The Historiographer: What's Going Down in Mudville?

Brian--

December 13, 2004

Hey, buddy. What's going down in Mudville? Are you in a philosophical mood? Or are you just in the mood for some philosophy? Or is it all you can do these days just to keep your hands clean?

I stick my finger into existence -- it smells of nothing. Where am I? What is this thing called the world? Who is it who has lured me into the thing, and now leaves me here? Who am I? How did I come into the world? Why was I not consulted?
That's Kierkegaard. Soren Kierkegaard, one of the fathers of existentialism. He was not a lot of fun at parties; I can tell you that. Human life is not designed for pleasure, Kierkegaard tells us, yet in the time given to each of us for our own existence, we strive for happiness in order to escape anxiety and the deep, hopeless depression which is despair. But there is no escape -- no matter how pleasurable and comfortable we make our lives in order to hide from the truth. For the truth is, Kierkegaard insists, that all of us live in anxiety and despair. This is the universal human condition. We suffer from anxiety even when we are not aware of it, and even when there is nothing to fear, nothing in the objective world to feel anxious about. This is because at bottom, says Kierkegaard, our anxiety is not objective at all, it is subjective anxiety -- it is the universal fear of something that is nothing, it is the fear of the nothingness of human existence.

Wow! And they call economics the dismal science!!

In any event, we -- the residents of 3801 Connecticut Avenue -- had our Christmas party last Thursday, December 9th. The food was good; the food was outstanding, in fact. The entree was lasagna: both vegetarian lasagna and meat lasagna. I am somewhat of a vegetarian. I stuck with the non-meat lasagna. My former psychiatrist, Dr. Rhoda Ruttenberg, "Dr. R" for short -- like Kafka's Herr K., but with a medical degree -- is also a vegetarian. But that's neither here nor there.

The party was held in the building's social room. I sat in the same chair all evening, from about 6:00 till after 8:00. I was seated with a group of young people. The conversation seemed to be dominated by one fellow, an Indian from Bombay. He does "infrastructure finance" -- roads, tunnels, bridges, that type of thing.

He was fascinating. His own "intrapsychic structure" was expressed repeatedly in everything he said. The same psychological pattern repeated itself, time after time. Someone asked: "As for Metro, what's the better way to raise money -- by fare increases or by taxation?" Finance Guy said: "Oh, taxation, of course. That's the only way to raise significant revenues. Fares are nothing. They amount to nothing. They're crap. Fares don't even pay for the electricity that Metro uses."

Later in the conversation he was talking about environmentalism, and concerns about global warming. "The only way to do anything about global warming is to increase reliance on nuclear energy." Someone said: "What about alternative energy sources?" Finance Guy said: "No, it has to be nuclear. Alternative energies are nothing. Take wind power, for example. It's nothing. It's crap. It doesn't amount to anything in the total picture of energy supplies."

Someone asked: "But what about the waste material. Nuclear waste? Doesn't nuclear power generate a lot of nuclear waste?" Finance Guy said: "Nuclear energy produces very little waste. It's nothing. It's crap. It doesn't amount to anything."

Then the interlocutor said: "But even so, the waste that is produced is so toxic. Even a small amount of nuclear waste can contaminate a wide area. No?"

Finance Guy said: "No. That problem is overblown. The problems posed by nuclear waste are nothing. They're crap."

Then later on in the conversation, something amazing happened. Finance Guy was talking about his native country, India. He was talking about the use of the English language in India, and he pointed out that only about 5% of the Indian population speaks fluent English. "Just five percent. But keep in mind, India has a population of over one billion people. So that amounts to about 50 million people who speak English. Fifty million! Think about it. Just five percent of Indians speak fluent English, but in real terms it amounts to 50 million people. Why, that's huge!" You see the split in Finance Guy's thinking? At times he discounted the significance of an object in real terms, emphasizing instead the quantitative smallness of the object as a percentage of the whole. But with respect to one issue (the use of English in his native India -- the Motherland), he discounted the significance of percentage and emphasized the importance of the object in real terms.

Then the conversation turned to Kierkegaard. That's where my mind turned off. I wasn't in a mood for Kierkegaard. Message for Stanley Cutler, one of my teachers at Penn State, who once said to me, "Freedman, you must be a lot of fun at parties." Ironic, don't you think, Stan? A dismal pessimist like Kierkegaard probably didn't get a lot of party invitations. And yet, a hundred years after he died, the writings of Kierkegaard can be a lively topic of conversation at a party. Or is it simply that people will talk about anything -- literally anything, nothing, or "Nothingness" -- just to get off the topic of infrastructure finance?

At this point a tenant, Barbara D'Jebbour (apartment 247) seated herself next to me. She's originally from Vancouver, Canada. Her husband, Kamar (also known as Frank), is from India; his mother is Jewish and his father, Hindu. She's creative and histrionic. They were very friendly with the former front-desk manager, Elizabeth Joyce. My interaction with Barbara was odd, to say the least. We had never talked before. She didn't introduce herself and never asked me what my name was. She launched into a very intimate picture of her life and personality, as though she were a patient on an analyst's couch. I had the eerie feeling she knew all about my background and was parodying what she had heard. "I'm highly intelligent. Yes, very intelligent. Well, maybe not Mensa smart. But close. I'm part scientist, part artist. Right now the scientist part of me is dominant. Kamar and I are involved in biomedical research. Kamar and I are working on an AIDS test for use in Third World countries. AIDS tests, you know, cost about $500 each. We've developed a test that costs only a dollar. We won't get rich, Kamar and I, but we're doing something for humanity." (Like Marie and Pierre Curie?)

"I'm very complex psychologically," she said. "I have about 50 different personalities." At this point, I felt like saying, "Listen, lady, could you switch to one of your other 49 personalities? Right now, this one is starting to piss me off." She then launched into a discussion of her daytime TV viewing habits: Judge Judy and Judge Brown. "I'm thinking about pursuing a career in law," she said. (She's in her early 50's.) For some odd reason, she urged me to visit the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception at Catholic University. (I associated at this moment to "Our Blessed Lady of Pharmacology," the patron saint of biomedical scientists.) The conversation turned emotionally draining when she started to talk about the death of her mother, earlier this year. "My mother died in my arms." Then she talked about all the relatives of hers who died in the past year. "And my aunt and uncle will not live out the year. They're dying." Keep in mind, this is an informal social gathering: a setting for people to get away from their daily cares. What would possess a person to intrude so flagrantly on another person's right to the quiet enjoyment of an informal social event?

"Do you talk to Elizabeth Joyce (the former front desk manager)?" I asked. "Yes," she said, "several times a week. We stay in touch."

All in all my clinical impression was that of a person who already knew a lot about me, was parodying me, and who was venting an intense sadism in the guise of vulnerability. She struck me as highly manipulative. "Of course, you know the circumstances behind Elizabeth's leaving her job (as front desk manager)." Well, quite frankly, I didn't and I certainly wasn't going to play into her manipulative game by begging for details: "No, I don't. Tell me, please tell me the story behind the story." I remained silent, and didn't go for the bait. I think Barbara D'Jebbour was just trying to f--k with my head, that's all she was doing. I shouldn't have let her do that. I shouldn't have let her f--k with my head.

Yes, Stan Cutler was right. I don't know how to interact with people at parties. I'm just not a lot of fun at parties. As Dr. Bash would say, I lack social skills. I never learned how to regale fellow partygoers with the fine details of infrastructure finance or the existential Nothingness of Kierkegaard. I don't have the gall to launch into a bizarrely-narcissistic account of my personality and the intimate details of my life -- in the company of a total stranger, whose name I never bothered to learn. I suppose I'll never fit in. Such is the tragic fate of the socially clueless, like myself. I guess it will be just me and General Bonaparte for the rest of my days. Yes, I am crippled by my social ineptness. (Or do people simply despise me for my mordant sarcasm, and my ability to pierce the social armor of my peers?)

Be that as it may.

I'll tell you who else was probably not a lot of fun at parties. Sartre. The French philosopher, Jean-Paul Sartre. They say he would sit at a table at a cafe, book in hand, and read. Read, read, read -- as if no one were around him. And yet, Sartre, like Kierkegaard, can spark a lively debate at a party, especially if the preceding topic of conversation is infrastructure finance.

Have you ever read any Sartre, Brian? "No Exit?" That was Fred Cohen's favorite play. He liked the lesbian character. "No Exit" has only three actors, and no change of scenery. It's kind of like the CBS-TV reality series "Big Brother," but without the half-million dollar prize money. The three characters, a man and two women, one of whom is a lesbian, walk separately into a brightly lighted room furnished with three small sofas, knowing that they are dead and have been sent here to hell. Yet there are no instruments to torture them, there are no hell fires to burn them, there are only the other two people. Soon the horrible truth dawns upon them that they are one another's tortures, their damnation is for all eternity to torment one another. By the end of the play they have tortured each other excruciatingly and they have made the discovery that in hell there is no need for hell fire -- as the male character says, "hell is other people."

Have you read "No Exit," or "Being and Nothingness," or "The Flies?" What about "Nausea?" Nausea, not morning sickness. The book, not the physical state. Have you ever read "Nausea?"

One of the first products of Sartre's philosophical reflections was a novel, the philosophical novel with the title "Melancholia," which Sartre's publishers changed to "Nausea." Why a novel? Sartre is already finding his way toward a philosophy of existentialism which will use literature -- novels, plays, short stories -- to grasp concrete human existence, the human condition, the lived life, as distinct from the overlay of essences by which philosophy, science, and theology conceal, distort, and explain away my existence as a conscious being.

Sartre had been working on the novel "Nausea" for almost a decade, ever since his years in graduate school.

When "Nausea" was published in 1938 it was an immediate and huge success. In the following years, the principal character of the novel "Nausea," Antoine Roquentin, has become a recognized, staple part of our literary world, as have other literary figures like Shakespeare's Hamlet and Lady Macbeth, or Dickens's Oliver Twist and David Copperfield, or James Joyce's Bloom and Molly, or Kafka's Gregor Samsa and his characters whose names begin with the letter K. References to Roquentin's melancholy concrete existence, his depression and nausea, and his crisis of anguish occur in the fields of psychology, literature, and philosophy, and wherever the consciousness of modern man is examined.

Who is Roquentin and how has Sartre's most philosophical novel made him into a personality so real that he lives among us outside the novel itself? What are the moods and thoughts of this fictional character and how have they come to be perceived as expressing moods and thoughts which are characteristic of contemporary human life?

The novel is shrewdly presented by Sartre as Roquentin's own diary, a first-person account of his daily life, written only for himself, and thus as a direct and truthful statement of one man's subjectivity, his concreteness, here-and-now existence. The scene is a port city in France which has the name of Bouville (literally, Mudville). It is clearly a description of the actual port of Le Havre, the main port of France, the ugly commercial city in which Sartre lived in cheap hotels near the railroad station and other decaying infrastructure while he was teaching philosophy there.

In many ways Roquentin is similar to Sartre; he is living on a small inherited income, he is an intellectual and a writer. But Roquentin is represented as having no family ties, no job, no friends. He speaks no Hebrew and never attends his local synagogue, despite the repeated exhortations of his psychotherapist. That is the tragedy of Roquentin. He is too proud, too stubborn, and too fearful to visit his local Temple, where crowds of people assemble each week; yes, crowds of potential comrades wait to befriend poor, lonely Roquentin. Each week the rabbi asks the congregation, "What are you waiting for?" And the congregation replies, "Waiting for Roquentin." But Roquentin never arrives.

Although he had traveled widely, and had various adventures, Roquentin is now somewhat bored and world weary. But he is a free man, free to do what he wants, and he has come to Bouville to do research in the archives of the city library for a biography that he is writing, on the life of an eighteenth-century adventurer and diplomat, the Marquis de Rollebon.

But from the very first page we know that something is wrong. The first page of the diary mentions that a change has come over him, and we soon learn that the whole point of keeping a diary is to determine what this change is and what it means for his life. "The best thing," he says in the diary, "would be to write down events from day to day." And above all, he says, "I must tell how I see this table, this street, the people, my packet of tobacco, since those are the things which have changed." With these words, Sartre has taken us into the psychology of a mind that is aware that it is slipping away from its normal states, aware that his world is beginning to take on a strange new appearance, and yet sufficiently in touch with reality to want to observe his own mental states, to keep a day-to-day account of the changes in his perceptions and thoughts.

When did it all begin? It began on a day in the middle of June . . .

Check you out next week, buddy. Call me, Brian. I'm serious. We need to consult. (Why was I not consulted?) The way I see it, if you can pick up the phone to call the cops for no good reason, you can just as easily pick up the phone to call ME for no good reason. But then, it wasn't you who called the cops on me, was it? Never mind.

Mudville: a place where head librarians never do the dirty work, and where "Les Mains Sales" [Dirty Hands] is not just a book, but a physical, concrete state reserved for assistant librarians.

THE DIARIES.

[During the period June 2001 to August 2003 I believed that the resident manager of my apartment building, David Castleberry (2000 - 2003), used to enter my apartment surreptitiously each day. I used to leave him a handwritten message taped to the inside of the front door. I had begun that practice in mid-June 2001 and continued writing notes and taping them to the door until the summer of 2003, when David Castleberry quit. The messages were addressed to "Friend." I pretended that I didn't know it was David Castleberry who was reading the notes. It was my (paranoid) belief that David Castleberry reported back to attorney managers at Akin Gump the content of the message I left on the door each day. I further believed that Akin Gump's attorney managers then informed Brian Brown at the library of the content of the daily message.]

6-13-01 I hope you enjoyed your visit. This is where [imaginary] Brian and I have hot passionate sex. You know the great thing about Lewinskying a guy with a two-inch penis? No gagging! Get it? Come back now, hear?

[At the outset of the diaries, I refer to librarian Brian Brown as "the librarian." I pretend that I do not know his name. At the beginning of the diaries, the individual identified as "Brian" is an imaginary figure.]

6-14-01 I've decided to communicate with you every day. Tell your friends to look into Sally. Crackpot Sally is a volunteer who waters the plants in the library. She climbs up on chairs and takes other risks, and if she slips and falls, and proceeds to sue the city -- Well, I'm sure Tony would love that. She seems to be granted unusual privileges. The librarian [Brian Brown] lets crackpot Sally use his computer in his private office. What's up with that? Some time ago Sally sneered at me prominently the Monday after I told law enforcement about "Mr. Intellectual" and identified him by one of the books he had returned. She had a look of "How dare you!" Lady, maybe you should douche your brain instead of watering the plants. Happy Flag Day! God Bless America. They should have fried TMV [Timothy McVeigh] -- literally.

[Attached is message from the Tenants Association with my marginal notes:] Hi, 3801 Residents! The very last line of the recent Tenants Association newsletter said: "Please remit to Jeannette Smoot, Treasurer in Apartment 9." It should have said "Apartment 920." Also, should you wish to join the Tenants Association, your check should be made payable to 3801 Connecticut Tenants Association. Thank you for your interest and attention! Julie Sherman, Association President. [My marginal note reads:] Left outside my Apt on 6-14-01 (AM) not left in front of any other apartments.

["Mr. Intellectual" is a middle-aged patron who lives in the neighborhood. He visits the library several days each week and borrows numerous books. He is tall and thin. He has the serious, piercing gaze of an intellectual or highly-intelligent person. I've sensed for years that he knows who I am. He doesn't appear to hold a conventional job.]

6-15-01 I have nothing to report today. Sorry. Yesterday was a slow news day. One thing -- [the library patron named] Dave (Mr. Washington Times) gave me that "invisible look" when he passed by me in the street. Dave--that's [library patron] Frank Green's friend. Dave used to be friendly with [the librarian] Bruce Snyder. Enjoy the weekend.

[Frank Green is now deceased. "Dave" still lives in the neighborhood. Bruce Snyder now works at the Chevy Chase Branch of the DC Library.]

6-14-01 Look into Richard [Peyton Howard]. I have picked up vibes on him since at least 1990, when I was still working. I have the feeling he knows all about me -- confidential stuff. He is a graduate of Brown University; I think he works for the U.S. Information Agency. He plays tennis and goes to church. I think he's active with the Tenants Association. I think he's creepy. What's his story? Say, aren't we coming up on the anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo? More tomorrow.

6-19-01 The library staff were icy yesterday. I think they've been ordered to have a more professional demeanor -- I owe that to you, friend. But it won't last. I guarantee it. Did you look into Richard [Peyton Howard]? What does he know? If Elizabeth Joyce doesn't come clean, I will report her to the British Embassy. Riverside dinner with riparian entertainment -- my ass ! ! Later, Dude. (Yosh [Shirazzi, co-owner of the Brookville Supermarket,] looked angry yesterday.)

6-20-01 This morning, while I was riding on the elevator, here at 3801, a tenant, David Grady, got on and pushed the button for the 2d floor -- using his middle finger. I'm still thinking about whether that was intended as a message to me. David Grady is an attorney at Hogan & Hartson, where I used to work. I told federal authorities about him. Later, Dude.

6-21-01 Here's something to look into. Last spring and summer, a young man used to visit the Cleveland Park Library to use the computer. His name was Brad. Medium height, very good-looking, blondish hair, curly hair, athletic appearance. He used to chat with Dave (Bruce Snyder's friend). I used to think of Brad as "Dave's Boy-Toy." The librarian [Brian] knew him by name. I can recall the librarian talking for some time to Brad on one occasion. I think Brad used the computer as part of a job search. I'm thinking of getting a masturbator for [the imaginary] Brian -- but they don't sell his size -- extra-small. Bye-bye.

6-22-01 Look into the tenants in 247. He's Indian, about 50 years old. His wife [Barbara D'Jebbour] is European stock. She's creative & histrionic. They're very friendly with Elizabeth Joyce. The husband chats with Joyce, and a few weeks ago, when Joyce was ill, the wife comforted Joyce be stroking Joyce's cheek with her hand (THAT'S intimacy). They travel a great deal. I think his car was stolen a time ago. I may be mistaken, but I think the husband owns a liquor store in Southeast, DC. See the connection? Note that Cleveland Park Liquor & Wine (Where I make beer purchases) is owned by Indians. They may be part of a subcontinental Mafia. Anyway, I get funny vibes from both tenants in 247. This is serious. (Don't let those people fuck around with you.)

[My impression of Frank and Barbara D'Jebbour is that they are a pair of grifters.]

