It was around 11:00am when I decided to collect my available energies and walk out into the kitchen. I was expecting a lot of anger, getting chewed out further and suffering permanently damaged relations with my roommates for the rest of the year.

I cracked the door and walked out. Dave immediately yelled, "Jesus Christ! Fuck yes!"

Jeff added, "Well we were wondering if you were in there still alive or dead. It was getting to the time that we draw straws and one of us checks on you."

Steve appeared totally in the dark and inquired what they meant.

I think it was Jeff who said, "Well, for whatever reason, Mike was planning to commit suicide and we were wondering if he was dead." Jeff asked me to explain what prompted my desire for killing myself.

"I don't know how to explain it. It doesn't even make sense to me, I fell in love with this girl Jean and last year she was killed by a drunk driver and it ruined my senior year. I always wanted to go out with her, but never asked. It's strange, I wasn't depressed but last week, and I missed her so much that I wanted to join her. Now I am pissed off at myself for betraying myself."

Jeff then said, "Well, we're glad that you did. I did try to fuck the hell out of [The girl from Maryland], but she put a stop to it. She said that she loves to hang around guys, because she doesn't like the shit that other girls do."

"It seems that you're still in contention and you're going to get plenty opportunities, as she's coming over to our apartment. I have a feeling that she will be here frequently. Best of luck!"

It wasn't very long after that Jeff and Dave left and Steve asked me if that was true. "Steve, you didn't hear Jeff screaming and me crying?"

"No."

"Damn, you're one hell of a sleeper."

That was the extent of the inquiry and fallout. Other than that, it was a normal day. Not long after that, I immediately headed off to the park that Steve showed me, as a found a perch on top of a small cliff. While it wasn't that picturesque on like in New Mexico that seemed to come from a Sumi print, it was about to serve its purpose.

I was still upset, the one time I wasn't able to keep my word, was with myself and suicide attempt. It frosted me to no end I was my own Judas, which didn't make reconciliation to self very easy. The way the events unfolded, totally floored me and were so out of the ordinary, maybe my soul, Jean's soul or somehow Heaven was involved.

I realized I didn't chicken out of suicide, as I still could have pulled it off.  I began to feel instead, suicide is such a hard thing to pull off, as one's life prefers its natural progression to the final end of death, unless an accident or disease has occurred. I was amazed at this spiritual concept I considered.

I realized that I made my choice to live and somehow I had to figure out how to live it, so as one's life is invaded with tragedies, one could get through it a lot better, or even with the possibility of not being scathed by the tragedy.

As if the betrayal wasn't strange enough, the next day I went into downtown Providence, and from a crowd of people, I discovered a woman walking up to me and slipping her hand into mine. The woman simply said, "I feel your grief for I know it too. Think of her, love her, hold her close to her heart, but don't sacrifice yourself for her. She wouldn't want that."

That was a somewhat tear-filled, touching moment which simply prompted from me, "Thanks." As she appeared to walk away, my attention was only averted for a second, and when I looked again, she was gone. I found both the words and the event totally mind boggling.

I went into the bookstore and bought the books, "The Inner Life," by Charles Leadbeater, and one called, "The Handbook To Higher Consciousness." One of the few in the self-help section that I thought was worth reading.

I then went back to my perch to think about what the lady said to me. I sure saw her point and made a vow to Jean. I would always love her, do my best to think about her, and needless to say, I didn't need to mention that she was in my heart. I said, "Jean if I find someone I like, I will attempt a relationship with them, but I will do my best not to squander myself." The promise that I made seemed to help dissolve some of that guilt.

At the apartment that evening, the phone rang. It was my mother, "Mike, your father wants to talk to you."

"Now what in the hell happened to your mind? Why do you think you can write threatening and harassing letters of a sexual nature to girls that you know? Look, one of the girl's fathers came by and dropped a bombshell of your literary abilities."

"Look, her father really didn't want to come as he felt while they were horrible, visiting me wasn't warranted enough, but had to because his wife and daughter are upset. Now the first letter is fine and we won't get into that one."

"That figures." Was my thought.

"Now you sent another letter this summer, and it seems like a nice reconciliatory apology, until we get to the comment, 'Give her an enema and send her up a mountain." My bad attempt at humor to illustrate how her actions made me upset.

