4:15 PM Sun 31 July 77 Deck
D found Annie Hall so painful it took awhile for him to speak. I was surprised but patient. I couldn’t have dreamed up a movie more likely to focus all our reservations. The scene where Annie tells Alvy she misses him made me think of R – the separate fragile uniqueness of each human soul – and I could tell Devon was “feeling” his memories too. We sneaked a pizza (a whole pizza) into the theatre so we could come right back here for wine and coffee and more wine – took three hours to get to the point of making love. In a fairly daring move D opened the buttons of my jumpsuit and stroked my stomach pulling down first one shoulder and then another to play with my breasts. Lovely feeling our bodies surge together. He’s good with his hands and has the most sensitive nipples of any man I’ve been with. At last I suggested we go to bed – the couch was really too uncomfortable. D went down on me – his body is the most gorgeous since the history of time – mountains, valleys, rivulets – it’s like rock climbing making love to this man. He insisted on coming outside me which startled me somewhat, but after asking about my “protection” fortunately abandoned this technique the second time. (When he comes he makes a little crying noise). He looks at me in a funny way like he wants to say something but he doesn’t say it. I tried to tell him I’ve learned so much from our 5 year friendship – he seemed unable to take it in. He obviously fears the future and his memory is so bad – he thinks the past is all bad news. It’s like he’s afraid to remember. That would be the worst thing for a writer. You dare not fear the past. Rhythms can’t evolve from longing alone. We woke up, grapenuts & coffee, went swimming, sat on deck, watched tennis on TV. Every time I changed clothes he said “the sight of you naked turns me on” and we made love again. Tomorrow is the first of August – whole new beginning. Try to see myself at 33, with a lawn and a bra and a trash compactor. Freedom is key. No mail. Reading Geo Woodcock’s critical study of Orwell. 6:45 PM Dark as night and pouring rain. Obsessing about D’s body – can’t get it out of my mind and our 22 hours together. Welcome obsessions; R’s slate cleared. Did I use him? Is he “Brand X?” Thinking of all the things I wish I’d said. He’s so intellectual yet so impermeable. Strange delicate kisses – as impossible to get inside his mouth as his mind. Loud thunder, lightning. D. Eden’s Deadly Travelers supposed to be fun but falls apart totally at the end. Disappointed by thoroughness of Gavin Lambert’s Conan Doyle study – he said everything – nothing left for me to do. (The Dangerous Edge.) Disenchanted with suspense mode. Maybe Demon should just be a series of short, sharp scenes. I don’t like intrusively officious writers – sacrificing character to story “You can’t let your characters get away from you”. Not only can you – you must. See where they run. Just finished scene between Fawn and Deere’s cast-off “maitresse en titre”. Needing a scene between Jewel and Fawn, Fawn and Del. Let them accumulate like raindrops. Dinner rice, chicken broth, onions. Coffee. Shouldn’t read true crime in bed. (Shiver.) But I will. 2 months since I’ve seen R. 10PM Black Dahlia almost did me in, too! That poor girl! The writing style in Infamous Murders is the most infamous thing about it. Wm. Roughhead I adore. 1:45 PM Tues 2 Aug 77 No damn mail for THREE DAYS. No stock certificate, nothing from my agent. And I made sure she had my right address. I think diets brew self-hatred. Reading about Simenon and having trouble with sentences like “50 of his novels date from this period.” Shouldn’t read about this guy. Starting to dream about Dupont Circle. 10PM Just back from a long bike trip down interesting country road. Felt I was visiting my future self. Glimpsing dark houses, lighted bow windows, Canada geese as tame as ducks. Alice Crimmins – did she do it? Rorech’s theory pure hogwash. I think there are people who can “talk themselves into” feeling innocent. I’ve met lots of amnesiacs. Plan to buy silk shirts (in Washington) and read all the newspapers. Emerge from my cocoon. Read Graham Greene section of Dangerous Edge. 7 PM Wed Aug 3 77 Sitting out on deck well pleased with self. Stock cert arrived today. Called Chevy Chase Bank and Trust got girl who didn’t know anything but relayed instructions shouted at her by someone else. Signed stock, climbed in Volvo, sent the whole thing off certified mail. Money should be in by 10th. Surely Inzar can’t drop below 9. I can manage on $900. Long bike ride had me puffing like a grampus; feeling extra hungry so had a bowl of grits. Orwell’s letters. Kipling too boring. Never been able to stand anything he’s written. Reading trashy gothic The Room Beneath The Stairs makes me think I can do something with my old The Bride and the Wolves. Conditioned my hair (oleocap.) Looks good in spite of sun & chlorine and it’s nice & long. Maybe R’s been fired. He’s a coward and that would shut him up. Shouldn’t even think about it. I’m a nail biter looking for a nail to bite. There’s a lot to be said for the joys of starting over. Stomach shrinking & all that. 10:30 AM – Poolside – Thurs 4 Aug 77 Watching the kiddie swimming lessons while reading Hog Tied in Babylon (That’s what it SHOULD be called. Overpraised Hollywood reminiscences. It’s like reading a “talk show”.) Had to return a Michael Innes unread it was so ghastly. Critical look at body in the mirror this AM. Losing my hips make my waist disappear. Hmm. Legs OK. Open swim! 5PM Boring, annoying mail. Threatening letter from Motor Vehicle Admin. They are upset because name on license and name on registry not the same. Blame my marriage when I used to be Vill-Aallyn. Sort it out when I get down there. Nothing from R so I refuse to write to him ever again. Two weeks since he phoned me. (He should be used to this – he and his wife used to get into the long competitive sulking matches.) 10:26 PM Lousy bike ride. I was so hungry and it seemed such hard work. Maigret & The Loner senile yapping.
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Alysse Aallyn
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