6-23-01 Stop back on Monday.

6-25-01 Several startling developments: Early on Saturday afternoon, about 1:00 PM, I was walking up Connecticut Avenue. "Mr. Intellectual" was leaving the Brookville Supermarket. He saw me, had a slight startle response, then looked straight ahead, with that invisible look. Upon seeing me, he started to whistle. He ("Mr. Intellectual") has never reacted to me like this before. I believe he was angry about my letter to you dated 6-14-01 (that talked about him & Crackpot Sally). I have been thinking about contacting the FBI for my own protection -- these people may gang up on me -- I can't rule out physical violence against me. At least Freeh (Clinton's lackey) is gone. Tom Pickard is in charge for now. In another development I have discovered that Dr. Lawrence C. Sack may be a Communist. He subscribes to a publication "The New Federalist" -- very anti-American. To think I paid over $300 to Dr. Sack in 1991, before the party breakdown in Moscow. My money probably went straight to party headquarters in the Kremlin via Comrade Sack. ([Imaginary] Brian and I went to Seaworld this weekend. I got lucky with a hot female and Brian -- well, let's just say, Brian probably won't be sitting down for a while.) Dolphin sex -- the phenom of the future.

6-26-01 Things were quiet in the library yesterday. An uneasy calm, though. I feel they don't like my letters to you, and they feel helpless about them. -- They would like me to stop, but they have no control in the matter. -- A quiet desperation. They don't even try to elicit evidence of paranoia, as if some authority has told them my powers are real. Barbara largely ignored me. The librarian [Brian Brown] (who, for some reason, didn't sit down at the information desk) also ignored me; he chatted briefly with Peter (the aging fag volunteer). I picked up negative vibes from Charles [Davis], the brother. [The patron named] Tanner sat at my table; THAT was exciting. The double entendres centered on "zoo animals" and "Judge Judy" and a person named "Peoples." What will today bring? Parting is such sweet sorrow, friend.

6-27-01 Another quiet day yesterday. The librarians were at a meeting while I was there. Hillary (the children's librarian) took the information desk responsibilities. Double-entendres from Hillary were "Nobel Prize," "fiction" (referring to the defamation of my character), and "shipwreck" (a reference to Jack London's Sea-Wolf?) As I was standing up and leaving the computer, "Mr. Intellectual" was entering the library. He spotted me, and smiled -- He usually doesn't smile when he sees me. Background on Caprice -- She was born in Mexico. She spent time in a red Chinese prison. Trotsky was a family friend.

6-28-01 They were supposed to clean the windows yesterday. My windows are still dirty -- another promise broken. No wonder I don't trust people. Saw Dr. Shaffer for first time at Spring Road. Thought she was fishing around for fears that she thinks I have about my SSA benefits being cut off. Sign that she knows about these letters to you. She thinks I write these letters (which I have never told her about) to make a case that I'm crazy, so that SSA will continue my benefits -- as if anybody who was under surveillance would not be concerned. I think the thing is SHE'S afraid of her own job getting cut, especially in view of the recent restructuring at P Street. Sat next to [library patron] Carlos [Chalbaud] at the computer yesterday. I ejaculated in my pants -- quietly, of course, after all, it's a library! June 28, 1914 -- Francis Ferdinand assassinated in Sarajevo. June 28, 1984 -- complaint filed in Fed Court by David Tatel in Milwaukee School Desegregation case. Moral: Whatever you start on 6-28 will never come to an end.

[Appended is page 845 of the August 2000 issue of "American Psychologist" that lists my former therapist (August 1998 to June 1999), Lisa A. Osborn, as having received her psychologist certification. Includes handwritten note:] I took this from a journal left in the library magazine exchange -- coincidence?

Interestingly, Dr. Shaffer was in fact later cut from the staff of the DC Mental Health Department, in February 2003. She was unhappy with the action, as evidenced by her filing a grievance with the union. My suspicions about Dr. Shaffer's fear of termination, described in the message on 6/28/01, may not have been unfounded.

I continue to see Carlos Chalbaud in the neighborhood. He seems to live on Macomb Street. He is originally from Venezuela. He has the appearance of a sweet, sensitive individual. He may be a student.]

6-29-01 Yesterday, someone left a gay (homosexual) publication ("The Advocate") in the magazine exchange in the library. It's a special issue of the magazine dealing with "The Millennium March on Washington," on Wed 6-27-01. I told Dr. Shaffer about Aristotle [my name for "Ari" (last name?)], the good-looking young guy who used to live here at 3801. I described Aristotle to Dr. Shaffer as "A Walker." -- that he appeared to take long walks [which I associated to "The Millennium March" for homosexuals]. -- As I was sitting at the computer, the custodian [Alex Chandler] who replaced Keith Peoples, bent down next to me and said: "Does that feel better?" He was talking about the air conditioning that had just been fixed. -- But I knew what he really meant. If he wanted to ask me out, he should have just said so! Oh, brother!

7-2-01 This is [imaginary] Brian's idea of protection. I keep telling him "It's not going to work, man!" [Attached is page from "Vanity Fair" magazine that features a photo of a nude male model with an inflated rubber toy covering "the area of interest."]

[Imaginary] Brian was here this weekend. You can never be too safe with that guy. "He sleeps with the dolphins." Brian charges me a late fee if I don't come on time. [Attached is a "LifeStyles" condom wrapper.] Did you ever hear of such a thing? Brian's balls are in the shop right now -- beyond repair.

7-3-01 Have the home office look into Richard & his wife -- I think they live on the sixth floor. They are middle-aged, with grown children -- both previously married. He is stocky and has white hair (a perfect running mate for Ross Perot, I might add). They moved in while John Reuss was still manager. Get the home office to look into them. I thought I heard he was in real estate -- maybe I am wrong. Dr. Shaffer was in a state yesterday. I thought she was especially aggressive, and looking for an argument. I think these letters are getting to her. The librarians have a noticeably different way of interacting around me. Very cold, frigid. It's since I started communicating to you. It's obvious to me they are reacting to something. -- That tells me my letters are being read. (Richard's wife works out in the ex[ercise] room.)

["Richard & his wife" later moved to 3701 Connecticut Avenue, a condominium.]

7-5-01 Elizabeth Joyce is very circumspect around me, knowing I will report anything of interest that she says. I noticed in the library on 7-3-01 that Barbara seems really different. No more of that sucking-up crap, like: "Oh, Mr. Freedman is our most conscientious patron. If we can trust anyone, it's Mr. Freedman." What a passive-aggressive ass-licker she is!! [The circulation desk employee] Pauline Jones was back on Tuesday. The sister looked admiringly at me. She was using heterosexual double-entendres. Carlos was there. I think somebody talked to him about me. He no longer gives me that look like I'm gonna pull him behind the stacks and hump his ass. -- Poor Carlos, I sure did give him a scare for a while. The bricks [I stole from the building site at 3883 Connecticut Avenue] are in the oven -- makes great pizza.

7-6-01 Tell David Castleberry that he's got a problem with the tenant in 436. 436 has two bird feeders attached to the outside window. First, that's a lease violation. Two, there's a potential negligence problem for WRIT if those things fall off and bop somebody on the head or crash through Elizabeth Joyce's windshield (especially, since it's a lease violation that David has acquiesced in). Third, birdseed falls down on my window ledge, and I get birds pecking on my window. Do I have to contact WRIT to get management here to enforce leases? -- Find out why the branch librarian [Brian Brown] has allowed, for years now, a patron named J. Connolly to sleep at a table in the library. Connolly is middle-aged. Gray hair. Uses (or sleeps in) library every day.

7-9-01 Here's your assignment for today: 1. Look into David Dickinson on the 9th floor. He is a lawyer who's admitted to practice in California. What's his story -- give me a report. -- 2. There used to be a married couple on the first floor. They were both obese and had a little girl named "May." Elizabeth would remember them. The woman once said to her little girl (as she pointed to me) "May, that man doesn't like children." (They were goof balls). Well, in April -- wouldn't you know, I heard the woman chatting in a familiar way with Bruce Snyder, who's now stationed at the Chevy Chase Branch of the DC Library System. Yesterday I saw them at the Giant Supermarket. They moved from 3801 in about 1995.

7-10-01 1. I was thinking of contacting Judy Glassie [a management employee at WRIT, which runs 3801 Connecticut Avenue] about a covenant not to sue WRIT. Quid pro quo -- I agree not to sue, and WRIT lowers my rent. What do you think? Talk to David Castleberry. It could, in the end, be a good investment. I was thinking of contacting WRIT's accountancy firm. 2. If I'm summoned for jury duty, I'm going to submit the entire "archives" [that is, these messages] to the chief Judge as material to the evidence placed in controversy by Chuck Reischel (Esq.) about my mental state. Wait till Judge Johnson reads these letters: "Who the hell is Brian?" [Imaginary] Brian was here last night. He said to me: "Where do you want me to put the cigar?" I said: "In the ashtray." He said: "Is that what you call it?" [A reference to President Clinton's use of a cigar to stimulate Monica Lewinsky sexually.]

7-11-01 Went to the library yesterday. While Carlos was there, the branch librarian [Brian Brown] was talking to Justin (who used to volunteer at that branch). They talked about Rock Hudson -- and his movies with Doris Day. Justin talked about being on a train -- there was a drunk on the train -- The conductor was calling Justin's name over the P.A. System. I might have all this confused, but I see it as related to me. Then, the branch librarian was talking on the telephone to somebody about the children's librarian at that branch. I thought that was a reference to Anna Freud and her work as a child analyst. Just days before I had added material to my autobiography about Anna Freud. [The patron] J. Connolly mentioned that he lived in Brazil as a Peace Corps volunteer. It just occurred to me that there were some other odd things in the conversation yesterday (7-10-01) between Justin & the branch librarian. Justin used the word "proclivities" a number of times and mentioned "young boys." All the while, Carlos Chalbaud was at the computer. Tell me that's just a coincidence!

[Attached is something cut out of a magazine: an ad for the year 1916 Tournament of Roses, Brown University vs. State College of Washington. Includes my handwritten note:] The one bending over to receive is [Akin Gump managing partner] Larry Hoffman. Brown class of 1918. Half-man, half-amazing!

[Note that the phrase "the one bending over to receive" is a symbolic reference to anal intercourse. Hoffman was the managing partner at Akin Gump during my tenure. The sexual allusion to Hoffman suggests my psychological act of discharging feelings of overstimulation by fantasizing about Hoffman being anally raped.

Note a significant contemporaneous event: The CBS-TV reality show "Big Brother 2" began airing on 7-5-01. The show has aired every summer since the year 2000. "Big Brother 2" featured my favorite contestant, Hardy Ames Hill -- an individual who might be termed a "moral narcissist." Hill protected the weaker contestants against the aggression of the stronger contestants. A newspaper article about the show referred to Hill as "The Enforcer." At a later point in the season, an aggressive contestant (who was angry with Hill) used Hill's toothbrush to scrub the toilet in the guest house. Hill was enraged, and said at one point: "You're fucking with the wrong bull, I'm telling you. You're fucking with the wrong bull." My handwritten note "Half-man, half-amazing" is a quote from a statement made by "Big Brother 2" contestant Will Kirby, MD, about himself.]

7-12-01 The date today 7-12 reminds me of my 7th grade homeroom class (712) -- the homeroom teacher was Miss Lillian Camaioni (pronounced CA - ME - OH - NEE). She told my mama at a parent/teacher conference that I was a "scholar and a gentleman" -- that was then (1965-1966). Look at me now! -- Now, down to business. So, what's the story with Michael Ellsberg (146) -- the Ellsberg kid? He graduated from Brown [University]. Couldn't he get into Harvard? The Ellsberg smart genes skip a generation? Maybe the kid's got toy trains on the brain. [Michael Ellsberg's mother, Patricia Marx Ellsberg, was the daughter of Louis Marx, the toy train manufacturer.] -- Dr. Shaffer is a nincompoop ! ! ! -- Interesting thing happened at the library yesterday (7-11). Insight into Barbara. There were two good-looking jocks in the library, using the computer (Chris Block & Mike Doyle). I noticed Barbara eyeing Doyle. She seemed to get sexual pleasure out of it. (Personally I thought Chris Block was the hot one). Then later, Barbara says to me: "Oh, Mr. Freedman, this young man (pointing to Doyle's name on the computer sign out sheet) just stepped out. I'm saving the computer for him." THAT VIOLATES THE LIBRARY RULES. Then, I came back to the library later in the afternoon. A guy named "Pablo" signed up for the computer, then stepped out, and in the interim, Barbara the librarian called out his (Pablo's) name. She put him down as a "no show" on the sign out sheet (correct procedure). I guess if you're young, hot and f---able, Barbara gives special privileges. Does this fit the profile of a vindictive, passive-aggressive wench? -- Ask [former FBI profiler] Jack Douglas. [Blocked off in corner of page:] The shit hits the fan corner. I'm thinking of driving Dennis Race up the wall by sending out inquiries to major law firms, requesting legal counsel to negotiate my covenant not to sue WRIT -- mentioning that [former Akin Gump partner and later Treasury Department General Counsel] Ed Knight approved the burglary of my apt.

[Note that this is the first message that mentions Dennis Race. The reference is associated with a negative comment about my psychologist, Nancy Shaffer, Ph.D. This tends to confirm that whenever I'm feeling angry (overstimulated) about anything (particularly my therapists), I redirect (or discharge) my hostility (or overstimulation) to Dennis Race in a passive-aggressive manner.

Psychoanalytically, note the association of the phrase "young, hot and f---able" to the remote idea of burglary of my apartment (symbolically, a violation or rape). The association to the idea of rape is related to Daniel Ellsberg: the Nixon White House approved the burglary of Ellsberg's psychiatrist's office. Ed Knight, a former Akin Gump partner, was General Counsel of the Treasury Department (the rectum? [psychoanalytically, gold = feces]) in the Clinton Administration. Note the reference to "shit" [hits the fan] and the reference to Dr. Shaffer as a nincom"poop."

Compare the message on 7-10 that refers to President Clinton's use of a cigar to stimulate a vagina. Note my apparent confusion of vagina and anus: an ashtray is a waste receptacle (like the anus or a toilet). The joking reference (in the message on 7-10) confuses "ashtray" with "vagina" (a receptacle for a penis or, in the case of Monica Lewinsky, a cigar).

Oddly enough (or "oddly enough") it would be weeks later that, on the CBS-TV series "Big Brother 2," a contestant used an implement (toothbrush) that is intended for use in the mouth to scrub the toilet (a receptacle for anal material). It is not beyond the realm of possibility that I unconsciously identified the interpersonal relations of the "Big Brother 2" contestants with early childhood relations in my family, and, at some level, foresaw (or fantasized) the interpersonal outcome of those disturbed relations. In any event, I subjectively experience this material as uncanny. It's as if these messages in early July symbolically adumbrate the later events on the TV series "Big Brother 2," namely the action of the contestant Shannon in using Hardy Hill's toothbrush to scrub the guest house toilet.

Perhaps Dr. Shengold would see this message (and those immediately preceding it) as a significant expression of feelings of "too-muchness," overstimulation, and anal violation. See message on 7-11 that contains a symbolic reference to the rape of Larry Hoffman, a graduate of "Brown" University. The Branch Librarian at the Cleveland Park division is Brian Brown.

In any event, this material supports the view that as early as the year 2001 I associated my experiences at the Cleveland Park Library to feelings of overstimulation and anal rape.]

7-13-01 Yesterday (7-12) Elizabeth Joyce gave me, what I would call, an exasperated look -- as if she wanted to say something, but, felt she had to restrain herself and say nothing [note the projection of feelings of "overstimulation" to Elizabeth Joyce, the front desk manager at my apartment building]. I infer that something has been going on. Well, was I right about [the library volunteer] Justin, or not? Amazing, eh? Assignment: There used to be a front desk person here (I specifically recall she was here in mid-1997) -- her name was Beverly -- She was a sister. She seemed to fit Drew Weston's Type I personality: Good language skills, perfectionistic, diligent, self-motivated, preoccupied with food & eating. She was especially friendly with Elizabeth, the tenant from Australia (Rickey's honey). What's Bev's story?

7-16-01 Yesterday morning (7-15-01) about 9:30 AM, walking home from the supermarket I walked past one of the former volunteers at the Cleveland Park Library. It was in front of 3801 Connecticut. She gave me an obscene look -- as only someone who knew about me would do. I don't know her name. She is short, pudgy, walks around with a Walkman radio, light hair & looks like a mongoloid (Down's Syndrome). Also last week, someone left the following issue of Smithsonian in the library magazine exchange. Was it a reference to Paul Bloom, Ph.D., or Harold Bloom -- or both? [Attached is Smithsonian magazine cover for the April 2000 issue featuring a picture of a flower with the caption "The Art of the Flower." I don't recall now who Paul Bloom, Ph.D. is.]

[The library volunteer, identified as a Down's Syndrome victim, still lives in the neighborhood.]

7-17-01 The atmosphere in the library yesterday was FRIGID -- and I'm not talking about the air temperature. Barbara was acting out in her passive aggressive way.

[Imaginary] Brian was here last night. He said to me: "Would you be angry with me if I cracked your head open with this carpet sweeper." (Brian swings carpet sweeper). I said: "Does this mean you don't want to sweep with me anymore?"

[Parody of both "Big Brother 2" and a Seinfeld episode.]

7-18-01 I sat across from Julian Bond on the northbound Red Line, yesterday afternoon (about 1:45 PM). He was wearing light tan pants, yellow print tie, and a seersucker jacket. He was reading the "Science" section of the NY Times. I thought: "There's one brother who doesn't buy custom-made shirts." But as Vernon Jordan would say: "Maybe he should."

7-19-01 This is a [vacation] postcard that my dear friend Jesse Raben sent back to the folks at my old firm [Akin Gump]. He says that all he does is sleep, ski, and eat. Of course, he left out the most important thing -- [the] flossing.

[Attached is postcard from Killington, Vermont addressed to Constance Brown: "Dear Constance & the file room -- Skiing is wonderful. Vermont is beautiful. I really hope you guys are not working too hard while all I do is sleep and ski and eat. Anyway -- I hope to see you Tuesday -- Jesse"].

[Fortunately, Raben didn't say: "P.S. Enjoyed the cabin." Then -- THEN -- I'd start to worry.]

