I did not come, as I was quite empty! At 11 a.m. I was anxious to see if Mei had checked in and I found that she had. I made an excuse and slipped down to her room. I discovered that her room was only just down the nearest stairway one floor down; I could fly there in less than a minute!!

Laura and I went to eat at the Tea Garden, went to buy me a ticket for Beijing and then returned to the Tea Garden to complete our lunch. Afterwards I said I wanted to go on a run and encouraged Laura to buy some gym shorts and shoes so she could work out with me in the weight room. She went away in a taxi and I took the elevator up to the 31st floor to Mei’s room.

Mei and I fucked in the afternoon. I had to convince her to fuck me as she was worried about a couple of things. For one, her period had come and she explained to me (as all Chinese girls do) that making love when you are on your period will cause sickness. I explained to her that every girl I had ever been with in the United States had made love to me during her period with no adverse affects. Secondly, she was worried about making “babies.” I drew her a chart about a woman’s period and the times that she is fertile. I explained that in my experience the first ten days starting with the first day of a period is a safe time to make love and even come inside. Finally I had to kind of just pull her clothes off. It took some time to finally come. Still I could not resist trying (then resting) then trying again, I felt so pulled towards her. In the end I came fucking her from behind and came inside of her. I loved the feeling of her large breasts when I came, lifting my body, with her arching to give more sensation. I was so happy to have come inside of her. She wasn’t too thrilled about it though and she went off to the shower to wash. We cuddled awhile and then I had to go. I told her I’d be back later that night.

At the appointed time, around 6 p.m., I met Laura in the Health Club. I had run down 31 floors and back up again to the 7th floor so that it seemed that I had indeed been out running. She had been out shopping in earnest and showed me the shorts she had bought for me (which I had asked her to do). It was not intentional, but I gave her too hard a time about the style she had chosen, claiming they were too long. She commented that I abused her and my antennae went up, remembering the cold exaggerations Joy had invented against my character. I told Laura quite frankly that she should break up with me if she thought so. Moreover, I said and I meant that I did not want any part of a relationship where such accusations were being made. Laura was visibly containing herself. She asked if we could return to the room. When we did she wanted to lie in bed, and she was exuding some type of incredible vibration, enough to fill me full of deep lust desire. It felt like her turn to regain my good grace. I realized the feeling of the moment indicated that I could probably get her to do something I had longed for. I lowered the light. Her head was in the cleft of my shoulder. I sensed that she was willing to suck on my cock, as if she knew this was the gift I had wanted from her, and in her womanly sense, had decided it was worth giving into that desire of mine. Surely this would have a good chance of making me re-interested in her.

I softly moved her down so her head was on my belly and I removed my underwear. After a pause, I gently pushed her head in the direction of my penis. I took my own penis in my fingers and pressed it against her lips. I rubbed it with delight on her face, on her nose, and slid it back and forth against her full lips as it grew and became erect. I tried pushing it into her mouth but she kept her lips pursed tightly. Finally, gently pushing it and repositioning it with my fingers, I managed to feel the moistness of the inside of her mouth against the head of my hard penis. The whole time I was doing this, I was also feeling her face with my penis, feeling her lips and the interplay of my organ with her beauty. When I got my penis into her mouth fully, I could scarcely believe it. What a succulent place for it to be. As it slid in and out I felt her lips and the skin of my penis pushing her lips in and out. I was really delighted and turned on.

I did not want to lose the peak of the excitement, so I turned around again and began to fuck her, or rather maybe I should say we began to fuck together. It was very hot, very satisfying and very beautiful.

When we went to dinner it was the night of the Chinese Independence (?) day. We walked outside and I forgot something, so Laura stayed out in the street and I went back to the room. Actually I went to Mei’s room and kissed and hugged for a few minutes. I went to my room and discovered the key did not work, so I had to go back to the front desk, get another key, go to the room, get whatever it was I was looking for, a newspaper for Laura, stop back in Mei’s room for a second and then out to Laura. I explained I did not have a key, which explained why I was late. We went to the JC Mandarin for dinner. I felt less irritated by the staff than I had the last time I had been there when I was last in Shanghai. As Laura and I left the restaurant an older woman (perhaps 40) was coming up the escalator as we were going down. Laura looked at her ass and made a comment about how nice it was. I commented how her breasts were bigger than the normal Asian woman’s. This is one thing I like about Laura, her admiration and lack of jealousy towards other beautiful women. After dinner Laura and I returned to the Portman.

I snuck down to Mei’s room again for a short while, saying that I would return later.

I have no recollection of the exact sequence of events after that, but I did return to the room to Laura. Perhaps we made love, but I did not come.

The plan was that I was going to sneak to Mei’s room in the middle of the night, at around 3 a.m., but instead, I fell deep asleep at perhaps 11:30 p.m. and I did not wake up until the next morning. I guess I was somewhat exhausted by all the activity and lack of sleep!

RETROSPECTIVE… (Another diary entry same day….) This morning Laura came close to me and we made love. It was very, very satisfying. I cannot explain exactly why, but it seems when a girl is made sad and wants sex for comfort, it is one of the most satisfying conditions. Perhaps it is because there is complete yielding and softness; perhaps there is an element of an attempt to lure. In any event, I really enjoyed it a lot. I made excuses to sneak down to Mei’s room or up to Mei’s room depending on where I was. Laura & I went to UAL [to buy] a ticket for me. Later I sent Laura shopping under the pretense that I was going for a long run. In the meantime I went to Mei’s room and I fucked her. I ran down the steps to the Health Club to appear sweaty & met Laura. I criticized her choice of shorts for me & she said I was abusing her. That really angered me and I said she should break up with me. She lured me to the room and into the bed. At that moment I realized that I could finally get her to suck my dick for the first time. We lay in the dark and her head was on my belly. I felt that she felt the moment too, as if it was a chance for her to get back in my good graces. So I took my penis near her face & took it in my fingers & rubbed it on her lips, nose, face. I pushed it in her mouth. It was terribly exciting. After a couple of minutes of sliding it back & forth inside her mouth I made love to her. It was really wonderful. The excitement level was high, as if a barrier had been broken, as if, from my standpoint, assuming it was the first time, as she had indicated from the beginning that she had never done that, that in a way I was taking her for the first time. In a way, I sensed she loved the takeover and the feeling of my dick in her mouth. Her breath was fresh and that also turned me on a lot. The whole thing was monumental and filled with a special fantasy of her initiation into oral sex. As if she was a young girl being taken. I really got turned on. Later we went to dinner.

October 1995

October 1, 1995
Shanghai Sunday (recorded 10/02)
[L]

Today never began and never ended, it just seem to go from one bedroom to the next. Which I loved.

I awoke at 6:15 a.m. from an otherworldly sleep, transported there by the intensity of the lovemaking Laura and I had had the night before. Laura was sleeping. I got up and disappeared down a flight of stairs and went into Mei’s arms. I stayed there for a couple of hours. She resisted making love, and put me off by putting the carrot “tonight?” in front of me. I was unhappy about it, and I felt somewhat confused by the changed Mei from the Mei of the first day, when she had been most happy to let me have her. She explained that she had stomach cramps, that she was afraid of babies. I ended up turning her on her stomach and fucking her, but I could not come, feeling wasted. After, I had to go, and we went over our schedule. I said that I would come back at about 5 p.m.

I went back to Laura. I make love with Laura also, but again, I could not reach an orgasm. I was on empty!

Before Laura and I went to our meeting with Henry, I popped down to Mei’s room under pretense that I was going to pick up the air ticket from UAL. She had a dark blue navy skirt on with a tight fitting dark navy pullover sweater. She had lipstick on, like she was ready to go out. My!, did she look beautiful! Very beautiful. In fact, I was in somewhat a state of amazement. I went back for my camera and made some excuse to Laura that I was getting my camera to photograph the architecture of the hotel, but instead I took it to photograph the more admirable architecture of Mei. I went back to Mei and made over her. She seemed to really love it and cooperated with posing, turning her body, etc. I had to go.

Laura and I had lunch with Henry, which seemed very productive from a business standpoint. Henry and I brainstormed about how to present the most persuasive argument to Motorola. We had left to go to the lunch at about 11:30 and were heading back by about 3:30 or 4:00 p.m.

When Laura and I got back to the hotel, I sat at the computer to bide my time for another half hour till 5 p.m. Laura undressed and sat her warm little bottom down on my leg as I worked, which was inviting, but I resisted, aware of saving my energy and my semen for Mei. Laura was in a very amorous mood, and she can be quite alluring. She went to the bathroom at 5 p.m. and I called Mei and silently said: I’m coming. I told Laura that I wanted to go for a run and a sauna and hot tub. She was disappointed, but I assured her that I would take good care of her when I returned, a promise that I was to fulfill. I told her I’d be back in one and a half hours. At 5:20 p.m. I went downstairs. Mei was still wearing her navy blue outfit and a big smile. I was determined to have her if any amount of persuasion would work. She looked so utterly beautiful in her outfit. I brought her to the bed and began to pull off her skirt and she resisted. I hesitated a moment and then resumed my aggressive inroads, undoing her skirt and then pulling off her pantyhose and underwear to her verbal, but not physical, objections. She then took off her top by herself. I mounted her from the back and began to make love to her. As the excitement built then it waned and I felt a little frustrated with her body movement, as she would tighten her buttocks, which was both physically limiting and also psychologically disrupting. After some tries, for I really wanted to come inside her, I lifted her hips up with my hand on her stomach and hip and our bodies came into a conjunction where the feeling was so good. I thrust and felt her pussy so beautifully. When I knew I was going to come, I moved both of my hands to her breasts, listening to her pant, and I had a tremendous orgasm, letting out a loud moan. Even though the lovemaking was sporadic in its excitement, the ending confirmed what I had been feeling; that is, that she was something special to me, that the basic attraction was overwhelming and that, in time, it could be more of a fluid and highly exciting intercourse. In other words, my orgasm was very, very good and very exciting. The feel of her voluptuousness as I came into her was something really very special, wherein all of her womanliness impacted the pitch of my excitement at that precious moment.

It was about 6: 20 p.m. and I excused myself for a couple of minutes to go down to the health club. I had told Laura I would run and then go to the health club. So I went down and checked in at the health club and returned immediately to Mei’s arms.

She and I talked about the plans for the evening. She wanted to know when I would return. I don’t want all this talk of sex to mislead the reader into thinking that there was no dialogue. On the contrary, I have learned more Chinese from Mei in the last two days than even I did from my wife in two years. And we laugh and get silly and fly words of love, however repetitive or simple, back and forth to one another, and each other, Da bun dun (Big stupid dope) in Chinese, lovingly. I told her I would call her at about 11 p.m.

I went down to the health club and took a quick hot tub and shower. I asked to call my room and they said she had just called two minutes earlier. I called Laura and heard her “antsyness”. I said I’d be right there.

I went back to Laura. It was now about 7:30 p.m. Laura came to the door. She asked me when I had left and I told her ‘two hours ago.’ Laura got back into bed. She was really ready for lovemaking. I lay down next to her. She said she had called the health club and asked if they had a guest with my name. She said she also asked what time I checked in and they told her 6:20 p.m. I lay back with Laura in the cleft of my right shoulder thinking how good it was to have made that little precaution of checking in.

Remembering how awesomely sexy it had felt the night before when Laura had for the first time taken my dick in her mouth, I wanted it again. I fantasized or perhaps perceived that she had actually found it enjoyable and wanted it again, so I positioned myself a little higher in the bed and drew her head to my chest. She kissed my belly and I pushed her head down to my penis. Again, as last night, I felt she needed to be free from showing the actual volition to do so, so I took my own penis in my hand and I rubbed it around her lips, feeling her nose and lips in the dark. Soon I worked it into her mouth and enjoyed the feeling of her lips, taking my fingers and feeling both her upper and [lower] lip with them, while pushing my penis in and out of her mouth. I was tremendously excited by this. I turned around and started to kiss her vagina, then made it so that my penis was in her face, then in her mouth. This was the first time that Laura and I had ever done so before, and I enjoyed it so much. Still, love and excitement being so fleeting, I did not wait for the pitch to wane, but I turned around and began to make love to her from the front. The ensuing feelings were remarkable for their lust. I know that it especially turned me on that she had put it in her mouth, but I also sensed that for her it was a very sensual experience. I was having this fantasy and it was easy to have and it ran something like this; she was a very young blonde girl on vacation with her parents in Cabo San Lucas and I was an older dark-haired guy. I had seduced her and induced her to suck me off. Now I was fucking her. It was her first time and I was a very good lover and she was loving it. I kissed Laura’s mouth continually, our tongues lashed, saliva wetting our lips and exchanged in the fury of kisses. Over and over her tongue greeted mine. There was a distinct freshness to her kiss, and as part of this dream her mouth was so like that of this young girl, so fresh, newly initiated to oral sex, still fresh, remarkably. It was so exciting. The fucking continued and continued. I seemed to have found a wealth of sexual energy on which to draw. At the slightest hesitation in waning excitement, I would merely keep on and the pitch heightened again. Finally after twenty or thirty minutes, I turned her on her stomach and kept at her. I felt her hair through my hands and brushed it against her head in a waving motion; I drooled on her hair [and] on her back. The excitement was feverish. This image maintained straight through the lovemaking, being so fine, so perfect, until the moment when my hips pounded her rear in a lusty finish, perfect and wholesome lust.

When we were done, we talked about it, how good. It was luscious, completely luscious. It was one of those times that afterward gave a feeling of complete relaxation and refreshment much like a deep sleep.

I worked on my computer awhile, marveling at the way I could bring data over to my laptop from computer at my office in the USA.

We dressed and went to the JC Mandarin for dinner, again experiencing this strange feeling from the staff; as I described their stares to Laura, they seemed to be “partly curiosity and partly disapproval.” Laura thought mostly curiosity. I felt irritated and antsy, not patient. After dinner we went downstairs to the coffee shop. I excused myself for a moment and called Ed, my friend, in the USA in order to find out if he would be there to translate to Mei later. We agreed that I would call him in two hours. I had ordered ice cream and coffee but before it came, I suddenly had no desire to be there and I wanted to have sex again with Laura. Just before I could stand up, they brought the ice cream but no coffee. After the ice cream I felt my excitement wane considerably, but I still wanted to leave. In the bedroom once again, I wasted no time in bringing her to the sheets.

My feeling that the ice cream had diminished my unmitigated lust was completely wrong. For dinner we had had goose, scallops and fried rice with sparkling mineral water. I don’t know if all the good food of the day had influenced me or not, but I found myself as lusty or more than previously. Laura and I made love again in much the same way, and I ended up on her back again, greatly enjoying her body; her hair, her breasts, her small rear, her crotch, the feel of her legs rubbing against the inside of my larger legs on top of hers. This time, although the dream was somewhat like before, perhaps she was more like my little sister and I her amorous older brother, and then she was a nubile Danish girl whom I was taking pleasure from. I grabbed her ass from behind with my hand and pushed on the skin around her anus and vagina so that each of us could feel the contour of my penis pushing back and forth inside of her. This lovemaking was, unbelievably, even slightly better than the previous one. I came strongly. We slumped entwined on the bed and fell into a deep, deep sleep. When I awoke in the darkness at about 11:30 p.m., I felt my arms stretched above my head was a little numb; then as I drew that down, some of my other limbs felt a little numb. It is likely that I had laid completely motionless for a half hour or so after we were done, but it felt as if it had been hours. The feeling of restfulness was very pleasurable. Laura seemed completely asleep and oblivious. I arose very carefully and dressed. I left as quietly and unnoticeably as I could.

On the way down the stairs to Mei’s room, I felt so astounded at the condition of my body. I felt a feeling in my breast that felt so strong, and I sensed that even after all this, I still had enough energy to entertain Mei.

Mei was half asleep on the bed. I undressed and lay down next to her. We just cuddled. I wasn’t in any particular hurry to make love to her, but I was aware that I had to call Jack in about a half hour. As we lay there I began to feel that special energy again from Mei, that irresistible warmth and wholesome, compelling and inviting energy. Despite all the energy already expended making love, she and I started to make love again. I felt around her ass with my hand as my erection passed deep and hard into her. It was such a nice feeling. After awhile, I gave it a rest. She said, “You good,” and reached down and touched my hip. I inquired for more detail, wanting confirmation but more or less knowing what she had said. This time she pointed more inwards to my penis.

She got up to take a shower, which she has consistently done every time we made love. I called Jack and he indicated that Amber was listening and it would be better to call back. Ten minutes, at about 12:50 a.m., I called and he was in a position to talk to both of us. I began by telling Jack that I wanted to know that if I was out of the country, could I call her. Then I asked about a permanent address and so on. The conversation went on for over an hour. Sometimes we were all laughing uproariously. He said she was trying to learn English and wanted to know how to say Da Wei in English (So she could translate Ni da wei: You’re bad!). We were all laughing hard when I picked up the cue and told Jack how she keeps calling me Da Bun Dun, etc. I even had Ed tell her not to worry about pregnancy. At this she went off on quite a dialogue with Ed, describing to him (so he told me) how Chinese and Americans are different, that sex wasn’t the only thing, etc. At the time, I didn’t really know what she had said, but all I knew was I kept hearing ‘Mei guo’ and ‘Zhong guo’ and it sounded like there was a comparison going on. When I took the phone back to Jack I said, “I feel as if I was just getting burned!” He chuckled and told me a watered down version; when I laughed at myself and pressed him to tell me, he said maybe he ought to just leave it at that. Since I was pressing, he told me about how Chinese don’t have sex all the time, etc. I was joking around and telling Jack how she called me Da Bun Dun, etc. Mei started trying to talk over me and we all started cracking up, just laughing like mad. We talked about a few more housekeeping issues, such as her parent’s address, etc., then Jack and I said goodbye and I hung up the phone.

Afterwards, Mei and I resumed lovemaking. I would fuck her hard for a while, then stop and rest; then we would resume. Finally, I came again.

We lay there for a while and tried to communicate. When the clock neared 2 a.m., I told her I had to go. I kept repeating during the evening that next time I came there would not be a ‘girlfriend’ that I would have to go back to, she (Mei) would be my girlfriend. Mei asked if I would come at 7:30 a.m. the next morning.

During this whole time I had managed to be at peace about Laura, convincing myself that she was probably asleep and if she was not, then she was probably not worried. When I got back to the room, she was awake. She asked me where I had been, and I made up some stories, combining the fact that I had been on the phone with Jack. She was cold and in need of comfort, so I held her tight in the darkness and we went to sleep.
RETROSPECTIVE… (Another diary entry same day….)
(October 1, 1995 continued) This day was a fuck day. I keep trying to imbibe fluids and food to keep abreast of my energy output. I think there is no question that a full stomach is conducive to making love and an empty one a drawback. I had awoken realizing I had failed to wake at 2 or 3 a.m. [the night before] to go to Mei’s room as promised. It was about 6:30 a.m. and I got up quietly and immediately and I went to Mei’s room. She did not want to fuck, so we cuddled for about 2 hours. I returned to Laura’s room. When I had left Mei in the early morning, without fucking, I was determined to have her in the afternoon.

She looked so fine in the late morning that I was very aggressive in the afternoon. I undressed her and was so happy when I came. In the evening before dinner the fuck Laura and I had was monumental. I felt she was a little desperate to please which made it all the more delicious. It was fantastic, flowing, ending in a big climax. It was “one of the best.” After dinner was even better!!! I could not believe how good it was, along the same lines as the first but just an increment more intense. One of the things that was turning me on is that again she let me insert my penis into her mouth before intercourse. I felt as if this was a very daring, lusty, yet for her, too, enjoyable, thing to do. It was a breaking down of a long-existing barrier. The room was dark; also the meal we had probably helped on endurance: goose, scallops, mushrooms. After all that, Laura and I slept a deep sleep.

