Plush Palace 27 Sept Wed 78
Sitting in dressing room all suited up, breasts taped up into vertical position – might as well scribble. Good diet – yogurt, plums, apples, eggs, tuna. Wrote. Scared I’ll arrive at p. 100 and be “done” – pushed thought away. A called upset – el Diablo died and she missed an exam. I went to pick her up. She has date tonight with Mystery Man. I am reading about Hart Crane’s relationship with his parents. Too familiar for comfort. 11:45 PM Interesting night. My lighter schedule helps me have more fun with the other dancers – I don’t feel so invaded by them. A phoned about date. Fifty-fifty, she rated it. That’s not very good. Letter from Devon inviting me up for Oct. I was amazed – made reservations for Concord Inn. Went to see Claudia Weill’s Girlfriendswith A. We liked it – seemed extra poignant since Opal had to “drop” us on her remarriage. Then to Warehouse to hear Z sing. Surprise – he was tense to see me! His throat closed up. Finally sheer professionalism carried him through – everyone seemed impressed. He never looked straight at me but I could tell he was watching me out of the corner of his eye – he flinched at my slightest movement. Flattering? Or scary? I don’t know. I’m tryingto feel flattered – why assume responsibility for everything? Shoulders and Peter P showed up with girlfriends – hello – big surprise – all exchange new phone numbers. Everyone friendly. A charmed by Shoulders all over again – said she didn’t think that girlfriend looked serious. Z descended from stage – I could tell he was having a battle – should he be “aloof” like a “real performer” or effusive with me? My unwillingness to seem needy saved us both – I was cool. Asked privately if he could “stop by” I said yes. Could have kicked myself later. Shadonna called – asked me to do a double. I forced myself to say no. Fri Oct 6 – 1:35 PM Who should come into the club but Rick Marl – he said he had just seen Ryder and Ryder told him things between us were “still the same”!!! I haven’t spoken to R in weeks! Told Rick that. Rick then showed a desire to “move in” on me - I didn’t squash it. Told him “call me.” Starting to think the time for “instant honesty” in relationships is past. It’s way too dangerous. Make them earnthe right for a tour of my insides. A and I saw Steve Martin last night at College Park. He skewers the Ryders of this world pretty brilliantly I thought. Specially loved the skit where he feels “responsible” for his girlfriend’s death. He shot her when she became annoying. Fight with Zachary over sex – he thinks – I “take too long to satisfy.” I was so annoyed I left at 3 in the morning to go to A’s place. When I came back he was gone – left a note – “in your absence your odds improve” in his odd little precise architect’s handwriting. Bastard. He obviously doesn’t mean my odds of being satisfied. He thinks he’s such hot stuff. He’s performing at The Mistral this weekend. 10:35 PM Tues night 10 Oct 78 Stock sold. There’s six months rent. Or I could go to England (I don’t give up easily.) Instead I do a little fun winterizing – new electric blanket and bathroom rug. I’m enmeshed in an ego problem with Zachary – this is the “hedonism” Dad is always worried about. I only want to see him once a week for sex but my ego demands he fall in love with me. He has invited me Home to Meet the Parents so perhaps I’ve succeeded. Very handsome unkempt hunk at the club invited me to see him race his motorcycle in Fredericksburg. This is a tempting piece of Americana I don’t think I can refuse. He’s just a gorgeous mud puppy. Spent $17 at the post office sending copies of To DrownIn Airaround. Seemed like a lot to me. It’s not just men I’m jumping between. Reading both Russell Kirk’s unctuous book on Eliot and Ross MacDonald. Much prefer the latter: I’ll return to him now. Sat 4 PM 14 Oct 78 How did get myself into a situation with men calling all the time? It is supposed to be a girl’s fondest dream – in fact it is hell. I am unplugging the phone for long stretches and not telling them either or they might be tempted to come over. As Zachary did yesterday – we ended up sixty-nining on sofa – I admit it was the best sex yet. Mon 11 PM 16 Oct 78 Aand I drove to Fredericksburg for the race – gorgeous weather – spectators everywhere and I had a hard time finding a place to park – then a guy in a blue and yellow racing outfit and helmet appeared and banged on the hood of my car. I thought it was someone telling me I couldn’t park there but it was Buck and I hadn’t recognized him. So handsome! The race was just about to start – he had a party of five or six people to cheer him on. I didn’t quite get the names – we had to rush out onto the course. Buck got a good start but his bike went wrong twice – once he did a spectacular flip and it came down right on top of him. Brady, his friend, said, “happens all the time.” Buck was unhurt but had to leave the race. He seemed relaxed about failure – opened a cooler – gave us all roast beef sandwiches he had made himself and beer. (I hate beer.) A was busily finding out that Brady’s “unattached”. He’s a big shy handsome lunk too. Buck put his arms around me and gave me a big hug – told me now I have to come watch a better race. Ah, the fantasy – the mysteryof Buck – who is he and what is he – taking fire in me. Big, strong, unthreatened, unthreatening male, bursting with muscles and