Shadowe Island 8 Jun 74
Avril remarked to our parents, “Alysse is down on Bruce.” So I guess I’m not fooling anyone. Any attempt to discuss my work with Dad a failure. He “knows it all.” I should do whatever is recommended for success and anything else is “bush league.” Avril says she can’t talk to him about college either. If you don’t study economics at his alma mater you’ve missed the boat. Thinking a lot about death lately – the panic, the surrender, the euphoria. According to the Bangor paper there’s been a rash of tanager deaths from starvation lately. They make look fat but they’re dying. It’s the little Match Girl all over again. One feels we’ll never escape from sorrow. Tues. 11 June 74 Bruce says he wants to fix things up and start over. Intellectually I can see it but emotionally I can’t. We tried making love twice but I couldn’t give myself over to it. I keep hoping lust will just take over but it hasn’t yet. I’ve lost all respect for Bruce. He started reading The Eustace Diamonds because I liked it but soon switched to The Spy Who Loved Me – worst novel of a bad novelist. 8:30 PM – Dad & Bruce doing dishes, Avril reading The New Yorker and thinking of applying to Fleming College in Florence and I am sitting here scribbling. Finally made love to B – for him, not for me. Trying to imagine what sort of job I can get. Thurs. 13 June 74 – MD Arrived home to a letter from Walter’s DAUGHTER. “Sample editing” changing my language to “teen speak.” I have to rave here because I can’t say anything to the poor girl. She isn’t an editor, she isn’t an agent, she’s not my friend (I’ve never met her) she’s a nobody. She and her Dad apparently want me to write Airport. She changed “The busiest hours” to “The busiest times.” That’s how bad it is. All this “difference” I’ve been cultivating all my life I have to drop immediately. I have to go along to get along. I just hope Walter lets me out of my contract. ERIN isn’t perfect. But I like its birthmarks. I need a vacation to recover from my “vacation.” I am pimply and exhausted without even the ghost of a tan. Spent the night at G’s NYC apt on the way back - worked hard to keep her from seeing the friction between me & B but why? I’m kicking myself now. But I’m just so ashamed of the both of us. I certainly can’t discuss my novel so we are reduced to “making conversation.” B. humiliated both of us trying to teach Gs husband to put a topspin on a tennis ball. Awful. B. says he’s 30 lbs overweight and its my fault because I won’ play golf with him. Trying to watch the Emmies with B makes me feel I’m in the day room of the asylum. Before we were married when I heard him telling people they should freeze their dope to concentrate the effect I should have known. Sometimes I wonder if he actually THINKS. Midnight 15 June 74 The brilliant author of the Sandcastle is dead – replaced by Doris Lessing trying to be Muriel Spark. (Accidental Man.) Just awful. What gives? Poor Iris. I would say she has never known love. Reasons I should not divorce Bruce: 1. Dogs greet him with such joy. 2. 3. 4. 5. Venus Freeway liked my book. Need 2 more weeks to decide. Registered at a temp agency. Typing, receptionist blah blah blah. Was offered filing in the basement of Equitable Trust 4pm to midnight $2 an hour! Nix! 17 June 74 Finished Prescott’s Ferdinand & Isabella. Bored by the wars but it’s a masterpiece compared with Mattingly’s Catherine of Aragon. Wed 19 June 74 My period lays me low. Would it be worth it to get Midol? Freshly bathed downstairs waiting to see G Merrill in The Murderers. Thinking a lot about Somerset Maugham lately – his theories on the perfect short story. I think his have a relentless sameness – especially the China ones. Prefer Ivy Compton-Burnett. According to Walter’s daughter I shouldn’t be reading these people. Bruce just said he’s jealous of my diary! That arrested me a bit! I told him I write about the trivia you can’t even talk about. Making a will so he can’t inherit my literary properties. We’re making love again but I’ve realized I can’t live with someone who hasn’t conquered certain problems. He thinks its OK to be fake because “everyone’s” a fake. Bruce sitting stark naked at his radio waiting for his bath to fill. Picture of him shouting “Breaker, Breaker!” should be grounds for divorce in any state in the union. Thurs 20 June 74 New candidate for Worst novel of the year – Lawrence Kamarck’s The Bellringer. How do people get THESE things published? Am I not awful ENOUGH? I really cannot aspire to be more awful. Bruce says our entire problem as a couple boils down to my lack of interest in marijuana. Plus he’s going back to school. So there. Majoring in Dope? I ask him. I worry the problem is financial – neither of us can afford to move out. Taken to walking in the middle of the night – maybe I can get thin this way! Sun night June 23 - 74 Boring evening at the Cub Hill Inn with Shari and her latest amour Chuck talking about Bluegrass Festivals we have known. When we came home I tried hugging B – he said, “What’s the point? You’re just going to get rid of me.” No affection: just sex. I find myself daydreaming about Devon kissing my throat. I think Bruce is going to get rid of himself. His latest idea is taking the rest of our money and going to England to resume his wildly successful musical career. I say wonderful. Better than burying your feelings in cheesecake. Shari works as a nurse’s aide for $2.30 an hour. No skills. Should I apply? Contemplating a gothic novel: Mass at St Secaire. Meeting Avril’s train tomorrow at 7 followed by Chinese food and Peter Cushing in The Beast Must Die! B and I argue about whether she’ll stay a week or a month. He says she’s “snotty” to him.
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Alysse Aallyn
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