I awoke at 1130 p.m. and snuck out to see Mei. She and I started fucking right away but I did not come. We called to Jack in USA to translate. Later Mei and I fucked again and after a few sessions, I came again. Mei and I fucked very well especially considering the newness; we seem to be getting better quickly. Later I went back to Laura. She was awake. We slept. Having two women like this can lend additional physical motivation to make love. I noticed that even when Mei and I had finished in the afternoon and one might think that the energy level would wane, but when I returned to waiting, horny Laura, I was transformed into a lovemaking animal again! The woman’s vibration is the key to excitement.
(!!!)

October 2, 1995
Tokyo
11 a.m. en route to Tokyo (then Tokyo portion later recapped 95/10/6)

Oh boy. I feel happy to be on this plane, for Shanghai was getting just a little too hectic. I cannot complain that I don’t have enough sex. It seems that every other minute my hand is on a different pussy, which is fine with me. Only thing is that I wish I could just concentrate on my latest flame, Mei. Her name is appropriate. She is a truly beautiful woman, I think by any standards. She is voluptuous to say the least, but with slender waist and hips.

I’ll work backwards. Laura just saw me to the airport. I could sense her disappointment and feelings of discomfort. All weekend I kept disappearing. And where did I go? She didn’t know, but where I did go was down one flight of stairs, from our room 3217 to Mei’s room, 3120. In two days I probably visited Mei about 15 times, staying anywhere from a minute to a few hours. I fell totally in love with Mei, for several reasons.

This morning Mei wanted me to visit her at 7:30 a.m. I was wondering what I would tell Laura about where I was going, but not being able to think of anything I just left, and she said, “Don’t be long.” I went to Mei’s room, and she opened the door in her bathrobe, the room dark, the nightlight on. I love when she came to the door like that. Her flowing breasts just barely underneath the white terrycloth. She was in a half-sleep, hugged me and trailed away to the bed, where her robe opened up. I had not intended but to say hello, but her body made mine want to connect and I unhesitatingly pulled off my shirt, then as I climbed into bed, as an afterthought I kicked off my shoes. I pressed against her, then realized how silly it was to have my shorts on, so I took those off, because after all, she just looked too, too inviting in the soft lighting. She was warm, she wrapped her body around mine, exposing her crotch, feeling delicious. I had only intended on lying next to her, but then I realized she was open to me, she was making herself open, however conscious or unconscious it might be. Our lips touched softly, moist. I lay on top of her, despite my time schedule, getting excited. I was soon inside of her and feeling her excellent body, reaching around to pull her ass up close to me. I felt very erect inside of her. I was thinking of something to fantasize about, when I settled on fantasizing about her. I pictured her flowing body, her large breasts, and felt them underneath me; I thought of her hipbones, the way they protrude so beautifully from the soft flesh of her hips and stomach. I felt and thought of her crotch, which is a heaven, and of her eyes and lips and face and, now as I write, I think of her smile, the innocent happiness of which catches my floating pleasure. I do love her, don’t I? I can feel it as I write. I am so happy to be loved by such a beautiful woman in the way that she loves. I love this. I expected nothing of her mind, yet find her so delightful, not shallow, so thoughtful and in her own way, together.

We made love for a small while, but as much as I would have liked to come inside of her once more, I realized I did not have the energy, especially on this empty stomach of mine. She made some comment about it being good. When I am with her, it doesn’t matter anything, I feel like glue to her.

I said goodbye, repeating our instructions once again, that I would call Wednesday, Thursday or Friday and see her Friday or Saturday. She smiled a comely smile in the dark recesses of her heaven bed as I closed the door.
(!!!)

I went back upstairs. I told Laura let’s eat and pack first and then I wanted to spend some time with her. With not much time left after our chores, I took her to bed, pulling the drapes. It was too sudden and would have been much better in natural time. I began tonguing her and turned around and made her suck my cock again. I could not resist since it was such a treat to have this new adjunct to our lovemaking.

I fucked Laura for awhile from the front and then tried from the back. I tried to come again and again, but as I reached a peak, it would drop off, I would grow soft, then find excitement in her again and re-enter her again. I laughed: “I really want to!” in her ear. Her hair felt so wonderful in my hands and my face, draping her shoulder and the back of her neck, and feeling like silk against her head. Finally I could feel it coming on and told her. I pulled out as I still had no idea when her last period was. It was still nice to have her once more, but it was nothing like it had been the last three times! She wanted to lay there, but we didn’t have time. I understood her feeling, when you need reassurance and caress, but cannot have it. But I had to get up. I threw the drapes open and let reality stream on in.

We went to the airport. Laura told me that she hoped in the future I wouldn’t leave her like I had done last night. I said I would not, but at the same time I was thinking about Mei and how I’d want to see her when I came to Shanghai. At the airport, Laura was instinctive in her quiet, almost “unshowing” sadness. Her womanly nature sensed something was losing and something was winning, and the latter wasn’t her. I looked behind me at immigration and I didn’t see her through the glass. I looked and looked and resigned myself to the significance of her absence. At the last moment I caught her out of the corner of my eye and looked back. There she was. I waved happily to see her. Her whole face came alive and I saw that Laura that I loved and felt that love again. She did look lovely. Look at her straight body, gentle curves, and flowing hair, her fresh youth showing. Oh well. I would want to see her again.

I flew on to Tokyo and took a bus into town in a hurry, making it to the travel agent in time to give them my passport so I could get a Chinese visa for my return to China on Thursday. I then went to my hotel and had about an hour of free time before Haruka showed up. I waited for her in the lobby and she arrived a little late. We went to my room to drop her bag off. I was really wanting her and we undressed. As we did so, I felt very excited to be with her again. I had been a little disappointed in our lovemaking last time with her, even though it was a dramatic improvement over the first visit, and I wanted to really have a good time with her. As she undressed, I felt so happy and excited by her curvy and beautiful lines. When we made love, it felt awesomely good and natural. I did not come right away, but took a short rest and then came on the next go-round. We were very happy.

We went out to eat and walked the streets. I thought she might spend the night but I was not sure, so I asked her what time she had to leave and she said she didn’t have to, that she was going to go to work tomorrow straight from here. I expressed my deep delight at the thought of sleeping with her. We went to a decent meal at a nearby Chinese restaurant, then walked back slowly through the back street, again passing the 50-year old wood house that we had passed last week on a walk. When we got back to the room, we resumed our happy sharing of each other’s bodies and I came again. (Just as a point of clarification, only with Mei did I come inside of her, but with Haruka and Laura I pulled out and spilled on their backs or bellies, depending which way we were facing.)

I couldn’t get quite comfortable through the night, as she either seemed too hot or too cold, throwing the covers on at which she seemed overheating, or throwing them off, at which she would eventually be too chilled.

RETROSPECTIVE… (Another diary entry same day….)
By Monday morning I was pretty worn down. I went to see May a couple of minutes and was surprised she wanted to fuck. I knew that I wouldn’t come, but I fucked her hard for a while, then said goodbye. Laura and I did it when I returned to the room. It was all right but it was nothing like the nights before. We had to worry about the time. I tried over and over to come and finally did to my surprise. At night, I saw Haruka. By that time I had rested all day, so now I had power to fuck. As soon as we got to the room, we were soon fucking and I was very excited to be with her again, to be in her sweet, sweet body. I did not come right away, but maybe on the second try. It was wonderful and we both said how happy we were. We made love again after dinner at a Chinese restaurant, before sleeping; this was also very nice. She spent the night. She seemed to be overheating a bit and it was a restless sleep.

October 3, 1995
Tokyo Tuesday

She only had about thirty or forty five minutes tonight to stay, so we didn’t eat but went straight to the room and made love immediately. It was really, really wonderful. The need to complete it quickly lent an immediacy to it and it was just really sexy, hot and satisfying. I had thought about her all day and kept an “attitude”—kind of like ‘I’m a tough guy, I’m not going to shave, I won’t shower, I’ll just fuck her.’ So when we got to the room I was just a sexual power that took its delight in her succulent body. Afterwards we were both glowing with delight and reminding each other how happy we were. Note on the morning: I don’t recall, but we probably fucked: perhaps I did not come, so I won’t count it.

RETROSPECTIVE… (Another diary entry same day….) (recapped 951009 enroute to San Francisco)

In the morning Haruka had to leave early for work. I do not recall whether we were fucking in the early morning but my guess is that we were as it is pretty hard to keep away from her. But my records indicate I did not come.

When my business hosts, Ochiai and Kawanabe showed in the lobby, it turned out that the plan was not for me to go to Sendai tonight at all. The plan was for me to stay in Tokyo and travel to Sendai on a daytrip in the morning. I realized then that perhaps Haruka could see me that night if I stayed. I asked Ochiai to wait while I went to my room and I called the number Haruka had given me. When she had given it to me, she seemed a little perplexed why I was asking for it, but now it was coming in handy. She had also indicated to me that she wasn’t sure that it was the right number or not. So I was a bit apprehensive when I called it. Someone said Chotto Matte, and a few moments later Haruka was on the phone. She could not really talk, so I told her quickly that I would still be in the same room tonight. I asked her if she could come and she said Maybe. She said 7:40 p.m.

I went to Kawasaki with Ochiai and Kawanabe and we had a very nice meeting there with Toshiba Honken. Honken is Toshiba’s construction division. By the time I got back to the hotel it was past 6 p.m. and I had little time to relax before Haruka showed up. When she got there she met me in the lobby again as usual. She told me that she only had about 45 minutes tonight, that she was sorry, but that tomorrow night she could probably stay with me. I was very happy all the way around. First of all I needed time to do some work and make some calls in the evening, so I could use the extra time, while still having the satisfaction of her body now. Secondly, the thought of her staying with me on my last night in Japan was a very happy thought.

I was pleased to see that there were no pretenses between us as to what to do with our limited time. I asked her if she was hungry and she said no. I was a bit hungry but considering the delicacy before me, I declined to eat. We retired to my room, our room. As she took off her clothes, piece by piece in the dim light, I was erect by the sight of her and the heat of her body, which I could sense from where she sat. Haruka really has a magnificent shape, and in so many ways flawless. When she came into my arms we fucked deliciously, wonderfully, full of lust and feeling; she turned on her stomach and I arched up looking at her long brown hair across her back, smelling her pussy as I lifted up, the wafting heaven from between her legs. Her beautiful soft and shapely back, there she lie, prone, mine to have, as I fucked and fucked and fucked her, without any fantasy in the air as she was fantasy enough. I felt so hard, so erect, so perfectly at ease. The perfume of her skin and the soap she showered with came as a ribbon on the gift I had, filling the air with her scent, her atmosphere. I pressed my chest to her back and continued delighting in her.

After this went on for a while, I rested, for I could not quite reach the first climax. I resumed momentarily and I reached around and grabbed her breasts, pulling her whole body up and down by them and came beautifully. I think she came at least once if not twice. It was one of those perfect fucks, one of those really special, complete interludes. It felt so natural, came so easily. I really felt so lucky and happy. The fact that we had so little time actually probably helped because it provided a sense of immediacy, which was exciting. There was no long prelude, no; it was lusty and immediate, passionate, full of loving and fluids and hotness.

I walked her back to the station and we said goodnight, with our plan to meet the next night. The train pulled up. Oh yes!! I almost forgot. I gave her my room key so she could let herself in when she arrived. I might still be on my way back from Sendai.

I went back to my room and worked and made phone calls etc. and fell asleep after midnight.

October 4, 1995
Tokyo (roundtrip to Sendai)
[L]

When I came back to the hotel tonight she was there. I wasted about one minute before I was undressing her. The first twenty minutes or so of the lovemaking was some of the most enjoyable I have ever known. I felt so utterly turned on by her feel and looks that I just was totally into it. I got very hard just watching her undress, each step was wonderful, the exposure of her breasts, hips, etc. one by one. I fucked her from behind. In the half-light her body was that of a goddess, her long hair draping sexily across her back, her ass arched up in the air. I didn’t come and took a short rest. She became fidgety and wondered aloud if I only wanted her for sex. I think she’d finished, so there was a lull. She was in a womanly moody mood. I talked her softly into letting me finish and I came shortly thereafter. We went to a late dinner, and afterwards, back in the room, we continued lovemaking. I really enjoyed her pussy this night, it felt so juicy and pulling succulently on my penis. She arched her back and makes her pussy clamp on my penis. She seems to be getting better at pleasing me in this way, but still it seems often that just when the rhythm gets me to the point of climax, she will rest and I miss the climax. We typically will resume as many times as it takes until I finish. I think she often has more than one climax. She is a very sexual girl in a modest mind frame! Just before coming to the room I had two hamburgers, and I think this helps me to perform (beef). Our dinner was gyoza and fried pork, and I think this heavy greasy food makes my body hot for sex.

RETROSPECTIVE… (Another diary entry same day….) (recapped en route to SF 951009)
I was on my way to Sendai at 8:06 on the Yamabiko Shinkansen to Sendai. When I arrived Ochiai was there to greet me. We walked to Sanki’s offices and had a meeting. They could not really understand English and there was a noticeable awkwardness to the meeting over language, but it was still very nice and a good time spent.

Ochiai and I went back to his Obayashi office and then to lunch. After lunch, but before our meeting with Tohuku Semiconductor, I asked to call China. I called Mei at her office, as she was supposed to be there between 12 and 2 p.m. China time today. I called first to UVI to find out what time my flight was supposed to arrive but they didn’t have my ticket yet! So I called Mei. Getting a hold of her at her office was a minor miracle. They put the phone down and I had to wait a few minutes but she actually finally answered. I guesstimated that I would be there at about 6:00 p.m. on Friday. I told her to check in and wait for me in the room and I would call her about 6 p.m. She seemed to understand and repeated my instructions several times. At least she had the message, so there was a good chance of everything going O.K.

On the way to the meeting I called UVI again and they had fortunately bought me a ticket from Tianjin to Shanghai at 3:30 p.m. on Friday, which ought to work out perfectly.

Our meeting with TSC was very good as they seem to have the intention to let us bid the next project, whenever that is. Mr. Okada, a man well-spoken in English, and one who is delightful to talk to as he has a good sense of humor, seemed quite impressed with the fact – as Mr. Ochoa had announced – that I had summited Mount Everest.

After the meeting we rushed back to Sendai and met for less than an hour with Takasago. That meeting also seemed fruitful.

O.K. To cut to the quick, I took the evening train back to Tokyo and got to the hotel about 8 p.m. I stopped at MOS Burger and bought three cheeseburgers before I returned to the room, eating two on the spot and bringing one to Haruka in case she was hungry. I arrived to the room a few minutes later, where she was waiting. Happy moment.

I did not ask her permission but just overwhelmed her and started to fuck her delicious body, spurred on by the near perfect sex session of the night before. She brought up the rhetorical question of whether or not I loved just her or the sex. (This is not merely the rhetorical question but also seems to be a perennial one!) So on that note, our lovemaking ceased for a period.

I assured her that was not so but that I loved her so much that I was just terrifically attracted to her. This is mostly truth. They go hand in hand. She was feeling moody and it resulted in a cooling off, albeit it was a temporary respite from our formidable activities. Since she was moody I just let her be awhile. There’s nothing you can do with a girl when she is moody except to let her be. I just let her be and later she came around. She knew she was being moody for no particular understandable reason and she admitted as much.
(!!!)

On the other hand, I was really into the idea of fucking her sweet little body before dinner. We had planned to go to the French restaurant upstairs, which closed at ten. In the height of her mood, I had pretended I had abandoned the idea of sex and warned her the restaurant was about to close. She said she did not care. Of course she finally came around to a better (and more amorous) mood just as the restaurant had closed. I didn’t mind. I got what I wanted! The fucking was great again, feeling hot and sexy. I had wanted her so much all day. She agreed that she had felt the same way. I just love her little body, so perfect. And specifically the way all of my cock and balls drops down in the cleft of her legs and vagina when I lay on her back. I came ecstatically again.

Later we went to eat, although it was now late. But I knew a place that was open late and so we had a good, albeit greasy and heavy dinner of pork, gyoza and soup. The heavy meal seemed to give me added stamina to continue feeling lusty. She was a little moody on the way back and at times walked a few feet away, or lagged behind and then hid behind a wall, playing a little game of hide-and-seek. But she was cute, for these little transgressions she later apologizes, as if she has been really bad.

Back in the room we made love again before sleeping and again it was great.

When we slept she seemed cooler and easier to sleep next to than previous times.

October 5, 1995
Beijing
[L]

Tokyo en route to Beijing
I’m on my way to Tianjin, spending the night in Beijing. Haruka just left an hour and a half ago for work. The sex has been fabulous with her. I knew it, I knew it. I knew that given my innate attraction for her body, things could be great between us. No sooner than I finish than I want to start again. She is fickle, and yet quite compliant most of the time.

It amazes my how much more comfortable, how much more natural I feel with her than I did a month and a half ago. I am happy she is in my life. I just wish that she would let me take photographs of her. I really admire her body immensely. There are so many nuances, that I, as a lover of women, can fully appreciate. The thing that is truly lovely about a woman’s body is the converging curves, which in the regions of the hips, waist and chest form an array of topographical intricacies. In her case, it is all loveliness. The side line of the hips to the waist, the arch in her back to her butt when she stands, the petite hourglass shape of her rear when she faces away. Even there is a small line which is marked by a slightly darker skin perhaps 1/16th inch in width which runs perfectly from her belly button to her pubic hair. It seems that the most beautiful body has denied my artistic eye to express itself in the lens. But I keep trying to ask her. I almost thought she might break down today. She says she is shy and that is why, then she says she doesn’t know why she won’t let me take her photograph.

RETROSPECTIVE… (Another diary entry same day….) (Recap continued on 951013)
In the morning, I was dismayed that my bus left at 6:45 am and my plane at 1010 a.m. I wanted to be with Haruka. I hate short mornings. We dressed, I finished packing, and all my bags were in the lobby. I called to UAL to find out if they had any seats on their 5:45 p.m. flight. I was in luck. In a short time, Haruka and I were back in the bedroom as I had rearranged my schedule. I was so happy to have her naked and the time to enjoy her. We spent until about 1:30 p.m. together in the bed, and we went out to have donuts and coffee for me and then breakfast at the hotel, providing an intermission from being body to body. I came twice during that time. Even when she was just about to go I was trying to think about fucking her just once again. You see, she is so delicious to me, one fuck leads into the next, there is no break in my interest. Only my body but not my mind needs time to recover between sessions.

I dropped Haruka off at her train. I felt kind of sad because she did not emote much at the train stop. But I know why. One was because she was in a public place, and I suspect the other was because she didn’t want to face our parting.

I rode to the airport on the bus, checked in, flew to Beijing. I was sad to be at that airport where Joy and I had met so many times before.

RETROSPECTIVE… (Another diary entry same day….) Beijing …. Feeling great about my sexuality, and can scarcely believe how lucky I have been. This past week was the greatest sex week of my life, as I have been making it with three lovers whom I really like all of them, two with awesome bodies and one with a good body. Sex with Haruka has been terrific. I really notice how dependent my excitement is on that of my partner. Sometimes my desire will fire her desire, but if she doesn’t get fired then I just usually don’t feel like continuing. With Haruka, my sense that she really is very horny and likes very much to get fucked, so even if she thinks she has had enough, it seems quite easy to get her interested again. Today I thought I wanted breakfast but I had the energy to finish once before eating. After eating we made love on and off all morning. I finished a second time (and many attempts were made). In one session, she said she “finished two times.” Since last night I came four times and I was going for a fifth but didn’t pull it off. I feel like I could fuck Haruka forever. I love her smell and her body. She gives me blowjobs when I ask for it and I sense that she secretly is delighted when I ask. Her mouth feels about the best I ever felt. And on and on.