apparently emotionally undamaged by life. Why not horses, farm, children with such a one as this? Could I get so lucky? I cooked dinner for Avril – liver, onions, mushrooms, rice. Plenty of bourbon. Still need to go to bed early. Colored and conditioned my hair and wrote letters. Powder Mill Road Wed – 18 Oct 78 Too much going on – I’m longing for my hermit days. I think: I ought to be able to date. I ought to be able to have a little sex, a little love, a little affection – but what a can of worms! Instantly it spins out of control! I thought Buck might show up at the club – and indeed he did – after obviously making a special effort with his appearance. Tight leather jacket, blond hair all puffed out, face glowing. It was just like a date – only with me dancing onstage. He stayed 2 and1/2 hrs – I gave him my standard lecture about not wasting his life hanging out there – come in say hi and leave. One beer. Before I finished he said, What are you doing Fri night? I said, “going out with you.” When I got home Rick called – spying for Ryder I have no doubt. But I am booked solid through the 30th. Truth to God. Powder Mill Rd Thurs 19 Oct 78 Still balancing thank God. Had lunch with dancer Yvonne – she said she still wakes up having screaming nightmares about Warren (he was killed in a car accident. Faced smashed in by a coke bottle hw as drinking at the time. He bled to death.) At least I don’t have those worries. I sleep like a baby. Worked on costumes. Waiting for A to go with me to Interiors. Reread my stuff. Think there’s a great deal to be said for the short, short novel. So unappreciated. Drownrejected. Started dividing the novel into geographical locations – Hooks Lane, Paradise Road. Turn it into short stories? 11:30 PM Awful, awful night. Dancing badly, shoes broke. Rushed out and bought another pair in my break. Pasties fell off – carpet tape inferior quality or I sweat too much. 12:15 PM Oct 23 Sitting by phone feeling illogical joy. Wonderful date with Buck – restaurant with lots of wood and Tiffany lamps – just a pleasant, free-flowing conversation. No sex at the end – hug and kiss in doorway. “May I call you?’ I told him yes – invited him to be my date Nov 5 at Shadonna’s wedding. He said he would. Fri 27 Oct 78 Concord, Mass – the grave of Nathan Bond. Seems a good place to write – sitting on a gravestone in the sunlight. So what was last night like? I arrive to the theology college and another student goes up to get Devon – I overhear him say “There’s a very good looking girl here to see you and I mean verygood looking.” He came down looking so different with a silky beard – exclaimed over and over again about my beauty. We went up to his room and were making out on his narrow plank of a bed when the radio played Ambrosia –How much I feel.Too much for me! Started to cry and lost a lens! Devon thinks I’m a psycho - luckily (for him) psychos are his specialty. Wish he wasn’t so unctuous about it. When he attacked me with those eyes I had to get myself a drink – broke out in shivers and hives – thought I was must black out. He was talking in general ways about what he wants out of life – he seems afraid he can’t find someone better than me. I did my best to get him back to specifics – even saying a woman can’t propose to a man (Well she could, but if she proposed to thisman she’s never hold him.) Obviously he loves me. But as much as I deserve? Seems like not. He’s got to make some kind of statement. He wants to get a clinical psychology degree and he hinted that I wouldn’t be such a disaster as a wife to a psychologist. (As opposed to minister. How flattering.) I told him he has a fear of “emotional success” and he agreed. He astonished me by making passionate love to me – I didn’t have to do a thing (other than wear my short pink gauze peasant blouse and the denim gauchos that show my bellybutton) - he couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough. Very satisfying – wasn’t an inch of my body he didn’t kiss – including my heels.I told him my heels had never been kissed before – so he kissed them again – also sought out all the other unkissed places. I feel satisfied for a century. We went out to a Greek restaurant for dinner, then to see TheDeer Hunter. Powerful movie. Crazy, just like life. Christopher Walken lovely. Drove to Concord in pouring rain. Inn is no Night at the Plaza – more like Early Hardy Boys. Read Violet Claybefore falling asleep. Dinner tonight with my cousin Tory – pumping him about Hill School experiences to use in Paradise Road. Buy some wine for tonight and celebrate my own existence. G’s place – NYC – Central Park West – 30 Oct 78 Why do I do this to myself – visit Genevieve? I just realized the mirror in her hall is a fat mirror. I did eat a lot of junk food on this trip but I don’t believe I look this bad. Plus Genevieve’s life is a fat mirror to my life – that’s the truth. We just saw Chabrol’s Violette– we both have a pash for him – but agreed this is not his best – plus the only Chabrol we know of with absolutely no romantic elements. It’s probably something I will end up thinking about a lot – and rewriting in my head – so maybe it’s Ok after all. Wrote a poem for Devon –Practice Cuts. Can’t turn it into a presentable poem – however, it did make me feel better writing it. I guess I don’t like being Devon’s flirtation with damnation. Writing really isthe best revenge.
