Thurs Mar 17, 66
“Lights out!” screams the proctor and for once I might take her advice. I have been imagining what would happen if earth gets destroyed and nothing was left but this diary and sixty eight million years from now the glubules find it floating in outer space. “’Ere, ere, wot’s this?” asks First Glubule rhythmically beating his cilia against the night air. “Dunno” says Second Glubule. (In Glubulian.) He snags it with a projection hook and slams it into the Translatron. Should it bother me tonight that they might get The Wrong Idea? Aynsley and I are planning a new Johnny Raid*. I like Aynsley. She is very southern but we understand each other. She certainly appreciates my sense of humor. (*Johnny Raid: At a Prearranged Signal Glubule One rushes into the hall shouting “Johnny Raid!” whereupon we all rush to the Tower and flush the toilets like mad. While teachers swoon. Smelling salts all around.) Dear Glubulians: don’t get the idea that I am typical. I am not. Fri. Mar 18, 66 – Spring Prom Stretched out on bed “sleepy golden eyes wild with birds.” One half hour to transform self into Most Beautiful Girl Beales has Ever Seen. It won’t be easy since he is very picky. Criticizing in particular: • Bras • Breasts (see above) • Makeup • Faces (see above) • Hair • Stockings • Fashion • Jewelry • High heels • Femininity Doesn’t give a girl much leeway. I’ve found it best to just ignore him. I may love Beales but I am not blind to his defects. Fortunately most of his peculiarities merely annoy me but some make me foam with rage. Fortunately the back of his neck makes up for almost everything. (How I love to cover it with kisses.) It’s a tense struggle. I’ve taken my shower and am waiting for the blood to dry from razor nicks (alas I am wearing a short dress. Very short. Beales’ turn to foam – pleasantly, one hopes. Fat chance. Much more likely that I will be treated to a Lecture on The Scarlet Letter. He and Nathaniel feel everyone should be veiled at all times. I have taken to calling him My Arab. Occasionally Beales can laugh at himself, but sometimes not.) I should have known better than to borrow Fleur’s razor – this must be the one she uses on her beard. (Or pubes.) Admiring my dress, which hangs from the top of the closet door. Very Pushkin it has a green velvet overskirt, a light green chiffon underskirt and puffed sleeves. God I adore it. Everything goes with green (flowers) so I told him to surprise me. (I’m afraid I will get green-dyed carnations. That will NOT be a surprise. (I know I will shock him – got him an orchid for his boutonniere. Oh he will foam!) All these spoiled guys complain endlessly about the “expense” of a dance! Since Beales’ favorite reading is along the lines of Growing Up Absurd and Generation of Vipers I can expect to be treated to disquisitions on Women Are the Reason Men Are Fools (they wouldn’t let us have that excuse) instead of compliments on my beauty and elegance. Very dull and not like the NY Times Leisure section at all. Classes this AM were so silly I wonder why they bother. We were running and screaming and throwing sponges throughout Biology. (Vacation fever?) Poor Mr. Nichols invited us to class at his house – they have a hovel littered with broken tricycles on the furthest edges of the grounds. I had been curious to see it but it is very scary. His wife wears bobby sox, has deep circles underneath her eyes and they have hemorrhoid medicine (did I spell that right?) in the medicine cabinet. Remind me never to get married. Or be a teacher. The food was good although Mrs. Nichols thinks growing teenagers need only one sandwich apiece (dream on.) Well, time to pull out the curlers and let ‘er rip. I must say I am looking forward to it. It’s at the Cabin in the Woods, which is the perfect place for a dance, and they will have a live band. (Ted Jones says I have more fun than people who actually like this place.)
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Alysse Aallyn
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