October 6, 1995
Shanghai Friday
[L]

I was quite nervous tonight because I was afraid that my plan would be blown since Mei was not here when I arrived as I had told her to be. I was so happy when I saw her. I did not go for it immediately, and after about 20 minutes she complained that I didn’t want her, so I leapt upon her and took all her clothes off and we made passionate love. It was pretty good, but it took me two tries to come and I wished I would have had it on the passion of the first pass. Before we went to sleep we made love and it was very intense. When I lay underneath her and sucked on her tit in the darkness, the flesh of it was so full. My orgasm was intense.”

October 7, 1995
Shanghai Saturday
[L]

I don’t recall, since it flows together somewhat, about each sexual experience. But on the last time (in which I finished) I remember that it was wonderful at first and then degraded. I had to try to finish. At the middle of night, I tried again, but she was so disinterested that I ended up being frustrated. She has said several times that she likes it once or twice a day and not really more. Our experience falls more or less in line with that as she usually seems quite enjoying it the first two times. Maybe later she will really get into it too, but she has a tendency to not participate as much.

October 8, 1995
Shanghai Sunday
[L]

I really enjoy being with Mei, but the sex is not as transcending as before. Last week her body [had a] heat about it which just drove me crazy. But you know, I notice that a woman’s chemistry can change dramatically. Like Haruka was so hot I could not be next to her, then another night she seemed cool to cuddle next to. All the conditions are right here for sex, or nearly all. I drink lots of coffee and eat lots of food, I can come inside of her, I get some light exercise, etc. There are a couple of improvements I could wish for: i) the food could be more delicious. It’s good but not delicious. ii) that she give me oral sex and iii) when we make love, she knows how to arch her back which makes it better but she doesn’t always do that or she’ll do that and then stop.

October 9, 1995
San Francisco Monday
[L] [S]

En route to SF …
Maybe right now is not a good time to write. I have been sort of antsy since last night, and maybe before. I am pretty irritated by a lot of people and a lot of things that don’t go just my way. I know when I get back and get a little peace from traveling I will feel better.

I am very busy it seems and always take on so many chores and things to do, if only they revolve around mating with women! Still, sometimes the phone call schedule starts to drive me nuts. And then I ask myself: what is it all for?

The business interests me until I stand back and look at it and say, ‘What the hell and I doing with my life?’ Yet I don’t think I can stop it. Why do I work so hard and then spend so much money on wasted things, telephones and shirts and shoes and etc. Where does it all begin and end?

I should be happy and I am, but that happiness is something deeply internal and is despite, not because of, my growing “affluence” and my growing “successes”. I should put the word “growing” in parenthesis because I don’t really know if it is growing or not.

In the last two and a half weeks, I left two lovers, Amy and Snezhina, at home and spent every night with one of three lovers in Asia, Haruka, Laura and Mei. I fucked one of them every day I was there, and in one 24-hour period I fucked all three of them. I admit I am very happy about this, yet I am still not satisfied. Why? Because I can see so much room for improvement. For example, Haruka has an awesome body but not a perfect face. Mei has big tits that are fairly firm, but they could be firmer. Etc. But more than the physical part of it, my dissatisfaction stems from the need to be clandestine. Some of the girls more than other can accept the potential for other women. For example, Mei seems to believe there are other girls in my life, and although she is not happy about that, she makes light of it.

Another reason I feel so dissatisfied right now is because of all the hustle and bustle in my life, and all the petty things that drag me down. Money is a drag. I see the world would be so much better off without it. It is a complete drain on people’s energy. All the keeping track etc. Money is a good benchmark, nothing more, but we have made it an end in itself. And I am just as guilty as anyone else. I am lost in the overall scheme of things, wondering why I do what I do. We are all like sheep and very seldom do we really question our path. Some never question it, others only infrequently. I do question it constantly.

I look at the output from the greatest lives and I ask myself: “So what”. The greatest achievement and the smallest have the same thing in common; there is no end of perfection we can reach.

I look at my sex life and I feel happy about it. I feel happy that I have let myself follow my instincts, as if it is perhaps one of the only connections that I have with my inner self.
(!!!)

I think of the fact that Doctor Ross said that he was the protector of my soul and then consider his latest when he told me point blank that he would report me to the police if I had told him I had fucked a 16-year old girl. Don’t you think he was overrating his position in the Universe? A good friend is a protector of my soul, and would never do such a thing.
(!!!)

I feel at battle with the human world. I feel people are so fucked up. They seem to have no sense of customer service and what that is all about: serving each other. Of course that does not include everyone. Then I look at my own company and I wonder at all the abominations that must occur to my own customers.

And why should I internalize all this stuff? Perhaps I am only tired right now. It is mid-flight and I have had a hectic few weeks. I really can say one thing for sure and that is that I feel so strong with women and my ability to woo them and communicate with them on a sexual level…at least relative to where I was at before. But I don’t know what the limits are to that and I want to find out. What I really want is to woo and fuck the world’s most beautiful women.

Recap: In the morning when I woke up Mei went to the toilet and came back and laid down in the Fuck me position (on her stomach). I really was not physically in the mood but I was psychologically wanting because I was leaving and it seemed like the right thing to do. I started to fuck her but I wasn’t very excited. I ended up feeling frustrated because I wanted to fuck her and nothing was going right. She seemed kind of sleepy and not into it much, but on the other hand she was laying there for me to take, and this is what I had been waiting for. Finally I turned her over and manipulated my penis into her and started to feel turned on again. We ended up having a nice little fuck and I felt happy, squeezing her nice ass in my hand. There was a fantasy of a girl by the pool, being unfaithful to her boyfriend.

Part II today was back in SF after a 12-hour plane journey there from Shanghai. Amy and I fucked awhile after I got there. Now there is some good sex! Mimi, for some reasons really turns me on. She just does. In talking with her, I find that the sensations I feel and that I sense from her seem directly related to her experience making love. She says that some women want to control their way to orgasm whereas she says she just abandons herself to the pleasure I give her and that’s where she derives her pleasure and orgasm, in being taken, in feeling my pleasure. Now that must be a large factor in why I enjoy it so much with her. When I make love to her I usually feel a tremendous charge from feeling like I am taking her almost violating her, like she is reveling in the helplessness and being overtaken.
(!!!)

October 10, 1995
San Francisco Tuesday
[L]

After we had been home a little while, I took Amy into the bed. She is so good about complying with my wishes; I guess they are her wishes too! The sex was hot and lusty. I had no “right” being so horny! I had mild food poisoning from eating [a] McDonald’s burger during the day, I had diarrhea, and on top of that I ran hard for fifty minutes, finishing about 7:00 p.m. Now it was about 9 p.m. and I wanted her. I fucked real, real good, and we both enjoyed it a lot. I think I may have come in her just slightly, but maybe not. Anyway, as a precaution she washed out. Now I notice it is on a chancy day. My stomach got worse as the evening progressed, and I did not fuck her when we went to sleep.

October 11, 1995
San Francisco Wednesday
[L]

This morning I awoke about 6 a.m. and Amy went back to sleep and she got up about 8 a.m. I hugged her and she felt so warm that I told her to go back to bed. I came back in and we fucked. It was real good, only not quite as fluid as most of our excellent fucks the last few days.

12 THU San Francisco Sex always good w Amy even when I am not feeling well
13 FRI Kennedy Meadows CA Sex always good w Mimi
14 SAT Kennedy Lake Woke up in morning w/ major hard on
15 SUN Kennedy Lake Woke up in morning w/ major hard on
16 MON San Francisco Woke up in morning w/ major hard on
October 17, 1995
Tuesday
[L]

I was so horny that our first fuck was really wonderful. It was a sensational feeling that there I was with this smaller creature that was dying for my body, wanting to be fucked. It was so sexy, really sexy. The feeling lasted right to my come. Oddly, in some way, it was the most natural fuck I ever had.

18 WED San Francisco

October 19, 1995
San Francisco Thursday
[L]

Seeing Snezhina is just unsatisfying. She tries so hard to be nice and I appreciate it but for one thing I did not feel well and the other I just hated her perfume and her skin did not feel soft like Mimi’s. O.K., the really interesting thing is that despite how much I did not feel satisfied physiologically, amazingly it was one of the most natural fucks I ever had. Figure that. Insofar as that it was as if she liked me so sincerely and strongly as if it was like an honor to be fucked by me that it just turned me on physically so easily; I had this feeling that she was just this smaller creature that wanted me completely.
20 Fri San Francisco
21 sat San Francisco
22 sun San Francisco

October 23, 1995
San Francisco Monday
[L]

Had a really awful day all the way around. I went to the Board meeting and felt that none of my frustrations were satisfied. Instead of resolution I felt that I was having the barrels turned around on me. It really hurt and I was so stressed I felt pained and strung out. I did not feel myself. The sex with Amy is not as good as it was although it is adequate. I long to fuck Haruka most of all.

24 Tue San Francisco

October 25, 1995
San Francisco Wednesday
[L]

Feeling a little better today, I have been feeling a little disoriented. Talking to my friend Jack really helped. I realized that part of my problem is that on one hand Amy is putting pressure on me not to travel and on the other hand my Asian girlfriends are putting pressure on me to come more often. Thirdly the business is demanding on my time and I feel I am pressed and not doing all I should. My heart wants to see all my girlfriends more often.

26 Thu San Francisco

October 24, 1995
San Francisco Friday
[L]

Today was devastating. I am unhappy to even record this. When I got Mimi’s passport to get a visa for Vietnam, I discovered no visa for China in June when she said she went. To make a long story short I found out today that she had been unfaithful right on the heels of my summit of Mount Everest. What a drag. I was devastated. I don’t know if I can stand being with her.

October 28, 1995
San Francisco Saturday
[L]

Almost like a therapy we’ve been having a lot of sex. I still feel real bad. She was devastated when I asked her not to wear our ring on her engagement finger. She took it off for now.

October 29, 1995
San Francisco Sunday
[L]

We are being really sweet to each other, but I just don’t think I can ever get over her unfaithfulness, even though the paradox is that she allows me to sleep with other women. I fear that I have lost my power over women, but talking with Laura and Haruka, I realize that my feared loss is most probably quite untrue. They’ve re-instilled confidence in me. Still the psychological effects of the news are pervasive. It is very interesting and touching the way we are sticking together. If ever anyone ever displayed in so many ways their love it is Mimi. She works so hard to please me. How can I abandon her if she needs me? I can’t panic. We did not make love that night because she was upset and I was worn out anyway.

October 30, 1995
San Francisco Monday
[L]

I feel better today. We’ve been having a lot of sex and agreed that we’ll help each other through this. Also, we are trying to be honest. I told her we may have to break up.

October 31, 1995
San Francisco Tuesday
[L]

My bad feeling bout what happened feels all but gone. I had a long talk with Doctor Ross. It seems that it all turned around and I realize a profound love for Mimi, as if the crises made my realization more apparent.

November 1995

1 WED San Francisco

November 2, 1995
En route to Ontario, California for meeting with Samsung, Henry Flores, Thursday
[S] [L]

Well, diary, I will speak with you as my most secret confident. I am sitting here evaluating my life and where I am in it. I often revolve in my mind around this subject lately. No matter what I am doing, I am questioning and questioning again. What is it all for? Is there meaning in this? Would my time be better served doing something else?

I have attempted to divide my time between activities as follows: financial, adventurous, the arts, being a lover and being a philosopher. Generally, I am pleased with this diversity in my life. They are activities that give me pleasure and help me pass the time away. They seem to fit together, one playing off and giving strength to the other. Together, they are rebellious to the common theme of focusing only on one career, and they prevent my life from being boring. Still, is it not hard to achieve excellence in any of them? On the other hand, doesn’t this diversity appeal to my natural rhythm?

I like to jump from one thing to another.

What use is it to get too caught up in being excellent? I keep focusing on that too. Life is transient. Achievement is transient. Memories are treasures, yet trophies are empty with time. Relics on a shelf. A beautiful home without a woman. Empty.

What can I do with my life? If I feel dissatisfaction, is it because I am really so far from my goal (what is my goal?), or is it because I am close but not yet there? My life is so full, plane rides to Asia every six weeks, five or six lovers in a month. But still it is not my ideal. I don’t like to hide one lover from the other. I have three women I am trying to see regularly in Asia, but still I see too little of them. I am not living like a true emperor. Yet even suppose I did live like one. What dissatisfaction would I find then? Certainly there would be others to come. Is there a lifestyle that I would find completely satisfying? If you brought me a virgin every six hours, one who was beautiful and young and willing. If I could constantly travel from one exotic place to another. If I could photograph them daily and work on my art. If I was well known and had influence. If I could make changes to the human world of significance. I might not be happier. But I would feel I had attained some uniqueness. That I had reached about as high a level as I could.

Perhaps I could have twenty wives all in the same house, some bearing children. Yes, that would be satisfactory.

How can I possibly reach this end? I am going too slowly to reach it. I could reach this. But I would have to have the resources and focus to do it. I would have to find a country that allowed polygamy and one where I would be safe. This place would have to allow people to enter into their own living arrangements without burdening me with endless legal red tape revolving around child support and alimony. These things debilitate and distract. Why wouldn’t a man want to take care of his wives and children? Leave them to their own devices, and people are good. Place mountains of self-created laws to enforce and you make criminals of people.

Therefore, I need the place to live. Secondly, I need the resources. This is the rub in a way, because the resources allow it all to happen. With enough financial backing, I could set up the scenario I have outlined. Women flock to being looked after. Yet it is not enough to have money.

(later….) En route to San Francisco

Here I am. I am always moving and doing, reacting and implementing. Can’t I ever stop, just stop and think? I think I need to think more. I would probably get more out of life and get further on my path faster, even if my path is to go slower and do less.

My chest feels tight, all that meat for lunch, that coffee and ice cream, and such insufficient rest. Why do I ever have to feel this way? It is time pressure and insufficient materials. Just a little run in the sun and I would feel much better, like the lively world in my lungs, and with my brain purged by the faster flow of blood. My body would relax. I could feel the flush of life. Instead, I need to catch the plane, feeling bloated and unhealthy. I am out earning a living. Now what does that mean? Can’t I do the same thing in a better way? I feel pushed through life with no chance to plan, even if it is only habit preventing me from taking a little longer to do things and going longer on quality and shorter on “just getting things done.”

So how can I make a significant impact on my life? My habits are not that healthy, despite my relative health to others, despite a good report from my doctor when I have a checkup. I could be a lot healthier. I think I am too caught up in “getting things done.” It is largely a function of my environment. I swim around the same old rocks because they are in the fish tank that I am in.

3 FRI San Francisco
4 SAT San Francisco
5 SUN San Francisco
6 MON San Francisco
7 TUE San Francisco side trip to Portland
8 WED San Francisco
9 THU San Francisco side trip to Portland
10 FRI San Francisco

November 11, 1995
San Francisco
[L]

Picked up new BMW. Jack and Amber came over. Before we went to dinner, Amber sat on the couch with me. I let myself go and I touched her knee then slid my hand up to her crotch in an instant. She pushed my hand away, like a reaction. But there was feeling there. She did not act so strongly. She said I made her uncomfortable. At the end of the night, she and I had a quiet talk while Jack worked on the computer and Amy laid down in the back room. Amber asked me to autograph the lyrics to the song I taped for her (at her request).

November 12, 1995
San Francisco Sunday
[L]

Amber came over with Jack. The most exciting thing has happened. During the movie, there was a break. Amber went to the kitchen to wash the dishes. I went in there and, with my hands behind my back, I rubbed my penis (beneath my pants) against her rear. I delved my nose into her hair. I opened my lips. She would shoo me away when I reached to touch her hips. She would give me a stern look, then I would smile. She’d break out in a lovely smile. I kept pressing her. When I went out to the living room, Jack and Amy were a little closer on the couch, and that bothered me, since their voices were low. I gave Jack a talk in the kitchen, teasing him that there was more to it. But he was angry that I did not trust him. Read diary. When I talked with Jack I told him about last night with Amber. He said she had talked around the point. That she asked him how he would feel if someone else liked her. At the end of the discussion she said, “I like Jeff.” He said “As a friend, right?” He related to me that she merely replied, “I like Jeff.”

13 MON San Francisco
November 14, 1995
San Francisco Tuesday
[L]

Regarding Amber, Jack and I had continuing discussions today. It was kind of disheartening. It seems our friendship is threatened. I told him I wanted Amber. I offered to provide him other women but not Mimi. I talked with Dr Ross about it. My discussion was very interesting. One pertinent point was that the archetypal energies afoot are very strong. That is, even if Jack doesn’t care if I fuck Amber, she is still his wife. Jack was over the house but we could not really talk, because Amy was there. When Amy and I went to bed, I went down to kiss her vagina gently. I noticed it smelled like a condom. She denied it then told me that she has been using petroleum jelly as a lubricant at the advice of her doctor. She said that she had a problem with dryness, that her skin between her anus and her vagina broke from time to time because of it. This explained why she was always so moist lately (the last two months). She said she was afraid to tell me about it. She said that she had been afraid to tell me because I might have gotten the wrong idea. (That I would think it was caused by something else?) I don’t trust her the way I used to, and I doubted her explanation. Then later I accepted it.
November 15, 1995
San Francisco Wednesday
[L]

When I called Jack he put Amber on the line. There was a line, I said, “I’ll seal it with a kiss.” She said “O.K.” As subtle as it was, I felt that it was significant. I felt excitement. I kept the conversation light, due to Jack’s objections, but still energy seemed undeniable. Later I thought how foolish Jack and I were to think that we were in control of the situation between Amber and I. It occurred to me that love energy has its own life, that we are pawns, ever so truly. Amy and I made love three times this evening. I felt very horny.

November 16, 1995
en route to Tokyo Thursday
[L]

I am not happy as I feel that the state of the relationships I have left behind is not what I would like them to be. As to why I feel revitalized sexually, I offer a few theories. First, it is a cycle. Second, there is a true love interest of excitement: Amber. Thirdly, the letter from Angela asking me if I wanted to have a baby with her (“Babby”). That was a boost and an excitement. I think the psychological factor is enormous.

RETROSPECTIVE… (Another diary entry same day….)
I am and have been too stressed out. But something else, perhaps many things, are bothering me. First of all, the fact that I just don’t feel so great is a problem in itself. It tells me that the reason I feel bad is because something is wrong. If I have learned anything, it is that my feelings are for reasons.

For one thing, I worry about Mimi. She is dutiful, but she seems unhappy. The fact that she had, according to her, slept once with her old boyfriend in June, and kept it from me, made me feel that I could not trust her anymore. It was not that she did it that compromised my trust. It was that she had made such a good show of denial.

It is this sense that life is a zero sum game. Every time we win, anyway, the clock ticks and we have lost, at the least, one more minute of time in our life.

So I have had the pleasure to be on top. I have had the pleasure of having many women love me at once. I consider sometimes the way life goes up and down. I don’t want to lose my “kingship.” I don’t want to lose my present circumstance.

I am also concerned about this thing with Amber, Jack’s wife. Jack had told me that he did not love her anymore. He had said that he had not slept with her in three years and that he did not care if I did. Later he admitted that he also wanted Mimi. I told him at the time that I could not handle that and he agreed that he would allow me to pursue his wife and that he would not pursue Mimi, solely based on the fact that I could not deal with that.

But he never denied he liked her.

Jack got very upset when I challenged him for sitting so close to her on the couch. I was really trying to assuage my fears and trying to get to the bottom of what he was really feeling as he sat there with her. But his reaction has surprised me. I did not expect him to take it all so seriously. He accused me of not being a person who reciprocated. Not exactly put that way but that is what he was trying to say.

