8/2/00 Continued . . .
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Fear of Girls
I was a real coward yesterday. I stopped at Shell to get some gas and I saw a girl named Alicia walking from Starbucks over to the gas station. Alicia and I are friends and we joke around easily. I really like her a lot. I was hoping she would come over and say hello, but she didn't. I couldn't go over and talk to her because I was too afraid. Even though I should feel comfortable around her, I didn't. My palms were sweaty. My heart started racing. I got all the symtoms of a good ol' phobia-induced panic attack. My fear was literally crippling me and it sucked.
I wonder if Alicia would let me drink her piss. Laura doesn't think she would.
The Night Stalker
I was watching a show on TV last night and it gave me a great idea. In the 80's, in Los Angelas, a serial killer called "The Night Stalker" was breaking into people's homes and murdering, raping, and robbing them. After a long and difficult investigation, police finally caught Richard Ramirez, where he was arrested, convicted, and sentenced to death. He is still on death row, appealing his sentence.
There is a book called "The Last Victim" by Jason Moss, about his written correspondance with the late, great John Wayne Gacy. Moss, a bright, overacheiving college student, began to write letters to imprisoned serial killers, including Gacy, Dahmer, Henry Lee Lucas, and other notables. It is an interesting book, more about the psychology of Mr. Moss than Mr. Gacy, but still worth picking up at your local library.
These two things gave me my idea: why not write a letter to Richard Ramirez? I can probably find his address on the Internet and, even if I can't, I know the prison where he is kept. I can probably find out by contacting them. I once considered writing David Berkowitz, the "Son of Sam." I had his address, but I never followed through. Then, I considered Ed Kemper, the "Co-Ed Killer" from Santa Monica. He was a good choice, since he was a necrophile and could identify with me.
However, I think Ramirez is the best way to go. He's evil and remorseless in a way most other killers aren't. He loves what he did and brags about it. I think he'll REALLY like me. My first letter is going to be too-the-point. I'm going to tell him that I fantasize about murder and rape and would love to correspond without someone as famous and as deadly as he. It'll be great! As soon as I finish this entry, I'm going to look for his prison address. Wish me luck!
I Need to be Committed
Over the past few days, I've been thinking about this. I really think I need to be committed to a mental institution. I should be locked away and drugged and treated until I'm ready to walk the streets without being a danger to anyone. I'm not sure if I'm insane, but I really think I am. Even if I'm not completely crazy, I'm messed up enough to warrant committing.
Do I want to? I'm not sure. I know I NEED to be. I mean, it's going to take months, perhaps even years out of my life and it may not work at all. I don't want my future jeopardized by my mental health record. It will be a hard experience with little tangible reward.
I have reasons, though. I'd rather lose a few months of my life in a hospital than committing murder and going to jail for the rest of my life. That would be Hell. Since I'm not cured, I wouldn't be able to act out my fantasies while I was in prison. I'd have to find some other way to vent.
I have another appointment with the shrink in a few days. I gave her a story about raping and torturing children for her to read. If she reads it and still doesn't catch on, I'm going to tell my dad I want to switch psychologists. Also, I lost my prescription for anti-depressant medication. I'm dumb like that.
New Book
I recently finished writing my first novel. It's called "Shaken." It's about a teenage necrophile who falls in love with a girl, but he's too scared to make a move. Instead, he sort of wallows in his own fantasies until he finally brings himself to kill her. However, he's plagued by guilt and doubt. In the end, he does not turn himself in, but he condemns himself to a life of loneliness and despair. It's very autobiographical in some ways.
I am going to start writing my second book. I'm not sure what it will be called, but it's going to be about a gay serial killer and his best friend. They develop sort of a murderous bond, but they start to clash and things go downhill. I can't wait to start writing it. It's part of my goal to write an accurate serial killer book. So many novels (mainly Silence of the Lambs) portray serial killers as evil villains with some specific goal in mind. My novels involve the psychology of the killer themselves. Both my first and second book are written in first person, from the killer's perspective. It really gives the reader insight into the mind of the multiple murderer. I think I'm the right man to be writing it.