7PM – Sat 23 July 77
D and I went for a long walk today, had a great talk. He told me all about his passionate relationship with English girl – asking “Do you really want to know?” I did – I managed to be very hands off. Said he’d written her “lyrical loveletters” and she is saving money to come to US at Christmas. Bit of a downer to find other people have split minds like me. I told him a little about R and more about my husband. I had to hope he wouldn’t see it “retaliation” for what he’d told me. (R would have.) Fantasies can be ugly if they prevent you from experiencing reality. We hugged – he left – I know he thinks I’m too “intense”. I was stupid enough to read him my peach poem. On the other hand if a guy can’t handle my poetry where am I? R only likes poems he knows are about him. Wrote a whiny letter to Avril (who usually can handle whiny letters). Good today – bike, swimming, walk with D. Long letter to Mom and Dad. Reading Stella Gibbons’ Cold Comfort Farm – can’t stay grumpy – laughing too hard. Settling into my spaceship – my own body – first day of the rest of my life. Listening to wonderfully crazy modern opera on the radio. Sun 24 July 77 Reading E. Ogilvie’s Theme for Reason. How can people still write novels interspersed with long nature descriptions – the pert chickadees and the blue moiré sea. I think it’s immoral for a writer of any talent to inflict this stuff on an overstuffed world. Shape now the key (used to be all about time-wasting.) I pledge to concentrate on making each day a triumph. The First Word The First Page. The First Day. 4PM Wrote 4 pages of A Demon Roused. Horribly dissatisfied. Patricia Highsmith on the suspense novel no damn help at all. Everything I’ve ever written pure dunder written by a dunderhead. Restrained myself from calling R. Face facts. Left DC June 4. This coming month has to be gotten through. Feel I suffered my “breakdown” last spring was a crisis of identity. Attacked by the writing thing (no money, no approval, no relationships) attacked by the relationship thing (R too critical, wanting to “change” me.) Starving myself. Long mad midnight walks rampaging thru Chevy Chase with dogs. The Devon situation explicable when seen in this light. (He’s TOO good looking – it’s like a fantasy.) Now about my book. New beginning ALL wrong and I couldn’t figure out why. The characters seem alive. 1) First Person Difficult. My husband always said omniscient narrator no longer possible, making me want to do it. However I have to admit you need to be somebody – an extra character and that’s a bigger pain in the neck. 2) Scene Problematic. I’ve GOT to get out of England. It’s artificial. How about if I don’t say where it is? Will the specificity cope come after me? 3) Format (Suspense novel) rough because I have to be the one who knows what’s going on and I want to write my first draft in a narcoleptic state. Means I have to be happy making a huge ness with a million false starts and then write the thing ALL OVER when I know what’s going on. But I feel time running out on me. Goddam it. I should be happy to explore. Why all this pressure? Two novels unaccepted, why write a fourth? Am I deliberately trying to drive myself to the brink of insanity? Also I HATE Sunday because the pool is packed, no stores are open, and there’s no mail. Devon and his roommates Blair & Brian drop by and I struggle to appear sane. Hard for me. 6PM Called R. to yell at him. He wasn’t there – thank GOD. Maybe I just want to punish him. He certainly deserves it. 1:30 PM Mon 25 July 77 Dark night of the soul finally over. Very athletic today – feel deliciously tired. Decide I should go back to Washington no matter what. My choices are my choices. My happiness can’t be dependent on how people treat me. I plan to use my time to become powerful – to be the person I’m supposed to be. In the drugstore line I was reading up on the showbiz personalities – nobody interesting before 30 and I have a few years yet. Forget about weight – just follow & earn to love “virtuous routine”. (I’m a size seven – that’s pretty good.) Today it POURED rain – night baseball Devon wanted to attend out of the question. He suggested we switch to a movie when he called this am. Still feel stilted with him unfortunately. Theme for Reason’s sole interest is that it was written by a lesbian. Still, she isn’t very forthcoming. “Marriage of convenience?” Really? Assault on library. Planning to ransack the place. Leafed through Helen Hayes (poor woman); enjoying Thurber’s My World and Welcome To It . Tues. 26 July 77 9:40 AM Sitting on stonewall in full sunlight in my black bikini waiting for pool to open. Swim and sunbathe till ll:30 when mail comes. After 7 I can return – that way I miss the crowds. Exercise, coffee, 3 glasses water. The Regime. I’m down to $4. Embarrassing to be taken out last night by Devon & his roommates. (We saw Star Wars. Childish, but they were into it.) Sent letter to Mom & D asking for stock certificates. They won’t like it. Dinner should have been nice but barbecue very messy. Wore my tightest jeans and my pink French “Trés chic” t-shirt. Devon surprised me by talking on and on about how beautiful I am. Started to get stoked – in fact I was horny as hell. I would have taken the three of them on if I could have avoided the interpersonal madness that would result. They all have beautifully athletic bodies. But I’m starting to get a feeling that if I just sit in my deer blind a bit longer Devon will come to me. Every now and then I get an “R – flash”, like some synaptic slipup. What will I think of this years from now? Mirror images ache, then fade. Cold Comfort Farm exactly 100 pages too long (but I think most books are). Take a long hot Jean Nate bubble bath and read The Thornbirds.
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Alysse Aallyn
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