But what I thought was so interesting was that he said that what bothered him was that even if he was still in love with Amber and I wanted her so badly, he would make way for me to have her. He noted that we were different on this point, and I had to agree with him. He did not use the word, but it really bothered him that I was so “possessive.” But then I wonder why. I wonder what he really feels and conclude that he probably doesn’t really know himself.

But there certainly seem to be a lot of hidden messages. He seems to be going through so much, something deep and inexplicable. It worries me, it really does. I fear that he is in love with Amy and he does not know it. I know on the other hand that I am in love with Amber. But I am in love with Amy too. I fear that Amy is not in love with me anymore; despite the fact that she is still quite dutiful, I fear that perhaps she doesn’t even know if she isn’t in love with me.

I wonder how much she keeps from me, and I am now growing into a constant state of questioning who she really is and what she does. And I do not like the worry. I do not like to mix love with worry, because they do not mix well. Still, how can I expect that she is not affected by these trips to see and fuck other women.

I feel as if my desire to scourge the earth for new women as lovers has been put on temporary hold. I have been so busy with things. The enthusiasm is still there, but I feel uncertain as to Mimi’s feelings. She has been such a source of strength to me and my sexual life. Her acceptance of my love for other women has been an impetus to my growing sense of “invincibility of purpose” in pursuing women. When I found out that she had slept with her old boyfriend, it took away my punch for a while. Instead of preoccupying myself with my pursuits, I was worrying about my status and her actions. I did not like the changeover. I do not want to be in that mode.

So I feel threatened by Jack’s apparent interest in her.

It crossed my mind that Amy might probably stay with me through all my pursuits but that she could not handle it if I became romantically involved with Amber.

That is another thing. I imagine that if I fucked Amber, she would consume me. I might actually fall deeply in love with her and want to spend all my time with her. Feelings are so funny. Nothing need be spoken but it is as if it is reality nonetheless. You can’t touch feelings, but it is as if you can. In this sense, I feel Amber very strongly. I feel that she is aware of me and that she is beginning to fall in love with me.

What is it, I wonder, that Jack feels. He seemed so sure before of the fact that he did not mind what I did with Amber. How must he feel now? I told him what transpired at the sink.

Amber went into the kitchen to wash the dishes the other night during a break in the movie. I went in and put my hand behind my back. I pushed my penis into her butt, though through clothing. She asked, “What are you doing?” I said, “I’m not doing anything.” And I kept at it. I smelled her hair and let my nose go amidst her fragrant black locks. I loved it, really. I felt that she did too, but that she was, in an obligatory way, trying to act as if she did not condone it. A few times I used my hands to touch her body, at which she would elbow me away. I looked at her stern eyes, then smiled at her and watched her look melt into charming and “vixen-ish” gaze.

The next day she had not mentioned this interlude to Jack and he and I talked. The major thing here was that her lack of confiding in him combined with what seems to be a readiness to like someone else (me) is a shock to Jack. Even though he had lost his feelings for her, I think he had always counted on her to still have feeling for him. He had estimated earlier that if I went after her, or even if she found out I slept around on Mimi, that Amber would not want to associate with me anymore.

Now it appears that she is much different than he had figured.

I guess I should not be surprised by the fact that Jack is not giddy over the realization. He told me that one of his fears is that she would fall in love with me and still refuse to divorce him.

I feel that as much as I want Amber, I would not want to have her at the risk of losing Jack’s friendship. But what is bothering me is this sense that that is not what the problem is. It feels like something else, though I cannot put my finger on it.

November 17, 1995
Tokyo Friday
[L]

I felt almost like a dread when I was on the plane. There is no question that part of it stemmed from sensing a complete melancholy in Jack over my interest in his wife. He is usually so happy and lively, and now he seemed short-tempered. Also, I felt a fear that Amy was not to be trusted and that she did not love me. My grand plans to form a life in which I can have a “houseful of women who will openly accept me fucking each of them with a rotating supply, in a love mode, not just sex” seemed all too dim. And physically I just felt awful.

November 18, 1995
Tokyo Saturday
[L]

I feel so light and happy suddenly. A long talk with the office, seems things are more or less getting on track. Made love with Haruka. She is the picture of sweetness. Looking forward to seeing Amy next week and Mei tomorrow. Looking forward to being on vacation. I talked a long time with Saeda, and I feel better about her. Amy told me she felt sad yesterday, that she loves me “too much” and that she is looking forward to wearing my ring again. All that made me happy, for I felt sad yesterday on the plane too. Even though Saeda said she needed five years before she could talk to me again and be my friend, still it was a resolving conversation; she admitted she told me she was happy to try to make me sad, since she “cared about” me. We laughed. For the 1st time since the abortion, we were like friends again. I still love her, so surprisingly. She said she has a boyfriend and they’ll marry, but she also said she is bored. Sexually, I don’t feel very horny, but that has a lot to do with the time change and lack of hard food. I think tonight I will be again.

RETROSPECTIVE… (Another diary entry same day….)

On train back to hotel. I am hot. Outside it is beautifully cool. I feel very strange physically, and I am even a bit worried about my physical condition. It is nothing wrong per se, but just that after I have a good meal, I feel as if my chest is full of a tension that I cannot explain. Certainly exercise, namely a good run, would make me better. Perhaps it is: too much sugar, too much caffeine. Could I try to live without either of them for three days and see how I feel.

I am much happier today than yesterday, as if some kind of tension is lifted. I talked with Saeda today for about 45 minutes. I agreed that it would be the last conversation for the next 5 years. It sounds strange to say that it was a happy conversation, but it was. I could write about it for a while but now I do not have time to get into it. I need time, more time, to write and to do nothing, really to do nothing at all, and to let my life expand around that lack of requirements. I hardly can breathe without thinking of some new detail to take care of.

November 19, 1995
Shanghai
[L]

I saw Mei tonight. She greeted me with a half dozen yellow roses. I was touched. She looks ravishing as usual. She really is pretty, any way you look at ait. I was actually a little tired out from sex from being with Haruka earlier in the day. Haruka was very sweet. She really means to please. I am frustrated with photography. Part of it is her refusal to pose for me.

November 20, 1995
Shanghai Monday
[L]

Today I went through some awful headtrips. I had studied my passport and got to thinking about the timing of Mimi’s affair on June 4th, the day (in Nepal time) I arrived back in Katmandu. I became upset and I called her. I questioned her and would not accept her answers. It was really awful. My pride had been re-injured as I focused on it.

November 21, 1995
Shanghai Tuesday
[L]

There is no question that the mere sight of Mei’s body turned me on greatly today. I was finally able to photograph her, although she hid her face from the lens, not wanting to be identifiable. She looked beautiful in the lens. I want to get her face in the photograph. Because yesterday she whined so much about my constant advances, I didn’t do much to advance on her. But in the mid-morning, she took off her panties and made love to me. Later, after the first few photographs, I wanted her again. She did not resist, and we made love again. When we went to bed, we made love and it was really nice. Afterward, I was surprised that I sensed that she wanted it again, as she lay against me resting while I watched late night TV.

I advanced on her in the dark, hovering over her. It was very, very exciting. I felt as if I was an intruder into a nubile princess’ desert tent, and she allowed the intrusion, encouraging me. I felt so big and strong and powerful, I really reveled in it. By the time I came, I felt like she was an older princess in medieval Europe, who was enjoying as she might from time to time, one of the guards (me). I felt large inside her, one of my arms wrapped around her burgeoning breasts. I was lifting up on them and pulling up on her hips, doing it from behind. Her body was arched and gave maximum pleasure to my penis, which, when it came, felt pumping my life into her. It was really an intense feeling of pleasure. During the afternoon and evening, she looked so sexy. When she takes off her robe, her breasts are just so large and her waist so small, it really is quite a delightful distinction.

November 22, 1995
Shanghai (later to Bangkok)
[L] [S]

A hundred years ago it was impossible to live the life I am living. Waking up in Shanghai with one (beautiful) woman and sleeping in Bangkok with another. Like today.

Mei is growing on me, truly. She is a rare beauty. Oddly, her face is fairly plain when she has no makeup, but somehow her face is perfect for being made up, and easily, with highlights, she becomes ravishing. Truly a rare beauty. Her breasts are very large, as the photos I have taken will show. I am so happy that I have some evidence of her beauty. I have an urge, when I see something really beautiful, to photograph it. I am rambling.

Her breasts are very large and her pelvic area very attractive, being thin, a high and delightful contrast from her upper body, so voluptuous. She is really gorgeous. Now I have found out that she is 22 years old, not 23, being born on the 11th of April 1973. Nearly 20 years after I! She says she wants to be my good wife, and I believe her and believe she would be a good wife. I asked her if she wants to have a baby with me and she said, breaking into a sun-filled smile, “A lot of babies!”

I think the mechanism at work in love has a lot to do with familiarity. At first with Amy I did not feel attached because she could not replace Joy. Later I felt attached to her, and even when I was with Mei for two days, I could not feel at home. Then yesterday, only three days with her, and I could detect this mechanism at work. You get used to a person and grow to be comfortable with them. This attachment is one of the factors in love.

I am so disappointed over Mimi. What a feeling of despair has arisen in me… again. I thought I was over it, but now I feel it again. It is a bad feeling, one as if something you love will never come again. I was so enchanted by the thought of faithful and steadfast and trustworthy Mimi. It enriched my feelings for her and I grew to love her after I returned from Everest in a way I had not loved her before.

Now part of me recognized the love I feel for her, yet part of me wants to run away from her, as if in doing so I will no longer entertain the wound I feel in my pride. That special happiness is gone with her, or at least that is how it feels. Somehow the thought of staying with her has attached to it the notion that I will have to endure the reminder. I listen to my friend Jack who appeals to my logical side – to stay with her because of all the wonderful things she brings to my life. But I also have a large component of heart in me, which feels that there is no percentage in considering rational things, but only beautiful things or the lack of them.

The plan is to see Amy in Bangkok tonight. It will be interesting to see how I react to being with her. My guess is that we will talk and I will feel better. I also wonder if part of what is bothering me is due to the fact that it is the first time since the news (on Oct 27) since I have been away from her, to have time to consider how I feel.

The dilemma is heightened by the fact that on top of her unfaithfulness, she wants to wear the ring. So I feel even more attached to the thing that makes me unhappy.

I don’t know what to do. When I first found out, I felt it robbed me of the power I felt gained by my summit of Mount Everest. I could not see my way out of it. Then, the day before yesterday, I remembered something. Just below the summit, on the final forty feet, when I knew I had made it, a thought came to me. “You are amongst the best of your breed.” This was my thought, but thought as if it came from Chomolungma herself, Mother Goddess of the Earth. (What! You think I am taking this all too seriously?) This thought was taken in the most open of spaces, with the most open mind, so that it filtered and penetrated through every cell of my being. It was not associated with pride, it was associated with being. I did not think that, I just felt that, I just took that then as a given. This is where the primeval essence overcame me and gave me newfound power.

When I remembered this, it changed my mind. Then I had found my way back to the seed of power.

So it no longer seemed pertinent to the power that Amy had once been unfaithful. That was after the fact, or more importantly, besides the fact and unrelated to it. This feeling of power was a deeply personal thing, which was not contained in any connection to others, perhaps other than my mother and mother’s mother, Gam.

So it did not matter, really. And now I am just healing. What Amy was to me was something earthly, and as such it was transient. What I felt on the mountain was something heavenly, and as such it is of a more lasting order.

There are no doubt many hardships and vicissitudes in life in all walks, and these I must face. The hardest things to face are those in which the loss seems great and irreplaceable. But they pass. Like Joy. When I lost her I felt it was the end of the world. Same with Joy [Mimi?]. These sorrows are born of attachment. Attachment should be tempered with preparation for detachment.

(continued November 25, 1995…. En route to Shanghai.)

I was a little afraid when I was writing the above that it sounded too much like I was trying to convince myself that everything was O.K. Actually, I later asked myself, “Do I really believe all that?” The answer was that I did. Happiness is so elusive. Feelings of happiness and sorrow are normally so relative and illogical. Ignorance is bliss, it is true. Innocence is bliss too, I think. Or at least it is beautiful.
(!!!)

Now I am taking off. I am glad I have a first class seat. What a treat, for I did not know I had it. I just left Mei a few minutes ago. She is truly beautiful, and I am happy. I hope she continues to learn English. She’s been doing great. O.K. Spill the beans. I am feeling happy, because I had a breakthrough (not a breakout!) today, of sorts anyway. After considerable cajoling I actually got a few nude shots of Mei showing, if not all, then part of her face. I cannot tell you diary of the immensity of her loveliness through the lens. It is a world apart, several magnitudes more lovely than any other nude I have witnessed through the lens. The best part is that after taking photographs of her, she said she wanted me “now” (she did not want to wait until I packed). I straddled her naked and awesome body and sat up, bringing my penis to her face. She said “No” and I said “Just one please” and so she said “One?” and I said “Yes,” and she gladly took it into her mouth, a few small kisses. She seems to be taking to that, if not like a fish to water, then at least with some noticeable lessening of discomfort each time.

Actually, to my pleasure and surprise, she is somewhat enthusiastic about it; for example yesterday morning she said she would kiss it, so I pulled down my pants on the bed and she leaned over and with gusto grabbed the whole side of my penis with her ample lips and created a vacuum, drawing her head back. Anyway, as I was saying, she kissed it. And I grew hard. I lay down on her (huge breasts) and then she took my dick in her hand and rubbed it against and into her pussy. She made a joke, asking if I did that (she meant to play with myself but I did not get it at first and said “Yes” and then she laughed and said, “Really?”, (and then I got the joke) and I said “No!” She put it inside of her and my hips became like a rhythm machine, smoothly pumping her, my arms around her shoulders, her arms around mine. We kissed and we fucked and just plain enjoyed it an awful lot. It was really good (9). Again, I felt like I was so strong and big and she was so beautiful, yielding. I imagined that she was a woman letting herself go, just enjoying my studliness. I felt her letting herself go. It just felt so good. I was going to come and felt it was a little too soon, but was going to let myself go anyway, when by natural course the sensation to come passed and we fucked a few more minutes, when it built up and I came inside of her.

We lay there for a moment. The light was coming in through the windows but I had had my eyes closed. I opened them to notice her face, her head flung back. I kissed a wet kiss on her neck and looked at my saliva glistening on the soft, smooth skin of her neck.

We hadn’t much time, so we got up, I packed; we went to United Vision for half an hour and then on to the airport. On the way she pointed out rooms for sale (like a condominium) and said they cost 100,000 yuan. She said that was expensive and I said it wasn’t. I told her that I wanted to buy one for her and me. She expressed how she’d be happy if I did. I really wanted to. That’s about $ 12,500. For that, I would be happy for her to have a room to stay in. I could stay there when I came, and I would enjoy knowing where she was. In fact, I would enjoy living with her as frequently as I could travel abroad.

Then it occurred to me that there was some light at the end of the tunnel in reference to my recently thought-out idea of having houses full of women. In fact, it might not be possible.

November 23, 1995
Bangkok
[L]

When Mei came back before noon we had lunch then I took photographs of her for a while. After she wanted to make love. It was really wonderful, a nice even hard pumping fuck that lasted and climaxed. When I got to Bangkok and met Mimi, she and I made love twice before dinner and once before going to bed. I felt horny and wanted her. She wanted it too. At dinner I had a 1/2 liter of beer but it didn’t seem to have an adverse effect on making love. Actually it made … [section missing]

The next thing that happened was that I flew to Bangkok and met Mimi. We had sex three times that night, but I was not really happy, because I was wondering after her one time affair in June and I was head-tripping about it. We had sex twice before dinner and once when we slept. In the morning we had sex first thing and then a ‘quicky’ just before boarding the plane to Saigon. After arranging the land rover with Ms. Dao, Amy and I had sex again in the room. All these times were good, smooth sexual experiences but I was not completely happy because I was still smarting from my wounded ego.

November 24, 1995
Saigon
[L]

We returned to the Hotel Continental to pay Ms. Dao and then walked outside. A pedi-cab driver pedaled alongside us and asked to take us around. Since there was only room for one, his friend took Amy and they pedaled us alongside one another down the street. We asked them to take us to a place where we could find a woman. We were brought to the Hotel Thai Binh.

The proprietor and assistant seemed motivated and called for a girl but she never showed up. In the meantime an extravagantly beautiful girl was hanging out in the lobby. Huang, the assistant, said that it was his girlfriend of three years but it later proved to be a false statement. She was not his girlfriend and he had only known her for two weeks. I asked her if she would come to Hanoi with us as a model and she said yea. I was thrilled. We agreed we would meet her the next day at 11 am.

Amy and I returned to our hotel but on the way we stopped at a bar where bar girls where visible. The hostess was a darling girl and I made arrangements to pick her up at midnight. There was some running around to find a hotel because there were only a few that were considered safe for this kind on activity. Ironically we ended up at the same hotel late at night and I saw Ms. Nguyen there again.

The first time I tried fucking Loan, the bar girl, Amy was there and I went through my usual dislike of condoms. With Amy caressing my bottom, I got the condom on and fucked this girl but I did not enjoy it. Amy became jealous and left the room. I thought about it and decided to fuck Loan without a condom because I knew that it would be worlds better. I felt at that moment that having sex with a condom on was like not having sex at all.

I was lying there and Loan was sort of interested in doing it again. I was overwhelmed with passion. I realized Amy was so upset, partially stemming from my talk about the shakiness of my feelings for her as a result of what she’d done in June. I went to the bathroom and came back out stopping to console Amy who lay on a couch in an outer room of the “suite” we were in. Amy told me to go back and be with Loan. I could not wait.

When I went back Loan turned me on and we fucked quietly and gloriously. I had this incredible feeling of power with the thought that I could come inside of her. I was like waiting, waiting for that glorious come. She rode me and I pumped her and it was delicious for me beyond my expectations. If at that moment all time would have stopped, I would have felt that I had resided permanently in heaven.

As fortunes go however, it was downhill after that. After fucking for a half hour or so, she rolled on her back and I continued to enjoy her. Although coming close to orgasm I missed it a few times and then my sexual desire waned. Now, keeping in mind that I had come seven times in the previous 30 hours, I suppose that was a contribution of being wasted. I had eaten two steaks in a period of five hours prior this interlude, so perhaps that also gave me strength.

RETROSPECTIVE… (Another diary entry same day….)
Amy and I picked up a bar girl named Loan and brought her to a hotel. I was hardly excited because I had to use a condom, but I fucked her. Amy was jealous by my fawning over her. Loan was terribly pretty, young and sweet. In the wee hours of the morning Amy left the room to an entry room with a couch. I had wanted to fuck this girl as she started to give me vibes. I was in a frenzy of desire. I went to the bathroom and came back and consoled Amy on my way to the bedroom. But I wanted intensely to get back to Loan.

When I went back into the room I had made the decision to fuck Loan without a condom. I wanted her so badly I could not resist. We began to fuck and it was intensely wonderful. I felt it was “one of the best experiences of my life” while we were doing it. I fucked her from the top first, and then she wanted to be on top. She moved rapidly and I didn’t like that as much as it was harder to control my position in her. Then she subsided and I continued to fuck her for a long time from the bottom, moving my hips continuously and smoothly. Finally she collapsed over to the side and I began to fuck her for a while from the top and then from her backside. During much of this I had an absolutely overwhelming and raw excitement at the thought of coming into her. I felt so masculine that I was going to impregnate her.