-- In Memoriam -- Katherine Graham -- She outlived John Mitchell and she kept her tits after all.

[Refers to the death of Washington Post owner, Katherine Graham. Former Attorney General John Mitchell had made a crude remark about Graham during the Watergate matter, to which the message alludes.]

7-20-01 I have noticed that since I communicated to you about J. Connolly (the middle-aged white male who sleeps in the library), he looks intently at me when he sees me -- not angrily, or with any emotion, just the appearance of the physical behavior of looking. As I say, he didn't look at me this way in the past. Why do you think that is? Thelma (a tenant here) [now deceased] was talking to Elizabeth Joyce yesterday (7-19) -- You know, Thelma? She's friendly with that nut job, Anne Gaddis (is that her name? -- I think even Elizabeth Joyce, who is friendly with everyone, finds Anne Gaddis hard to take) -- well, Elizabeth was talking to Thelma about Thelma's dental and eye problems, and Thelma said she'd talk to Elizabeth on Sunday -- that's what I think I heard. Is Elizabeth working on Sunday? Did I hear correctly? Listen, I have a complaint. There are these couple of young people (girl and guy) -- I think one or both moved in a couple of months or weeks ago -- they drive a dark green SUV and sometimes park out under my window. Well, I had previously formed the impression that they were unusually loud -- even rowdy -- well, late yesterday afternoon or early evening (around 6:20 PM), they were drunk and rowdy, they drove up the driveway hooting and hollering, and dropped off a couple of Styrofoam coolers, numerous beer cans, what looks like a wine bottle with a cork in it -- I'm looking at the crap right now (8:00 AM 7/20). Well, they dumped that crap by the driveway side of the tool shed. Ask Sergio [one of the housekeepers] about it, -- he's parked just next to it. Well, I don't care about the mess (I can be a pig myself) -- but, the crows got to it, and, man, you would not believe how those crows went at that stuff -- like a bunch of kids at Disneyworld!! I thought it was a person out there. I looked, and it was like I was in some Hitchcock movie [with all the crows pecking at the trash]. Dark green SUV -- Check it out -- Hope to get lucky this weekend. Later, --

7-23-01 The pigs with the dark green SUV dumped a bit more trash out by the tool shed on Saturday. The clean-up guy who came Sunday morning (7-22) had to clean it up. I caught the license no. -- TEXAS LICENSE NO. RCZ 52L -- It's a jeep Grand Cherokee -- (Dark Green) -- probably friends of Bob Strauss. Friday afternoon Jerry Zwirn came to visit at the library & chatted with Velvel Dacosta. Jerry used to be a librarian at Cleveland Park -- till he retired earlier this year. The branch librarian [Brian Brown] talks in hushed tones when he talks about where Jerry went -- obviously, the branch librarian (I think his name is Brown) doesn't want me to know where Jerry is. Anyway, in the conversation between Dacosta and Jerry Z., Dacosta used words and phrases that I thought were directed at me, symbolically.

Dacosta used the phrases:

The Central Library -- [a manifest reference to MLK] which I took to be a [symbolic] reference to my old high school

Brian is going on vacation (whoever "Brian" is) Jesse Raben's vacation in Vermont?

I don't know where he's going. He's not going to Italy (I went to Italy 23 years ago) Jesse Raben's vacation in Vermont?

10-mile hike -- possible reference to Aristotle [Ari], who used to be a tenant at 3801

Hold -- masturbation

Cute -- something sexual there -- Jesse Raben was not cute -- he was smooth but masculine, his hands were milky white

"For the birds" -- Jesse Raben (Raben = Raven) [Raben = Raven = Crow, see message at 7/20/01]

7-24-01 Yesterday (7-23), at the library, somebody ripped-off Barbara's wallet. Don't you know, Hillary asks ME and only ME if I saw anything. So if I'm observant and see things, I'm labeled "paranoid." But if I don't see anything -- like who it was who stole Barbara's wallet, then I'm no good either. Did you have David Castleberry talk to those pigs from Texas who dumped their trash by the tool shed? You should do that. Let that be your assignment for today. Pauline [Jones] & Charles Davis in the library had good feelings about me yesterday -- I could tell -- it's one of my powers.

7-25-01 Yesterday, at the library another strange coincidence occurred. In the magazine exchange someone had left a magazine on top of the others. The magazine was the March 2000 issue of "Outside" -- a sports magazine for outdoorsmen. The magazine was folded in a way that the contents of two pages were revealed. Over to the side [pointing arrow], I show you how it appeared. One page has the words "It's not a feeling you can get" -- the facing page depicts a man swimming with dolphins. [See message dated 6/20/01.] Incidentally, the head librarian started his vacation on Monday -- I think his name is Brown. Do you believe them -- they are so blatant! I'm thinking of sending this to the FBI ("Freaks Behind the Instigating").

7-26-01 This past weekend (7/20-7/21) I heard David Dickinson (or the person I think is David Dickinson -- I don't really know who he is)-- well, Dickinson was in the lobby talking to a young lady about "Matsui." I had no idea who that was. All I heard was "Matsui, Matsui," -- and references to the internment of Japanese-Americans during WWII. Then, yesterday, I found out that "Matsui" is Robert Matsui, a Congressman from California. -- Your assignment for today -- Find out what David Dickinson has to do with Matsui -- and what Matsui has to do with all this. Get on it! David Dickinson is openly bi-coastal.

[Dickinson is originally from California, and is licensed to practice law there.]

7-27-01 Not much to report. I picked up a possible reference to Toni Morrison at the library yesterday. --"It's not LIKE anything else." That's what Professor Morrison says: "I'm not LIKE Faulkner, I'm not LIKE -- etc." When I was at Cleveland Park Liquor yesterday to pick up a six-pack -- the chief guy -- the "Nabob" -- he had that admiring quality and Robbie had a funny quality to his "Thank you." Elizabeth Joyce has been in this "walking-on-eggshells" state since I've been writing to you. Does she know she'll be prosecuted if the authorities find out about her activities? -- It would be a shame if she spends the last years of her life behind steel bars. ASSIGNMENT: What does Darla know? -- She's Elizabeth's bosom buddy.

[Darla used to work in the rental office at 3801.]

7-30-01 Brief message -- But it's a major assignment: Neil Sagot's first wife, Lois Sagot, had a close friend named Flossie -- find out what she knows. FOR THE COINCIDENCE FILE: A day after I mentioned Robert Matsui to you, the following issue of Sports Illustrated made its way to the top of the magazine pile at the library. [Attached is cover of Sports Illustrated for May 28, 2001 featuring a photo with caption: "Red Hot. Japanese sensation Ichiro Suzuki of the Seattle Mariners."]

7-31-01 Mailing in my attorney license form, I got to thinking about what happens when I send these documents ("The Archives") to the U.S. District Court -- as submit them I perforce must.-- If I am summoned for jury duty. As you know Neil Sagot (a Pennsylvania lawyer) filed a fraudulent lawsuit on behalf of my brother-in-law in 1977. That's fraud. Is there a statute of limitations to that? When Judge Johnson reads these documents, what will she do? Can I direct her not to read certain passages? Can I make it known that I never colluded in insurance fraud, illegality, or any act of moral turpitude (other than masturbating on the roof of 3801 Connecticut Avenue)?
8-1-01 My brother-in-law had a friend Arthur Calhoun ("Art") -- they rented office space in the same suite. Art attended my mother's funeral in 1980. Art liked to dabble in homosexual liaisons. He and his wife, Joy Calhoun, divorced. Find out what Joy knows -- they had a son named Chris who would be about 30 years old now.

"For the German-Jewish Emigre File." In the early 1940's my mother worked with a young female German-Jewish immigrant named Hertha. In about 1945, Hertha married another German-Jewish immigrant named Helmut Haas. They got married on a Saturday evening (after sundown -- of course!). My mother attended the wedding. Helmut & Hertha Haas later lived down the street from us on the 1600 block of Barringer Street in Philadelphia. They had a young daughter. Hertha said that Claire Brister [1613 Barringer Street] tried to befriend her. I think Hertha said she didn't care for Claire -- Can you imagine? Maybe Chuck Strauss knew the Haas family.

I have a theory that Elizabeth Joyce is actually the illegitimate daughter of Adolf Hitler and the Queen Mother (Elizabeth Bowles). If you think about it, it all begins to make sense.

Joyce was born in 1930

She speaks with a British accent

She's from London

She doesn't talk about her father (Let's face it -- if Hitler were your father, would you be talking about him?)

She works in a confined area behind the front desk -- and seems happy doing it (consistent with her being raised in the basement of Windsor Castle).

She won't retire, just like her half-sister, Elizabeth Windsor

She used to manage properties -- again, like the Queen.

8-2-01 I've been watching a summer TV show called "Big Brother" -- on CBS 3x/week. It's been on since July 5, 2001. Tuesday July 31, 2001, I talked about the show for the first time with Dr. Shaffer, my psychologist. I offered Dr. Shaffer some of my observations and insights about the show. The show was on last summer -- last summer, the show featured a consultant (Dr. [David Drew] Pinsky) who gave his observations about the interpersonal stuff on the show. Where is this leading you ask? Yesterday, at the library (8-1-2001), on the top of the magazine exchange was the attached issue of the NY Times Book Review (7/29/01) folded in such a way, as shown below, that the phrase "Reviewed by Robert Pinsky" appears noticeably.

8-3-01 In early October 1987, Daniel Cutler told me that, sometime previous, he had been to a party where he witnessed local TV anchorman Jim Vance using cocaine. Check this out. It was Daniel Cutler who I believe purchased marijuana on company time [at Hogan & Hartson] and distributed it to selected coworkers in about April 1987. Message for Judge Johnson -- Ignore this page!

8-6-01 I had a really paranoid experience at the barber on Friday (8-3). First of all, the owner "The Maestro" (Puglisi) wasn't there. A young, good-looking (but slightly chubby), Spanish-speaking guy cut my hair. By the way, excellent haircut, dude! But, anyway, the young barber used words and phrases that seemed aimed at me personally, and [it seemed] that he knew about my personal background, and [that he was] referring to personal facts. (The possibility is that someone who read my dream "Prelude to a Bris" -- about Jerry Seinfeld (May '98), [and] mentions Il Maestro (Puglisi) -- and that someone contacted the shop. Anyway, I thought the barber was testing me -- trying to see if he could get me hot and bothered. I could give you the words and phrases he used, but that would be meaningless to an outsider, like you. Later--

8-7-01 A few interesting developments yesterday. I saw Carlos [Chalbaud] yesterday, as I was walking home from the library. He averted his gaze. But he had a pained expression on his face. (It reminded me of the expression that David Callet, Esq. had, sometimes, when I saw him). Why would that be? What is Carlos reacting to? You tell me!

Earlier, I had confirmation of my insightfulness about Barbara, the librarian. A young man (with his small child) wanted to use the library telephone at the information desk. His name was Robert. -- Like it was something really important. Barbara said: "We're really not supposed to let patrons use the phone -- but go ahead. Make it brief." Robert proceeded to use the phone to place an order for Mexican food! -- So she lets the young attractive guy break the rules. A brief time later, an old woman (nanny) with a couple [of] small children asked Barbara if she would place a call for the old woman for a cab. Barbara turned her away -- and suggested the old woman use the pay phone at CVS across the street. Do I know Barbara? You tell me! Exactly as I pointed out before. If you're not young, male, and fuckable, don't bother asking Barbara for a favor. As Anna Freud would say: "He was right the first time."

8-9-01 Slow news day yesterday. I had the feeling, though, that Barbara the librarian knew what I wrote about her to you. I have to tell you, -- after my morning shower -- especially in the summer, I like to walk around my apartment naked -- totally nudam -- as the ancient Romans would say. I think it gets to those Clark construction guys -- I like to fuck with their heads. By the way, I got the message about the WRIT survey. I can't promise I won't tell them about Elaine Wranik and the other related & crazy goings on here. Sorry, dude.

[At the time Clark Construction Company was building an apartment adjacent to 3801 Connecticut Avenue. My apartment window was directly across from the construction site.

The Washington Real Estate Investment Trust (WRIT) sent a resident satisfaction survey to residents to fill out.]

8-9-01 Pardon the mess in here, but I'm on a roll. In fact, I'm too busy to write today.

8-10-01 I filled out that survey & gave it to David Castleberry to mail in. We really need on-line rent payment! Could you talk to David or Judy [Glassie] about that? Yesterday, I assigned special meaning to certain phrases the librarians used. Barbara referred, in a loud tone to "CIA" or "Central Intelligence Agency" & Velvel used the word "scenario." In the magazine box, there were a lot of magazines about astronomy. (Galileo, Berendson?)

[Richard Berendson, an astronomer, is the past president of American University, where I earned an LL.M. degree. He was a victim of child sexual abuse, and wrote a book about his experiences. I formed the impression that Akin Gump managers had contacted Berendson.]

8-13-01 Yesterday (Sunday) I went to the Brookville market to buy a tomato. [The owner] Mike Shirazzi saw me, and noticeably and unmistakably turned away & avoided eye contact. He usually says hello. Assignment for today: My brother-in-law had a friend named Bert Shaman, who, I believe, was a few years older than my brother-in-law. Bert's wife's name was Esther. Bert had a brother who was religious and moved to Israel. Find out more about the Shaman meshpuchah. Incidentally, Wednesday is Vernon Jordan's birthday -- what do we get him?

8-14-01 This is background on my sister -- specifically, her romantic involvements prior to her meeting her future husband in February 1965 -- when she was 17 years old. It won't take more than a page. My sister met her future husband by way of a friend at my sister's high school (an all-girls school). Coincidentally, my brother-in-law had previously "dated" the older sister of Alice Diamond, who was a classmate of mine in the 7th grade (Wagner Jr. High). I guess you could say the Diamond family's gain was the Freedman family's loss. Alice Diamond played violin in the school orchestra. I once told her that she resembled Queen Victoria. My sister had one previous "boyfriend." He was the cousin of my sister's close friend Nedda Weiss (nee Cohen). He was a few years older than my sister, and was a student at the University of Pennsylvania -- my sister was in the 11th grade at the time. I don't remember his name. I have to laugh when my psychologist, Dr. Shaffer, praises my sister's social adjustment. Basically, my sister was conned by a psychopath at age 17.

8-15-01 Brief note -- but big assignment. Gabriella Komlos. Pennsylvania State University, BS, May 1975 (Nutrition Major). Parents were concentration camp survivors from Hungary (Magyar). (Note the preoccupation with food, as evidenced by her field of study). [See Freedman, M. "Survivor Guilt and the Pathogenesis of Anorexia Nervosa, "Psychiatry," February 1985.] We attended the same Junior High School (Wagner Jr. High). She played violin in the school Orchestra. She spotted me once at Penn State -- during a performance of Handel's Messiah at Christmas time. She noticed I didn't stand during the singing of the Hallelujah Chorus.

8-16-01 So, what did you end up getting Vernon Jordan for his birthday? I didn't get him anything. What did he ever do for me? We all know the answer to that. I don't have much to talk about today. I saw Carlos on the street yesterday. I don't see him in the library anymore. What happened? Did Carlos get his own computer? I have a funny feeling about that tenant who lives with his young son. He used to smile when he saw me. Now he looks at me really strangely. You know who I mean? He speaks with a British-like accent -- Like South African or something. Where do you get these creeps?

[The son's name was "Sebastian."]

8-17-01 I had a big one this morning -- man, did that white sticky stuff fly! I don't have any material left to share-- See ya.

8-20-01 I have another different assignment for you, but I know you can do it, brother. As you know, in 1990 I told Dr. Palombo that I had a classmate in elementary school named Susan Marks; she had a genius level IQ. Well, of course, Dr. Palombo told "The Powers that Be" and they contacted Susan Marks (in 1990 & perhaps thereafter). Susan Marks would have graduated from the Philadelphia High School for Girls ("Girls High") in the year 1970 (211th graduating class). What I never told anyone is that Susan Marks had a female cousin, the same age as she, who was in my seventh grade homeroom class at Wagner Junior High School. I do not recall the cousin's name. The cousin's mother (Susan Marks' aunt) died when the Marks cousins were about 11 years old. (Cancer, I believe).

8-21-01 This is just a reminder. As you know I had two school mates in elementary school (K-6) (Rowan Elementary School -- "Education is not a mere means to Life -- Education is Life" -- if you don't get it, you don't get it.) They were fraternal twins -- Steven and Howard Chanin. [Central High School, 229th class, 1970.] I knew them in high school. Their parents owned a grill eatery in the neighborhood. They majored in psychology at Penn State. What you may not know is that they had two older brothers. One of their older brothers was a mathematical genius (literally). -- Robert Chanin. He went to Penn State as a Guggenheim Scholar (225th Class CHS). He was smarter than [Stanford University Math Professor] Robert Osserman -- but probably not as smart as Earl Segal. (Yea, sure!)

8-22-01 Who's the new guy in apt 137? Is he an orgy guy? Do you think David Castleberry would let me punch a hole through the wall between 136 & 137? Invite some folks over -- and let the good times roll. Plenty of egress and ingress. Know what I mean? I could invite my [imaginary] friend Brian -- his two-inch penis would be a real conversation piece (Message for Blair -- Give my regards to Tootie and Mrs. Garrett -- Thanks).

8-23-01 As you know I had a friend in elementary school named Lee Fuiman and that on one occasion I went to Lee Fuiman's birthday party at his house. What I never told anybody was that there was another kid at the party -- another classmate named Raymond Weisbein (a smartass). Weisbein also went to my high school. At the Fuiman birthday party Weisbein said to me: "I wish you hadn't been invited, Freedman," and he proceeded to tell me how he disliked me. Then in September 1967 -- freshman algebra in high school, Weisbein complained to the teacher (Mr. Nicholas Grant) that he (Weisbein) thought the teacher assigned too much homework. (As I said: --Smartass). Well, the teacher blew up at Weisbein -- "If you want less homework, there are a lot of other high schools where you can get less homework -- Go to Olney, or Germantown, or South Philadelphia." I thought: "Payback time, baby, payback time." By the way, did you ever stop to think that Urbana spelled backwards is "Anabru" -- if you don't get it, you don't get it.

[Lee Fuiman, Ph.D. is now a marine biologist.]