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Plush Palace Thurs 31 Aug 78
Three sets down. Tonight I’m asking Eddy for only three days – it’s hard to be constantly here – like living in a soap opera. No writing – been sending out query letters. Rod called – had the nerve to lecture me on publishing, “If you want to play in their league, you have to wear their uniform.” Deeply annoying – makes me want to bite him. I refuse to wear anyone’s “uniform”. Back to the unspeakable Constance Heaven book that is the only thing I brought. Thurs 8:30 PM 7 Sept 78 Day spent in the mundane, pricing wicker at Pier 1 with A. Lots I wanted but can’t afford. Bought mugs and plant. 7:47 PM Plush Palace – Sat 9 Sept 78 Dinner with Rod. He is handsome, rational, helpful, kind and forgiving. Unfortunately he’s also some unknown Third Sex, a complete zygote. If he’s gay he’ll be the last to know. After three glasses of wine I found the nerve to say he must have noticed we have no sex life. He talked sententiously about how we’re both cautious, both been burned before, give it time, etc – it sounded good, but I knew it wasn’t true. Something’s wrongwith him. The last months of his marriage he slept sexlessly in same bedwith his wife – at the very end her boyfriend even joined them! (Nobody did anything.) Strange and unhealthy. We went to watch his friend Zachary play guitar in a coffeehouse at Tyson’s Corners. Now there’sa guy with a noticeably sparking electrical overload. I was turned on to him and he was turned on to me but of course nobody did anything. Rod was absolutely serene, probably didn’t even notice. But would he even mind? I can’t mention it because Zachary is basically a sewer rat. It is not a sign of emotional health to even considercounting coup with this guy. Pity Rod’s so perfect. Waitresses gaze at us adoringly. Mom and Dad would lovehim. Wakened this AM by postman thumping on door with package – turned out to be twenty copies of Flatironwith my Resurrectionistpoem spread – I’m going to send every one of them out. Makes such a perfect gift and peace offering I may order 20 more. Reading Nathanel West’s horrific Miss Lonelyhearts. Plush Palace 6:10 PM Wed 13 Sept 78 Mon A and I went to the play Mrs. Cheyney– it was excellent – then to the Apple Tree after to dance but the volume of turkeys pitched up way too high. We made a wonderful evening anyway – picked up effortlessly right where we left off – complete with psychic communication like imperfectly sundered Siamese twins. Then off to Rod’s in my black satin suit – he had a bottle of champagne to celebrate Farrar, Straus & Giroux wanting to see my novel (I know better than to celebrate a thing like that.) 2:25 PM Thurs 14 Sept 78 Wonderful letter from Devon affirming and reaffirming his love. Very healing. Asked to keep the photo I sent him of us when I was seventeen. Described me as “majestic, mature.” Ooooo. Reading Gore Vidal’s Edgar Box stories. Difficult letter from Mom. She doesn’t seem to realize she can’t “win”. Her will cannotprevail. If she keeps insisting we will only become more alienated. Good diet day – eggs, grapefruit, almonds. No booze. Lots of water. Powder Mill Road 20 Sept 78 2:00 PM Aand I met for drinks and steaks, then to White Flint Mall to see Rituals. Hal Holbrook surprisingly good. Trying to read The World of Somerset Maugham in bed – fell asleep at 11 – didn’t wake till nine! Finished letter to Genevieve answering hers in which she lectured me on wearing “tight pants”. Groomed dogs, dishes, vacuuming. Sent Flatironaround – wrote letter to D. Re-read Mimsey.I think it’s a little gem but can’t be pried out of its setting without destruction. Maybe I should send it around anyway, even though it’s so short. Also found old MS of Secrets– not bad. But the real eye opener was my writing teacher’s horrible editing – suggested I change “opaque” to “grey green” – “pressed her eye against the window” instead of “applied her eye”, which is what