After she was on the bottom again, I came very close to coming and I felt what was a tinge of guilt that I might make her pregnant. I don’t know why I felt so, for after all, she was clearly a bargirl. (She was actually like a hostess there.) I then sensed she had had enough. I would guess we fucked for around 30 minutes. I lost my desire at that moment both through a combination of sensing she had enough and through being plumb worn out. I had come 7 times in the previous 30 hours, 6 with Amy (4 in Bangkok and 2 in Saigon). Maybe I had just not enough come in me to effect consummation. But, to the same level of intense sexual excitement and lust, I plummeted to a low of feeling an intellectual desire to finish but without any sexual energy. At first I slept but in the morning I tried to fuck her to no avail. I rubbed my dick against her and used my hand, but I did not get excited. I went out in the early morning to eat. Then later I wanted her. Amy had returned to the bed. We tried to get her clothes off again but she did not want to. When coaxing would no longer work Amy suggested that I just do it, so I removed her clothes. I pressed and rubbed myself against her but would not excite. Amy even sucked me but I would not harden. I was depleted completely. It was a horrible sensation to want and not respond. Finally we all gave up. My penis felt raw and unhappy.

November 25, 1995
Dalat Saturday
[L]

We were sleepy and fell asleep, but upon waking early in the morning I went out and had a bowl of soup for breakfast. It was about 6 a.m. When I went back I lay with Loan and I tried to press my penis against her but it was tired and did not get erect. Later I told Amy to join us. The mood had gone. Loan did not want sex again and it was getting late and I needed to get going. I tried to force it but it did not work. I pulled Loan’s shorts down again, but I was simply wasted and my body could not remember how exciting it was to be excited! I felt like shit about this, really. I wanted to have completed this completely lusty experience, but it appeared that it would not happen. We all took a taxi back and said goodbye to Loan.

The 4WD was there at our hotel as was Ms. Dao. We packed our bags and headed back to the Thai Binh hotel to pick up Nguyen. I was concerned that she would not be there but in fact she was there and seemed prepared to be a model.

I was in heaven, after a fashion, and I began refocusing on the possibilities of the coming night, though with some concern because I was not feeling up to anything sexual. I felt oddly distanced from my sexual feelings, as a result of not coming and trying too hard (and perhaps lack of sleep). During the course of the day, she seemed to really warm up to us, especially Mimi. When we arrived at the hotel in Dalat, we three took a room together. Amy told me that she asked Nguyen if she would fuck me and she indicated she would. We went and had a very good dinner. Because I felt so uptight, I decided to have a beer. Amy questioned this, noting that a beer detracts from my sexual stamina. I reminded her of how well the beer affected me in Bangkok, for afterwards, on our third fuck of the evening and the fourth of the day, I had been particularly hard, long and smooth. She had to agree.

When we went to bed, I tried to grab Nguyen (N) but she didn’t want to be close. But Amy took her in her arms where she seemed very contented. They began making out and I lay close to them but not involved. Eventually we took off her panties and I was very mentally excited by the situation but not feeling sexual. My penis was against her vagina and Amy and her were panting. She lay on her back with her legs outspread, in a perfect position for me to penetrate her. I was not excited and I felt sort of left out, because although she was prone for me, she and Amy were paying all their attention to each other. Then N grabbed my penis and tried to rub it into her vagina but still I was not excited. I was very frustrated at my complete loss of excitement at so crucial a time. When the excitement between them had died (I assume they both had a climax), N removed herself from the middle of us. She made a phone call. Amy and I started to make love, and then we signaled her to get off the phone. She complied but by the time I removed the panties she had put back on, I was not excited again. I licked her pussy for a moment and she was luscious. I just did not feel in the mood though.

I turned her on her stomach and her nice ass and back were there for me. How horridly cruel for my body to quit on me at that time. N lost interest quickly, but not before one last ditch effort in which she helped my penis to the mouth of her vagina. Still nothing.

I was torn over whether to even make love to Mimi, for fear that I might take away any last morsel of sexual power that might be used in whatever imminent opportunity with N might await me. I talked with Mimi, then we had sex and I came inside her.

RETROSPECTIVE… (Another diary entry same day….)
By evening sexual energy had built. I was concerned about how I felt, so depleted and depressed that I did not consummate that incredible experience of the night before, and considering what risk I had put myself to in order to chance the orgasm I did not gain. I had a beer at dinner, Amy warned me how it lessened my sexual appetite. I reminded her that in Bangkok after a beer it actually seemed to enhance my sexual prowess. She agreed. When we went to the room, the three of us lay there. Amy seduced the girl and they were panting. We were in a wonderful position, I on my side, Ms. Nguyen between us with her legs spread open, lying on her back. Amy was on her side and my knee was against her pussy. Ms. Nguyen was grasping my penis and trying to shove it into her – at that moment Ms. Nguyen seemed the most beautiful woman I could imagine. Amy and I started to fuck while Ms. Nguyen was on the phone. We told her to get off and she did. I fucked Amy and came, which was therapeutic, and I slept.

November 26, 1995
Nha Trang, Vietnam Sunday
[L]

Today was a terrible disappointment.

In the morning, Amy and I had sex again before Ms. Nguyen woke up. I felt a little better.

I went for a run, we had breakfast, we went with Ms. Nguyen to the market, where she bought a bunch of clothing for her three-year old daughter, and then returned to the room. I photographed N, first with her shirt on, then with her shirt off holding her breasts and finally with her breasts bare. She was really beautiful in the photographs, but the photographs were not artful.

The day was delightful. We drove to Nha Trang on the coast, arriving at about 9 p.m. The drive was sexy, as N was a constant source to touch and fondle, while she played coy, refusing in a teasing way. On the final miles into Nha Trang in the dark, she lay for a long time in my arms, and Amy sat on my other side. I was in ecstasy. On one side such a wonderful girlfriend as Amy and in my arms the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I talked with Amy about how I loved her and Ms. Nguyen both. I said I dreamed of living with them both, of both of them having my babies. I told Amy how Ms. Nguyen was the perfect blend of woman to co-habitate with us. Amy felt threatened, but I reassured her in a two or three hour conversation.

Diary, I cannot impress upon you the euphoria I felt on this drive. Based on the behavior of N, Amy and I both concluded that tonight would be a night of passionate lovemaking. We were all worked up. I had looked after my diet and I felt primed for love. Everything seemed perfect.

This lasted up until the moment we checked into the Grand Hotel. Mimi, Ms. Nguyen and I went to look at the room. When we went down the stairs, Ms. Nguyen and I raced, finishing the last flight hand in hand like two teen lovers. Mr. Duc, the driver, and Ms. Nguyen exchanged words in Vietnamese at the reception desk. She turned to me and said that she would stay in his room and Amy and I in ours. I took it to mean that this was to be done for appearance’s sake and I agreed. Shortly after, she gave me the high sign that she would come to our room later.

We all went out to eat. I felt uncomfortable at this seemingly minor twist to the situation. At dinner Duc said she wanted to go to the market after dinner for one hour. She said Amy and I could sleep and she would come to our room later. I expressed my disapproval. At the Hotel, she convinced me that she would go see her friend and Amy would come with her. Duc took them and they returned an hour later. Ms. Nguyen came to the room and said she was afraid to stay with us as the police would come and break the door in and arrest her. Then she agreed to stay, as I expressed my dismay. The night was a disaster. She played the role of an innocent, wondering why I wanted to photograph her, and stating her objection to having sex. It was such a turnaround that Amy and I were both shocked and suspicious. Still we took pity on her and played up to her, trying as we might to explain our affection for her with sincerity. Ms. Nguyen acted bratty. Amy lay down on the other bed. We lay back. She said she was sorry. After awhile, she left. I went over to Amy and we made love. I fucked her hard, all the energy building up over the course of the day.

November 27, 1995
Buon Ma Thout, Vietnam Monday
[L] [A] [E]

In the morning Amy and I made love again. Then Ms. Nguyen came to the room. She stayed a few minutes then came back again. I was taking nude pictures of Amy while she stood looking out of the picturesque window of the room. Ms. Nguyen posed (with nude Mimi) with her clothes on. Ms. Nguyen pretended she was going to crawl out of the window. Needless to say she was making me more and more nervous.

Amy and I decided to part company with Ms. Nguyen, but when Ms. Nguyen announced she was parting company with us, I felt truly bad. She was obviously a charlatan, but still she was desirable as a lover. I felt the situation slipping away from me and I was perplexed and felt helpless to stop it. N had made comments about my nude photography of her, and I feared she was like a loose cannon: I thought she could say anything. Somehow I felt I was under her control, and I did not like it. N came to say goodbye. She ‘helped’ me pack my clothes that later Amy and I had decided was merely a pretense to look through my things. When she left I felt tremendous loss. Ms. Nguyen watered her eyes, subtly wiping one eye so that I would notice. I paid her for 2 1/2 days ($125). She wasn’t happy that I did not pay her for three days.

About thirty minutes later, as we were leaving the hotel, Duc asked about where my CD player was. I had entrusted it to him last night. He indicated he had left it in my or his room. It became apparent that N was guilty of stealing it.

We searched the airport where she said she was going, but in actuality there was no flight that day. We drove on to Buon Ma Thout. It was a drive filled with uncertainty and self-questioning. N had the power to make me doubt myself in the face of her obvious deceit.

We drove much of the way in the dark. Amy and I had sex in the back seat of the car. This was interrupted when I misunderstood a comment she made about the dark cloth (which we had laid over us) falling. Later after a roadside cup of coffee, and a talk, we resumed having sex. The position was cumbersome, but I was terribly turned on. My climax was intense and one of those leaving my entire being in a state of relaxed bliss.

That night we had difficulty finding a hotel room in BMT. We found a dirty and depressing place to stay, but Amy and I both preferred to sleep in the land rover, and so we did. Before sleeping, we made passionate love again.

RETROSPECTIVE… (Another diary entry same day….)
I was horny today. I attribute it to no alcohol, to riding in a bumpy car, to having nothing much to do and with the release from all the tension with Ms. Nguyen. In the car Amy and I fucked while we were going down the road. It was really delicious. Also Amy had not used soap on her pussy for a day and a half and I found it wonderful. At the end of the night I licked her pussy and it was terribly exciting. She loved it too. In talking with her about it I found that she customarily washes her pussy with soap. This attributes to the fact that I always thought her pussy smell was not tasteful. In fact I am so pleased to know that her smell is superb. So she is now encouraged by me to wash with water only.

Judith once told me a woman should not wash her pussy with soap. The natural smell to me is an amazing aphrodisiac. The constant smell around me can keep me at a heightened state of horniness all day long. On another note, I suffered today feeling the loss of Ms. Nguyen, however much she made me uncomfortable. This morning, she stole my CD player and left peremptorily. I regretted it even though Amy and I already had decided to have her leave. I missed many things, but most of all kicked myself for my failure to fuck her. In the later part of the day I came to terms with it. I concluded that my own sexual insecurity has caused me to allow myself to be manipulated by women such as Ms. Nguyen. Happily, I realized after all these years that I am simply quite healthy sexually, a virile man, and I do not need to prove this to anyone and no longer needed to prove this to myself. Sometimes a situation does not turn me on, and I have highs and lows. Amy put it like this: it is a woman’s loss if I don’t fuck her.

November 28, 1995
Pleiku, Vietnam Tuesday
[L] [A]

In the car Amy and I tried to fuck. At first it was good but later I was too uncomfortable to finish. In the room, she was frustrated visibly for the first time since I knew her. Then later we had good sex.

My penis is burning since the last time that I urinated just a few minutes ago. It is definitely burning but it seems too soon after fucking Loan that I should have gonorrhea, but I am bummed if that is so. In a few minutes when it gets darker Amy and I will fuck, I feel that it will take away this feeling. Once before in Korea I freaked out imagining the same sensation after fucking a girl. I am not sure whether I had anything or not because I got a shot of penicillin right afterwards.

Even despite that I am a bit bummed out, although at the same time I am happy as well. I have only made notations in my spreadsheet on my sexual activities and have not written any journal entries on what has been going on.

RETROSPECTIVE… (Another diary entry same day….)

We awoke fairly early and picked up two local women as guides. We went out to Buon Don. I thought it was going to be interesting but it was ordinary, all save for one old house that proved worthwhile. I took photographs of the women of the house. We all lay around on the hardwood floor. The house was raised on stilts. I think I got some good shots. We drive back to BMT and then left for Pleiku about 4 p.m. On the way, Amy and I tried to make love again. It was very sexy for a while, but it was not a repeat of the previous evening. I did not come and I was frustrated afterwards. We tried again but it was too awkward to move and we ended up in Pleiku both feeling frustrated.

We went to our room and made love. I was loving it but she became frustrated just before my climax. We lay there and argued. It was depressing. Finally, later, we consummated all the frustrating experiences with a rather erotic one. She licked my anus for the first time. We both had good orgasms.

(Starting back in Shanghai, my experiences with Mei were really good. See, I should be thankful, but I tend to look at the latest thing that has gone wrong rather than looking at the latest thing that has gone right. The last day I was with Mei we had a good fuck after I took photographs of her. I was really delighted by her body, by her big tits and slim waist. I could lay on top of her and feel her buxom chest against mine and feel my hard cock slamming into her. It was smooth and good. The night before our sex was excellent as well, really excellent and lustful. Now remember the first time I had sex with Mei. It was O.K. for a first time for me, but I was less than satisfied by my “performance.”)

November 29, 1995
Danang (written about Tuesday in Pleiku)
[L] [A] [E]

(Written En route to Danang)
We are driving down the road to the north to Danang. I am really not happy, but not too sad as to be unbearable. I was so euphoric over being “in love” with N, and now she is gone and Amy and I left to our own devices. I am bored. The weather is depressing, rainy. The memories left by the Vietnam War are depressing. Amy is hurt by my preoccupation with N. And I feel that she will never come again into my life, neither as herself nor as anyone so beautiful. I was feeling blessed, for I had been fantasizing about being with a stunning woman, and then there she was, laying prone for me to fuck. I know the lack of response is understandable, given the over-activity of the previous 48 hours, lack of sleep, etc. But I am feeling pitiful. Amy and I argue more than usual. It seems that I am doomed. Even beautiful girls seem ordinary compared to N. For example, I would normally consider Loan about the cutest thing imaginable, yet she was plain in comparison. I feel destitute. Still I know it is silly to torment myself. I cannot do anything about it. If she had cared about me even a little, she had it within her power to make love with me the next night. There is so much mystery surrounding her leaving, I feel unsettled. Amy is jealous and thus it is difficult to tell Amy about how I feel.

M seems so plain to me. I love her, but she seems unexciting. I feel that her transgression is depressing me, no matter how I try to avoid letting it affect me. Essentially, I am in an unhappy circumstance, and I do not know what to do. And Amy senses how infatuated I was with N and it hurts her, but what can I do?

Vietnam is depressing. The people are very poor. This in itself is not necessarily depressing, but it is compounded to know of the atrocities we inflicted on the civilians here (130,000 dead per month, according to my book).

So what can I do? On top of all my dissatisfactions, I am concerned that I have slept with Loan unprotected, exposing myself to gonorrhea or worse. I wonder at my own motivations, at why I do what I do, at why my life is so schizophrenic. At my incompetence in achieving a reasonable level of stability in my love life, my inability to get what I want. I look to my dream: to have a relationship with two women at once. I want to fuck them constantly, yet not have to worry about disease or serious problems with jealousy. I was so happy two days ago, thinking I had found someone to share this with (N). Now I feel destitute. Of course, this feeling must improve, albeit if only temporarily. Why can’t I be carefree? Why can’t I bring myself to just enjoy the freedom I have?

Maybe tonight in Danang I can find a replacement for N who can travel with us. Surely this would make me feel better.

Part of my unhappiness is because Amy seems unhappy traveling. She told me last night that she is uninterested to return to Vietnam or other such countries. I am disturbed by the sense that Amy is not the woman I thought she was. Still I know she is about as good as they get. Still yet, I know beyond any doubt I need a young slender and exceptionally beautiful lover in my life. Where will I find her? And how can I keep Amya at the same time?

November 30, 1995
Danang (to Hue and return) Thursday
[L] [A]

The most wondrous things are hidden.
(!!!)

The weather is wet. The road is bumpy. Last night we slept in Danang, in a depressing room underneath a mosquito net. The mosquitoes got in and we had to battle them. The road trip is monotonous, so we decided to fly tomorrow from Danang to Hanoi. That will give us two nights in Hanoi, a chance to relax and see the city a little before flying to Bangkok on Sunday. Our driver, Duc, would obviously be disappointed if he could not go to Hanoi, so we bought him a ticket for the airplane round trip to Hanoi. It is only $75 for him. He’s never been there before. Today we are going to Hue, from all accounts the most interesting city on our itinerary.

This morning before we left, I discovered that my changing tent was missing (after making a comment a few days ago that I would really be screwed if I lost it). This trip is kind of depressing in that regard. N stole my CD player and a small flashlight, plus Mimi’s lipstick and eye makeup. Now my changing bag is gone. If someone stole it, then I guess they are in for a real disappointment, as it isn’t useful unless you need to change film.

December 1995

Friday December 1, 1995
Hanoi
[L]

We had a lot of sex and the sex was good.

December 1, 1995
Danang Airport, Vietnam
[L]

I am still unsettled about Ms. Nguyen (new spelling), but I feel better about myself. Amy and I talked about it last night. Why wasn’t I excited? Amy pointed out that regardless of the context of the situation (that is, late night the night before, beer or no beer), if she had come on to me and been sweet, I would have gotten excited. If I had been in a different frame of mind and body I might have felt more aggressive and it would not have mattered to me as much whether she was paying attention to me or not. It may sound hard to believe that I felt left out with two women there and Ms. Nguyen holding my cock against her pussy, but I felt that she was paying all her attention to Amy and other than that hand, virtually none to me. I felt like it was Amy who was turning her on. Granted, I think that in most states of mind and body, I would have nevertheless been extremely turned on. But sex is weird that way; it is kind of unpredictable. It is easy for me to sit here and say that I would have been, but there may have been a reason why that is not apparent to me at a distance. I know I was in a bad state.

Hanoi 9 p.m.
The tip of my penis feels uncomfortable, but I don’t know that it may not be psychological.

Hanoi is delightful. I am happy to be here, although I am not happy. My heart is hurting, and this whole thing about Nguyen is ridiculous! How can I feel anything for her? I have been thinking that I am unhappy because I did not fuck her. As Amy suggests, maybe my ego is bruised a little. But now I am remembering and have different concepts come to mind. For example, I felt I was in love with her ¬¬¬ – no, I was in love with her, most definitely. Something else. I was also in love with two women at once in the same car, at the same time, and I was in love with the way it made me feel. As we rode down the road, I was blissfully happy (albeit expectant about the coming evening in Nha Trang). I had them each in my arms. For the first time I had a feeling as if this was the feeling I needed and wanted. I cannot describe my elation nor my corresponding sadness on losing it. I kick myself and wonder what led to the strange behavior of Nguyen.

This afternoon Amy and I peered with wonder at the shops outside our hotel. There was an old worldliness about the atmosphere, dazzling dressed with gold lamé, multicolored flags, stained stools and lacquered boxes, and sundry articles to fill in one’s imagination. We walked around the lake in the center of town. A group of eight twenty year-old university girls asked us if we would take their photo with their camera. After doing so, we were invited to share their little party with them. They were charming, virgins, every last one of them, I would guess.

During the course of the conversation, I tauntingly asked them what they all talked about with each other. One of them honestly said “love.” Before we said goodbye two hours later, Amy gave them hugs and I felt a natural hesitancy to do so despite Mimi’s encouragement. When I did so, one was shy. One beautiful stocky one held fast to me. They told us that in Vietnam it is difficult to kiss someone. Amy and I looked at each other. One more piece of the Nguyen puzzle. Amy had told me earlier that they did not kiss at all. When I kissed Nguyen she seemed so hesitant. But she did kiss me. In Dalat, in the morning before we left the room, I French-kissed her for a minute, running my tongue in hers. It was one of the most delightful kisses of my life.

I was in love, there is no doubt. I cannot expect my heart to judge her merits as a person. I was induced to write her off as a whore and a thief. Yet how so blind could I have been?: in the ride to Nha Trang, I announced to Amy “the girl had a heart.” I felt that, I really did. Yet what kind of heart did she have?