"Now let's get into the last letter that has caused all of the problems ..." He read it from beginning, to end, and I was totally shocked. Not at the contents, but the sheer amount of frustration and anger I put into it. It not only contained the hurt and anger towards the girls, but over Jean's death as well, and the fact that my sixth grade dream with her wasn't realized.

"Now, he didn't bring me the one that you sent the other girl, but apparently it is just about the same. What, you didn't even personalize them, but for the sheer vile of the hate and sex?" It drove me crazy; every word that I wrote had to be critiqued. I wondered if he was going to point out the grammatical errors.

"I want to know what in the hell was going through you mind when you wrote them."

"That's no one's business but mine."

"No one's business? You sure made a lot of this, everyone's business?"

"Ok, it obvious, I was hurt and angry."

"For something this vile, there has to be a lot more to it."

"Drop it, dad.  That part is no one's business! I am going to keep that to myself, got it!" After several rounds, he finally did.

"You have those girls completely terrified, there are afraid that you are going to come back, stalk them and hurt them."

I thought to myself, "Good! Now they know what it's like," but I answered dad, "Well obviously, I am up here."

"They mentioned your friend John."

"John knows nothing about this. Tell her dad that."

"Well, I expect you to man up and apologize to both girls for what you have done."

"I have no problem with that, as soon as they get decent and apologize to me for their behavior."

"God damn it, Mike.  If they treated you bad, you deserved it!"

"Fuck you! Fuck you, dad! You know what? Every time someone has any criticism or complaint of me, you jump all over me, and won't even see if it is true, or what the problem is."

You know what? Don't ever talk to me again about this. If you do, maybe I will tell you what it's all about, on my terms. Do you think that girls ever cared about me? You'll end up the only one hurt."

I slammed the phone down and this time it was Steve who looked at me and said, "Damn." I was shocked because I thought that was the first time that he cussed.

All Jeff said was, "Damn, you did have things planned out." I explained everything to Steve.

As I looked at my life, I had many big things to think about. I couldn't think for the life of me how I never got around asking Jean out. I couldn't remember how she was in my life or could find a reason why I loved her so. But one thing was for sure, I knew that Jean was real and that my feelings towards her were as well.

I also asked myself, "If I would have been better off if she didn't exist in the first place and I didn't suffer this loss of her, would my life be better off?" It made me realize just how much good stuff was in my life. Knowing the visual depiction of an event in time, I came to the conclusion that because of the way that Jean made me feel, it was better to experience the pain that I suffered then not to have known her.


The book of Zen Flesh, Zen Bones helped me out the most. One of my favorites came from 101 Zen Stories and went along the lines of, "An elderly woman walked up to a Buddhist Monk and asked him to enlighten her, so he beat her with the staff that was in his hand." I busted out laughing as life itself can become that staff.

While I still believed in God, I held a tremendous amount of anger, which also spread into other facets in my life, and was most likely what people were detecting as my unsettling vibes. While I didn't want this Heavenly directed anger, I still couldn't help the feeling that God could have somehow saved Jean.

Had I known, that He was going to take her, I would have no problem with offering up my life instead. I felt that she had more value than me, and would have made a better contribution. Yes, I did believe that God occasionally stepped in to change outcomes or perform miracles, but I suddenly got the sense that he was more interested in letting this given life for us, run on its own.

His biggest gift was the life we have, and God much preferred to stay out of it. If there was a design from Him for something, indeed if He thought it best, he would step in and change things. Yet, the best course for us, was for God to leave things alone to happen naturally so that we have to learn to cope, adapt and once again appreciate.

I read the Inner Life which is published by the Theosophical Publishing House. Theosophy is a combination of religious thought, science and the occult. I did find the book very interesting as the author was at one time a Catholic Priest, who switched to Hinduism and much of the book was written in the Vedic tradition.

It sort of bolstered a curiosity with me and I took out other Theosophical books from the library, such as "The Secret Doctrine, which seemed to have more of an occult like presentation. To me, they attempted to explain Heaven and its workings, and while interesting, God could have easily done a better job with one sentence. I did enjoy some of the philosophy.

Other books of Zen Flesh, Zen Bones were, "The 10 Bulls," The bull was a central theme, it represented life, while the little boy represented not only us, but our mindset." I loved the progression of the little boy chasing after the bull. In this I saw a process that applies to all things and if you simply accept and have patience, things will not only naturally change, but better ways to try will also come to you.

