Sat – 15 Feb 69
Devon amazed me by bringing me to his parent’s house at Tamarack. Jesus, I didn’t know I was coming into this. 5 cars, 2 dogs, 1 cat and 11 people and a father who’s continually trying to get everybody naked in the sauna (no luck so far.) D’s elaborate pretense that we are not sleeping together is blown when his older brother walks in on us. He smirks and zips his lip. If you trust him which Devon doesn’t. Devon and his brothers are crabs in a barrel, struggling to climb on each other’s heads to get out and lay a case before these difficult parents who drink a lot more than would be good for anybody. I feel Devon is “guarding” me all the time. (Probably from that father frightened of his sons’ good education and radical ideas.) When his back was to everyone I stroked D’s nipple and he leaned and whispered in my ear “I love you.” I said it back. Every time I take a shower he runs to get in with me. I got all dressed up yesterday in my 3 piece tartan suit with the ruffled shirt and said, “Devon, I must pack” and he said, “Don’t you dare” and threw me on the bed and completely undressed me! In a bedroom without a lock. Indescribable physical bliss. It was like being inside an organ playing Bach’s Toccata & Fugue in D minor. And where was everyone else? Everyone was drunk except the dogs. (The cat was definitely drunk. Or possibly it’s ear medicine.) Devon leaves in a month to teach skiing in Chile! D’s father offers to drive me home! No thanks. I said, Why can’t I just come back with you? And we analyzed and tore at the problem like we learned in school. He says, “Publicity will kill this thing.” He’s afraid I’ll tell my parents I was staying in his room because I haven’t got the sense to lie. Fears being accused of crimes he hasn’t committed. D reading Brothers Karamazov because I recommended it. Finished Hesse’s Demian. Reminds me of Chesterton’s The Man Who Was Thursday. Too pedantic; character analysis fails in light of messy desperation for a salve. “One day the questions die on wings of chance you fly… and when love comes there’s nothing more to say and now you know you don’t have to understand…” Tim Buckley Accepted at Circle in the Square Theatre School & San Diego College of the Arts. One’s a college but far away – the other actual theatre and close by. Easy choice. Wonder if I’ll ever be ready to REALLY write about prep school? Sat 1 Mar 69 Every time the phone rings I’m s afraid it’s Devon calling telling me to “bag it”. We were on the phone an hour last time – he said he was on the edge of “flunking, cracking up he just wants to get out of there. “Alysse, why don’t you just COME? Don’t tell me, just arrive!” I was so confused. He really wouldn’t like that at all – he’s alternately rejecting me and wanting me- shows how he feels. Torn. Held my pride in check and listened. “Alysse, I love you…” He said it! I dropped the phone. I said I’m coming. I’ll go skiing with the others – Pretend along with the Aallyns! and come up to see him Sat or Sun. I’m already in a tough situation with Mick. I’m so afraid he’ll call and say, “Don’t come.” He knows he won’t get any “You promised me” phony baloney. Fighting the urge to “you hurt me so I’ll hurt you.” I inherited the “icy withdrawal” tactic from my mother. (What do you bet it snows tomorrow and no planes will fly.) I’m afraid the bus trip is three hours at least. Trying to figure out a pen name. Can one write and act under the same name? 40 pages of No Champagne veering into Rosemary’s Baby territory. When I’m with Devon I’ll take out a pen and attack it (probably 10 p good stuff.)
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Alysse Aallyn
Archives
September 2022
Categories |