5:15 PM
Mr. Pierce rooting in my desk finds my pornographic sample telegrams. (They look like cut & paste objets d’art.) I say obviously I didn’t send them and he reluctantly believes me since they’re not on charge list. But he was horrified and looked at me with unpleasantly new eyes. My days here could be numbered. R. is triggering flashbacks to worst aspects of my marriage to Bruce. Our marriage failed because of his character: he dove for cover in a shelter that held only one. He was a weak, shiftless, spineless, pathetic liar, so we know I have a propensity for those. Time for dinner? I brought pears, cheese, pineapple, bread. Finishing The Pursuit about Shelley – so involving and fantastic I should just start it over again the minute I get to last page (as I did with Anna Karenina). A good desert island book. I make a vow not to drink alone. Dangerously depressed. Sexual hunger is bad news. Standards could plummet. Pool of possibles restricted. Starting to see how good sex can actually be a bad thing in a relationship. Wishing R will move to Boston to take care of my situation but he’s too much of a “home boy”. The opposite of a world citizen. 10 PM Sun 24 Apr 77 Very good day at Pacifica radio. Worrying if I get 2nd job novel will suffer. Maybe Mr. Pierce will take care of that. Finished Shelley – why is Triumph of Life always the Triumph of Death? Nothing left to read – Natural Hist of Vampire; ho hum, Beyond Belief is a yawn, Spoor of Spooks holds some interest but grating tone. Finished scene between Nilssa and Labarraz – not really happy with it. Total collapse of self-confidence a real problem for an artist. Tues 26 Apr 77 Keith Dalrymple came in to place a call and unfortunately asked me how I was. Threw myself sobbing into his arms. Scary bad news. R. called last night to say, “I’ll take care of you.” Then said I should move to Maine and get an apt I can “afford”!!! Then said he’d been comparing everyone in Boston with me – no one stacked up. Whiplash. “Taking care… isn’t that what hit men say? Butchers? Garbage men? He is schizo. The unspoken message is I have to be what he expects – clearly impossible. So why am I stuck? Why can’t I just move on? Sexually he’s spoiled me, alas. Must finish this goddam novel but I need to run around town in a G-string auditioning. Wish there was anyone I trust to show novel to but everyone’s taste is so weird. They don’t see what I’m trying to do and they don’t see any point I getting there. Must learn to please myself but I’m bone tired, dammit. Making a list of Sources of joy: Art Writing Sisters Dogs Nature The Beauty of Everything Friends Love? 11:45 AM Sun 1 May 77 Keith softened me up by calling to ask if I’d been in his office. He smelled my perfume. (I hadn’t.) Agreed to go out with him Sat night. Just awful. Awful. Keep wishing he was literally ANYONE else. Dating someone who doesn’t interest you sexually is like trying to diet by ordering food you dislike. (I actually tried this. Ordered tripe.) Howlably stupid. Yet no one to howl to. R. says he’d “hate” to think I “needed” him and didn’t call. Am I the stupid one here? I think so. Sucker for punishment. Upstairs, Downstairs cheers me up a little. Considering renting little house in the wilds of Virginia. Or garden apt. utilities included. Dogs would like it – close to clubs. Read Eliz Savage’s Good Confession – very minor. Cleaning. Laundry, dishes, garbage. Thinking about Sylvia Plath and the problem of panic attacks. It’s all about learning to steer into the skid. Wed May 4 - 77 Made illegal copies of novel at work, drove to Plush Palace in Virginia to audition. (10 Mins down Rt 1 from Woodrow Wilson bridge. 1 HR commute). VA pays better, mandates pasties & stockings, Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco & Firearms (I’m not kidding) makes sure you don’t sit with or talk to clientele. Amen! I was hired immediately $90 day plus tips. So pleased. Got a car appt Fri 13th so El Diablo won’t die on Beltway. Working Thurs, Fr. Sat and there’s no holdback, they pay you immediately. Buy G-strings & pasties Landover mall. Avril says R “betrayed” me. But do you “betray” someone by having a weak character? He can’t help it. A says he’s behaved so badly there’s no hope for him. I think he can’t make up his mind – he wants me only if I don’t want him. Plus if he finds out I’m dancing again he’ll want to “convert” me. (He’ll think I’m doing it just to torture him. I don’t plan to tell.) Gave A a copy of my novel to read – feeling insane – got to get reaction from SOMEBODY. Broadcast asks me to stay “on call” so Mr. Pierce has forgiven me or is desperate. Plush Palace – 9 PM Fri 6 May 77 Very nice dressing room. Girl I’m dancing with (Darla) is just awful. Find the comparison very cheering. A gobbled my novel up, says it’s “deep” but “obsessive”; made me feel on right track. How much can I torture my audience? I‘ve GOT to stop blubbering and start fantasizing. Who CARES about the pathos of my existence? Make something up. Sat. 7 May 77 House is mine! Everyone moved out. (A’s & Mason’s new place just what they wanted – skyscraper urban nightmare.) Listening to opera, reading NY Times, feeling like a Big Success. Weasel across my chest in blissful rapture. ($100 in tips last night!!!) R called to say I “always have a place with him” and He “has never taken my heart ring off”. Is he nuts or am I? Realize for the first time he says things he KNOWS aren’t true just to hear himself say them!! Sort of like the Victorians – mouthing something is halfway there! You’re making an effort! You could not imagine anyone more opposite from me. Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless, as the rock musicians say. Reading Bottle Factory Outing – so wonderful. (But liked The Secret Glass better.) Trying to numb weird longings to write ghost stories and eat chicken potpie (regression). Wrote first draft of a short story about a grandmother telling her shocked granddaughter about “the time I almost committed suicide”. Very matter of fact. Feel I’m recovering from “mono-soul-iosis” – not just R but my first marriage, Devon and everyone between. Shoulders asks to borrow lawnmower – asked me if I want to watch him use it. (He knows he’s pretty.) I do. 7:15 PM 8 May 1977 Feeling much better, like I’ve passed a turning point. Wasn’t sure how much I could trust myself in the past, but if I’ve come through this, my core must be solid, instead of the jelly mass I fear. Sitting in my far-from-clean study beneath my poster of Blake’s God & the Angels enjoying an after dinner cup of coffee. Sanity returns. A. is coming tonight to get her flicati rugs – that will make the downstairs look empty. Trying to finish Household’s Courtesy of Death, so I can take all these silly books to the library, dump them, and get a lifetime supply of Peter de Vries. The only proven painkiller is laughter. My damn novel’s made a fool out of me. Time to admit it.
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Alysse Aallyn
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