Nguyen sang songs on the way to Nha Trang. I was spellbound watching her from below and behind, crouched down in my seat leaning over behind her, propped forward, her arms on the driver’s seat. Her songs, I imagined, were mountain songs. They were so beautiful that I remember a tune just now as I write. Mm-mmmmmmm-mm-mmm. Can you, myself reading this years later, hear the tune as clearly then as I now?

The sound of the evening street below filters up the balcony and into our second story room, through the windowed doors, ironwork over the windows. The rumble of motorcycles. Distant voices. I am in touch with my heart. I wonder, in my wildest imagination. Over time I have concluded over and again, or rather I have observed and speculated that in matters of love feelings are often reciprocal, likes mutual ghosts that haunt both involved. Sometimes the feeling is felt by one and the other person knows of it. Sometimes the pain one feels is felt throughout. Sometimes I hurt only because I know the other person is hurting. So much of the time I feel there is telepathy in love. I wonder is it power I feel or is it only imagination, but I do feel that I can feel others from a distance. It seems “distance insensitive” in that it doesn’t really matter how far someone is. Maybe it is only my reasonable assessment of what the situation may be…In any event, I wonder in my wildest fantasies if in some way, in however minute a way, the experience has left Nguyen wondering too. Has she forgotten? Does she only feel satisfaction on completing one “job” only to move on to the next? Or did she fall in love with me?
[!!! Above paragraph]

Amy stretches out on the bed next to me. She is naked from the waist down, with a black cotton top on top. She reads about Vietnam. Two days ago she told me she would never come back here again. Now she says she will come to the north. During the course of my writing, she rearranged the bedroom, pushing the two beds together. She is very meticulous about her sleeping place. I love that quality. How small a thing to appreciate, but I do love the way she wants her pillow arrangement and the sheets have to be square. She builds a nest.

I have built a prison for myself, it feels like. It is as if I am punishing myself for failure to make the most of a situation. As if the key to getting out is to do some fantastic thing that will make it O.K. again!

But is it really necessary to do this? Realizing this, can’t I metaphorically liberate myself from my self-made bonds? I really want to. But I am truly, truly sad about not loving her, not keeping her. I consider to go back to Saigon.

December 2, 1995
Hanoi, Vietnam Saturday
[L]

I tried to fuck an ugly whore and could not get excited. I am glad I did not fuck her but I put myself at risk by rubbing my penis against her pussy. I feel stupid. Yet making love with Amy was good. She licked my anus again and it felt good while she did it but I felt bad afterwards. The experience did not make me feel good overall.

December 3, 1995
Bangkok Sunday
[L]

I felt bitter towards Amy today and she blew up at me a couple of hours later. It was surprising and just another unhappy event. I had two beers tonight and it seemed to affect my ability to come. The sex was not as good.
Hanoi in morning

I feel so stupid you cannot imagine.

Feeling cheated in love feels so sweet., because it is a fantasy where everything is designed to make you feel like everything is O.K.

I feel over Ms. Nguyen (her new name = Ms. Nguyen). Yesterday I realized that basically, she did not want me. So what do I care?

My writing is poor, I cannot find a “voice”. I am apathetic about everything at the moment. Let me get to the point.

Last night I went out late at night by cyclo to a whore hotel. They presented a nice looking woman but she was tall so I asked for a small woman. The girl they gave me looked strange and sickly. We went to the room by a flight of dirty wooden stairs. It was really depressing. I thought I would get excited but I did not – I felt awful and foolish. I washed and left and came back to Mimi. I told her what had transpired. Amy and I made love and it was intense and good. I was amazed at how it was like magic that Amy could excite me so strongly while the other did nothing. I summed it up like this: there was no reason not to be excited (with Mimi). I think that is a good way to describe under what circumstances I am aroused. In the other circumstance there were all sorts of reasons not to be excited.

December 4, 1995
Waiting lounge for Hong Kong/Shanghai at Bangkok Airport 1130 p.m.
Shanghai Monday
[S] [L]

To my dear friend ______,

Right now, for whatever reason, I cannot see the light and happiness. All I see seems so futile. For example, I see so much human effort being applied, but to what end? It seems that the results of all of our work is transient. Some seems nobler than other. The creation of art seems more noble than the exchange of money. The cultivation of neat rows of grain seems a more palatable result of labor than the production of a car. The building of a thing of beauty seems so much more worthwhile than the creation of things with money as a directive factor, even though all things turn to dust. For our children, it would be better to leave a world that was “clean” than one with the garbage of our ill-thought-out plans. One of the things I find depressing is that the trend seems to be towards money as a motivating factor, towards things that are ill-thought-out over things that are planned well, towards being driven by stupidity than by intelligent thinking. I am willing to accept transience, because there is no way to create permanence. But I find it hard to accept what I see around me.

It is important to me to find a direction for myself, for I am struggling with “what to do next.” I am terribly dissatisfied. It is not only with “progress” but also with myself. I see my own hypocrisy, my dishonesty and my own poor planning. I see my weaknesses and my inconsistencies. I long to look at a world that can bring me hope and new-found inspiration, but I look around with despair. The “new world order” does not stimulate me but fills me full of dread and fear. This is what I see: homogenous thinking for things that deserve diversity (such as laws about sex) and lack of concord on subjects that merit and require singular-ness of purpose (such as laws banning the use of internal combustion engines as an energy source). I see proliferation of things that should die out (such as the use of plastic non-biodegradable packaging) in lieu of intelligent substitutes (packaging made from “regeneratable” plant matter), and this proliferation occurring for the wrong reasons (desire for more efficiency so we can “go faster”) rather than for the right ones (an axiomatic improvement in the quality of life).

I fear that I am as guilty and helpless to this process as how I see others [are]. In my own business, for example, I tend to want more and more business. I make decisions because they are expedient, and this entire process is down under extreme pressure from the outside (from customers and from regulatory and financial institutions). I wonder: “How can I reverse this process? What is the essence of intelligent effort?” “What is worthwhile industry?” “What is worth doing? How can I influence the gargantuan direction of mankind to a better place?”

In my dreams this is what I see: I see ‘progress’ based on the best qualities of past civilization. One of the qualities is Serenity. Serenity is something everybody needs and wants at varying times, and it should be available. This calls for the elimination of unwanted noise and it spells the direction for the future. Substitute quiet power for noisy power, such as electric cars for gas-driven ones. There are countless discoveries yet to be made which can provide quiet planes, trains, etc. This also brings up the subject of music. What a delight music is. But when one person listens and ten others must listen because the sound carries; this is pollution, not delight. An example of a solution is to create amplified music that only carries on a frequency of the listener. I want a society where I am not inundated with the sound and smell of engines and the sounds of amplified music. Calls for prayer used to be done by a crier from atop the mosque; what a beautiful sound that must have been. Now it is done by loudspeaker. There is a tinny edge to it. How else could it be but that the mosque must only be for fewer people; otherwise how can it be natural and still [be] functional?

Yet these suggestions I am making are only a compromise from my true position. When I look at the monitor on the plane, I am sickened by the sight of our president, by the flashiness of the screen, by the effects, by the overwhelming number of the masses clamoring for more, for the latest, to be better, to achieve. I am not sickened by diversity, no, this is the wonder of nature. But I am ill by the direction being taken, by the propensity of mankind towards wanting, swarming, getting. What I would like is to see people live in a way that can be perpetuated, maintain a beautiful and serene profile, with beauty as the criteria for development.

I am convinced in the ultimate passing of everything. (‘All things must pass.’) As I look to the world, I cannot see any axiomatic reason for one course of action over the other, other than the pursuit of survival. It renders all institutions as futile, all works of man as transient. It means that all of our institutions will pass away, as will this writing. I have pondered this point many years and I cannot see any reason to take too great a stake in anything manmade. Then I look around to find something to believe in. But I cannot believe in progress. I look at my own existence, wherein I think more than most I am a recipient of technology gains. I write on a laptop, I have a home computer, I have a car phone, etc. They do not make me happier. What is man’s fascination with these toys? We are fascinated and yet we do not become happier. Then I look at what makes me happy. Sitting on a natural floor, a cool place, with company and the smell of food coming up from the kitchen. Time to reflect and to walk and to stop and talk. Visible sincerity in others. Encouragement. Belief in others. Seeing nature at work.

If nothing I do makes a difference, then what should I do with my life? The conclusion I came to before and which still seems worthy is a simple one: I should try to make my life as good as possible.

Then, in the early stages of this pursuit, I am struck by a dilemma. The problem comes in that in order to make my life better, I am at the very outset thwarted by the conventions of the human world. So many of my need come from dependence on others. So if there willingness is not there, if there are roadblocks, then I cannot go further. A case in point is that I want nothing more than to spend my days fucking nice girls and enjoying good food in a simple environment while taking photographs of them. It is so difficult to achieve. The first barrier is that girls want me for themselves. So I generally have to lie in order to maintain more than one relationship at a time. This is self-defeating, for this hypocrisy is ruining my happiness. Secondly, there are attitudes against this kind of lifestyle. There are pornography laws that prohibit taking nude photographs, as such photographs have been “given a bad name” in so many places. Even something as simple as a nice environment is very difficult to achieve. Either environments tend to be prohibitively expensive, or they are very backward. Backward places will not tolerate the lifestyle I want to achieve. I could become an African or live elsewhere that allows polygamy. (I should talk to the police or an attorney about what the bigamy laws actually prohibit.)

It seems I cannot get satisfaction. I do not know where to turn, but I think it is safe to say that I need a change and I need a drastic one. Where and how I live is not satisfactory. Perhaps I should go and live in a nudist colony. There I can feel at peace as far as being nude and seeing young women. However, I can see that the immediate drawback is that it is only a partial satisfaction and, in that, it is no satisfaction at all. For I want more than that. I want to be surrounded by young loving women, not just to have them to look at. I wonder, if I could fuck any girl I wanted, would I be jealous? Would I have to feel like I was their exclusive lover?

I am in a dilemma. For how can I improve my existence without making a change? I want to live differently, but I feel more and more that I am being sucked up by the society that clothes and feeds me. People may look at my life and feel that I am most fortunate to have the freedoms that I have, but in actuality, it is like a major responsibility to seek out a better life. I want to wander, but want in the process to be loved by women. Maybe I should embark on a ten-year program to see the rest of the world that I have not yet seen. Considering this process, it would be great if done the right way and frustrating if done too quickly. There are about 200 places left to see. Ten more years traveling amount to about two weeks in each place. This would be a nice pursuit, if only because I would be excited to see different places. It would inspire me. But I do not want to spend my time in boring trains. I wish I could do this type of trip without having to rely on the types of transportation that I already find objectionable. Cars driven by others. Planes and airports to contend with others. Train rides with no mobility. What would be preferable? Riding down a river on a raft. Walking anywhere with a light pack (and a porter for my camera?). Ballooning. Sailboat. Sailboat. Sailboat. Horse. Camel. Elephant. I must outline.

I want to be in a European chateau, large, with unusual and beautiful grounds. I want to have ten absolutely gorgeous and liberal models there for a quarter of a year or a year whom I can photograph. The chateau should be bordering the ocean where the beach is inaccessible. I want to have a listing of all the laws of the different states of the world regarding nudity, sexual freedom, polygamy/bigamy, statutory rape.

I want to be in an African village where I have wives whom are unafraid of being photographed in the nude and where such photography is legal.

I want to have ten Polynesian wives on an island uninhabited by anyone else, where my house is natural. They know how to cook, and they take care of the daily chores, and I can photograph them.

I am so ignorant of the laws of the world and the possibilities there are for me to achieve such dreams. I am so foolish to have risked my life in Vietnam by sleeping with whores without a condom. I have let my despair rule me. I am foolish in doing so.

I called my Grandmother today. She is my best and only true, true friend. Speaking with her was so lovely. I cried at her encouragement. When we got off the telephone, she told me that she was going to have to concentrate on the thought of bathing me in sunshine. She is the only person in the world whom I can fully trust, the only one who will not let me down ever. I wish I can have enough money to have a big house with two lovely nurses and a cook. The house would be arranged so that Gammy would have her own private quarters and so would I. Yet the dining area and living area would be common so that we could share our meals together.

I have dwelled for weeks about the one incident in which Amy was untrue to me. I don’t know why it has affected me so deeply. I am hurt on so many levels, it is difficult to explain it. Most of them have to do with the mountain (Everest). For example, I wore the scarf she gave to me to the top of the mountain. I was so proud for her. I wore the scarf almost continuously until I got home. But then to realize how angry she was at me, how she imagined I was with Laura and sought comfort in her old boyfriend’s bed, this hurts so much. Most of all, it hurts because I truly believed in Amy almost like I believe in Gammy. I really loved Amy for her protests of fidelity, for the feeling that, as she said, I never had to worry about her running off.

The greatest loss is losing this impression of her. I am devastated by this. It is almost entirely a problem of symbolism rather than the actual act itself. Then I wonder: what kind of man am I? Why is it other men can have a woman that is faithful and I cannot? Why is it that there are so many lovely beautiful women in the world, but not one can I rely on? The other main, main thing that is troubling me is that I feel that I have lost that happiness with Amy forever. I grew to love Amy for her steadfastness. I looked at her and said Hey, this woman really loves me, I am so lucky. It turns out that I wasn’t as lucky as I thought. If I could just feel the pain of it once, it would not be so bad. But I am facing what seems like one of two alternatives, both of which are unpalatable: one is to leave her, the other is to stay with her and face this pain. Leaving her seems cruel to her and to me. I really believe she loves me and I really believe I love her. The thought of not having her there for me feels so sad. I want her to have our children, and yet this legacy will always be with us, and I feel now that I will always be sad with her. I do not know what to do. I am quite sure that people like Cappa (my friend) and Mom would advise me to forget her transgression, mostly if for no other reason than for my own transgressions against her which she so graciously accepts. But I cannot deny my heart. I want to have children by many women. My life seems to be skipping away from me. I don’t know where to go, what to do to stop this aching, to feel satisfaction.

I have been complaining to Amy that her act has ruined that beautiful feeling of exaltation I felt after reaching Mount Everest’s summit. Deep down inside of myself I wonder how this could be so. For the achievement was absolute. It is no different an achievement because of what someone else did. I sense that this must be so, but why does it seem as if the high I was on has disappeared so suddenly and completely? I also sense that even if Amy had done nothing, I would feel bad as well, for the things that are bothering me are much greater than her transgression.

Even my overwhelming pain at the event troubles me with respect to my own self-image. I do not know what is the valid philosophy to have. I mean to say: how can I allow myself so many freedoms and yet be so bothered by what she has done, which, in comparison, is a minute and almost invisible, while somewhat understandable, reaction?

So you see, my dear friend, I am compromised on many points. My sentimentality has been hurt. My sense of philosophy has been questioned and challenged. My primitive territoriality has been attacked and taken. I don’t know what to do. I cannot wait to talk to you so that you may shed some light on the subject.

In the meantime, I am lost as to what to do. I am tired of being lost. My life needs a new direction. I am not sure how long I will live, but I feel the need to have a known direction, so that I can reflect on it and build. I have suggested above a series of dreams that I would find satisfactory. But I do not have a plan. Let us see if I can think of something.

Items to consider:
Stay with Amy or break up.
Travel to every country in the world in a fixed number of years or just take it a country at a time.
Find a new girlfriend or just stick with the one I have.
Be a one-woman man or….
Finish the Seven Summits.
Continuing to try to get great models and places to photograph them.
Hiring a personal secretary.
Changing residences to one that is larger.
Taking a personal bonus to help me change residences.
Continuing to try to buy 237 Western Drive.

December 5, 1995
Shanghai Tuesday
[L] [S]

Since I worked out today and lived clean, ate well, by the time that Laura came home to the room at the Garden, I was pretty horny. I like thinking about a woman, contemplating how I’ll seduce her. After she got there, I seduced her. I really enjoyed fucking her. I imagined she was my _____ and I had taken her away on a trip.
Dear Friend:

I wrote to you yesterday feeling so bad, but today I am much better. I am still recovering from all the pain of the last week. Thank God I wrote down how I felt right after Everest, otherwise I wonder how I would find my way out of this terrible mood that has plagued me. I think it will take a few days to feel whole again. I miss Amy and I miss my grandmother and work. I feel so strange being abroad when all I really want is to be home. I am not looking forward to being with Laura or Haruka, and I feel somewhat embarrassed by my preoccupation with lovemaking, the folly of it all.

I am referring to the writing I have reviewed. It seems that it serves some purpose after all. I trust myself after Everest. I mean, I trust that the “way” I saw for myself was the right way. I could sum it up with the phrase Minimalists Happiness. I trust it because I believe that at that time I saw things clearly, perhaps for the first time in my life. I saw things very, very clearly and felt the power from seeing things in that way.
[!!! Above Minimalist Happiness]

To reiterate my philosophy at the time, it was basically that we can be happy, actually we can be much happier, to get by on less. If I can relate it to my own recent unhappiness, it has been caused by my own thinking rather than by any axiomatic reason for unhappiness existing in reality. This kind of unhappiness breeds on itself. What has generated it? It has been tradition, psychological predisposition, etc.

I think I should write more and more on this subject. Right now, I do not feel whole. I feel weakened by my recent pain, and the lack of success of this past trip. But again, I feel I just need a few days to consolidate my feelings and thoughts and gain my ground again. I “know” as far as I can know that I am soon to be back on my feet.

I called Amy and said many words of encouragement. I did not want to dwell that I was in the wrong; I only wanted to just start “being” again. I just wanted to start afresh and to say what I could to soothe the hurt I had obviously made her feel. I was so lost and did not know how to find my happiness again, but the words I had written in late June and early July pulled me up again. I have faith that they were right, as right as words can be.

December 6, 1995
Shanghai
[L] [A]

I am not feeling that great about sex. I am interested but I feel I need a new lover more often. At the same time, I feel that no one comes close to comparing to Ms. Nguyen in beauty. I realized I am out of love with Laura and therefore I left her a day early under the pretense that I went to Tokyo. Happily I made contact with Mei and she met me at the hotel at about 5:30. She delights me. But I was not that interested in having sex immediately as she was. I assume that she has no other lover as I do. I did enjoy having sex with her, but I would much prefer that I had less pressure to perform and more time to just hang out with her until I was overwhelmed by passion. I love her body. She feels like a goddess or princess. I think I should note that I am in a sexual low now.

RETROSPECTIVE… (Another diary entry same day….)
I am recovering from feeling bad for ten days. I was drained and cannot exactly understand why I was thrown for such a loop. When I left on this trip I was looking forward to being with Amy in Vietnam, but before I got there, I felt overwhelmed with grief over her transgression (if I can call it that). I lost sight of what it felt like to come off of Mount Everest victorious. I moped around in Shanghai even though I was with lovely Mei. I was drowned in sadness when I saw Mimi. For a brief spell I rose to ecstasy when we were with Ms. Nguyen (otherwise written as Ms. Nguyen or Nguyen). When she left two days later I was thrust into the pit again. Only when I read my own writing from June did I sense a way back to happiness. In the meantime, I fear that I have exposed myself to disease by sleeping with Loan, Nguyen and the whore in Hanoi, although Loan was the only one I truly fucked. Amy said she would get a test, and I cannot abide by this, because I could not bear to live if I found out what I might have gotten. Anyway, for the time being I must go on. I fear that tinge of sadness will remain with me just for the stupidity of the exposure I allowed, but other than that, I believe I am recovering fast. What devastated me was the thought that I had lost the drive I had found, but at least I can see now that this feeling was unnecessary.

In terms of the here and now, I feel very much in love with Mimi. I cannot explain love, why it comes and goes. I do not love Amy because of her looks or because I think she is perfect. I love her for her vulnerability and the quality of her faults as much as for anything else.

