Early AM Thurs 20 June 68 - Paris
Years ago my sister Genevieve refused to take me with her to Paris: her reason? I would get up on the hotel roof in the middle of the night to meditate. Here I am: five floors up. Dawn just breaking. It’s damn cold, but night is a good time to question ones values. And mine need questioning. People need people: no one would contest that. And the first-hand experience of limitations turns anyone into a bit of a philosopher. Is chemistry the spice of love? The human mechanism is so frail who can comprehend the limitless? We have to break it down, into its components. Someone loves me who is far away. What am I doing here when he is there? I’m trying not to build myself around him, that’s what; twine the ivy round the pole. Result: collapsing ivy. Wed. 26 June 68 - London Mom has finally left – at last I’m on my own in London. We had some good times – went shopping, saw Stoppard’s Real Inspector Hound (delicious). She tried pumping me about Plumly, but although she considers herself an Expert in Child Psychology it is pretty easy to see her coming. Doesn’t seem fair if only one of her daughters is honest so I told her nothing. Either she thinks I’m totally naive or she is. When your daughter starts taking an interest in pretty underwear, The Time Has Come. She is suffering mightily from trying to keep up the fiction that we are a sexually broadminded family. (Poor Dad! He waited guiltily till Mom was gone then when I was blearily frying a breakfast hamburger he crept up behind me and said awkwardly, “How are you fixed for contraceptives?” I almost jumped out of my skin. He is afraid sex belongs to the young – Mom is afraid it doesn’t.) She did say one interesting thing, about how I always thought more about death than anyone else, as if I ”fear I won’t live up to my promise!” Yup, I was a little weirdo right from the start. Two weeks ago was the last time I saw Toss. (Hawk-eyed mother thinks I am sleeping with him already.) The stones and spires of Paris all around me and he’s the only one I see. He thinks he loves me: how likely is that? Tells me constantly how beautiful I am. (Shades of Beales.) Says its not just my body but my soul. I guess I love him as much as I can love anyone. Danger signals all the time. I find myself looking super-critically through the eyes of others: “Just a pair of kids.” Try to fight these neurotic sensations – they are not healthy perceptions at all. Some people have the power to reduce me to a deep abysmal shame about my everything (Genevieve chief among them.) Question everything I have. He has been so trusting, given me so much. When I look at his face I am stunned by his male beauty. When I read his letters sometimes they seem witty, sometimes maudlin, sometimes straining for effect, sometimes insightful; then I hate myself for judging. We are both afraid, both recoiling. When I told him I wanted him to make love to me I realized hw strangely afraid of it I was; he said he couldn’t because we weren’t “protected”. I didn’t want condoms, said I’d get some foam. When I said, “I’m just as scared as you are” he actually said angrily, “I’m not scared.” Just as touchy as any other boy. (More Beales!!!) Really though in every other way he is admirable. Calm, accepting, smart, philosophical. I feel ahead of me a deep opportunity for the entire knowledge of another human being – including the sexual stuff. When I watch him talking to his father I feel I know a side of him no one else has ever seen – seems a lucky chance to possess such knowledge. He says he would rather be with me than anyone. Then I think; he would be having this experience with any other girl. He is just discovering the beauty of women. He really does not know about my uniqueness. And to I want him to know? Can’t decide. Unusually for me, I am not feeling jealous. Maybe because he’s so concealed, so hermit-like – scoffs to me about all the women that he sees. Will he feel disappointment when he sees me again? If he’s as good at hiding his feelings as I am, we’ll never know. He has a totally new quality of humility – I can’t describe it because I’ve never experienced it before! It sounds so ugly in sermons, but it’s a great sweetness. Maybe he knows me better than I think. I wish I was back home with Toss so we could find each other. I wanted him to make love to me that time but I am still a virgin – there is world enough and time. I told Toss, “I hear that it hurts” he said, “It’s a clean pain.” Would he say that about childbirth? He is so passionate I don’t worry about Hopeless Amateur Night. He knows how to take his time. Well, I can’t think about it any more. Alysse you fool you need to get some sleep!
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Alysse Aallyn
Archives
September 2022
Categories |