Ed Clark was a vital force in my life for 15 years. We met when I was a student at Florida State University. I only just learned that he passed away of AIDS in '92. If you're just arriving, please scroll down to the first post/chapter and read upward.
I just found my writings from diaries and letters covering the same time period as the last two posts (Sink Holes and AC/DC) which I wrote from memory. The excerpts below fill in blanks and correct the record. As for Truth, it is somewhere in between.
My diary begins with my summer move out of the conservative dorm and into an un-conservative house in Tallahassee with three other girls. Now a junior, I took classes and some part-time work. Ed Clark brought Light into my life, and then suddenly left Tallahassee to live at home in Jacksonville. I missed him terribly, but the diary reflects that I was handling his absence with more realism and maturity than I recall possessing.
Posted here are diary excerpts from that diary:
Tallahassee, Fla. June 12-13, 1971
I lie here exhausted, freshly bathed, and feeling very proud. Saturday morning I drove all the way up here from Fort Myers (7 hrs.) and made it alive with the car still in good shape.
[Photo from Google Images. Not mine. Used here for reference purposes only. I don't have any photos of the house I lived in during this time, but this looks exactly like it.]
The house is like a dream. I even like my room. It's sparsely furnished--in fact the worst of the lot--which is what I get for being the last to move in. There is an over-abundance of bureaus that make me long for a desk.
The old tenants--as a gesture of kindness or bitterness (or both) left us a rather long list of all the faults and disasters that come with the house. The worst seems to be the roaches, but I hope that will clear up slightly when the garbage they've so generously left behind is taken away.
Spent the rest of my day cleaning the kitchen. It was quite a job and I only scratched the surface! I had better luck with my room: comfortable orange curtains, rug, stereo, and shelves of books. The bed was a real scream. It was only a mattress. A large wobbly bed waited in the front room so I traded. My window is next to the porch. It's a lovely old porch with rocking chairs to rest in, but I can't help feeling that I'm always being observed. Ed would frown or laugh (or both) at that!
I sat on the porch tonight thinking over Ed's advice:
Dream your world as you'd like it...
Hard to decide what kind of world I need and desire. Hope to read and expand more this summer.
[Bob in above photo.]
Bob is one of the three guys who live upstairs. He wants me in any way, shape or form. I'm not sure why. Ed would say that doesn't matter; it's enough that Bob likes me. Bob jumps to the conclusion that I am unsure of myself and afraid of sex. This is a truth only in part. I'm not afraid of sex (in fact, I expect to find my need for it quite prevalent this summer), but I have always been afraid of people.
Bob scares me with his insistence that one shouldn't discriminate sexual partners--that it doesn't matter who you are--if you're willing you're eligible. There's a loss of identity involved that makes me feel like just one more functioning animal on the planet.
I don't mean to be snobbish; I like to get the maximum enjoyment out of life: cooking, walking, cleaning--these activities play with my senses and give me pleasure. And I want to make love or have sex, or just touch and taste and enjoy someone whom I trust and who won't jump to conclusions over everything.
I don't want anyone to ever lie to me in bed, and I will return the favor. All I ask is understanding and patience.
June 15, 1971
Mini-muffins and squash for supper. Squash: fry in butter, steam with water, add sugar, salt, onions. Dee-licious! (Bob's recipe) The more I get to know Bob, the more I like him.
Becky (my roommate) is starting to wear my patience. The fault is my own as well as hers. Must learn to relax.
Sitting on the porch this evening, Bob informed me that last night he and Dean saw a peeping-tom peeking through the kitchen window. He said this so casually it took us a while to comprehend the caliber of the situation. "We decided to go see what the guy was looking at," Bob said. "He walked away when he saw us coming." This was good for a laugh and freaked out my roommate Barbara who played the "frightened chick": "I sleep naked!" But I have a feeling it will pass after her visitor Jim leaves.
Jim is a tall good-looking guy who hitchhiked in from Jacksonville tonight for a visit. His first words to me were: "Well, how's school?" Make me want to vomit!
Bob invited me upstairs and I played cards with him and Jerry. Dean was finishing Dune for the fourth time! I wish I knew him better, but Bob and Jerry assure me that I don't. Bob gave me some bread and the recipe. They assure me that I won't be able to bake bread. I'll show them!
Took an ungodly long walk today. Tomorrow I'm driving friends to go job hunting.
Desire to write Ed or even call him overwhelms. Letters run through my mind during the day. Have got to start bringing my fantasies down. I'm using a good friend as an escape from this world and must stop. But I do miss him.
June 16, 1971
MUST GET MY SHIT TOGETHER.