8-24-01 Someone I forgot to mention from High School freshman algebra: Joe Breitman. He's now a dentist and a member, a proud member, a proud, card-carrying member of the Scottish-Jewish Defense League. Arlen Specter truly represents Breitman's interests in the U.S. Senate. Also, please don't tell Elizabeth Joyce that I steal tea bags & Sweet & Low. She doesn't know and doesn't need to know.

[Breitman played the bagpipes in high school.]

8-30-01 I had a session with my psychologist, Dr. Shaffer yesterday. It was a wild scene. She became really discombobulated. If you heard a tape of it you'd really be shocked by her behavior -- she regressed really bad. She doesn't seem to understand I could really screw her. I was thinking of starting up a "pen pal" relationship with a staff attorney (anyone would do -- maybe Ross Wiener, Esq.) at the Justice Department. Not any inflammatory things -- Just my thoughts and feelings. That guy is going to wonder -- "What the hell is going on here--? Why can't he discuss these things with his therapist?" It will be the beginning of the end for Dr. Sh--. Believe me that crap is neither beyond me nor behind me (no pun intended). I can fire the missiles from the silo at any time. Anyway, I couldn't even talk about anything that was on my mind yesterday. And Dr. Sh-- is the only outlet I have. Can you say EXTREME LACK OF EMPATHY boys and girls? Help me! HELP ME! It may be my imagination, or my projection -- but it just seems to me that she becomes really difficult to work with at some sessions immediately preceding a holiday. The last session where she went off, coincidentally, was in late June -- just before July 4th. Then THE WORST session I ever had with her was one just before Christmas in 1999 (I think it was Dec. 22, 1999). She spent the whole session bitching about a letter I had written to Dr. [Albert H.] Taub in late October '99 -- which she had just received. She was in a terrible state about that. Talk about hypersensitive. I have more to say -- But, I'll save it for tomorrow. By the way, do you have the address for the Justice Department?

[Ross Wiener, Esq., practiced law at The Department of Justice. I suspected (but never confirmed) that he was the son of the late Jerry M. Wiener, MD, former head of the psychiatry department at GW. Dr. Wiener had a son named Ross who would have been the same age as Ross Wiener, Esq.]

8-27-01 Assignment. My brother-in-law had a cousin Joyce Norman (nee Robbins). She was divorced from her first husband, Freddie Norman. Freddie Norman, I believe, graduated from Penn State. My brother-in-law's parents resided in a duplex apartment -- Joyce Norman's parents, Sam & Francis Robbins, lived upstairs. Look into Freddie Norman -- what does he know, and when did he know it? Report back to me. Message for Carlos -- Hector is very lonely. Won't you come and play with Hector?

8-28-01 Fall 1971 -- 30 years ago -- Freshman year at college (Penn State -- Abington campus). I took a course in philosophy taught by George Frederick Rieman -- (Yes, just like the famous mathematician of the same name). In that class were two people I had known previously-- William ("Bill") DeVuono -- Central High School (230th class) [and] Gloria Goldsmith -- Wagner Junior High School, 7th & 8th grades. Get me a report! ASAP

8-29-01 I thought I'd give you a break today. I know you've been working hard. -- I've given you some major assignments. I'm still waiting for your reports. Get them to me ASAP. By the way, I noticed this morning that Elizabeth Joyce has a new attitude about my tea bag/Sweet-Low proclivities. A hands-off policy. So you talked -- when I asked you not to!

8-31-01 Ninth grade English class. Elliott Cades ("Ming the Merciless") was the teacher (1903-1986). This was school year 1967-68. A student named Elliott Feldman sat next to me. He was supersmart. We didn't say anything to each other all year. But in about June 1968 I came to school in bright yellow pants (canary-shit color). Feldman said: "Wow." There's a lawyer in Philadelphia named Elliott R. Feldman (born 4-15-54) BA/JD Temple U (summa cum laude/cum laude). Do you think it's the same person? Look into that -- will you please? Thanks. I'm fed up with Dr. Sh-- for now.

9-3-01 How was your holiday? I gave you a break yesterday. I hope you appreciate that! Now let's get down to business: from August 1980 - August 1983 I resided at an apartment house in downtown Philadelphia, "The Sylvania House." Address -- 1324 Locust Street -- Apartment 415,. (I lived there immediately prior to relocating to 3801 Connecticut, DC). My next-door neighbor during the (ran out of ink--sorry) entire period (8/80-8/83) was an individual named E. Chambers Fowler (E. = Edward). Subject was a white male, between 35-45 years of age. A practicing homosexual. Worked at PSFS -- a local bank (Philadelphia Saving Fund Society). Subject was a Navy veteran. Subject visited mother every weekend. Left after work, Friday afternoon and returned Sunday night. Apartment manager was a woman named "Claire" (last name unknown) -- appeared to be Jewish.

9-5-01 This is going back a ways. I don't know if you will find anything on this: During the period August 1979 - August 1980 I lived in Spokane, Washington (then represented in Congress by Akin Gump partner Thomas Foley.) I resided at E15 1/2 Augusta, Spokane 99207. My next-door neighbor was an older gentleman who rode a motorcycle. His name was Dale Green. The rental agent was James T. Bertis Realty. My telephone no. was (509) 322-2017. I ran a drug-smuggling operation from that site. Did a lot of business with the Pacific rim.

9-6-01 I saw Dr. Ruttenberg for the first time yesterday (9-5). She recommended that I take anti-psychotic medication (Zyprexa). She says you don't really come into my apartment every day. Silly Lady!! I think I'll try it (the med). It won't work, because my ideas are not delusions. I'm going to send out letters soliciting legal counsel for a lawsuit against Akin Gump. Put down in writing the whole crap about the guns, the fears of homicide. The "purely coincidental" fact that the U.S. Secret Service refused to investigate while at the same time a former Akin Gump partner (Ed Knight) was General Counsel of Treasury. This is going to every major law firm -- with Dennis Race's telephone number on it. But hey -- If my thinking is delusional & the meds work, of course, I'll stop writing the letters -- get it? Dr. Ruttenberg is going to have heck to pay!!!

[Note again that my anger toward my psychiatrist is redirected to Dennis Race.]

9-7-01 I gave a lot of thought to the matter and have decided on the following course of action. I will forward to Dennis Race and Dr. Ruttenberg (and the U.S. Attorney) a copy of (1) the informed consent statement I submitted to Dr. Taub & (2) the statement affirming my continued adherence to a body of beliefs, placed in controversy by the Corporation Counsel, -- beliefs termed delusional. I will include a Consent to Release confidential psychiatric information to Akin Gump. I will request Dennis Race to review the documents & advise Dr. Ruttenberg of any facts about which he or his partners have first-hand knowledge that would affect Dr. Ruttenberg's diagnostic determination that my beliefs are delusional and her medical recommendation (which I will accept) that I take anti-psychotic drug(s). -- If Dennis Race does not provide to Dr. Ruttenberg information material to her decision to prescribe a neuroleptic (which I will take) -- that's the material current harm. I will then advise D. Race that I plan to find a lawyer & sue Akin Gump. To make a long story short -- I vote to evict Dennis Race.

9-10-01 Here are some more people you may want to look into: I believe one or more of the following persons have been contacted by Akin Gump:

Michael Strong, MD: Cardiothoracic surgeon, now affiliated with Hahneman Hospital in Philadelphia. Operated on my father in 1976. Born in 1941.

Gerald Lemole, MD: Cardiologist -- Head of my father' surgical team. Nationally prominent cardiologist.

Mehmet Oz, MD: Nationally prominent cardiologist -- son-in-law of Dr. Lemole. Article about Dr. Oz in The NY Times Magazine in about the year 1995.

[Arrow pointing left.] This is a mint condition $4.00 magazine. Take it back if you want it. It's a "sin" to throw these things away. What about poor sick people in hospitals?

9-11-01 Do you notice that it's getting darker and darker in here? I think Clark [Construction Company] just got it's own little easement -- Ask Earl about that. Did they pay you for that? You know the electric usage is going to go up here, because this entire side of the building [will be dark] -- Tenants will have to have their lights on all day long when they're home. Suggestion, don't rent any apartments on this side of the building to retired people or psychotics like me. If you ask me, Judy [Glassie] ought to call Clark and tell them: "Just pull the whole thing down, put the dirt back where you found it -- and replant the trees!!"

9-12-01 The bombing in New York yesterday reminded me of an additional person you need to look into: During the summers of 1975 & 1976 I worked at The Franklin Institute in Philadelphia with a young woman named Joan Fleischman. Subject was a college student enrolled at Temple University. I believe Akin Gump contacted subject in the spring or summer of 1991. Akin Gump was probably alerted to subject by Sid Dorfman (Central High School, 1966, 225th class) (Temple U., B.S., 1970). Ask Dorfman about the great snow storm on Christmas eve 1966. Anyway, Fleischman's parents were Jewish immigrants from Nazi Germany. She stated that from her parent's stories she herself was terrified of bombings and flying glass. Remember 1938? Very bad year.

9-12-01 [supplement] You may not believe this, but I wrote the following note before I heard about the buildings being leveled in NYC yesterday -- Amazing, huh?

[Refers back to statement in message dated 9-11-01 -- "If you ask me, Judy [Glassie] ought to call Clark and tell them: "Just pull the whole thing down, put the dirt back where you found it -- and replant the trees!!"]

9-13-01 I have uncovered what may prove to be an important lead in this case. This concerns Jerrold Zwirn ("Jerry"). Subject was employed as a full-time librarian at the Cleveland Park Branch of the DC library system from at least 1991 until his resignation from the system earlier this year. He now works for an as yet unidentified employer. Subject worked closely with the head librarian [Brian Brown] (a nice young man, whose name escapes me). I believe subject (Zwirn) had full access to all the information about me that was channeled to the library staff. I have just learned that subject served as a "community observer," for a study of the DC Superior Court carried out by the Council for Court Excellence. Subject is also a veteran of the U.S. Army and is originally from New York City. Your assignment -- Look into this.

[Attached is cover of report "Council for Court Excellence. Report and Recommendations of the Court Community Observers Project in the District of Columbia Superior Court and its Civil Division. July 2001." Includes handwritten note:] I may contact Chief Judge King about this.

9-14-01 I know this has been a rough week, so I won't give you an assignment.-- Just some information. 1. Tom Pierce in 926 is a homosexual 2. Jeremy Schwartz in 429 is a lawyer. Also, I need a report on Jerry Zwirn. Did you find out anything?

[I did not know either Tom Pierce or Jeremy Schwartz.]

9-18-01 First -- Medication -- As you know my psychiatrist has recommended antipsychotic meds, but refuses to provide a written informed consent. I did some research; under AMA policies, a doctor is strongly recommended to provide written informed consent (AMA Policy E-8.08). Check out the AMA website. Also under the D.C. Code, the ethical standards set by the various medical professional organizations are enforceable under District law. If Dr. "R" refuses to provide written informed consent I may contact the U.S. Attorney's Office. Also, Dr. "R" used fallacious reasoning in refusing to provide a written informed consent. She said basically, "Since I am not requiring that you take meds, that is, you may refuse treatment, I (Dr. R) have no duty to sign a statement." WRONG!! The triggering event for informed consent is the patient's act of embarking on a treatment procedure. The triggering event for informed consent is not that the patient is required to embark on a treatment or procedure. Poor reasoning, Dr. R! Under the AMA policy statement I have a right to know:

1. What is my diagnosis

2. The nature and purpose of the treatment (if my thinking is delusional, what portion of my thinking constitutes the delusions)

3. Risks/benefits - (If I take meds, will I no longer believe I was terminated illegally? Will I no longer believe my supervisor is a court-adjudicated racist?)

4. Alternatives (regardless of cost, or availability at Spring Rd)

5. Risks/Benefits of alternatives

6 Risk/Benefits of not receiving alternative care

Also, your night [front desk] person, Stanley, is a nut case. This morning before 7:00 AM, I got some coffee and was looking through the discarded mail. I did this for about 45 seconds. Stanley saw me, was watching me, and didn't say a word, when I walked over to the discard boxes (which were not labeled "Do not touch") and I heard him mutter -- "God damn trash picker" -- Why did he stand there and say nothing while I was "In flagrante Delicto" -- passive aggressive fellow.

9-17-01 A small, peculiar thing happened on Friday (9-14-01), which I read meaning into. As I was walking up Connecticut Avenue, from the library, I passed by a regular library patron, Jeremy Wittes. Subject is unusually friendly with everyone and always calls out to me to say hello. But on Friday he was looking down as he passed me and said nothing. I assume someone has talked to subject about me.

9-19-01 All Quiet on the Western Front -- All I can say is -- At least the sister made it farther than the good-looking white boy.

[Refers to CBS-TV series "Big Brother 2." Hardy Ames Hill was evicted before the African-American contestant, Monica Bailey.]

9-20-01 Last week someone left the attached book by Linda Miller in the magazine exchange in the Cleveland Park Branch of the DC library system. I had previously told my psychologist [Dr. Shaffer] that my high school French teacher was named Linda Miller. I feel like I'm being psychologically raped every day of the week!

The only way I have to work off the extreme tension is to whack off on the floor next to the window -- I find that exhibitionism negates intrusion (rape). HELP ME! HELP ME!

[Attached is cover of romance novel by Linda Lael Miller titled "Just Kate," published by Silhouette Desire. My high school French teacher, Linda Miller, was young and physically attractive. Fredric L. Cohen, MD, was one of her students.]

9-21-01 People say: "What does he want?" "What will make him stop?" -- How about if I just get my job back -- is that a lot for a "perfect" employee to ask? Maybe Judy [Glassie] could talk to WRIT's lawyers and have them talk to Dennis Race. By the way -- I have a seven-digit number in my head (The last two digits are "28") [Refers to Dennis Race's office telephone number, 887-4028]. Here's what I'm thinking -- I could find out what law firm represents Clark [Construction Company] and send them a letter with some interesting documents attached. I tell them that I was "raped" by friends of President Clinton -- Now that's an attention grabber. Explain that I'm forced to whack off in public -- It's a consequence of my "rape" -- and ask for a written statement directing me to cease the activity. (Akin Gump gave me the name -- hey -- I'm just playin' the game!)

9-24-01 Strange coincidence on Friday at the library-- On Thursday (9-20) I gave my psychologist [Dr. Shaffer] some written material about novelist Michael Chabon, and I scrawled a notation on the material. In the notation I referred to the psychoanalyst Heinz Kohut [now deceased]. On Friday, at the library, someone left the attached document in the magazine exchange. -- The document is a press release from the Pew Research Center -- and the director's name is Andrew KOHUT. The document was folded exactly as you see it, to the right, drawing attention to Kohut's name.

9-25-01 Assignment -- Look into Lewis Lipshutz. Subject was in my graduating class (230) at Central High School (1971). Subject took piano lessons with Elisabeth Griffith, my piano teacher. Subject performed at piano recital given by Griffith in June 1968 at the Strawbridge & Clothier Dept store in Jenkintown, PA. Subject (I believe) was in my 9th grade algebra I class (first period '67-'68 -- Nicholas Grant, teacher). In spring 1972 (first year college) I took a phys ed course -- bowling -- class was held at the Del Ennis Bowling Lanes in the Northeast Sect of Phila -- used to see subject there.

[Lewis Lipshutz is now deceased.]

9-26-01 No assignment today -- You need to get on the assignment I gave you yesterday. Just a word on what's been going on in the Big Brother House -- [Attached is photo of President Bush captioned "The battle ahead." Includes my own handwritten caption attributing the following statement to President Bush:] You're fucking with the wrong bull, I'm telling you. You're fucking with the wrong bull.

9-27-01 God Bless America. [Hand drawn picture of U.S. flag.] I told my psychologist [Dr. Shaffer] yesterday about my war preparation plans. I plan to seal my windows with duck tape -- this is a protective measure against germ/chem warfare. Also, I want to get a gas mask. I already have a 7-months food supply on hand, but I need a store of water. I think David Castleberry needs to seal the whole building -- and think about other civil defense issues. I think a revolving door at the front entrance is advisable. Close the garage -- People will just have to park somewhere else. -- Carlos, wherever you are, take care of yourself. Good yontif, y'all. (Dave & Jesse).

[Refers to Jesse Raben and his brother, David Raben, MD, a radiologist who practices in Montgomery, Alabama. The Rabens are from Greensboro, North Carolina. The phrase "Good yontif" refers to the upcoming Jewish High Holidays.]

9-28-01 I think Dennis Race should take a cue from President Ford. In 1974 Ford concluded that it was simply more practical to pardon President Nixon, than to let things drag on indefinitely -- with prosecutions and so forth. That's what DMR needs to be thinking -- Is it better to have a loose cannon out there -- or bring him back (pardon him, if you will) where we're in a position to control him. So, anyway "Clark [Construction Company]" says to me -- "Where do you do it?" I say: "On the floor." Clark says: "When?' I say: "7:00, 7:30. Mornings." Clark says -- "Ever do it later in the day?" I say: "Fuck NO -- What do you think I am? -- Some kind of PERVERT? In the middle of the day??"

[Refers to my masturbating in front of the construction workers employed by Clark Construction Company. Note the association to "loose cannon," a phallic projectile object; the phrase "loose" cannon suggests "out-of-control" sexuality.]

10-01-01 I thought I'd start off October with a light assignment. Don't put much time into it. Kramer or Cramer. (Don't recall the spelling). He was a year ahead of me in high school, that is, 229th class -- 1970). Outstanding pianist. Played the celesta part in the performance of excerpts from Strauss' "Der Rosenkavalier" our high school orchestra did in March 1968. -- He was a homosexual. Reason I mention him -- He was the only homosexual I knew about in high school. I didn't know him. He didn't know me. The Chanin brothers knew him (not in a biblical sense).

10-02-01 Assignment -- Look into Charles Leon Green ("Chas"). We worked together as agency temps at Hogan & Hartson from Sept - Dec 1985, for a client named AVCO (billing partner, William Bradford, Esq.). Subject was born in about 1960; graduated Bethesda-Chevy Chase HS in about 1978; bachelor's degree U. Maryland (about 1982); Emory Univ. Law School (about 1985). Published paper in law school bankruptcy journal; trained as a chef. Upper middle-class background. Girlfriend named Karla Grasse (cohabited). Grandfather was law professor at Yale Law School. Joined Army JAG Corps in 1986. Current whereabouts unknown. We spent some time talking about renaissance men and the ever-popular pastime of recreational whacking off. Knew Sandra Smalls (data-entry operator at Hogan). Knew she was a scam artist. Once said to me: "Someday you're going to screw around with the wrong person, and they're going to find your body, face down, floating down the Potomac, with a knife in your back." That day may be approaching.