Another Zen Flesh, Zen Bones books was Centering, a wonderfully poetic piece and in a sense, this centering helped me out as well. It helped to redevelop the eye that photography gave me. I found an honest and straightforward book about Ninjitsu and not only did it have a wealth of information, it also had their meditation system explained.

That was based on Raja Yoga which is mind control through breath control. While, the practices didn't have a direct effect on me, it did much to give me the ability to calm my mind. My favorite was mid way through the meditation and I loved the sensation that I had with uncovering one's pranic energy. The sensation was of electricity going through my body.

With the, "Handbook to Higher Consciousness," I found the various exercises a bit hokey, but loved the philosophy behind it. Basically one experiences joys, periods of little emotion , and periods of harsh emotions that makes your life miserable."

Life appears bad when the miserable emotions and experiences take over. The goal is to have such an outlook, that you are able to change you perception to move the negative emotional states into the states with no emotions. I loved that one and gained the ability to remember my perceptions when I felt bad. So to speak, placing one's self in the world, not having it roll over you.

Maybe you are wondering if I stayed in photography school. I was and did my best to complete my assignments, but even in my opinion, my performance was mediocre. I felt it a bit foolish in spending the amount of time working with spirituality when I was spending the money I was for photography, but I felt it best to do so. I guess I took on a, "First things first," mentality.

Yet, with Fridays free, it really helped fill my time in a productive way. For the time outside of school, I generally palled around with Steve. We would go out and work on photography, he noticed I enjoyed listening to Jethro Tull, and taught me some flute licks from Ian Anderson's music.

I ended up purchasing, a Yamaha recorder, and we discovered a huge underground storage tank at an abandoned factory. With an eight second reverb, we got good at playing also, Pink Floyd's, "Wish You Were Here," segments. I also helped him out with his photography and learned a lot.

I loved his ability to simply, conjure up an assignment as I ended up in a double expose looking at myself dressed in the Grim Reaper's outfit that I created for John's rock concert. No make-up lady, just wet toilet paper.

At least half of the weekends each month, I was left in the apartment alone, as Jeff would either catch a ride with Steve to go to New Jersey, or to Connecticut with Dave. What bothered me was the condition that everybody left the apartment in and I spent a lot of time cleaning it, despite the claims of the superintendant. She walked into the apartment any time that she liked; sometimes, walking in screaming at us.

There were also many side issues; the worst was that Dave was constantly accusing me of stealing his film and photographic paper. I thought things would fix themselves after he put a lock on his door, but then there was his food. While Steve donated a TV for our use, David donated his stereo. When it stopped working, I was blamed as I was the only one there.

Luckily, Jeff was very decent towards me, and would be the go between Dave and I. Being friends with Steve, I would help both out the same way when Jeff had a problem with Steve. Unfortunately for me, Steve became ill and had to go home for a month.

I did do something that severely pissed Jeff off. As soon as our apartment was fully occupied, he informed all of us about his only rule, "No Ouija boards are going to be allowed. I had a friend pull one out and he ended up in convulsions after using it."

While I didn't have one, nor could afford one, I decided to make one. I started my session with, "Does anyone have something they would like to say to me?"

Somewhat shocked, the board instantly spelled out, "Mike, Jean loves you." No matter what question I asked, it simply spelled out, "Mike, Jean loves you."

Finally totally frustrated I yelled out, "God damn it, Jean! Is this you?"

It spelled out, "Mike, Jean loves you," three more times, with each getting faster and with my feelings, in more dire fashion. Then the planchette flew out of my hands as if it was swatted. After that, I carefully hid the planchette and board, as the rest of the apartment used my walk in closet to load their film. I decided to hold on to the board in the event, I ever got the courage to try it again.

Steve, David and myself were in the kitchen when Jeff walked out of my room, Ouija board in hand. "God damn it, Mike! What is the one rule that I have, you fucking asshole? These are not going to be permitted in any place that I stay! We're living in a fucking funeral home to boot!"

With that he ripped up my board and tossed it in the trash as he made me promise, never to do it again. I also got creative with my room and purchased my own window blind and putting a hole it, turned my room into a camera obscura. Somewhere along the lines, I found everyone in the apartment, lying on my bed checking the outside scenes playing themselves out on the opposite wall.

Still in the mix was my father when I asked him to send more money up, so I can get food. He totally blew up and demanded I tell him what I bought that wasn't food.

"Dad, they didn't supply everything that I needed. I decided to get a grain magnifier, Polaroid back and film for the 4x5 view camera, ruler, angle, T-square, and two triangles." I also brought up the point, he was still holding on to my money.