No kidding. Can't even stand to write Ed. What do I want? For sure I want to cultivate my classical music taste. Must finish the rest of my books before buying more. Weave baskets...garden...learn frisbee...yoga classes...take another dance class...Wake my body up!
What else? Art? Whose? Learn to make lasagna!
I waste too much time.
Relax.
Enjoy pleasant fragrances.
Love those I can.
Keep myself open to everything.
June 17, 1971
Much more together now. Still no job, but volunteered at the co-op bookstore. Sold a lot of books!
The happy part of this day came when I bought two classical albums and On Becoming a Person (Ed suggested it in a letter).
Also began reading the Tao and enjoying that. My enthusiasm for these books is not merely induced by my fondness for Ed but the other way around: My enthusiasm for these stimuli that he introduced me to has caused my fondness for Ed.
Two days later:
Too much day to write about. It's 5 a.m. and if I must stay up to write this. The Big Event was at 2:15 p.m. when my bread was finally baked and we all had a party. Afterwards Bob and I talked on the porch. I really like him now. He sees so much and in his own way is very honest. He surprised me with the fact that he was Ed's roommate for six months over a year ago.
He said he finds Ed completely obnoxious, overly confident, a terrible artist, and most of all on the brink of insanity. The stories he told me were hilarious--there was one about Ed moving in on Melissa, Bob's old Gamma Phi Beta girlfriend. Tales of Ed screwing her by the river in a woods at a rock festival while Bob waited in the cold outside his own locked car (it was freezing and Ed had the keys), wondering where they had gone.
And another story about Bob getting out of bed to go to the bathroom--coming back to Ed and Melissa. He claims they made it a threesome, but that didn't alleviate his pain.
While browsing in a bookstore several days earlier, I'd found a large book of photographs entitled "Please Touch" with photos that endorsed Ed's pursuit of higher consciousness. I sent it to him with a poem as my inscription inside the cover:
Lazy drifting mornings
My god, you are a sleepyhead.
Aye, there's the rub! (and it feels so good).
Look deep into yourself
and perhaps you may find me
hiding in a teeny tiny corner
of your mind.
Good-bye, Farewell, Good luck.
- Marlan Warren, March 3, 1971
June 25, 1971
Unsent letter to my last ex-roommate Merle: "Today is a bad day because I feel listless, frustrated, anguished, horrified, ludicrous and a trifle blank."
[Photo: Leon Sink Hole. Pre-Ed. Freshman year we were still in bathing suits.]
In the letter to Merle, I mention that Nick at the bookstore has been taking me to skinny dip at Leon Sink: "Quiet guys usually scare me. I keep waiting (expecting?) to be tied to a tree in the middle of nowhere and raped. Unfortunately this never happens."
Letter stops abruptly. Starts again the next day with:
June 26, 1971
Ed came in last night at 9 p.m. I had gone to the movies with friends. He waited around with Bob and Jerry upstairs playing cards. When I got home, I was sitting on the porch brushing my hair when I recognized Ed's car. Insanity or dreaming--had to be one or the other.
It was reality.
Ed spent the night (we got to bed at 5 a.m.) and today we hung out with Barbara for a while. Afterward, he said, "She's the type who could have 10 guys on top of her in bed and if I walked in, she'd say, 'Come on.'"
[Photo of Living Theatre performance by Allan Koss, copyright Allan Koss]
I had Living Theatre Workshop at 1 p.m. today. No go. Can't get hip. Too external for me. Not enough guts. Our workshop leader Jim says we'll all get into it later. When later? We only watched a video of the founders Julian Beck and Julia Masina talking about it ("No more theater for the Rockefellers!").
Back to the unsent letter:
Ed's going to live in Tallahassee this summer. I'm so excited I can hardly stand it. We are friends. We love each other in a special sort of way. I'm very happy. He said he got the book and enjoyed it.
He will be back Tuesday.
Ed is every bit a spoiled, conceited, obnoxious, intellectual snob--but I love him and have enjoyed every minute of his visit. We are close friends. His plan--ready for this?--is to go home, pack and come back to get a job. He is going to live here for the summer!
Ed took me firefly hunting tonight in Wakulla County. I was the only one who caught a firefly but Ed found a pretty seashell and bunches of wildflowers.
Firefly catchers...
Wildflower pickers...
Two drifters off to see the world.
[Photo: Ed in foreground with friends in the background. Fall Quarter '71]
Disclaimer
This blog is purely personal and from my point of view with the faults that come with memory and exaggeration. My intention is to honor this unique and gentle soul, and to find some peace.