A Sense of Resignation

Brian--

December 6, 2004

Hey, buddy. How are you enjoying The Final Days of fall? Are you resigned to the approaching winter season?

I passed the time this weekend with some tapes: "The Three Faces of Eve" starring Joanne Woodward, and Leonard Bernstein conducting something or other.

To tell you the truth, I'm in a state of profound resignation. It's hopeless, utterly hopeless. My situation with The Mad Monk, that is. She is absolutely impossible to interact with. It's as if we have two radically different mental economies; in truth, we may as well be adherents of two fundamentally opposed ideological systems.

Dr. Bash is a mental Marxist, who places a premium on conformity and conventionality. Woe betide the free thinker in her midst.

Dr. Bash is altogether lacking in any deep conviction regarding her own values, which, no doubt, has served her well in life. As Otto Kernberg -- "El Grande" -- has stated: "Narcissistic personalities are ideally constituted for the assumption of leadership under the conditions of large-group processes. Such peoples' lack of deep conviction regarding their own values makes it easy for them to get along with the group. A narcissistic personality who can communicate effectively (in English or Hebrew!) can provide the large group with an acceptable ideology and convey a sense of certainty without triggering the group's envy against individualized thinking. These abilities make such a leader the soother of the large group tensions. By the same token, the large-group members' identification with the narcissistic leader reinforces some of the pathologically narcissistic characteristics of 'static' crowds. These groups are conventional, ideologically simplistic, conformist, and able to indulge themselves without guilt or gratitude; they lack a sense of personal responsibility or a deep investment in others."

What works for certain leaders and the groups they lead also works, I would say, for some psychotherapists and their conventionally-compliant patients. Unfortunately for The Mad Monk (and for me) I am not a conventionally-compliant patient.

I've had some recent correspondence with the DC Department of Employment Services. I asked the Department to help me with a job search, and reported that I suffer from a mental disability. I received a reply from the Department that requests that I obtain a written statement from my therapist (Dr. Bash) about my current mental status. Of course, Dr. Bash balked. "I don't think I'm going to write anything," said Dr. Bash. "But I'm disabled," I replied, "the Department of Employment Services wants to know about the nature of my disability, and how that disability might affect my work performance." Dr. Bash then said: "You're not disabled." I replied: "I'm not disabled?" Dr. Bash said: "No." I then said: "Why did Social Security approve my claim? They must have had some reason to say I was disabled." Dr. Bash responded: "No. They approve every claim. It doesn't mean you're disabled if Social Security approves a disability claim. The fact that Social Security determined that you are disabled has no meaning."

Interacting with Dr. Bash is a form of torture that perhaps only an adept of George Orwell could fully appreciate. "All history was a palimpsest," Orwell wrote in the novel 1984, "scraped clean and reinscribed exactly as often as was necessary." "If the Party could thrust its hand into the past and say of this or that event, it never happened [or that the event had no meaning, NO MEANING] -- that surely was more terrifying than mere torture and death."

Reprise: "Narcissistic personalities lack a sense of personal responsibility or a deep investment in others." What Dr. Bash does not appreciate is that if she certifies me as not disabled (unqualifiedly) and fully employable, and if I were to commit a tortious act in the workplace that is a product of my mental illness, both she and the District would be legally liable. As I've said before, Dr. Bash's motto is: "I have no insight and I take no responsibility."

I'm losing my patience with The Mad Monk. Dr. Bash does not see me as an individual; she reduces everything meaningful in me to "the nominal, the degraded, the undifferentiated." Meaning -- given, found, or created -- enables one to love life and live it. We create meaning because we cannot exist without it. Of all creatures only humans anticipate death, and only humans make interpretations.

My sense of personal identity comes from my sense of who I am as a unique individual in society and in the universe. The moral problem for me is to discover what I myself think or want, not what my peers, my social group, or society requires of me. For me, the goal of communication is self-expression, whether or not that self-expression disturbs organization, disrupts a harmonious relationship with others, or conflicts with the laws of the universe.

In old age Sigmund Freud would proclaim, in proud defiance of the prevailing order, "I disturbed the sleep of mankind." In Shengoldian paraphrase one might aptly state: Freud dared to make a fuss. Let that be my epitaph. "I made a fuss."

For some patients, Dr. Bash's "de-individualization" might have some therapeutic effect, to the extent that it can heighten a patient's regression and promote Dr. Bash's ability to influence the patient's thinking. For Dr. Bash such a procedure is therapy; I would call the technique she employs a form of brainwashing. According to Kernberg, therapists may contribute to a patient's regression "by their ideologically determined denial of differences between individual patients, their implicit expectation that all patients have the same needs, and their consequent expectation that all patients will react or participate in similar ways." I, for one, fight such regression every step of the way. I will not be shorn of my identity and assigned a generic status.

I am an artist. Yes, I am an artist, even if I fail to bring forth a single work of art. I lack the practical skill and the theoretical basis to be a musician, painter, or sculptor and the general, historical, and linguistic education for poet and philosopher. Well, the skills might be acquired; the rest I have. It seems too late for acquiring these skills systematically, moreover, beginning in youth, because of ignorance, and at ripe manhood, because of knowledge, I have lacked perseverance and focus on a small area. I am a miniaturist at heart.

My mind is a cornucopia, overflowing with ideas and interests, and brimming with a Wealth of Notions. Instead of choosing an art, I study the artist type, that is myself, one who has a creative gift and drive even if I never produce a work of art in the conventional sense. Self-consciousness, I say, is the artist's only good fortune.

I will tell you who I am, from A to Z -- or at least to W (we free spirits and intellectual vagabonds don't always make it all the way to Karlsbad, so to speak). I Accept disorder, and, yes, I am Withdrawn. But I am altruistic, energetic, industrious, persistent, self-assertive, and versatile. Then too, I am attracted to the mysterious, I defy conventions, am independent in judgment and thinking, and have oddities of habit. Some would say I am radical. It's true I can be discontented, I can disturb organization, and I am a fault-finder. I make mistakes, am stubborn, and temperamental, and so on. But that's who I am.

I am not like other patients. I do not have the same needs. I do not react or participate in the same way. Do I need to remind you? I am more observant than other people; in addition to seeing things as others do, I see things as others do not; I am independent in my cognitive faculties, which I value very much; I am motivated by my talent and values; I am more capable of holding many ideas at once and comparing more ideas; I see a more complex universe; I am more aware of unconscious motives and fantasy life; I have a strong ego that permits me to regress and to return to normality; and the objective freedom of my organism is at a maximum, and my creative aspirations are a function of that objective freedom.

What motivates me? I would say the following things motivate me: drive, dedication to work (letter writing being my central preoccupation), resourcefulness, striving for general principles, desire to bring order out of disorder, and desire for discovery. Again, I value independence, self-sufficiency (as long as that self-sufficiency is financially supported by one or other government agency), tolerance of ambiguity, and (like The DC Court of Appeals) the ability to defer judgment.

I am an individualist.

I am forever hearing Toni Morrison's words ringing in my ears. "I am not LIKE Faulkner. I am not LIKE this writer or that writer. I am Toni Morrison. I write like Toni Morrison." You tell 'em, soul sister!

But it's true. For some people, for some patients, Dr. Bash's ideologically-simplistic technique can be effective -- her personality style can even be appealing -- particularly (if not exclusively) to those who derive a sense of narcissistic integrity, or self-esteem, by the act of adopting conventionalized group norms. Mind you, though -- by way of analogy -- the Communists, in their worldwide proselytizing mission, frequently exploited similarities between their ideology and preexisting facets of native culture. I emphasize the word "exploitation." That's what Dr. Bash does; she exploits the need of some patients to see a simple, conventional universe. She offers a simplistic ideology that, in fact, works for those patients who are easily seduced by the mindless charm of the commonplace. For such people, The Mad Monk can be quite attractive.

Let's elaborate the analogy cited above, the analogy of Communism. The allure of an exploitative and simplistic foreign ideology, namely, Communism, to the members of a native culture has been analyzed in the case of Vietnam.

Traditionally, the Vietnamese notion of society was not that of an aggregate, a collection of people, but that of a complete organism. The whole of society was much greater than the sum of its parts because it reflected and duplicated the overall design of the universe. Within his society the individual had no separate existence. His sense of personal identity came from his sense of participation in the society and in the universe. The moral problem for the individual was to discover not what he himself thought or wanted, but what the society required of him. The goal of speech was less to express the individuality of the ego than to arrive at a harmonious relationship with others and with the laws of the universe. "Truth" was not a conquest of reality, but an attempt to harmonize with it -- an ethical as well as a scientific goal.

"Individualism" had much the same connotation for the Communists that "egotism" or "selfishness" had for the non-Communist Vietnamese: it was immoral behavior and the very expression of anarchy. For traditionalists and Communists alike, virtue consisted of the sustained effort to reduce the gap between the individual will and the will of the community that itself expressed the objective laws of the universe. However else they differed, all the Vietnamese sects and political groups of the 1930's and 1960's directed their efforts towards creating a conformity of opinions, values, and life-styles, towards creating a community that would once again give the individual his "place" and raison d'etre.

For the Confucian the reduction to the communal and anti-individual -- even to the burning of books -- was not a sign of authoritarian sterility and constriction, but a sign of moral clarity, order, and self-control. "And no technical material. Don't read any technical material," as Dr. Bash would put it.

As a Buddhist bonze once said, "You Westerners believe that you can destroy an idea by killing the man who holds it; we, on the other hand, believe that you must change men's ideas." Or, as Dr. Bash said to me several months ago, "I am trying to break you of your ideas."

The Mad Monk is still carping about my going to Adas Israel, the local "Buddhist Temple." "Go, go, you'll meet people." Participate in social activities the way other people participate, and you'll make friends. Such is Dr. Bash's Confucian wisdom. As for the inner life, the "inner structure of the soul," the distinct identity of the individual -- well, these things don't exist for her.

Several weeks ago, Dr. Bash said something revealing. "If you go to the synagogue," she said, "what will you say? How would you initiate social interaction." I replied: "I guess I would go up to someone and introduce myself. I'd say, 'Hi. I'm Gary Freedman.'" Dr. Bash then said: "No, no! Don't say that. Say something like, 'My, my, I had no idea there would be so many people here!'" Note the significant dynamics of this seemingly trivial statement. Dr. Bash decried my assertion of personal identity, and directed me to affirm the importance of the undifferentiated group. She disparaged my qualitative declaration of personal identity, emphasizing instead the moral imperative to affirm the importance of the nominal, the degraded, the undifferentiated quantity.

In any event, -- what was I talking about? Oh, yes. The Communists. God, how I hate the Communists! I despise them. I loathe them.

Be that as it may.

Dr. Bash is forever trying to socialize me. I am not a social creature. Regardless of any affinity I have for Bob Strauss, I am not a social animal like Strauss.

Like Strauss, I am (at least in fantasy) a man of enormous talent and drive. Unlike Strauss, I never developed a gift for making and keeping friends, which requires effort, hard work and talent. My relationship with my parents was good enough, I suppose; with my sister more or less satisfactory; with women -- well, let me put it this way -- I never found a babe who'd fetch me the late-night edition of the local newspaper; with my coworkers cold and aloof and, in the end, bad enough to do me in, not good enough to make me into a world figure like Strauss.

With Strauss people always knew who he was. He played no roles, only himself. With me, one never knew. My neighbor, press secretary Jeff Lieberson, said of me that I "can don a personality by opening a door -- a door with or without a mezuzah." With my Republican acquaintances I can be the concerned conservative striving for free markets and more personal liberty; with my Jewish acquaintances I am a supporter of the arts; with you, buddy, I am a political analyst and older brother; with Rubenstein I played "the laughed-at mama's boy," Woodrow Wilson, brooding over how NOT to throw like a girl; with Sid Rothstein I played Strauss -- literally; with Attorney General John Ashcroft I am a freakish nut case -- the author of bizarre and obnoxious letters; with my old friend Craig the Embalmer I play Harry Truman, just hoping for a chance for an invite to 4701 Connecticut Avenue.

I think it was Lieberson who said, "When he didn't want to be anybody but himself, he sent for General Bonaparte."

It is a mark of how many different Freedman personas there are that when the transcripts of the Freedman Diaries were made public, many men who had had intimate contact with me over long periods of time -- Jeff Lieberson; writer Steve Hess at The Brookings Institution; Republican insider Andy Gerst, and others -- were shocked. They had never heard me talk like that. In fact, Andrew Gerst never heard me talk. Period.

(By the way, Brian, Steve Hess -- he's a presidential historian -- he used to live in the neighborhood: Porter Street, I think -- did you ever see him in the library? You know he's related to Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Of course, that's what they all say.)

How is it that I am a man without friends? How can a man who has so much talent, brains, ambition and fantasized success feel so insecure, snubbed, unrewarded, misunderstood and ignored? It is not insignificant that with all the words expended on me, I myself have provided the most insightful analysis. I was reminiscing at The Shops, back in February 1992, with Craig the Embalmer, shortly after my job termination at Akin Gump.

"What starts the process, really," I explained, "are the laughs and snubs and slights you get when you are a kid. Sometimes it's because you're poor or Irish or Jewish (or half-Jewish) or ugly or simply that you are skinny. But if you are reasonably intelligent and if your anger is deep enough and strong enough, you learn that you can change those attitudes by excellence, personal gut performance, while those who have everything are sitting on their fat butts. . . . When you get to the top you find you can't stop playing the game the way you've always played it . . . so you are lean and mean and resourceful and you continue to walk on the edge."

With me, the anger runs so deep it never left me. I am the angriest bugger imaginable. I am a man who could never trust others and has never had any real friends. Nearly everyone who worked closely with me has commented on this. Strauss once told his secretary Kathy Ellingsworth after a meeting with me that he couldn't understand how a man could go through life without friends.

I've had hundreds of associates, thousands of acquaintances -- from Moscow to Vatican City. Most of these people admired me. But unlike Strauss, the ever-popular Strauss, only a handful of people have liked me. Jeff Lieberson felt that people didn't like me for the simple reason that I don't like people. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger told Bob Strauss that "Freedman had no truly close friends," and remarked on my "congenital inability ever to confide totally in anyone."

Even with General Bonaparte, a supposedly close friend, there was distance -- generally an arm's-length distance. I once said, "I never wanted to be buddy-buddy. Even with close friends. I don't believe in letting your hair down, confiding this and that and the other thing -- saying, 'Gee, I couldn't sleep, because I was worrying about this or that and so forth and so on.'

"I believe you should keep your troubles to yourself. Some people are different. Some people think it's good therapy to sit with a close friend and, you know, just spill your guts. For me, a good conversation about nothing is about all I can tolerate."

Quite frankly, I think of chatty people as weak. Others would regard them as normal and feel that it might be a terrible thing to go though life without at least one intimate friend. Not me. Those who have known me have said that sometime in my youth I must not have been loved or trusted. Reporter Brian Bolter recalled a remark Kissinger made to him about me: "Can you imagine what this man would have been had somebody loved him?"

"What do you mean?" Bolter asked. Bolter was squinting.

"Had somebody in his life cared for him," Kissinger replied. "I don't think anybody ever did, not his parents, not his peers. He could have been a great, great man had somebody loved him." Kissinger added: "Listen, Bolter, you should have gone for the radial keratotomy instead of Lasik. You get what you pay for, buddy. That squinting is driving me nuts."

In any event, the theme of the unloved boy is central to the numerous psychobiographies of me. At least the ones I've written. It was all my mother's fault for spending too little time with me, too much time with my sister or with herself. It was all my father's fault, for spending too much time at work, too little time with his son working on the kid's pitching arm. Pops did not love me enough, so I could not love.

Of course, Dr. Bash has many problems with that analysis. "Who can say how much love is enough? Who can say that your childhood was in any way so exceptional that it scarred you for life? What son ever had a father who loved him enough? What successful man ever had a mother who was loving enough, forgiving enough, understanding enough? Let's face it, not every man can have a Barbara Bush for a mother."

"Your father," says Dr. Bash, "spurred you, disciplined you, made you work, demanded more of you. This helped you become ambitious, eager to show your parents what you could do; it is hard to see how it made you incapable of love."

"A man's character is his fate," according to the Greek philosopher Heraclitus. I have gifts in abundance -- brains, acceptably nice looks, good health, a marvelous memory, knowledge, superb acting ability and stage presence, awesome willpower, among others. Indeed, I have nearly every gift that the gods could bestow. The one that I most lack is character. Virtue comes from character. That is why I despise virtue and rail against it -- from here to Karlsbad.

Another quality that I lack is an ability to respect others. In 1986, Craig the Embalmer spoke to the point, admitting that he could not explain it: "Der Freedman went through, and it is probably still in him, a process of some kind that made him disrespect people. I don't know whom he respects even now -- really, really respects."

I put myself first, always. First, last and in between. In his poem "Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce," Robert Penn Warren has Joseph wanting to continue the fight against the U.S. Cavalry, to preserve his own honor and self respect. But Joseph asks himself, 'What right had I / To die -- to leave sick, old, young, women -- merely to flatter / My heart's pride?" And then Joseph has a flash of insight. He decides to surrender, explaining, "A true chief no self has."

U.S. Cavalry, my ass. They shoot horses, don't they? That's what I always say. I'll continue the fight. I don't care who I hurt.

OK, so I'm not a true chief. I can no more "no self have" than I can bring myself to love, trust, and respect my fellow man.

I do have respect for many foreign leaders: above all, for General Bonaparte and The Prime Minister. General Bonaparte was a model and inspiration for me. An exciting fellow, indeed! The theme of rising from adversity, has an obvious appeal to me, but there is more depth (and girth) to it than that. I've written about the little man from Corsica in my book "Leaders" with great affection, but also insight.

"He acted a part," I wrote, "played a role he himself created in a way that fit only one actor. Even more, he fashioned himself -- rising to top form -- so that he could play it. He created General Bonaparte, the public person, to play the role of General Bonaparte, personification of France." I've often quoted the General, approvingly, to the effect that "a leader must choose between prominence and happiness. (Though, admittedly, too much prominence -- unadorned prominence in public places -- is illegal in most jurisdictions.) A leader must endure strict self-discipline, constant risk taking, and perpetual inner struggle." Like the General, I have allowed no one to get close to me, and shun the intimacy of my fellows.