I can also say definitively that I no longer am in love with Laura. When I left Amy in Bangkok on the morning of the 4th, I flew to Shanghai, where I met Laura at the airport. We spent the last two nights at the Garden Hotel. By last night I decided that I did not want to stay another night with her. Our sex was quite good, but good sex alone can feel terribly empty. It would be much better if I did not know her at all than to love her pretentiously while she was in love with me and thinking I loved her sincerely. I could not bear to confront her with how I no longer wanted to be involved with her, but the feeling was definite. I considered times when a woman felt that I was holding on and may have felt similarly, and I felt sorry for them (whoever they may have been) because being afraid to hurt someone you once loved is a terrible thing. Nevertheless it must have seemed obvious there was something amiss. My ‘I love you’ was forced at best.

I had called Mei yesterday and told her that I might come on Thursday, but I could not wait until then, and I want to get to the trade show and I would not be able to if I stayed over here Thursday night.

As soon as Laura left, I called Mei’s new office but a Chinese man answered. I checked out and removed myself to the Portman Hotel whereupon I immediately called Mei again. This time a nice young lady named Xue Mei answered the phone, only it was my Xue Mei’s work colleague that just happens to have the same given name. She speaks good English. So she told me that Mei would be back at 1:30 p.m.

I called Amy after I ate lunch. She seems very happy. I really built her up yesterday with my love because I was concerned and I wanted her to be happy and to know I loved her. She sounds so much better today. Yesterday I asked if she would please wear my ring. She said if I wanted her to, she ‘would be proud.’ I told Amy I did not know why I loved her so much. She recited a list of reasons: ‘because I do your laundry and you can call me a B.I.T. (CH) and I am a fuss-budget about things and…’ Oddly, all these little things were reasons why I love her. I really like the way Amy is. I really feel a solid and deep love for her.

On return from UVI office to Portman to meet Mei….

After speaking with Amy I called Laura. Laura sounds devastated. She had already called the Garden Hotel and she had called the airport. Even though I know that I have given Laura good reason to check up on me, still I feel uncomfortable about her doing so. She questions everything I tell her. She seems kind of a nervous wreck. She told me last night, “I was born to be hurt.” She is referring to her last experience in love where her boyfriend cheated on her. If she knew the truth about me she would be further convinced of this.

I spoke with Mei from Henry’s UVI office. She is so exuberant to see me. She wanted to make it earlier, “I can’t wait. I want you so much,” she says in her broken English. When I told her I could not make it until five o’clock as previously agreed to she said ‘I no happy’ in a jokingly accusatory way (‘You don’t want me’). The truth is I am dying to see her. Mei makes me feel good. She has a voluptuous body and I am happy when we are together. It is a new love, refreshing.

I will call Haruka tonight. She is probably wondering where I am. I had two messages on the phone from her (in which she merely said “Hello? (sigh)”).

I do not know what to do with my life. No matter what I think of it seems inadequate. If I visit 10 new countries a year, that will be an additional 100 by the time I would be 50 and I would still be short by 100. I should try to see 20 new ones a year. Maybe that should be a goal. That way, I would have been to 300 by the time I was 50, virtually every place on earth. Maybe then I can settle down and have kids. I really hope that I will live that love [long] to see it. This goal attracts me, to see 20 new countries a year. It seems like an awful lot, that. I have been to so many places, it seems hard to believe that there are so many left. For next year, I would plan:

Australia, Russia, Georgia, Turkmenistan, Armenia, Bulgaria, Kazakhstan, Romania, Slovakia, Antarctica, plus there are a few more but I have to look at a map. I guess I have to get down to Africa and really start planning in order to see these countries in an efficient way. It will take some logistical planning. Maybe when I get home I should start doing so right away. One thing I would like is to climb to the highest point in each of them. Secondly I would like to fuck one of their native women in each place.

Photography is another area where there is so much to do. I really have to make some significant progress soon; otherwise I will really begin to believe I am standing still. I need lots of gorgeous and totally cooperative women to effect what I need to do. I need a breakthrough!!!

December 7, 1995
Tokyo Thursday
[L] [S]

This morning I was so sleepy and not feeling like having sex but Mei started grabbing my dick. She kneeded it gently in her hands. She really wanted it. I began fucking her and her body felt good but I did not like the fantasies and I would have preferred to wait for 45 minutes. I still don’t feel up to my par sexually. When I saw Haruka I wanted to fuck her just because she felt charming. So we did before dinner. After dinner the sex was better. I felt that she was purposefully trying to excite me by acting difficult, as if to see if I wanted her. In fact it did stimulate me somewhat. It started generating feelings that I wanted to take her. That time was really pretty good.

951207 en route to Tokyo
I am glad this trip is almost over. There have been too many movements, too many plane flights. In fact, I feel that I am getting burnt out on the “Asian Connection,” i.e., going back and forth to these girlfriends here. It’s so funny, once you have something, it never seems as fun as you thought it was going to be when you contemplated it. Of course, the actuality of making love is more fun than thinking about it, but it is not more fun than you imagined it would feel like.

Mei is very pretty and I really like being with her, because we laugh a lot. But it is a long way to come. I am getting burnt out on the scene, the grand hotels and confinement in the room, the restaurant meals. It would be better if there was more allure to the city itself. Shanghai is not of great interest to me. I feel bad saying so, for I feel that it must be me and not the city. The city has so much to it; maybe it is just my mind that is empty. I would be much better suited to staying in a chateau outside of Rome for example.

Pleasure-seeking is getting old. How much pleasure can one man endure? I am afraid I am getting jaded and weary of life as I know it. I want a change, but no matter what I think of doing, it falls short. There are two levels to this dissatisfaction. One is that so many people are doing so many “unusual” things these days that it renders almost every activity as not unique. Secondly, no matter what man has done, it seems that it is not that important. I think of the greatest works of art, how people glorify them, make over them, adulate their creator. But somehow right now, they all seem dusty to me, like they are sitting on a shelf in disuse. All the miracles mankind has uncovered seem dissolute, as it is no matter what we invent, the inventions are replaced by something newer and better, or merely forgotten. No matter how long lasting or seemingly great, the things we make cannot insure happiness. It seems to me that the state of ‘intrigue’, the state of ‘satisfying curiosity’, the state of ‘being on a mission’, these in themselves constitute the apex of a person’s life.

It is no matter what I have done, it is all like dusty books that sit on a shelf unnoticed. What matters is writing the book, not reading it, not evaluating it, not glorifying it, but the state of believing in it, the ‘passage’ that is important.

It seems that I have sought out prestige by making goals like ‘climb Mount Everest’ or ‘visit every country on earth.’ I envy those people who never consider the meaning of their activity of choice because they are so absorbed in it.
[!!!]

The other night on TV I saw an English rock group performing in Tokyo. It was the archetypal rock performance, the voice box, the ramming guitar, the long hair, the screaming, the swearing, the idiotic banter between songs. I thought about the life of those on stage. I used to envy it so much, but at that moment it looked like a prison. I imagined that there might be a lot of nights they just did not feel like getting out on stage, but they had to. Then it was not longer the thrill, but it became the job. This essence of difference is more important than what you do. It is the difference between being in the magic groove of life and being outside of it. I want to be in this magic groove (again), but I do not see it, I do not feel it. Creating a crusade is one means of achieving it. This could be walking across a country. But then I read about the man that carried a huge (9′) cross through 220 countries. So it seems that crusade does not have the uniqueness I seek.

I don’t know where to begin.

More…. en route to Tokyo

I am in some sort of slump. Don’t envy me. I say that because somehow my lifestyle seems to generate some envy in certain individuals, such as my friend Jack, or at least so he says. But I want to be complete in this writing so as to hopefully capture a “writer’s voice” which eludes me in all but the most unusual circumstances, but seems to carry with it the flavor of completeness insofar as that the writing becomes fluid, and I add, there is a happy note, no, at least a note of satisfaction derived from being in that mode. Not to envy me, certainly. I begin to hypothesize that it is normal in the lives of all living creatures that the benefit is associated with disbenefit, if not in reality at that moment then at least in the potential to lose that benefit, whatever it is. And now I am experiencing an even rarer phenomena, and that is getting “bored” with the benefits I have.

Of course everything is relative. Tomorrow for example, I have to manually work at a job site, showing the customer how to put out product together. I am much more attracted to interacting on an intellectual basis with a customer, as in a sales situation; I am not really looking forward to it. And then I compare this with the sort of job where it is the same day in and day out, like working at a fast-food chain. How terribly boring that must be. And yet, the benefit is that it can get better, and hope is a wonderful feeling to have. And no matter how boring a job may be, in fact even if it should become very boring – so much the better on this account – I think one begins to imagine about things and the creative genius is stimulated. There is always this sort of balancing factor to everything.

So as I was saying, and this is an insight into my mind, that is, the rambling thoughts – can you imagine what it is like to be me? Sometimes it is great, and sometimes it is troubling to be me. And here I am on this plane, writing away, feeling all hopeless about so many things, looking for direction. As I said, I am in a slump of sorts, partly derived from the lack of direction I feel. What to do next? I feel like blowing up my very lifestyle and getting into a different mode. I have different type of flashes in my mind. For example, forested places, with birds singing, my house like a tree-house made of natural materials. I don’t need to live there all the time, but I do need to be there part of the time. I need a real vacation. Part of what I seek is to live in the unknown, so that there is a feeling of intrigue about my life. I feel science has taken so much out of our (my) sense of mystery. Wind was once an incredible unknown, and I could imagine it to be anything, but as soon as it is “known” we put a label on it and thenceforth it was “air pressure” or “caused by this or that”. I am extremely frustrated with this sort of “progress,” shall we call it “progress of the lessening mystery”. And still I fear I am just a “complainer” with no legitimate gripe.
[!!!]

I look out of the plane at the sea below. In a flash I realize how full of mystery the world really is. Yet I cannot now touch it. I need a different lifestyle to touch it. I do not deserve to touch it, since I live in the corporate world. Maybe they were right (in the 60s) about businessmen. But there is no stopping business in the world today. So I fantasize I am like a spy, that I will excel only to capture the booty of cash and financial independence, and then I will do something “non-business-like,” against the grain, and not feeding the machine with its fruits, but to redirect the machine towards something “better”.

My slump is mainly comprised of the realization of the futility of human effort. I have long adhered more or less to a bohemian philosophy, or is it “hedonist,” but with a work-and-ethics ethic attached to it. Work is cool as long as it is the work itself being enjoyed, but I cannot see killing yourself to an end goal of any kind, unless it is the mere pursuit of survival itself. So I am having trouble getting motivated. When I came off the summit of Mount Everest, I was enchanted by the concept that I had done something I did not think I could do. I asked myself, well, if I can do that thing that I thought I could not, what else could I achieve that I had heretofore considered impossible? My mind began to run rampant on this theme, and then it got lost in some old complex. That complex was age-old jealousy and insecurity popping its monstrous head out of my subconscious. Before I could formulate my next exalted quest into the future, my train of momentum felt de-railed, and I have been wondering since (the last eight weeks) what to do to shake myself out of it. I am weighed down with no one but myself to blame.

How do I proceed from here? I feel lost and cannot decide. I have long felt that if I am going to go after anything, it better be something really great. I feel a slave to my former view of my life. I had decided to see every country in the world. Traveling has become somewhat of a burden, but I think the reason is obvious. It is the way I now travel. I used to go to new places all the time. That was interesting. I have been seeking out the most primitive places, but I am unrealistic in this because I do not allot the time and “balls-out” energy needed to get there that I was once in a position to apply. How terribly ironic. This is why I say, “Don’t envy me”. Don’t envy people with money, material goods, or even lovers and friends. Envy those, if you are going to envy anyone, envy those who have imagination, those who have a higher cause (if it’s a true one) to strive towards. Mother Teresa. Someone who lives their dream and whose dream is based in love and tender care, great interest, passion. I cannot judge any person’s life, for I do not know what goes on inside them. Outward-ness is a clue but not proof.

I look out of the window at what I presume to be Japan’s southern islands. I can see that a day’s adventure would bring me from the road over to that small community. I do not need much to make me happy. I merely need a free mind. And I need a place to walk, a place that I do not know, where I do not know what is around the bend. A place where I can take a chance that something really new will be there, even if it is not. I merely need a sunny, maybe windy and partly cloudy day, perhaps a windbreaker and the healthy set of legs that I still have. Maybe a snack and the hopes of a hot meal on arrival. What happiness.

I once met a guy in South America who described his travel through Argentina. He would eat with the gauchos. They would roast an animal and eat entrails that did not seem appetizing on description. He described with flair how he savored the daily bottle of wine he drank. He seemed so genuinely happy. This was memorable. He may now have liver disease, what a dismal footnote to his happiness. Nevertheless, he was truly enjoying himself, at least in telling me he was.

We pass over a much more developed area and I imagine all the concrete and organization down there. Then I realize that there is a distinction between what I like and what I don’t, generally. It seems that completely uninhabited places seem lonely. Conversely, overpopulated places seem oppressive. I like something in between. I would put a limit to how much concentration of development there was, except for in designated areas, like a metropolis such as Tokyo. I like to visit such a place from time to time, as it can be exciting.

There is a veritable sea of clouds outside the window. It is lovely, mysterious, captivating. Perhaps this is the real source of my frustration, for I know that there is a world filled with loveliness out there, a world of unknown, where I could be full up all of the time, or at least a good deal of it, enough to make me really happy. The things I want are really so simple. I want a bag full of exposed negatives that I feel nervous about getting home safely. And some friends who are interested in seeing them on my arrival. A place to develop them when I get home. Some beautiful lovers on the way. A dip in the ocean. A hike on a hill. A rainstorm where I have a warm place inside to watch it.

I do not feel really horny, except when Amy and I are together. Then I run off and leave her to be with others. It has not always been so. I used to go off for the excitement, but lately it has been lackluster. I wonder why and I want to get that back into my life. I try to approach the dilemma intellectually, but maybe such a slump has to be met on its own grounds. I am trying to study the effects of my food and drink, coffee or no coffee, sleep or little of it, arguments or harmony, on my sexual life.

So what to do next. I have a year of travel planned, but I feel I am doing everything the wrong way. I’ll give an example. I could, in one week, do something that is really memorable. Like float down the Sacramento River delta. It would be an adventure with a start and a finish. I know how to create such a plan. But instead I will travel to some new city, run around it for a few days, go to another place I have already been, and get myself home again. Significantly, my mode of transportation becomes more and more modern and more and more comfortable and seemingly less and less exciting. I can remember: i) riding on top of the bus in Nepal, ii) walking across the Indian countryside, iii) floating down the Frieda river in New Guinea on a raft made of logs, and get a sensation of satisfaction. But riding in a land rover in Bougainville (even) felt hemmed in.

Another problem. The media of the world (newspapers, tele) seems hopelessly entrenched in bullshit. For example, a National Geographic video (Return to Everest, I think) has a photograph on its cover of the more majestic looking Ama Dablam. The average person thinks its Everest, but in fact it is not. Facts don’t seem to carry enough weight, and dirt is more marketable than stories of people’s merits. Once something of merit enters into the news it is because, not because of its merit, but because of commercial value. That is to say, either the news is about something that went wrong, or because the news is about something that went right but its only in there because someone is trying to promote something.

I’m probably not saying this too well. Do you catch my drift anyway?

I feel grounded, not flying, and I want to be high again. Too much purpose in my life and not enough joy. My head spins and ends up nowhere and I am not sure how to settle it in a comfortable place. I know there is a way out of this. Have less. Give up something of my possessions.

This was one of my philosophical conclusions before. I wanted to try to streamline my life on one hand and on the other, I wanted to excite it by “going for it,” “it” being everything I always wanted to get. I must be living in the wrong place or the wrong time, or maybe the right time is about to happen.

Just something as simple a Kiyoko getting married. I really loved her or could love her. On the other hand, I sensed something was up when I saw her in Shanghai. And in fact she was going to Hong Kong that day to see, unquestionably, her fiancée, only she did not tell me. All no matter. There is not one woman nor one outward thing that can hold my interest forever. What can hold my interest is to tap into that inner source of mine, find an avenue for it to escape continuously, like a slow burning ember, like a pleasant stream of creativity and wonder dripping out one drop at a time into the well of my subconscious.
[!!!]

As long as I am farming my interior creative world, I am happy. It has less to do with the outside than what is within, or at least, the outside is no more important. Environment cannot be discounted. Maybe I am wrong about what I just said, because the outside and inside are like mirrors to one another.

What is my next move? There must be something wonderful. Can my dreams fit into one package? When can I open it?

December 8, 1995
Tokyo

I am on the train.

I feel horrible. Why would anyone ever want to read this trash? Am I writing for myself or because I secretly hope that someday I will be posthumously discovered and made famous for my brilliance??? What a horrible mind trap I am in. I only want to break free. Why do humans want to be known, to have prestige, to have their works live on, to be admired or liked, to feel self-important?

I have run some analysis on my level of sexual desire. It is interesting, I have to admit. Not surprisingly there is a pattern of highs and lows, occurring something on the order of two highs per month. It is not nearly enough data to draw any conclusions. I am trying to track a lot of potentially significant factors such as sleep and food in order to make the results more meaningful. What are my objectives in this? Well, one is to establish if I (a man) have any “monthly cycle” and the other is to determine if there is a way to optimize my sexual prowess. For example, is eating beef good or bad in terms of making me desirous.
[!!!]

I feel terrible partly because Haruka is so hard to sleep with. She kept me up last night, rubbing my body, pinching me, and generally moving around. She is a little bitch too. Last night she left the room without telling me and then rang the doorbell. Then she made a phone call, then she began to leave but I stopped her. I asked if she had another boyfriend. She denied it. Then she asked me if I would be jealous if she had a love affair. Later it came out that she suspected that I had one last week because I didn’t call. She is moody. Most of the time she is sweet, but I am tiring of the games. This long distance romance is not easy. I feel that I love Amy unquestionably and that I love Mei too, but I don’t feel in love with anyone else at this time. Mei is easy to be with, she is sweet and a lot of fun. She laughs and is easygoing. Even though she doesn’t speak English nearly at all, she is still a pleasure to be with. Amy is a goddess amongst women, despite her faults. I can hardly believe I feel this way, but I feel that despite the fact that she had her one day fling with her old boyfriend in June, she is still worth keeping around, and I still love her. I don’t feel that badly about it, and I don’t feel it is really consequential, especially given her leniency with me and her protests of her personal fidelity.

RETROSPECTIVE… (Another diary entry same day….)
I am in Tokyo as noted above. I keep writing that I am in a slump, and it is true, but I am getting weary of thinking about it. I consider what it is about a slump that I may need; maybe it serves some purpose, like maybe something happens when I am depressed that is a necessary component of reaching a height. Like maybe something clicks, maybe I need to feel grounded for some reason, maybe I need to feel bad to fulfill some complex (negative) or maybe I come in contact with my inner self (positive). I am not sure what it is, but as I noted, I am sick of worrying. Maybe that is it. Maybe what I am feeling is that I am just plain not satisfied with my existence. Sure it is pretty good; sure I have a lot to be thankful for.

But I also need more. I need to break out of the circle I’m in. I want to feel like a completely new being, both [and] refreshed, powerful, relaxed, healthy, adjusted, rested, exercised. Refreshed is key. And I want to have a different lifestyle. I am weary of struggling along the same old lines. I need to get by them in order to face new challenges. I am tired of the old challenges.

December 9, 1995
San Francisco Saturday

When I got back from Japan, I had had diarrhea for two days and practically no food. Amy and I made love even before I had had something to eat, as I was interested to see if eating was all that necessary. In fact, the sex was fine even despite an empty stomach and sickness.