All photos in this blog, unless otherwise designated, are by Marlan Warren and copyright protected.
I just found my writings from diaries and letters covering the same time period as the last two posts (Sink Holes and AC/DC) which I wrote from memory. The excerpts below fill in blanks and correct the record. As for Truth, it is somewhere in between.
My diary begins with my summer move out of the conservative dorm and into an un-conservative house in Tallahassee with three other girls. Now a junior, I took classes and some part-time work. Ed Clark brought Light into my life, and then suddenly left Tallahassee to live at home in Jacksonville. I missed him terribly, but the diary reflects that I was handling his absence with more realism and maturity than I recall possessing.
Posted here are diary excerpts from that diary:
Tallahassee, Fla. June 12-13, 1971
I lie here exhausted, freshly bathed, and feeling very proud. Saturday morning I drove all the way up here from Fort Myers (7 hrs.) and made it alive with the car still in good shape.
[Photo from Google Images. Not mine. Used here for reference purposes only. I don't have any photos of the house I lived in during this time, but this looks exactly like it.]
The house is like a dream. I even like my room. It's sparsely furnished--in fact the worst of the lot--which is what I get for being the last to move in. There is an over-abundance of bureaus that make me long for a desk.
The old tenants--as a gesture of kindness or bitterness (or both) left us a rather long list of all the faults and disasters that come with the house. The worst seems to be the roaches, but I hope that will clear up slightly when the garbage they've so generously left behind is taken away.
Spent the rest of my day cleaning the kitchen. It was quite a job and I only scratched the surface! I had better luck with my room: comfortable orange curtains, rug, stereo, and shelves of books. The bed was a real scream. It was only a mattress. A large wobbly bed waited in the front room so I traded. My window is next to the porch. It's a lovely old porch with rocking chairs to rest in, but I can't help feeling that I'm always being observed. Ed would frown or laugh (or both) at that!
I sat on the porch tonight thinking over Ed's advice:
Dream your world as you'd like it...
Hard to decide what kind of world I need and desire. Hope to read and expand more this summer.
[Bob in above photo.]
Bob is one of the three guys who live upstairs. He wants me in any way, shape or form. I'm not sure why. Ed would say that doesn't matter; it's enough that Bob likes me. Bob jumps to the conclusion that I am unsure of myself and afraid of sex. This is a truth only in part. I'm not afraid of sex (in fact, I expect to find my need for it quite prevalent this summer), but I have always been afraid of people.
Bob scares me with his insistence that one shouldn't discriminate sexual partners--that it doesn't matter who you are--if you're willing you're eligible. There's a loss of identity involved that makes me feel like just one more functioning animal on the planet.
I don't mean to be snobbish; I like to get the maximum enjoyment out of life: cooking, walking, cleaning--these activities play with my senses and give me pleasure. And I want to make love or have sex, or just touch and taste and enjoy someone whom I trust and who won't jump to conclusions over everything.
I don't want anyone to ever lie to me in bed, and I will return the favor. All I ask is understanding and patience.
June 15, 1971
Mini-muffins and squash for supper. Squash: fry in butter, steam with water, add sugar, salt, onions. Dee-licious! (Bob's recipe) The more I get to know Bob, the more I like him.
Becky (my roommate) is starting to wear my patience. The fault is my own as well as hers. Must learn to relax.
Sitting on the porch this evening, Bob informed me that last night he and Dean saw a peeping-tom peeking through the kitchen window. He said this so casually it took us a while to comprehend the caliber of the situation. "We decided to go see what the guy was looking at," Bob said. "He walked away when he saw us coming." This was good for a laugh and freaked out my roommate Barbara who played the "frightened chick": "I sleep naked!" But I have a feeling it will pass after her visitor Jim leaves.
Jim is a tall good-looking guy who hitchhiked in from Jacksonville tonight for a visit. His first words to me were: "Well, how's school?" Make me want to vomit!
Bob invited me upstairs and I played cards with him and Jerry. Dean was finishing Dune for the fourth time! I wish I knew him better, but Bob and Jerry assure me that I don't. Bob gave me some bread and the recipe. They assure me that I won't be able to bake bread. I'll show them!
Took an ungodly long walk today. Tomorrow I'm driving friends to go job hunting.
Desire to write Ed or even call him overwhelms. Letters run through my mind during the day. Have got to start bringing my fantasies down. I'm using a good friend as an escape from this world and must stop. But I do miss him.
June 16, 1971
MUST GET MY SHIT TOGETHER.
No kidding. Can't even stand to write Ed. What do I want? For sure I want to cultivate my classical music taste. Must finish the rest of my books before buying more. Weave baskets...garden...learn frisbee...yoga classes...take another dance class...Wake my body up!