As I like to say: "The minute you start getting familiar with people, they start taking advantage." To begin to understand me is to read my remarks about General Bonaparte. How accurate I am in portraying the deep and complex character of Bonaparte is a separate subject. But in describing my hero as a self-created man, a man of self-discipline, a risk taker, an aloof man who had no friends and who underwent perpetual inner struggle, I am surely giving an excellent self-portrait.

My private life, like my public has been full of contradictions. I've had many acquaintances. But of intimate friends I've had almost none. Bob Strauss was only the most prominent man who knew me well to comment on how odd it was that I was so lonely in a profession filled with so many gregarious personalities.

That's what I don't get about Dr. Bash's advice. She keeps telling me, "Place yourself among friendly, sociable people, and you'll make friends." That doesn't always happen for people. A person has to have the psychological ability to form and maintain relationships as a necessary precondition to making friends. Simply placing yourself among sociable people won't cure the intrapsychic forces that militate against normal social adjustment.

I don't open up with people and share my feelings with them and enjoy their company. Besides, in my job you can't enjoy the luxury of intimate personal friendships. You can't confide absolutely in anyone. You can't talk too much about your personal plans, your personal feelings. Particularly when your personal plans might include acts of dubious legality.

Sure, I'm lonely. But I'm trapped in a situation in which I cannot be myself, not ever.

I guess you could say that I've disqualified myself for love by refusing to ever open myself to it and thus become vulnerable, except with you, buddy, in these letters: the one place where I do have an intimate relationship.

A pity that none of the staff at the Cleveland Park Library could summon any positive feelings about me. But when it came to a ban on my visits to the library, whether or not I had been guilty of high crimes and misdemeanors, as you alleged, Brian, nearly every single employee, in a reading room in which I had visited nearly every day for thirteen years, was ready to vote me guilty. This is one of the prices I pay for being friendless.

Check you out next week, buddy. Freedman in winter needs a garment to keep warm and safe. So do you, Brian. You need a garment and a flu shot. Get immunized. It's a good thing.

The Historiographer: A Grant of Immunity

November 29, 2004

Brian--

Hey, buddy. How was your holiday weekend? Are you still lying (as in resting, lying down, stretching out, reclining, or reposing), or are you just lying low?

This letter, like all my letters, does not begin as the statement of a fully grasped idea. How could it? I don't invest sufficient energy (intellectual or physical) in any one object to achieve anything fully, completely -- or to the fullest extent of nature's laws, as one might put it.

I've been doing nothing at all. I've simply been lying low -- as I have been for years -- safe and undetected within the heart of my apartment building, forswearing the world around me. There's nothing to prompt me to become active and do anything of a useful sort. What will cause me to become active, if I ever do so, isn't entirely clear at the moment. There are many mysteries about me that cry out for unraveling.

I trust you got your flu shot. You need a flu shot, you can't live without a flu shot. Immunity is always important. It's a good thing. Without immunity your whole life -- as you know it -- could unravel; you could be laid up for weeks. Once the viruses find you, once they make their inevitable discovery, you're finished. Don't believe the old wives' tale about informal immunity: there is no such thing. Last year's flu shot won't help you one darn bit. Of course, no one can force you to get a shot: it's purely voluntary. Watch out for corrupt doctors at public clinics, though. Deception and false promises of immunity are a common scam by public officials. They trick you into coming down to the clinic, and once you get there -- they tell you they've run out of flu shots. Likely story. Anyway, invoke your privilege. Get immunity. You look like a healthy guy, buddy. I think your constitution can stand it.

I confess. I didn't get a flu shot this year. I have no immunity. But then, I'm insane. One flu over the cuckoo's nest, and all that. If the virus got me, I wouldn't know what was going on anyhow. I'm oblivious. Isn't it obvious?

I thought I'd continue with the presentation of my diaries. This week I present the concluding portion that covers the period January 27, 2003 to August 19, 2003. That period of the diaries charts the development of my obsession with you, Brian. It's a sordid tale of false hopes and roads that should never have been taken. In any event, I plan to take you to the end of the line, so to speak -- a veritable "journey to Karlsbad."

Indeed, I have been taking you on a journey for the past several weeks. A journey includes at least a going from place A to place B, or to put it in terms of one of Freud's favorite Jewish jokes, from here to Karlsbad. The relevant story (Freud called it "the constitution story") is worth recounting. It concerns a Schnorrer: "An impecunious Jew had stowed himself away without a ticket in the fast train to Karlsbad. He was caught, and each time tickets were inspected he was taken out of the train and treated more and more severely. At one of the stations on his via dolorosa he met an acquaintance, who asked him where he was traveling to. 'To Karlsbad,' was his reply, 'if my constitution can stand it.'"

I have recorded in these pages my pain, my grief, and my sorrow. No outsider can follow the winding, internal path that leads a man like myself from despair to discovery, but the sensation of hitting bottom can sometimes stimulate an artist to abandon old commitments, embrace new ideas, and finally, confront what must be said or acknowledged. By early 2003 I had hit rock bottom, as the following entries attest. The loneliness I experienced during the dark days memorialized in these pages was acute, my binges catastrophic, my relationships with the several librarians in my life reflections of my instability, rage and confusion. But it was also at this time (as you will witness in the pages below) that I discovered the power of friendship -- albeit of the imaginary kind.

The imagery of the following diary entries interconnect with that of the journey and include views and prospects, locomotion, ascents and descents to heights and depths, explorations, demonstrations, light and fire, darkness. They are all involved with the map of the world within and the world outside the mind -- with how the world outside is registered within. The metaphors are aspects of the journey that lead to insight and outlook.

The unit of my communications, as I experience it, is not the Collected Writings, which I may some day attempt to publish (Good Luck with that endeavor!); nor is it the individual volume, or the sequence or group within the volume; it is the single message. Every written communication of mine is autonomous, or feels so to me in the writing, and consists of an effort to exhaust my present sense of the subject. It is for this reason that a letter sometimes takes a bit of time to finish. No message of mine is ever undertaken as a technical experiment; the form, which it takes, whether conventional or innovating, develops naturally as the message develops, as part of the utterance. Nor do my letters ever begin as the statement of a fully grasped idea; I think inside my lines and the thought must get where it can -- along the journey to Karlsbad, as it were -- amongst the moods and sounds and gravitating particulars which are appearing there.

My letters develop like the psychoanalytic narrative of the patient resting, lying down, stretching out, reclining, or reposing on the analyst's couch. Utterance follows utterance, immune from the censorship of the analyst, who listens to the patient's confession with evenly-hovering attention. Patterns of thought and feeling emerge over time. The inevitable outcome is a delineation of the individual human comedy. With the termination of the analysis, one might say: "Comoedia finita est."

Freud's great work "The Interpretation of Dreams" has been described as a journey through a landscape. Leonard Shengold writes: "In my paper on Freud's use of metaphor I examined some implications of a few of the images that Freud intertwined with his central metaphoric plan in the dream book -- that plan being a journey through a landscape. I indicated what I feel is a crucial place in the journey of that book: a turning point at the beginning of chapter 7 ["a fresh start," one might say], where Freud changes direction to plunge into the depths of the wishes of the unconscious (a 'veritable hell' -- like Dante, Freud undertakes a cosmic exploration involving the mind and the universe). That turning point is marked by the dream of the burning child. The speech in that dream is, "Father, don't you see I'm burning?" The dream and therefore the dream question are not Freud's own, but they can be linked with the exhibitionistic urination of the child Freud in his parents' bedroom (which brought on his father's unforgettable comment 'That boy will come to nothing'), and with his own dream after the death of his father: 'You are requested to close the eyes'. Both dreams refer to sight, to the metaphor of sight as understanding: and both dreams are to be connected with the mature and measured assessment of Freud's achievement, addressed to the fathers of this world, to heed or ignore at their peril: 'Insight such as this comes to one's lot but once in a lifetime.' By 1931 the child's burning had been tempered to a cool glance backward at the white heat of inspiration that marked the years following the death of his father."

Check you out next week, buddy. Remember, when you glance backward, keep your eyes on oncoming traffic. As an ancient Greek king was destined to discover -- with tragic consequences -- the road can be a real killer. Always think ahead.

_________________________________________________________________________

The Diaries

[During the period June 2001 to August 2003 I believed that the resident manager of my apartment building, David Castleberry (2000 - 2003), used to enter my apartment surreptitiously each day. I used to leave him a handwritten message taped to the inside of the front door. I had begun that practice in mid-June 2001 and continued writing notes and taping them to the door until the summer of 2003, when David Castleberry quit. The messages were addressed to "Friend." I pretended that I didn't know it was David Castleberry who was reading the notes. It was my (paranoid) belief that David Castleberry reported back to attorney managers at Akin Gump the content of the message I left on the door each day. I further believed that Akin Gump's attorney managers then informed Brian Brown at the library of the content of the daily message.]

1-27-03 Did you see the Sunday NY Times Magazine article about George W. Bush? They say he makes Pres. Reagan look like a moderate. What they meant, but didn't say, was that George Bush makes Ronald Reagan look like a fag! You heard it here first! -- Like I said 12 years ago: New Key Rock!

[In the early 1970s, while running for Mayor of Philadelphia, then Police Commissioner Frank Rizzo said that he would make Attila the Hun look like a fag.]

1-28-03 Message for Mr. Castleberry [please transmit]. This is the right and prudent time to institute on-line direct payment of rent. With a war coming -- and all that entails, including homeland involvement such as terrorist attacks, germ/chem/radiological warfare -- people may not be able to transact business at their bank. With on-line rent payment, tenants won't even have to leave the building. Think about it. It's the patriotic thing to do. Talk it over with the WRIT home office. -- [hand drawn picture of the American flag, then the message:] God Bless Rent. In just a few months Washington could be a far different place from what it is at this moment. Different from anything we can now imagine -- Only the prepared will survive!

1-29-03 Ignacio, from the library is gone for good, I think. And he didn't even kiss me good-bye. What kind of person is he?

[Ignacio (last name?) worked at the circulation desk at the Cleveland Park Library.]

1-30-03 Last afternoon, at my psychologist's, we talked about Steve Routh, an attorney (partner) at Hogan & Hartson. Routh's wife (Linda Stein) had a baby boy Robert Martin Routh in January 1987. Routh had a degree from the London School of Economics. I wonder if Routh knew Glenn Fine, an economics major from Harvard (Routh was a Harvard grad). Routh and Fine worked in nearby offices, when Fine was a law clerk at H&H. I wonder if Routh knew that Fine was VERY SPECIAL. I knew that.

[Steve Routh clerked for DC Appeals Court Judge John M. Ferren, who heard my appeal, Freedman v. DC Department of Human Rights in the year 1994, which was dismissed for lack of jurisdiction. (I believe that Judge Ferren himself had once practiced at Hogan). Routh worked in the education practice group at Hogan; Routh was a member of a large team of attorneys, under Elliott Mincberg (now with "People for the American Way" -- a constitutional rights advocacy organization) and David Tatel, Esq. (now an associate judge on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the DC Circuit) who represented the Milwaukee, WI public school district in desegregation litigation. I worked with Routh on a document production task in late December 1986 to early January 1987. Routh was an idealist who named his first child, Robert Martin, for Robert F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr. I always wondered what a psychoanalyst would say about the Oedipal (or other) implications of naming one's son, a first child, for two persons who were murdered. Glenn Fine is now Inspector General of the United States. He was a Rhodes Scholar and a star basketball player as a Harvard undergrad; his law degree is from Harvard. Esquire magazine's December 2003 issue featured a one-page article on Fine (page 200): "Glenn Fine: The Conscience of the D.O.J."]

1-30-03 Richard Reid gives a whole new meaning to the phrase-- "He has his foot in the door."

[Richard Reid, the so-called "show bomber," was a terrorist who concealed explosives in his shoe.]

1-31-03 Here's another Hogan partner who may remember Glenn Fine from the time in 1985 that Fine worked as a law clerk at the firm -- George H. Mernick, III 637-5726. Mernick worked on the 2nd floor at 815 Conn Ave in fall 1985 -- near Nancy Kent (in accounting).

2-3-03 I'll tell you my one recollection of George Mernick. It was the final days at 815 Connecticut Avenue in early April 1987. The building management at 815 Conn Ave was already starting up its renovation for the new major tenant. There was drilling of the terrace outside the building. The drilling was very noisy. Somebody (apparently not with the firm) asked Mernick what was going on. Mernick said we were moving to a new building, the other party said: "A new building?" Mernick said "A brand-new building!" -- Thus spoke George Mernick in April 1987.

[Hogan & Hartson moved to Columbia Square (555 13th Street, NW) in April 1987. One of the tenants at 815 Connecticut Avenue was Clark Clifford, Esq., former Secretary of Defense and a friend of Robert Strauss. Clifford's law partner was Robert Altman, Esq.]

2-4-03 Today's Birthdays: Stanley R. Palombo, MD (69) / Daniel D. Cutler (40). -- The above is the most persuasive evidence against the validity of astrology!

[Stanley R. Palombo, MD, was my treating psychiatrist in the year 1990. I worked with Cutler at Hogan & Hartson; he later went to law school (Seton Hall in New Jersey).]

2-5-03 Yesterday David Grady gave me a testy look when he saw me. Is it just coincidence that Grady is a Hogan attorney & I've been communicating with you recently about Hogan attorneys -- such as Steve Routh and George Mernick? That's a case in point about why I can't practice law. The jealousy is so EXTREME.

[David Grady, Esq. has been a tenant at 3801 Connecticut Avenue since at least 1990.

A preoccupation with envy or jealousy is a diagnostic criterion of a narcissistic personality disorder (NPD). My current treating psychologist, Israella Bash, Ph.D., denies that I suffer from NPD.]

2-6-03 Like I told my psychologist yesterday-- I felt that Brian at the library was reacting to something that made him jealous. He was having a quiet "tantrum" -- Brian that is. What was Brian reacting to? I think Brian is just a jealous M-F'er. -- Then Dr. Shaffer [my psychologist] said she's getting cut from the system. That the city's no longer going to provide psychological services. What am I going to do? I'm just a helpless psychotic. I'll have to go elsewhere.

[The term "M-F'er" might be an Oedipal allusion.]

2-7-03 / 2-10-03 I've been so depressed since I heard that I'm losing my psychologist. I stayed in bed (more or less) all weekend (Fri-Sun) just sleeping and staring into space in a stupor. This is bad. The District has been systematically dismantling the mental health system. All that's left is psychiatrists to prescribe meds. It's inhuman. It's going to take me some time to get past this.

2-11-03 I'm still depressed about the mental health situation here in the District. What I'm thinking about is contacting some high-ranking official, and ask if I can become his pen-pal. That should get some attention.

2-12-03 Here's the name of Sid Dorfman's predecessor at The Franklin Institute: Castle Freeman. Freeman left in about 1972. He and I had no contact. Freeman can give insight into the culture of the Institute at that time. -- You know, I could die in a terror attack at any time. I want you to know it's been good knowing you.

[I worked with coworker and friend Sid Dorfman at The Franklin Institute in Philadelphia. Dorfman obtained a B.S. in biology at Temple University in 1970. We attended the same high school.]

2-13-03 I've mentioned this before-- But you need a civil defense plan. Duck tape, duck tape, duck tape. As far as I see there's no plan at all. It's each tenant for himself. What is wrong with you people?

2-14-03 Later, dude.

2-17-03 / 2-18-03 / 2-19-03 I'm starting with a new psychologist -- Meghana Tembe at GW's Center for Professional Psychology -- a new beginning. -- Did you survive the storm? --

FREEDMAN: I'm coming back to GW!

DR. WIENER: Over my dead body!!

[Jerry M. Wiener, MD, was the chairman of the psychiatry department at GW, where I was in treatment from September 1992 to June 1996. Dr. Wiener died in early September 2001.]

2-20-03 I think that Mr. Pius and Mr. Doug did an outstanding job with the snow. They selflessly battled the elements during and after the storm of the century, all for the greater good of the residents. I recommend that those fine men be given a bonus of $50 each. Remember, a storm like this is a once-in-a-century occurrence.

[Doug and Pius were the building engineers at 3801 Connecticut Avenue, my residence.]

2-21-03 Message for Brian-- Please get the "A-Drive" fixed on the computer. Sure, it was cute in the beginning -- humorous, even -- but now it's just plain annoying. And I'm getting really p.o.'d. Get the damn thing fixed, Brian.

2-24-02 I had my first session with my new psychologist at GW on Friday (2-21-03) -- Meghana Tembe. She's good, if you can get through her accent -- She's from India. You can call her at the clinic (202) 887-0775. -- By the way, if I run into financial problems, I'm thinking I could move in with Brian -- I could be his butler -- Put his clothes out for him, run his bath, get him his coffee, arrange secret trysts with babes!

[Note that the very first reference to a friendship with Brian Brown (in the guise of a professional relationship) seems to be a negation of my relationship with my new psychologist, Meghana Tembe. Arguably, from the outset, my fantasies of closeness to Brian were a reaction to a relationship with a psychologist who I did not like at first sight.]

2-25-03 I have my second assessment session this morning with my new psychologist at GW. Meghana Tembe. I can't tell you how many evaluations and assessments I've gotten in my life. -- Brian hasn't voiced any interest in my becoming his butler. I'd be willing to do his wife. In fact. I could sleep with his wife, and Brian could sleep in the servants quarters. It's Oedipal.

2-26-03 Message for Brian -- Listen, Brian -- I was over at the West End Branch of the library system yesterday. That place was like a real library -- no chatting librarians, no noise, no librarians talking about their wive's first homosexual husband. I'm sorry to say it, but, you can't run a library. Cleveland Park is run like a social club. Moreover-- they have four computers over there, and you don't have to be hunched over to use them. They have privacy screens right on the computers. What's up with that?

[William Dacosta's wife, Debra (also a DC librarian), was previously married to a homosexual. Dacosta himself is a medicated bi-polar psychotic who takes lithium and Risperdal to control delusions and hallucinations. Isn't it odd that a patron should know all that by simply sitting in the library? On one occasion Dacosta permitted a patron to talk to him (in a loud, disruptive voice) about masturbation and fellatio. William Dacosta is Brian Brown's only male colleague.]

