Historical Documents – 1949 Luke Warmer Diary Entry

February 16 Wednesday 12p 1949

I just spent the last half hour, perhaps almost an hour, looking at a head, so deserved to be loved that all I could think of beside the head itself, and its owner, of course, was my yearning to have the part of a woman, then all I hunger for would come to me; but then if I was a woman, I would be my own enemy for I could never wait for the subject to come to me, I would have to take it, and could not bare to waste time playing games of deception, but would go after it hotly, hot blood-thirsty. His head was rather large, but not so wide as to make it look square, and neither equine. His lips were full but rather masculinely thin, and laid flat against each other; when he smiled, instead of corners at the edge of his smile, there would be curves, like a circle pressed in a slight crescent shape, and though there were no dimples, there were creases on each side that curled up to his nose, which was itself, straight and high bridged right into the firm but not opposing forehead, as was his chin firm but not opposing. But his eyes, oh God! What eyes. You often come across men who have lines flowing from the corners of their eyes when they would smile, but not so lovely, and humiliating as these. One actually feels, or rather I feel, humiliated to the lowest degree of humbleness to see these lines flowing from his eyes blending so perfectly with the ones around his curling mouth. So warm are the eyes they seem almost in anguish as they squint at the edge but not fully closing for their main part, they’re brown, and encased perfectly by the close wrinkles, so in the habit of smiling that they tend to remain there close to the eyes. There are not too many wrinkles and they’re longer than usual which gives them their attraction. And on the top is plain soft, uncombed common-brown hair which is balding at the temples. Purely a head to be with not one place left untouched by passionate lips.

After preliminary suspicions have been conveyed by strange girl when strange boy sits down to make conversation:
      “Of course I have designs on you, but I save you the right to say, ‘no’.”
      She says, thinking she’s caught him trapped, “ ‘no’ to what?”
      “That depends on when you say, ‘no’.”

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