12 April 1956
121 days to go
Here I am again, after just having been chased off the quarterdeck by the OD—all we were doing was playing leapfrog. It all started when Lloyd, Jack Moore, & I went out to get a breath of fresh air after the movie. We went out to the wing deck near the quarterdeck, & were looking down at the ladder-gangway. I said I’d bet that if you had to jump from where we were, you’d spatter all over the ladder—or at least hit it on your way down. Lloyd said no. So we measured out a spot on the wing deck & tried jumping it from a standing start. I think Lloyd was winning when the OD came up & asked us icily if we were on watch. We said no. He thereby ordered us to go play our games elsewhere.
It was a beautiful day today—we pulled out to sea just for the day, & I got a chance to take almost two rolls of film of launching & landing planes. Also got a shot of the dropping of the anchor when we pulled back in, for which I had to lean halfway over the railing, & still got Lloyd’s hat in it (he was below me on the catwalk.)
Sorry I didn’t write last night but I tried writing a bit on a story I’d done once before. Most of my stories I find are pseudo-psychological. The endings can be taken two ways—either logically, wherein whatever befalls the person is brought about by his own mind, or fantastically, where the mind is not restricted to the limits of the body.
This particular one is about a mentally defective man with the mind of a seven-year old. He wants to be a bird. I’m going to do more on it tonite.
Another day with no mail call &, logically, no mail. I’d much prefer to have a mail call & get some mail.
I’ve already picked out the courses I want to take when I get back to school—Education 488; Introduction to Philosophy, Social Science 385, Public Opinion & Propaganda; English 400, Creative Writing, English 48s; Modern Drama, & Journalism 231: Radio Writing.
Though it’s a beautiful day outside, it’s hot as an oven inside. Hate to cut this short, but it’s 8:30 & I want to work on the story.