2-27-03 Did you catch Doug Feith last night on the CBS Evening News with Dan Rather? He's the Under Secretary of Defense. Douglas Feith -- Central High School, 230th class, 1971. Do you think Dan knew that?

2-28-03 / 3-3-03 Message for Brian. Brian-- would you sleep with me? It's not sexual. It's a Michael Jackson thing. Sure it might generate a lot of gossip. But, you know, let people talk!

3-4-03 It's almost 24 years to the day in March 1979 when Malcolm Lassman and Larry Hoffman snagged that giant fish and had it mounted in the lunch room at Akin Gump. An amazing catch.

[The lunch room at Akin Gump features a gag "fish" made of metal, with a plaque that indicates the date in March 1979 that Malcolm Lassman and Lawrence Hoffman caught it.]

3-5-03 Message for Brian-- What do you do on Mondays, Brian, now that the libraries are closed? You know, I was thinking we could make Monday "our day" Brian. We could hang out, go places, do things. We could be buddies Brian -- and Mondays could be "our day." I'm thinking, in the summer, we could head up to Baltimore and take in a ball game and have a hot dog or two. What do you say? Sounds good, huh? You need a friend, Brian. You spend too much time at the library. You need a buddy who'll show you how to live a little. That's me, buddy! Call me (202) 362-7064. I'll be waiting.

3-6-03 / 3-7-03 I had my last session with my psychologist, Dr. Shaffer, on Wed 3-5-02. Onward and upward to GW I go!

3-10-03 / 3-11-03 I think the DC Gov't is screwed-up. My mental health clinic pharmacy ran out of my sleep medication early last week (a common med) and still hasn't received its order. I was given the old standby this morning (3-10) on the telephone: "Could you call back tomorrow?" -- You know, it's the Jews who are behind this!

[The reference to anti-Semitism alludes to Congressman Jim Moran's allegation that it was primarily the Jews who were in favor of going to war with Iraq.]

3-12-03 I just got a letter from Social Security saying they're reviewing my case. I got a big case of the "war jitters" -- What will the outcome be? I could lose this thing -- or win it in a matter of weeks. -- Message for Jim Moran-- I didn't know Tony Blair was Jewish.

3-13-03 Things are quiet at the library. Brian is on vacation to the 19th of March. I still have war countdown jitters.

[Note the connection between the subject matter of the message on 3-12 (war) and the reference to the "quiet" at the library: a possible association to the war novel "All Quiet on the Western Front." I read the novel in ninth-grade English class in high school. (See message dated 3/14).

3-14-03 Slow news day. Beware the Ides of March, which is coming up.

[The Ides of March is an apparent association to "Julius Caesar," a Shakespeare play I read in ninth-grade English class.]

3-17-03 I've got the war jitters really bad. I can't tell you how nervous I am about this. What is that expression Americans use? "The shit is being frightened from my anus?"

3-18-03 / 3-19-03 BUY BONDS TODAY! WAR! As you can see I'm stocking up on supplies. This is only the beginning of a massive stockpile to insure my ability to last out a major siege of Washington. I plan to survive this thing. Now, what about direct payment of rent online. Remember -- only the prepared will survive.

3-20 / 3-21-03 / 3-24-03 The Iraqi Ambassador to the United Nations -- Mohammed Al-Doury -- is in violation of the No-Comb Zone. Did you see that guy? He's bald, but he has one of those "comb-over jobs."

3-25-03 SHOCK AND AWE.

SADDAM HUSSEIN: I have seen it all. You can't shock me, you can't even annoy me. --

I'm lovin' the new exercise room-- Thank you, WRIT!

["WRIT" is the Washington Real Estate Investment Trust.]

3-26-03 Tell you what I really like in the new exercise room is the "natural runner" machine. You get a good aerobic workout-- and it's very low impact. Good choice of machinery! [Cut out from magazine article referring to Bob Strauss and his wife:] "All Bob would have to say was 'It would be nice if I had a newspaper.' It would be midnight [and] Helen would run out to get a newspaper."

[If I could have found a wife like that, I'd have gotten married years ago.]

3-27-03 / 3-28-03 David Bloom-- You put the "B" in NBC.

[David Bloom was an NBC reporter who was killed several weeks later, covering the war in Iraq.]

3-31-03 IN MEMORY OF THE FALLEN

IGNACIO (Hot Latino)
DEBRA (Ghetto Fabulous)
TERRI (Ebony Hottie)
BREW SNYDER (Wittiest)
LYNNE BOZE (Best Southern Accent)
RONNIE (Least Vulnerable)
MR. PEOPLES (Biggest)

R. I. P.
e n e
a a
d c
e


[Refers to former library staff persons. I believed that all of the named persons knew about Brian Brown's communications with Akin Gump managers. Bruce Snyder replaced Lynne Boze as one of the librarians in about 1992. Ronnie was the children's librarian. Mr. Peoples was the custodian who preceded Alex Chandler. Terri and Debra worked at the circulation desk.]

4-1-03 I have a feeling your contacts have already contacted Richard & Bonnie Moses, so I won't bother giving you background facts on those people.

[Richard Moses, D.O., a gastroenterologist with a law degree from Temple University Law School, was in my graduating class in high school, Central High School, 230th class, 1971. His wife, Bonnie, is a lawyer who worked for Leonard Sagot Associates, and may have known Jeffrey Orchinik, Esq., who used to practice at Sagot & Jennings.

Inserted at this point is a solicitation from The Central High School Capital and Endowment Campaign: an invitation by Judge Lawrence S. Margolis (Central High School, 199th class) for Cocktails and Conversation on April 8, 2003 at The United States Court of Federal Claims, Washington. Judge Margolis' chambers is (202) 219 9581.]

4-2-03 Brian -- Psy-Ops. I hope you understand I've just been fucking with your head -- nothing more. It's all good, clean fun.

4-3-03 Anyway, like I was saying -- on Tuesday, 4-1-03, I was walking along 23rd Street, and I saw Jim Stewart of CBS-NEWS. He saw me, gazed at me, I looked away -- turned to him -- and he was still looking at me. I was sure he recognized me. But how? He was carrying a "carryout" lunch -- a few steps away from the CBS studio on 23rd Street. I'm Famous!

[The phrase "Anyway, like I was saying" suggests to me that I had already begun to leave messages to Brian Brown on the library's public access computer hard drive by this date, and that I was continuing a message that I had begun at the library.]

4-4-03 Here's a flash from the past: MARCIA CHASE. She worked at The Franklin Institute in Philadelphia in the early 70s. I and some other folks had lunch over at her apartment in (I think) the summer of 1972. Marcia Chase made gazpacho. She worked with Barbara Van Horne. They worked for Joe Pitts. Those were the days! I was 18 years old and moving up in the world (briefly).

4-4-03 BONUS Elizabeth Joyce is always going on about the British -- the defenders of liberty! I notice she never talks about the Queen's uncle -- he was a Nazi sympathizer. Actually, I'm a lot like the Duke of Windsor, myself, except for the money, the sex, and the Nazi connections.

[Elizabeth Joyce used to work at the front desk at 3801 Connecticut Avenue. She retired in the summer of 2003, after about 17 years at the building. I thought that she knew all about the invasions of my privacy by Elaine Wranik and David Castleberry. I also think she knew all about my difficulties at Akin Gump.]

4-07-03 / 4-8-03 So much for Bob Simon's advice on surviving in Iraq!

[Refers to the death of NBC-News reporter David Bloom in Iraq. Simon, a CBS-News reporter -- who was captured by Iraqis during the Persian Gulf War in 1991 -- had written that there was one sure way to survive in Iraq: "Just keep your eyes and your balls covered." In 1991 Simon and his news crew had been captured along a desert road in war-torn Iraq, and held captive by Saddam loyalists for forty days.

Excursus: It was in a trifurcation of the road, where Oedipus "had killed the old man who had tried to thrust him out of the path -- the old man who has turned out to be his father, Laius: 'For now I am found evil and of evil birth. O ye three roads, and thou secret glen -- thou coppice and narrow way where three paths met -- Ye who drank from my hands that father's blood which was my own, -- remember ye, perchance, what deeds I wrought for you to see, -- and then, when I came hither, what fresh deeds I went on to do?' Karl Abraham held the trifurcation of the road as the symbol of the maternal genitals, the place of traffic with the father and the son. (This interpretation is certainly reinforced by the words 'secret glen' and 'coppice and narrow way.') In the speech, the mother's genitals become charged with oral-sadistic libido and drink blood. The 'place where three paths meet' is called on to witness the past, 'the deeds I wrought for you to see.' This is after Oedipus has destroyed his own sight, has symbolically castrated himself. (Eyes are related to testicles symbolically and etymologically -- note the German Eier (egg) [compare message at 5-15-03, below, that refers to eggs] and Auge (eye) -- and testicles literally means 'little witnesses.') I have stated that part of soul murder is the consequences of seduced children taking on the guilt of the seducing parent. By assuming the adult's lies and denial, the children renounce their own ability to see what is and has been. They cease being reliable witnesses to the past and to present repetitions of the past." Shengold, L. "Soul Murder: The Effects of Childhood Abuse and Deprivation" at 48 (New Haven, Yale University Press, 1989).]

4-9-03 Brian-- Pick a day -- and order the tickets. How about June 30 -- Orioles/Yankees. Just you & me, buddy! [Attached is the Baltimore Orioles Camden Yards Home Game Schedule (2003).]

4-11-03

GEORGE BUSH: Hello, Madame.

SADDAM HUSSEIN: Madame? What are you calling me Madame for?

GEORGE BUSH: Those are ladies glasses.

SADDAM HUSSEIN: Ladies glasses?

GEORGE BUSH: Sure, says right here, "Gloria Vanderbilt Collection."

SADDAM HUSSEIN: That son of a bitch sold me ladies glasses!

[Parody of a Seinfeld episode. Saddam Hussein had appeared on television with large-framed glasses, a rare sight. Note the connection between this note and the preceding one dated 4/7 ("Just keep your eyes and your balls covered") as well as the note on 4-9 ("Take me out to the 'ball game'")]

4-11-03 THE BAGHDAD CAFE

SADDAM HUSSEIN: I gotta get out of this city!

GEORGE BUSH: So, you're tunneling to the center of the earth?

[Parody of a Seinfeld episode.]

4-14-03 Could you tell Mr. Castleberry that it's about time to start thinking about putting the summer furniture up on the roof. We're heading for some warm, summer-like days. -- Also, speaking of the roof -- on Saturday (4-12) at about 5:30 PM, somebody was barbecuing on a grill on the roof. Can you do that? Isn't that a fire hazard? Hot coals and all that.

4-15-03 MESSAGE FOR SYRIA

GEORGE BUSH: We demilitarize countries the old-fashioned way -- One regime at a time.

4-16-03 As you know, 3883 Connecticut Avenue, across the way. is now renting to tenants. The apartment directly across from my apartment -- the first terrace above the tool shed -- has been rented to a good-looking young guy. He comes out onto the terrace from time to time, to smoke a cigarette. Maybe you could induct him into providing covert information about me to you. He frequently looks across to my apartment and sees me. (I've been behaving -- no nudity and no masturbating in front of my neighbor across the way).

[Note that the message on 4/14 refers to a smoking barbecue; the message on 4/16 refers to a smoking tenant.]

4-17-03 Tell you who I think about from time to time -- "Ari" -- (not Ari Fleischer) -- He used to be a tenant in the building. Elizabeth Joyce will remember him. He looked like a fine young man -- A young man with character. I had identified him as someone who was probably going places in life. Now, several years later, I wonder what he's doing -- whether he has fulfilled his "early promise." Tell him to give me a call if you talk to him.

[Note that the messages on 4/16 and 4/17 both concern the issue of tenancy. In the message on 4/16 I refer to the issue of "being peered at" and in the message on 4/17 I refer to the act of "peering at" a tenant.]

4-17-03 Message for Malcolm Lassman: This is the 12th Passover you've ruined for me! When will the insanity end?

4-18-03 Happy Easter to my Christian friends. -- Did you talk to Ari? Is he on a safari?

4-21-03 TO TELL THE TRUTH

KITTY CARLISLE: I think Saddam No. 3 is the real Saddam. He's the only contestant who knew about the 60% discount at J&T Optical.

SADDAM NO. 3: Retail is for suckers!

[The message is a parody of a Seinfeld episode.]

4-22-03 Message for Condaleeza Rice -- In a novel titled "The Cobra Event" published in 1997 (6 years ago) (a book about germ warfare), Richard Preston writes that the French Unscom inspectors weren't interested in finding any WMD in Iraq -- that the inspectors were ordered by the French Gov't not to find anything in Iraq -- That was six years ago! See p. 115.

[The French were supposedly opposed to war with Iraq because of their commercial interests in Iraq. The previous message (4/21) refers to concealing the truth and commercial interests at a retail level.]

4-23-03 If you're wondering where all this paper comes from, a tenant, Mike Epstein, threw it away. It's all "Star Wars" crap. I thought that kid Epstein was a nut-job. -- By the way, today is Shakespeare's birthday (and the anniversary of his death -- He died on his birthday).

[Epstein was a tenant in apartment 108. He was a graduate of Utica College, I believe.]

4-24-03 Jonathan Belmont, MD, -- graduated first in his class at my high school -- Central High School, 230th class, 1971. Smart guy. He's signed up for classmates.com -- so he's obviously willing to talk. He can give you the inside dope on another class star, Doug Feith -- Now Undersecretary of Defense. By the way, in the class yearbook, Feith was elected "Honorary Faculty Member" -- He hasn't changed.

[Belmont is an ophthalmologist. Once again, a reference to the eyes. Incidentally, Belmont was sports editor on the school newspaper. (Eyes = balls = baseball? See messages for 4/7, 4/9, and 4/11).]

4-25-03 Sheldon Kanfer graduated third in my high school class (230th class, 1971). Smart guy. He was in the school orchestra; I think he played the flute. He can give you the inside dope on Douglas Feith, Undersect'y of Defense in the Bush Administration. The Internet lists Kanfer as a donor to the Columbus (Ohio?) Symphony Orchestra.

4-28-03 4-29-03 I've got something big planned for you for next week. It's going to be stupendous -- but you'll have to wait.

4-30-03 Stephen I. Kasloff, Esq. Central High School, 228th Class (1969). He was two years ahead of me in high school. He didn't know me, but we attended the same elementary school (Rowan Elem Sch). When he was in the 6th grade, I was in the 4th grade. I remember him because we were both library volunteers in elementary school -- under Mrs. Mary Stevens, a teacher. Kasloff was on the Bd of Managers of the CHS Alumni Association.

4-30-03 BONUS Did you check into Santo Diano, my 10th grade geometry teacher? (and homeroom teacher). He was a graduate of Central High School and was an alumnus, served as the school archivist.

5-1-03 Yesterday, Mrs. Joyce said to me, "Hello Gary, how are you?" -- Well, I didn't want to cause a row, but it's not appropriate. The downstairs staff should not be addressing me directly. After all, how does Mrs. Joyce know that I am not a peer, in which case I would be addressed as "Lord Freedman." I'm not a peer, but Mrs. Joyce doesn't know that. The bottom line is you need to remind staff of protocol. Long live the empire!

[Elizabeth Joyce was the front desk person at 3801 Connecticut Avenue. She was from London, England.

Note that the word "Peer" (an English lord) has a double meaning; it also means "to look at," or peer at.

Note that the Upstairs/Downstairs dichotomy in the message on 5/1 parallels the respective messages at 4/11 ("tunneling to the center of the Earth) and 4/14 ("going up to the roof"). The reference to "Lords" (persons of elevated status) and "downstairs staff" (persons of debased status) might allude to a family romance fantasy. (See message below, dated 5-5-03).]

5-2-03 Have a good weekend. I might get together with Brian, if he gives me a call.

5-5-03 / 5-6-03 [Message appended to a picture of a farmer holding a hoe. Background depicts a farm house, windmill, and silos.] I'm a sheep-fucker, and my grandson is a librarian. We've moved up over the generations!

[Refers to Brian Brown, whose grandfather lived in Montana. The term "sheep-fucker" might be an allusion to Sophocles' Oedipus. Oedipus, the son of a king, was banished from Thebes in infancy and raised by a lowly shepherd.

According to Dorothy Burlingham the fantasy of having a twin sibling is a latency fantasy, Oedipal in origin, in which the child imagines that he has a twin sibling who will provide narcissistic mirroring and thereby propitiate the loneliness engendered by the child's Oedipal rage and associated annihilation anxiety. Burlingham, D. "The Fantasy of Having a Twin." The Psychoanalytic Study of the Child, volume I. (See message below, dated 5-7-03).]

5-7-03 Brian, buddy, I like you. Why won't you be my friend? I feel so sad and alone.

[My first meeting with Israella Bash, Ph.D. occurred on about May 2, 2003. At this time the only human contacts I had were with three female mental health professionals whom I disliked: Dr. Bash, Dr. Cooper (my psychiatrist), and Meghana Tembe (my psychotherapist at GW).]

5-8-03 Somebody to look into: Leonard Goldstein, MD. Classmates.com. Central High School 1971 (230th class). I have a funny anecdote about Goldstein. In 10th grade, the hygiene teacher was talking about the evils of masturbation, cautioning students not to engage in such activity. I was sitting next to Goldstein. Apparently, Goldstein didn't know what the word meant -- he started leafing through his dictionary trying to find out what masturbation was. Jerry Seinfeld said he didn't find out till he was in college. Maybe I was precocious.

[Goldstein was in my graduating class at Penn State, May 1975. He was a pre-med major.]

5-9-03 Happy Birthday, Bonnie Jensen! I didn't get you a gift, Bonnie, but remember, Life is a gift!

[Jensen is the assistant manager at 3801 Connecticut Avenue, my residence.]

5-12-03 / 5-13-03 Somebody to look into: Scott Nunamaker. Central High School, 230th Class, 1971. Supersmart. Was in Ming the Merciless's English Class in the ninth grade -- 67-68 sch year. I don't know anything else about him.

[My ninth-grade English teacher, Elliott Cades, known by students as "Ming the Merciless," was a very demanding teacher. He was a graduate of Central High School himself, and had taught there at least since the 1930s. He had a law degree. Perhaps he vented his frustrations in life on his students. He was unmarried, and died at age 83 in the year 1986.]