What else? Art? Whose? Learn to make lasagna!
I waste too much time.
Relax.
Enjoy pleasant fragrances.
Love those I can.
Keep myself open to everything.
June 17, 1971
Much more together now. Still no job, but volunteered at the co-op bookstore. Sold a lot of books!
The happy part of this day came when I bought two classical albums and On Becoming a Person (Ed suggested it in a letter).
“The more I am open to the realities in me and in the other person, the less do I find myself wishing to rush in to ‘fix things.' I am much more content to be myself and to let another person be himself.”
Also began reading the Tao and enjoying that. My enthusiasm for these books is not merely induced by my fondness for Ed but the other way around: My enthusiasm for these stimuli that he introduced me to has caused my fondness for Ed.
Two days later:
Too much day to write about. It's 5 a.m. and if I must stay up to write this. The Big Event was at 2:15 p.m. when my bread was finally baked and we all had a party. Afterwards Bob and I talked on the porch. I really like him now. He sees so much and in his own way is very honest. He surprised me with the fact that he was Ed's roommate for six months over a year ago.
He said he finds Ed completely obnoxious, overly confident, a terrible artist, and most of all on the brink of insanity. The stories he told me were hilarious--there was one about Ed moving in on Melissa, Bob's old Gamma Phi Beta girlfriend. Tales of Ed screwing her by the river in a woods at a rock festival while Bob waited in the cold outside his own locked car (it was freezing and Ed had the keys), wondering where they had gone.
And another story about Bob getting out of bed to go to the bathroom--coming back to Ed and Melissa. He claims they made it a threesome, but that didn't alleviate his pain.
While browsing in a bookstore several days earlier, I'd found a large book of photographs entitled "Please Touch" with photos that endorsed Ed's pursuit of higher consciousness. I sent it to him with a poem as my inscription inside the cover:
Lazy drifting mornings
My god, you are a sleepyhead.
Aye, there's the rub! (and it feels so good).
Look deep into yourself
and perhaps you may find me
hiding in a teeny tiny corner
of your mind.
Good-bye, Farewell, Good luck.
- Marlan Warren, March 3, 1971
June 25, 1971
Unsent letter to my last ex-roommate Merle: "Today is a bad day because I feel listless, frustrated, anguished, horrified, ludicrous and a trifle blank."
[Photo: Leon Sink Hole. Pre-Ed. Freshman year we were still in bathing suits.]
In the letter to Merle, I mention that Nick at the bookstore has been taking me to skinny dip at Leon Sink: "Quiet guys usually scare me. I keep waiting (expecting?) to be tied to a tree in the middle of nowhere and raped. Unfortunately this never happens."
Letter stops abruptly. Starts again the next day with:
June 26, 1971
Ed came in last night at 9 p.m. I had gone to the movies with friends. He waited around with Bob and Jerry upstairs playing cards. When I got home, I was sitting on the porch brushing my hair when I recognized Ed's car. Insanity or dreaming--had to be one or the other.
It was reality.
Ed spent the night (we got to bed at 5 a.m.) and today we hung out with Barbara for a while. Afterward, he said, "She's the type who could have 10 guys on top of her in bed and if I walked in, she'd say, 'Come on.'"
[Photo of Living Theatre performance by Allan Koss, copyright Allan Koss]
I had Living Theatre Workshop at 1 p.m. today. No go. Can't get hip. Too external for me. Not enough guts. Our workshop leader Jim says we'll all get into it later. When later? We only watched a video of the founders Julian Beck and Julia Masina talking about it ("No more theater for the Rockefellers!").
Back to the unsent letter:
Ed's going to live in Tallahassee this summer. I'm so excited I can hardly stand it. We are friends. We love each other in a special sort of way. I'm very happy. He said he got the book and enjoyed it.
He will be back Tuesday.
Ed is every bit a spoiled, conceited, obnoxious, intellectual snob--but I love him and have enjoyed every minute of his visit. We are close friends. His plan--ready for this?--is to go home, pack and come back to get a job. He is going to live here for the summer!
Ed took me firefly hunting tonight in Wakulla County. I was the only one who caught a firefly but Ed found a pretty seashell and bunches of wildflowers.
Firefly catchers...
Wildflower pickers...
Two drifters off to see the world.
[Photo: Ed in foreground with friends in the background. Fall Quarter '71]
Disclaimer
This blog is purely personal and from my point of view with the faults that come with memory and exaggeration. My intention is to honor this unique and gentle soul, and to find some peace.
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