"God damn it, Mike. I am holding on to that, to pay for your school. It's bad enough that you don't have what you need to pay for the entire school year, you can't even hold enough to buy food. What are you eating? Lobster?"

"I'll tell you what. I am sending you another $120.00, but you best hold on to it, because I am not going to give you another penny, got it, until after Christmas! It's time you start living up to your promises."

This year, dad was to be outdone. With the second quarter for school to be paid, Mr. Falgo called the entire school to an assembly and cussed us all out for at least a half hour."

"What is it with you fucking assholes? 'Mr. Falgo, can I have another day to pay for school?' No you can't. What do I look like? I am tired of you fucking students always asking me for breaks. This school is a business, not a charity you motherfuckers."

The gist of everything, was pay up or don't come for school. It didn't help matters when a student spoke up and said, "Considering that only three students asked you for a break, what is your justification for holding the entire school hostage for a ninety minute assembly and wasting our money and our time?"

One time, there was marijuana at the apartment and I wondered if I had made the right decision in leaving it behind. With more the spirit of a test, I decided to try smoking it again. We had a retired justice from Rhode Island's Supreme Court working in his garden outside and we joked about him catching a high from us.

I quickly learned that despite the fact, what we had is the best; I got high only for about a half hour and then burned out for about twelve hours. This told me that my dope days were over and never really gave drugs a second thought after that.

One assignment for photography school was to do architecture photography and we had to sign out the view camera for that. Since I walked past a church every day on my way back and forth from school, I decided to photograph it for my assignment. I knew it well since I not only saw it in all forms of light. This is my first modern Catholic Church building that I ran across, which fascinated me.

I also knew the problems that I would encounter and decided to go into the rectory of St Bartholomew's Church, and discuss my assignment with the monsignor. I explained my project to him, when I would like to photograph the building and I would need access to the Janitors closet to clean the outside up, as well the school's recess schedule, so I can shoot the building without the students in the photograph.

What irritated me was, as soon he told me to sit down; he leaned back into his chair with his fingers pressed together and a slight smile on his expressionless face, which didn't change throughout my presentation. I pretty much figured, his expression meant that he was unimpressed with me and wasn't going to help me out.

Now intent on getting any expression, I concluded my presentation with, "While I am not Catholic, I do consider myself a Christian and will do my best to present your church so it is right in the eyes of God."

His expression didn't change, but there was utter and complete fire in his eyes. He stood up and simply said, "Well, our Pope would expect nothing less." He surprised me when he said that he looks forward to me photographing the church and to stop by tomorrow.

The monsignor really made my life easy, as he not only had the students clean up the grounds; he withheld any recess for the time that I would be photographing. I signed out the view camera from school and had a dickens of a time photographing the building; the cross at the top of the building was driving me crazy.

Out of ten shots, only one had the entire building in the frame, as I was blocked for moving the camera backwards. A few days later, I stopped by the Monsignors office to give him the print and he was very impressed.

It was the letters that I wrote the girls that produced the saddest feelings for me, also much guilt, despite the reasons. My actions were constantly on my mind.

Still sitting with the Monsignor, with much the same expression, I concluded my photographic business with him. I then decided to request a confession, figuring that he would grab his stole, and we would head for the confessional in the church. I kind of liked the idea of separation.

Instead, he got this big shit-eaten grin on his face and leaned forward, "Well with you not being bound by our faith, there is no sense in our practices. I like to handle things like your pastor would, face to face. 'Here I am, confess!'"

I explained the various relationships, what had happened and why I would write such letters. I also explained, I understand the ramifications of my actions and am prepared to pay the price.

It shocked me he seemed very impressed with me. He simply said, "Well, the sin that occurred is the sin of passion. Now God understands these things, probably more then you. But eventually you will understand the reasons as well, I believe. I see no need for any type of penance as I feel; you already have that worked out."

After having me do The Act of Contrition with reciting The Prayer Of Forgiveness, we stood up, shook hands and he chuckled, "I don't believe that you know this, but God has given you exactly what you need to judge those that you wanted to so befriend." I really hoped that wasn't going to be the case.

It was great, through this period that life's fog had not only lifted; I gained much understanding and believed I truly was living a better way. Maybe my faith in life, totally had to be destroyed, not only to have it come back much stronger, but with a complete understanding.