5-14-03 Here's the inside dope on Bill Einhorn, Esq. -- The great and glorious Bill Einhorn. (Central High School, 230th class, 1971.) He was not one of the super smart kids in high school. He made Barnwell, but he wasn't scholastic (and he wasn't involved in any athletics). In the immortal words of Lloyd Bentsen -- "You're no Jeff Orchinik" (Orchinik was brilliant).

[Einhorn, a graduate of Temple Law School, practiced at the Philadelphia firm of Sagot & Jennings at the time I clerked there (1981-1982). The Barnwell Award is an academic honor at Central High School. Einhorn's father owned a fruit/produce/fish market on Stenton Avenue, in Philadelphia.]

5-15-03 Mrs. Joyce needs to lose some weight. Those extra pounds are not good for her health. I've been following the following diet -- and I've lost about 10 pounds. It's high protein -- low carbohydrate. -- Spinach (10 oz.) -- a little bit of cheese for a snack -- omelet (main evening meal) [compare message at 4-7-03, above, that refers to eggs] -- skim milk (for snack in evening). No bread! No potatoes! No rice!

5-16-03 The crazies were out last night! I must have gotten about 5 to 6 bizarre telephone calls last night.

5-19-03 / 5-20-03 Michael Morrison, MD. Central High School, 230th Class, 1971. According to the most recent alumni newsletter Morrison made a financial contribution to the Central High School "General Fund" -- Super bright kid -- Didn't know him.

5-21-03 Mr. Pius or Mr. Douglas -- Thank you for changing my air filter.

5-23-03 Have a safe and enjoyable holiday weekend -- and I'll see you Tuesday!

5-27-03 If you're looking for the "story behind the story" on Ming the Merciless, contact Dr. Norman S. Knee, Central High School, 186th class. [Attached is blurb on Dr. Knee, DO, FACOFP, who sent the alumni bulletin "a fascinating story of a series of memorable contacts with teacher Elliot Cades (who he referred to as 'Ming the Merciless'), during Knee's stay at Central, during his service in the United States Army of Occupation in Japan, and the aftermath of those experiences."]

5-27-03 THE ROAD MAP

BIBI NETANYAHU: What about the terrorism, the violence, the settlements, the refugee problem?

THE PRIME MINISTER: I propose that for the moment we place all these questions aside, and pursue our way further along one particular path.

[Refers to the Middle-East conflict. Note Dr. Shengold's observation that the metaphors that interconnect with that of the journey are all involved with the "map of the world" within and the world outside the mind. The line attributed to "The Prime Minister" (above) is, in fact, a quote from Freud's "Interpretation of Dreams."]

5-28-03 I'll tell you who I think is a weirdo-- Stanley Schmulewitz. He works out in the exercise room in his street clothes. Isn't that against the rules. Gives you an idea of the mentality of the tenants association as a whole!

[Schmulewitz, who has lived at 3801 Connecticut Avenue for the last 35 years, used to be president of the tenants' association.]

5-29-03 Did you see Mr. Pius' new car? Beautiful. I keep checking it out -- The design, the color -- tres cool!

5-30-03 Here's another item I picked up from my high school alumni bulletin-- The current rabbi and immediate past president of Jewish Congregation Beth El in Bethesda are graduates of my high school (Central High School in Philadelphia).6-2-03 / 6-3-03 After all these years we find out that Richard Chamberlain is homosexual. Right. Big surprise! Do you remember, back in 1992 when Aaron Ezekiel told Malcolm about how he tore up my "Dr. Kildare" collectible cards [in the fourth grade]? I know all & see all!

[Ezekiel and I were friends in elementary school. I mentioned Ezekiel in a letter I sent to my sister in 1992. I believe Akin Gump managers contacted Ezekiel.]

6-4-03 WMD

BABU BAAT: You said there were weapons of mass destruction. But there ARE no weapons of mass destruction. Where are the weapons of mass destruction?

PRESIDENT BUSH: The wheels are in motion, Babu. The wheels are in motion even as we speak.

[Parody of a Seinfeld episode.]

6-4-03 BONUS Could you tell Mr. Castleberry-- What I heard -- I heard Msairi talking about his undergoing diagnostic tests for cancer. It could be serious.

[Msairi used to be a front-desk employee at 3801 Connecticut Avenue.]

6-5-03 Check this out. The front inner courtyard of 3801 -- you know, where the entrance is -- if you look at the south side of the building, a tenant on the sixth floor has a lot of crap in the window -- multicolored junk. It reminds me of when I was a kid. I would put things in the window of our house. My father would say: "Get that crap out of the window. It looks like a shit-house from outside!"

6-6-03 Bonny Jensen's life is like a country-western song. When she filed for divorce her husband said: "I beg your pardon. I never promised you a rose garden."

[I had overheard Bonnie Jensen talking about her marital difficulties that led to her divorce. Her husband objected to her hobby of gardening.]

6-9-03 / 6-10-03 Yesterday (6-8) I saw Ben Wattenberg in the Giant Supermarket. What happened to his TV show "Think Tank?" Did it get tanked? -- 6-10 / Strauss' birthday. 139 years old today.

[Refers to the composer Richard Strauss, who was born June 10, 1864.

Wattenberg -- who lives off Connecticut Avenue in DC's Van Ness area -- is a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute.]

6-11-03 Did you know that Bill Cosby and I are good friends? That's right. I call him Bill, and he calls me Gary. We've been on a first name basis or years. [Cosby (204th class) and I attended the same high school in Philadelphia. Attached is form letter from Cosby addressed "Dear Gary," soliciting financial contributions to Central High School's capital improvements campaign.]

6-12-03 I'm in a deep funk. I'm just going through the motions of being alive. Things don't interest me anymore. I don't listen to music much anymore. Is this what they call depression? My friends don't call anymore. I guess I'm no fun to be around.

6-13-03 / 6-16-03 / 6-17-03 Happy Friday the 13th. You should wear garlic around your head for good luck. Enjoy the long day light while you can. Have a good weekend! Library is closed today. How will Brian get on w/o me?

6-18-03 Sorry. Got a hot date with Ms. Amos at the welfare office [concerning food stamp recertification].

[Note that the letters have become brief and uninformative, unlike the earlier messages. By April 2003 I had begun writing daily letters to Brian Brown at the library (and saving them to the computer hard drive), a medium of communication that had replaced, in large part, my letter writing to David Castleberry.]

6-19-03 Idea of reference on 6-17-03. Tues afternoon I added material to my autobiography on the computer at the West End Branch of the library. The material concerned the [recently-decided] Charles Sell Supreme Court case, which concerned anti-psychotic meds. Later in the afternoon Velvel [at the Cleveland Park Library] started talking about "Zorba the Greek," which I saw as a reference to Dr. Georgopoulos [my former treating psychiatrist at GW], who used to recommend I take meds.

[The U.S. Supreme Court opinion in the Sell case quotes expert testimony to the effect that anti-psychotic medication is very rarely effective in treating delusional disorder. My diagnosis is delusional disorder.]

6-20-03 / 6-23-03 / 6-24-03 Has David Castleberry ever thought of using my services at the front desk? -- Maybe the pressure would be too much for me. I don't know.

6-25-03 3801 was featured briefly on a TV news story last night on WRC-TV (Ch. 4) about emergency preparedness re: terrorist attacks. One of our tenants was asked if we have evacuation plans. The tenant basically said, "Da?" I talked to you about this before. We need civil defense preparedness. That's more important than a new lobby, don't you think? -- Dead tenants don't pay rent -- do they? We need to encase 3801 in lead to ward off radiation!

[Management remodeled the lobby beginning in the fall of 2003.]

6-26-03 How do you like my "new" Chinese chochkas? I picked them up in the trash room. You can pick up a lot of good stuff in people's trash - computers, picture frames, scrap paper -- an endless variety, really.

6-27-03 FYI -- HUNKY TONY

STEPHEN BREYER: I must confess that I was born heterosexual, but I sign on to the homosexual agenda now and then.

[Refers to a recent U.S. Supreme Court opinion in which Justice Antonin Scalia referred disparagingly to "the homosexual agenda."]

6-30-03 / 7-1-03 A few days ago I heard David Castleberry talking to Elizabeth Joyce about capital improvements. What about a pool? Yes! A big Olympic-sized pool for tenants. 3883 Connecticut has a pool and the tenants are loving it!

7-2-03 I was going to go to the party, but I decided against it. I'm basically a monarchist. This whole American independence thing was a bad idea. -- God Save the Queen!

[Refers to a July 4th party at 3801.]

7-3-03 Did you talk to Judy Glassie about installing a swimming pool, here at 3801 (using the capital improvements budget)? I think tenants would enjoy that more than sliding doors [at the front entrance]. -- I was thinking -- Isn't there any job I could do around the building? What about emptying the trash rooms every day at, say $5/day ($35/week). I think I could handle that. Plus I'd get first dibs on the "good" trash. -- Happy Fourth of July. See you Monday 7.7.03.

[undated] 3801 Masturbation Policy. It may not be done in common areas. This may only be done in your apartments.

[Parody of the new "smoking policy" which was posted in the building.]

7-6-03 BONUS -- LATEST THINKING AT THE WHITE HOUSE

PRESIDENT: What do we do about the growing numbers of unemployed?

SECRETARY OF STATE: We could ship 'em off to Iraq--

NASA ADMINISTRATOR: We could put them in the space shuttle program.

ATTORNEY GENERAL: I say we execute 'em all.

PRESIDENT: (aside to Treasury Secretary): How many billions more do we have to give away in tax cuts? This fiscal policy is hard work!

7-7-03 BONUS This is the 3-month anniversary of the death of my friend David Bloom.

7-7-03 / 7-8-03 Saturday afternoon (7-5-03) I learned about a dark, ugly side to Dr. Sack. He forgot about his 4:00 PM appointment. The poor patient had to wait in his waiting room -- You know how hot that was? She had to sit there with the door open, with her husband. They were helpless pawns of the powerful Dr. Sack. At one point the lady stood up and said-- "I think he stood us up." It was tragic heart-rending - and it exhibited a streak of callousness and indifference in Dr. Lawrence C. Sack that heretofore I did not know existed! ! Shame, shame, shame, Dr. Sack!

7-9-03 I got a notice from Social Security that they're not even going to bother doing their regular 3-year review, based on the preliminary information I gave them. Apparently, they can see I'm very, very sick!

[Attached is SSA Notice dated July 8, 2003.]

7-10-03 My psychologist has been on vacation the last two weeks. My mental state is deteriorating. Maybe I should get together with my friends.

[The psychologist took several vacations during my therapy with her, which spanned the period 2/03 to 5/04. She took off the entire month of December 2003 plus the first two weeks of January 2004. When I complained to my psychiatrist, Dr. Cooper replied: "Your therapist is not allowed to take vacations?"]

7-11-03 Nothing to report. Not much chance of going to the All-Star game with my buddy Brian. It's HIS loss! I PITY Brian!

7-14-03 / 7-15-03 Ten years ago today, my girlfriend dumped me! How can I ever enjoy Bastille Day? How can I ever be with another fraulein?

[Refers to my friend Craig W. Dye. We spoke for the last time, by telephone, on July 13, 1993.]

7-16-03 ELLEN DOES THE SHANGHAI MAFIA

FREEDMAN: Well, Jeffrey, did you talk to Ellen about resigning from the Court? Tell you what, there's an extra $50 bucks in it for you if she does.

ELLEN: Don't tell me later that there was something extra I was supposed to do like renounce my citizenship and disown my first born child.

FREEDMAN: No, no. Just resign from the Court and sign a contingency-fee agreement.

ELLEN: I'm doin' it!

[Parody of a Seinfeld episode, "The Chinese Restaurant." Note the phrase: "disown my first born child," a possible allusion to Sophocles' play, "Oedipus Rex." Oedipus' father, Laius, disowned the infant Oedipus. Compare the message on 1-30-03 that referred to the first born child of Steve Routh, a Hogan & Hartson attorney. The phrase "renounce my citizenship" might be an allusion to the punishment imposed on Oedipus; he was forced into exile from Thebes.]

7-17-03 For my friends at the Gump. -- Think of this as a terrorist attack in very, very slow motion: Only nobody dies, they just end up getting disbarred!

7-18-03 Happy 97th birthday to Clifford Odets -- By the way, how are Walt and Nora. -- Good to see Luise Rainer on the Oscars this year.

[Odets was a playwright, whose children were named Walt and Nora. Odets was married to the Oscar-winning actress, Luise Rainer. Odets was born in the same year as my father: 1906. My father had been a close friend of Odets' cousin, Benny Rossman.]

7-21-03 / 7-22-03 I heard that 20-year tenants get a $500 bonus. -- August 2003 will be my 20th anniversary here at the beautiful 3801 -- Please make my bonus check payable to "Gary Freedman."

[Message is a joke.]

7-23-03 Last night I was thinking about the sorry end for those two partners in crime -- I thought: "It's like a Greek tragedy, only they're not Greek and it's not particularly tragic." I don't know what nationality Race and Hoffman are!

[Refers to two management partners (Dennis M. Race and Lawrence J. Hoffman) at Akin Gump. Note the implied allusion to Sophocles' play "Oedipus Rex," a Greek tragedy. Also, note that the reference to Race's nationality seems to allude to the record on appeal in Freedman v. D.C. Dept. of Human Rights: "At this point Malcolm Lassman turned to Dennis Race and said, 'Dennis, you're not Jewish. Jews don't eat pork'" (see message below, 7-24).

7-24-03 I signed up for food-stamp recertification last week. I'm hoping they will increase my benefit. I gotta talk to Glickman -- Hey, Glickman! -- There needs to be a kosher premium for food stamp recipients who eat kosher. That kosher crap costs like 20% more they treyf. I think the current program violates my 1st Amendment rights!

[Refers to Dan Glickman, former Secretary of Agriculture in the Clinton Administration, and, as of 2003, a lawyer at Akin Gump. The word "treyf" means "non-kosher."]

7-25-03 I'm getting inappropriate pressure to return to work from Dr. Bash. I'm beginning to identify more and more with John Hinckley!

[Refers to the fact that the government has consistently fought to preserve Hinckley's status as a ward of the state; while I, an innocent person who never committed a violent act, was being pressured by a state employee, Dr. Bash, to give up his government benefits.]

7-28-03 Somebody in the apt bldg threw away a perfectly good DVD player! My gain.

[I learned later that the DVD player didn't work.]

7-29-03 I started on a new anti-depressant medication this morning -- Effexor. Let's see what this does!

7-30-03 They didn't increase my food stamps! What's up with that, Glickman?

7-31-03 I hear there's a big meeting with the WRIT folks. Why don't you raise the issue of the $500 bonus for 20-year residents? I know you have a lot of influence in the organization.

8-1-03 On a couple of occasions in the library -- the following picture was displayed prominently in the magazine exchange. It looks like an age-enhanced picture of Rubenstein. How would they know what Rubenstein looks like? [Attached is AT&T ad featuring a photo of the actor Cliff Robertson holding a telephone with the following advertising copy: "The better we sound. Touch Someone.]

8-4-03 I'm hoping to tighten the noose this week. They shoot horses don't they?

[Refers to a letter that I contemplated sending to GW President Stephen J. Trachtenberg about my psychotherapy at GW; the letter described my job termination by Dennis Race at Akin Gump. My therapist at GW (Meghana Tembe) later persuaded me not to send the letter.]

8-5-03 This morning when I looked at Mr. Cookson, he turned his eyes away, and would not look me in the eye. That tells me things are heating up (Ouch! that's hot! Something's cooking on the hot stove ! ! !)

[Pius Cookson is the building engineer at 3801 Connecticut.]

8-6-03 I just wish this thing were over. Then I could sue the bastards -- and rent a penthouse at 3883 Conn. I'd keep this apt for storage.

8-8-03 OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT, I will NOT run for Governor of California. I'm sorry to disappoint all of the California out-of-state voters here at 3801.

[Refers to Arnold Schwarzenegger's announcement that he will run for Governor of California.]

8-8-03 I'm submitting these notes -- ("The Archives") to my psychologist.

DENNIS RACE: I got Bashed!

[Refers to my simmering anger about Dr. Bash's statements that she thought I was employable. Dr. Bash's statements about my employability were especially troubling because SSA had just renewed my benefits without even doing a review, which suggested to me that SSA believed my disability was serious.]

8-11-03 / 8-12-03 I was thinking about ending this line of communication, but I decided against it. My instincts tell me it's not time. Still got some lawyers to screw! As they say: A lawyer who fucks a lawyer is twice a lawyer!

8-13-03 People ask: "Does Israel have the bomb?" The way I see it, it misses the point. In terms of destructive potential, they have Dr. Bash! Does it matter whether they have the bomb?

8-14-03 Tomorrow (8-15-03) is a big day. No, not Vernon Jordan's birthday. No, not Napoleon's birthday -- 32 years ago tomorrow Richard Nixon got on TV in the evening (a Sunday evening in 1971) to announce wage & price controls. I don't know why I remember that -- I wonder if Ben Stein remembers -- you know his old man was a Nixon econ. adviser.

8-14-03 BONUS #135 (John Walsh) keeps his TV on all day-- Is he nuts? Aren't there better ways to scare off demons?

8-15-03 My illness is so devastating at times that I wonder how I can get through the day. "It's so sad"-- That's what Pat Nixon said on the plane back to San Clemente after Pres. Nixon resigned.

8-18-03 MESSAGE FOR DAVID GREGORY: Caught you on the Today Show. Good to hear you speaking English. Sincerely, George W. Bush.

[Gregory was the NBC-TV White House reporter in 2003. His fluency in French at a press conference with French President Chirac once irked President Bush.]

8-19-03 I guess it's the end of an era. I just found out that [resident manager] David Castleberry left-- All of a sudden. Then I learned that [my former treating psychiatrist] Lawrence C. Sack, MD, died. There was a note on his [office] door on Sat 8-16 advising patients to call his son, Dr. Robert Sack -- La comedia est finita!

["La comedia est finita" refers to Beethoven. A few days before Beethoven's death, a friend wrote: "He feels the end coming, for yesterday he said to me . . . 'Plaudite, amici, comoedia finita est.'" (Applaud, friends, the comedy is ended.).]

END OF DIARIES.