10 SUN San Francisco
11 MON San Francisco
12 TUE San Francisco
13 WED San Francisco
14 THU In-flight

December 15, 1995
Shanghai Friday
[L]

When I arrived, Mei was very eager to have sex, and I was a little less eager, I wanted a few minutes to rest. When we made love it was satisfactory, but for me I did not enjoy it as much as I would have liked. The main thing is that I would have preferred that I could have taken my time. Mei grabbed my dick and when it wasn’t immediately hard, she complained that I didn’t love her, kind of jokingly, but anyway, I figured I better fuck her right away, lest she divine that she is not my only lover. I can understand that if she truly hadn’t gotten laid in a couple of weeks, she would be very horny, whereas, since I’d had sex several times just before I left home, I would be less horny than she. I would have preferred if we were just hanging out, like Amy and I do. Then when the urge comes, it is all the better, all systems are go. I asked her to wait five minutes because I was beat from the (horrible and long) flight.

December 16, 1995
Shanghai Saturday
[L]

Mei left in the early morning for work. I went to work out. When she got back at about noon, I had been talking to Amy on the phone. I had to tell Amy that Mei would be there soon since the alternative was to wait until Mei knocked on the door and then tell her I had to go and hang up on her (which would have pissed her off more). Mei was hungry so we ate. Afterwards, Mei was tired so we went to bed. We made love and that was O.K. but not at all what I feel it should be. I feel “out of sync” with Mei. Maybe it is the lack of familiarity and the time pressure, the short visits, etc., combined with us being a little out of sync. I know I have had great sex with Saeda for example under all those circumstances. Sex is so hard to figure out, what makes it good and what makes it so-so, what makes it poor. I know that with Mimi, it is very, very seldom poor, and mostly it is from good to outstanding. Was it like that with my other girlfriends? I think Amy is the best overall. One factor I did not mention is that Mimi’s pussy is very tight and she knows how to use it, so it is an excitement to anticipate fucking her.

December 17, 1995
Tokyo
[L]

When I tried to have sex with Mei this morning, she didn’t seem to want to. There was a little discolored fluid, probably traces of blood on the bed. She had a pill she inserted into her vagina. It seems she was in pain, but as I was trying to make sex good, I wrote off her signs of pain for something else. In other words, my own insecurity blinded me to being as caring as I should have been. I can’t seem to “get into the groove” with Mei this trip.

December 18, 1995
Tokyo Monday

I cannot seem to get back to “normal”. It seems ever since the news about Mimi, I have been thrown off a confidence track or something. Last night with Haruka the sex was not so good. Even when I’m excited, I don’t really feel “into it”, although when I am with Amy it is still pretty good, though not consistently at the same level as before.

19 TUE Portland

December 19, 1995
Tokyo
[L] [S]

Hello and good morning my friend (diary )
Continuing in the mode I am in, I keep making things worse for myself and I keep feeling down. I don’t know whether it is my sexual frustration of late or the other things that are bothering me are interfering with my sex life, but I think it is mostly the latter. Last night with Haruka we began to make love and it was awesome. We were doing it from the front and I was mega-enjoying it. Then, just before I was coming, she made a slight change in her demeanor or her position and I just missed my climax. After that it wasn’t the same again. I did orgasm but it was just not the same, and later we made love again but I didn’t come. She kept taking showers; first I invited her to take one with me, but later she got up and took another one, and later she took another for a total of three. I could not figure out what she was doing, but I guessed that she was wiping her pussy juices away, for she seems very shy and embarrassed that she gets so wet. The first time her shower was long (maybe ten minutes) and I was feeling kind of lonely. But the last time she went there I was just plain all out frustrated. This culminated when she came back, for shortly afterwards she said she had to go. I know that one might suspect that she was trying to get away from me, but I don’t think that is so, for each time she returned she was willing to make love, and when she was in the bathroom, she locked the door. I felt that she was turning the water on to drown out the noise of something else. It seemed, I felt, she was hiding something. I just became unglued, and I showed my anger. Inside, I felt really dumb, because I knew I should not be so upset. After all, it was merely that I’ve been having a “bad hair day”. Haruka’s pussy is surprisingly large, and the feeling I get when I fuck her is not like with Mimi. Haruka has the largest pussy, and then Mei. Amy and Laura are tight. Speaking from a purely practical standpoint, it is harder to get off with Haruka. So many times I am just about to come and I miss it with her. But it is more than that. It has a lot to do with the fact that Haruka seems inexperienced and doesn’t have a sensitivity to where I am at. I shouldn’t be upset, but I am just so frigging unhappy about all the traveling I have to do in the coming months and all the time I will be away from Amy (and good regular sex).

So I ended up walking her to the station. She was pretty upset by my upset. But later she telephoned me. We made up and reaffirmed our affection. It was a pretty poor ending to what started out to be a really nice evening. We had gone out to eat Italian and it was really good. I was feeling happy for a change. When we got to the room, as I said, the sex was great, I mean really great. Even later as we lay there, everything felt really nice. Her body temperature felt good, she smelled sweet. I was reveling in the moment and really enjoying myself. Then it went downhill. I feel that things are out of control, and that upsets me.

Then it got worse. ‘Cause I called Amy and told her. Things were fine. I told Mimi….

20 WED San Francisco
21 THU San Francisco
22 FRI San Francisco
23 SAT San Francisco
24 SUN San Francisco
25 MON San Francisco
26 TUE San Francisco

December 27, 1995
San Francisco Wednesday

Tonight Amy and I took Zithromax. We definitely seem to be suffering from some sort of urethritis.

December 28, 1995
San Francisco Thursday

I seem to be pulling out of my slump, I don’t know why, but I am enjoying sex much, much more, like really enjoying it again, and my self image and esteem seem to be on the rise. I just kept telling myself things will get better, no matter how bleak I imagine them to be.

29 FRI San Francisco
30 SAT San Francisco
31 SUN San Francisco

End of 1995 Journal

jeff shea
the spirit of tibet

Foreward from Book Seven Summits
“Though the Tibetan side of Everest is regarded as a tougher climb than the Nepalese side, many climbers still prefer Tibet. Barren and windswept, with the striking pyramid of Everest visible for many miles, Tibet makes a lasting impression. In spring 1995, climbers enjoyed unprecedented good weather on the Tibetan side. By the time the monsoon spilled over the mountain from Nepal, 67 climbers had succeeded on the North Ridge. But Everest was no pushover, as Jeff Shea explains…”

The North East Ridge of Mount Everest

After sailing across the ocean and traveling many miles by land, I reached the ridge above Namche Bazaar in Nepal and spied the windblown cap of Mount Everest for the first time in my life. During the weeks that followed, I had vague aspirations about climbing the mountain, but they seemed like pipe dreams. My first grapplings with Himalayan altitude, as I panted up a 6000m peak a few weeks later, emphasized Everest’s unattainableness. The Himalayan magnificence was upon me, more impressive than I could have imagined, the sheer size dwarfing any other mountain range in the world many times over.
On that journey in 1983, I stood at Kala Patar and surveyed the grand vista of icy peaks; I huddled in the warm emptiness of a mess tent at the South Col Base Camp at 5200m, in awe of those men and women who were actually on an Everest expedition; I breathed in the Tibetan culture at Thyangboche Monastery during the Mani Rimdu festival, delighted, marveling over the color and richness of the costumes of the masked dancers. As a child might view it, it was all new and exciting.

The Monks Perform A Ceremony At Mani Rimdu

Unable to sleep and lured by the moonlight, I stepped into crisp December night, scrambling above the rooftops of Thyangboche. In the vast canyon formed by Ama Dablam and the Everest massif, the perfect silence was suddenly broken by the echoing trumpet of the monastery’s ancient horns, dispelling evil spirits and resounding with the purity of good intent. Magic! I came away from my first Himalayan trip knowing why the local animists attributed god-like powers to the mountains. Indeed, they seemed to have a spirit of their own.
Twelve years later, I found myself lured again by the Himalayas. Except this time I went to the North Side of Everest, and this time I was not a trekker, but a climber. On the journey from Lhasa – at the top of the astonishing monastic ruins of Xegar – Cho Oyu, Shisha Pangma, and Makalu appeared amid the clouds. While there, a Xegarian monk portended, “You see Everest, good luck. You no see Everest, no good luck.” Just as we gathered to leave, the clouds cleared to reveal Everest in its all glory, towering over the rest of the landscape.
Jumping off the back of the gear truck, dusted from head to toe, and nauseous from the drive to 5200m, I set up my tent, where it would remain for two months. It was 12 April 1995. At Base Camp, I wrote:
“Last night was the worst night I’ve had. I was dehydrated and was still adjusting to the altitude here. At times like that, the mental battle is worse than the physical one. To resist thoughts of despair takes a strong will, and yet to discern when it is advisable to abandon a project take good judgment. I do not feel it is, on one hand, necessary to make the summit of this mountain, but still, to abandon it now would render all the effort I took to get here a folly. I have risked an awful lot to climb this mountain…. The greatest part of this journey is not the climb but all the other combined sights and sounds. The people here are a rather amazing collection of accomplished individuals. Some are great mountaineers. Some are adventurers and photographers, others doctors, or women attempting firsts in the climbing world.”
The Base Camp affords a sweeping panorama of Changtse, the North Ridge, the Great Couloir, the North Face, and the summit pyramid, with the jet stream sailing off in a vaporous plume. The route winds move clockwise around Changtse, through the ice pinnacles of the East Rongbuk Glacier. Twenty-one kilometers of trail ends at Advanced Base Camp (ABC) in full view of the North Col and the summit pyramid.
Resisting the trend to rush headlong to ABC, I followed the advice of Australian Jon Muir, who reckoned the best way to acclimatize was to simply take it easy and hang out at Base Camp. For 12 days I did so.
I arrived at ABC on 25 April. Two days later, I traversed the glacier to the foot of the precipitous slope leading to the North Col, a picturesque mass of tumbling house-size blocks of ice that must be negotiated to reach the Col itself. Light avalanches rumbled off to my left from the flanks of the North East Ridge. A seldom-discussed Everest disaster occurred in June 1922, on the second-ever expedition to the mountain, when the slope I was about to climb avalanched, taking the lives of seven porters. In all, avalanches from the slopes below the North Col have killed at least 16 people, nearly as many as the far more notorious Khumbu Icefall.
My acclimatization schedule sent me to the Col four times. Although in some places it was steep enough to make an unroped fall fatal, the snow was soft and felt secure. Wending my way around the blocks of ice brought me to the Col at 7050m, affording a clear view of the North Face, its enormous Great Couloir ending in an ice cliff of unimaginable dimensions. The summit seemed as if you could reach out and touch it. The tents were nestled on the leeward side of an ice buttress, sheltered from the 70 knot winds that scoured the North Face.

Tents At Camp 1 on the North Col, 7050 meters

On 30 April, I climbed at Camp 2 at 7600m. From the North Col, the route continues on a wide, gradually steepening saddle of snow. At first, I was comfortable as the sun was out and the wind was just a breeze. Almost imperceptibly, the conditions deteriorated. Visibility shrank to a few meters and the chill crept through my heavily insulated boots. The dwindling of my inner core’s heat became a concern. I had been using the fixed ropes to safeguard a fall, only to discover that the top snow stake holding them slide easily out of the ice. At the top of the snow saddle, I arrived at a pair of tents flapping violently in the wind.
My partner Fred Zalokar and I feebly made unappetizing soup, and then scooped our spilled water from the tent floor. I slept restlessly, constantly aware that the wind was blowing like crazy. I wondered what might happen if the tent ripped apart. The next morning, Fred and I took seemingly forever to get ready to descend. Thoughts of putting our boots on occasionally roused us from our altitude-induced stupor long enough for us to look up from our sleeping bags, then we would slide back into a senseless haze. It took me 11 days at lower altitudes to recover from my visit to 7500m, most of it spent at Base Camp. I wrote:
“I have been like a zombie since I returned from up above. I have been bothered by dry throat, lethargy, shortness of breath, stomach aches, diarrhea, and feelings of claustrophobia since I arrived back here at Base Camp. My lower lip is a blistered mess. I must have forgotten one morning (just one!) to properly protect it, and now it is a maze of blood, blisters, and puffiness. Also, I have been coughing since I have been here. It is like trying to scratch an itch that I cannot reach.
We sit down here at Base Camp day after day watching the weather change. In the morning it might be clear, and by afternoon, snowing. The weather above all scares me when it comes to this mountain. If I am going to make a summit attempt, I will only do so, as I now see it, when the skies are clear and calm for as far as you can see. I figure this is the only day that has any chance of being ‘reasonably safe’ to climb Mount Everest.”
On 12 May, I was back at Camp 2. I felt stronger, the minor miracle of one month’s acclimatization. Above Camp 2, the route ascends through a patchwork of rock and packed snow. I climbed alone enjoying the sunny, windy solitude. When I reached 8000m above a 30 degree snowfield, I considered my acclimatization completed. It was time to descend and shore up my strength for a summit attempt. I spent a solid week eating at ABC to regain some of the 14kg lost from my 82kg frame.
One evening during my respite at ABC, a buoyant Alison Hargreaves dropped into our mess tent for a visit – she appeared as fresh as she did on the flight to Lhasa at the beginning of the expedition, when I absurdly mistook her for a non-climbing companion of another climber! She had just successfully completed an unassisted climb without oxygen. Her goal was to climb the three highest mountains in the world in one year. Three months later she was dead, having been caught in a storm on her way down from the summit of K2.
On 20 May I was back at the Col with Yves Detry, Patrick Hache, and Andre Tremouliere. The next morning, radio reports informed us that two climbers were blocked by high winds for the third day in a row at Camp 3. Given it was late in the season, I concluded wrongly that this year’s unusually good weather was at an end.
The next morning, I laced up my crampons and grabbed my ice axe, preparing to descend. Yves, a constant source of good cheer, inquired where I was going. When he reminded me of their special stockpile of French cheese, sausage, and crackers, my resolve to abandon camp vanished. As if to validate my gastronomical instincts – and Yves’ experienced advice – the winds died down during the night, allowing us to move up the saddle the next morning. Arriving at Camp 2, my French companions declared that the wind, having brewed up again, was advising us against continuing. I “leaned into it” and moved up a few hundred meters to camp with Lakpa Gelu and Lama Dorje of Nepal.
The following morning, in fine weather, Lakpa, Lama, and I first passed the 8000m snowfield, then climbed a snow gully to arrive at Camp 3 by early afternoon. The sloping high camp lay at the rocky base of the so-called Yellow Band, a place where finding protection for the wind was extremely difficult. It is rumored that in 1952, when the North Side was off-limits to Westerners, six accomplished Russian climbers were literally blown off the face of the mountain from the Camp 3 area.
We took a meal in the late afternoon and bedded down while the sun was still shining. After six weeks of restless nights, I now used supplemental oxygen for the first time. My frigid fingers and toes felt a sudden rush of warmth, and I slipped away to dream-filled and euphoric slumber.
At 10 p.m., I awoke, my lungs pulling vainly for air on an empty bottle. We drank tea and checked our gear, departing just after midnight. It was pitch black. Our vision was confined to the narrow beams of our headlamps. We moved straight up through the snow and rock gullies, seemingly for hours. I longed for an end to the incessant upward effort. We then began traversing down and to the right, signaling that we had arrived at the North East Ridge itself. The air was remarkably still. Horizontally traversing an exposed patch of snow to a fixed line, we jumared up and around the First Step. Approaching the fabled Second Step, we ascended sloping terraces of crampon-scratched shale only a boot wide. I used my axe like a walking stick to balance on my crampon points. Perhaps fortunately, the moonless darkness rendered the drop-off invisible. Seventy-one years earlier, in 1924, Mallory and Irving were last seen alive in this area. The shelves of shale supported old loose ropes, dubiously secured by pitons, in some cases no more than flat, rusting iron anchors placed into cracks of eroding, stratified rock. The ropes’ false security was worrying. However, a week later another climber, while coughing up bowlfuls of lung matter on descent, was held by them when he slipped.
At about 4 a.m. we scrambled up rocks to the foot of the Second Step, a high, ungainly outcrop of rock at 8600m. Visible from Base Camp, this was the crux of the North Ridge Route. In 1975, the Chinese left a relic of their epic ascent: the “Chinese Ladder.” Lakpa stepped onto it and climbed to the top rung. Then, wrapping his forearm around a half dozen fraying ropes that dangled from above, he hoisted himself up and out of view. As I came over the edge of the Second Step, I was transfixed by the awesome view. The North East Ridge was bathed in the golden light of dawn and the summit pyramid looked remarkably close.
After passing the Third Step, the final rock obstacle on the ridge, the route came within one meter of the East Face. I could not resist leaning over it to check it out. Space catapulted, near-vertically, thousands of meters to a valley that spread out eastwards towards Kanchenjunga.
At 8750m, a final snowfield separated us from a platform from where, I had been told, the summit was an “easy walk.” Near its top, Lama disappeared to the right among some rocks. I followed Lakpa up to the left, remaining on the snow unroped. My ice axe flew back at me, having hit solid ice just under the surface. I glanced back and was a bit shaken by the meaning of the commitment I had made. If I fell, could I self-arrest? More likely I would hurtle uncontrollably down the North Face. It being an exceptionally fine day and only about 8 a.m., I afforded myself the luxury of chopping steps for security. After laboring for half an hour, I came to a frayed remnant of rope. Lakpa peered over the platform and motioned to me that it would hold. I clipped in and climbed the remaining 20m to the platform.
The summit of Everest was in full view, shimmering, dream-like, about 100m away. I warned myself not to let my guard down. As a testament to the need for vigilance, a few days later Bob Hempstead slipped on this “easy ground” and rocketed head-first on his back to the brink of the North Face. Swiftly reacting, he caught himself with outstretched arms on rocks. He peered over his shoulder, staring down the awful 3000m precipice. Greg Child and Ang Babu found stray rope and pulled Bob to safety.
As I approached the highest point on the globe, I felt as if the spirit of the mountain touched me. At 9 a.m., Lakpa radioed, “T’ree people summit! T’ree people summit!” During 40 minutes of celebration and photography, I reminded myself that the day was not done. At least 15 people have died while descending from the top of Everest.
During the eight-hour descent I suffered extreme dehydration, which was made worse by the effects of the dry ambient air and bottled oxygen. When I tried to swallow, I gagged, then flew into a fit of dry retching. Later, the condition grew serious. I reached inside my mouth and extracted a strange brownish gel that had formed over my teeth and gums; I discovered afterwards that some of the enamel of my teeth had flaked off. The mixing bag of my oxygen mask became a deflated sack of ice. About 100m above Camp 3 I ground to a halt, my oxygen having run out completely. At 6 p.m. I laid outside the tents, stretched to my limit, reveling silently that I had made it. I spent the night without dinner, then headed to the North Col the following day.
After our expedition, at an American Himalayan Foundation event, Bob Hempstead and I found ourselves sharing an elevator with another Everest summiteer. We were shaking hands with Sir Edmund Hillary! Bob blurted out, “We summited Everest.” I naively added, “From the North Ridge!” A man of impressive stature, Sir Edmund smiled down on us, as if beaming approval on the progeny of his pioneering. But I sensed his mind was far away. Perhaps he was thinking about the speech he would give that evening, covering his climbing career and his school building program in the Sola Khumbu. Somehow I sensed that long ago he had recognized that reaching the summit of Everest was secondary to the effort of helping those people who had helped us to get there in the first place.
The thrill of reaching the top of Everest is equaled by the privilege of having been to Tibet, and I will never forget its landscape and its native people. Later that year, I dedicated my Seven Summits adventure to the Dalai Lama’s dream of Tibet as a World park, a wildlife refuge, and non-nuclear Zone of Peace.

The Dalai Lama Speaks in front of My Seven Summits Flag