I had. Ugh and shiver. Counted up bills. Tight. I hate hand-to-mouthing. So will sell stock. Zachary told Rod he is attracted to me. I don’t know where that will go – it surprised me. See them both at tonight’s party. Tues 26 Sept 78 Strange party. Lots of people. Zachary was there, visibly lusting. Rod seemed perfectly comfortable about Zachary and me. He is the weirdest ever. Repressed gay? Asexual? Pod person? Put his arms around us both. Z very effusive – he is “onstage” all the time. I stopped myself from saying, “Show everybody your appendectomy scar.” Let him reveal himself. What do I care? He produced dope but no one got high. Rod told me I should allow Z to satisfy me– use upstairs bedroom. (Probably wired for sound.) I was not happy with that – made him follow me home instead. Good sex, but he hung around till 1. It’s true he made me breakfast – a delicious omelet. But it’s alwaysa mistake to bring them home. When Rod called, Z was still here. That was uncomfortable for me – Rod said relax about it. Stock at 16 so really can’t sell. Told Marc to watch it for a week but I will be needing the money. Must unplug phone and work. Quarter to 7 –Worked on childhood stuff till tension got too much. Plugged phone back in, dinner, read NY Review of Books. Exercised dogs. Went to library – got bio Hart Crane – a nice big one – bought huge desk calendar for planning. Shadowe Island – Burnside Inn – 31 July 78
The island its usual immortal, eternal self. A ragged paradise. A and I came up through Boston – drove “The Freedom Trail” but couldn’t go to the Ritz Carlton bar because of the dogs. She is taking care of them down at the cottage. Mom and Dad look great – thinner and very brown. When I checked in Paul Morris offered me a drink and we chatted very enjoyably. Trying not to be attracted to him. This vacation will resolve its masturbatory throbbings when D shows up. He is driving down from Montreal – I am as nervous as a 14 yr old. That poor sawdust doll Rod called but phone connection (thankfully) very bad. Merrill arrived with children in tow and we had magnificent lobster dinner down at the shore. Rod sent me a copy of On Moral Fiction. Burnside Inn – 5 Aug 78 Rod called – we talked 45 mins- I feel an enormous pleasure in his intellect. Maybe we can transition this into a friendship. 11:30 PM– Devon just called – long conversation on power, authority and ambivalence. He is tormented by his family – can’t figure out how to escape them. Says he’s bringing doughnuts tomorrow over on the ferry – what are my favorites. That’s easy – anything chocolate. (Mom told A that when he gets off the ferry and sees how I’m dressed he’ll turn around and get back on! She doesn’t know him very well. Kind of like Rod – they both think this “minister” thing is overly potent. Doesn’t really change who he is.) Midnight Tues 8 Aug 78 Devon painfully said he can’t express his love for me in “a fully integrated way” and asked me first just to caress his nude body. He didn’t think he could have sex with someone he’s not in an exclusive relationship with. But guess what? Then we had blissful, magnificent sex. I didn’t tell him this is as integrated as it gets for me and a lot more integrated than it’s been lately! (Poor Rod.) Thurs Aug 10 -78 – 5:30 PM Feeling happy and serene – it’s been the loveliest visit. Many bike rides and explorations. Lovely dinner last night at the cottage – Devon asking Dad a lot of questions – then we lay in each other’s arms at the Barnacle and he said Time to Discuss Our Relationship. Said “some French girl” dumped him because he’s so incompetent with condoms; he’s so relieved not to have that with me. I said, “Maybe we shouldbe exclusive.” He said, “Thank you for being honest” and stripped off my clothes and made mad, passionate love to me – all orifices massaged, nipples chewed, armpits sucked – the works. It was really something – probably the most passionate satisfying sex I’ve ever had. He told me our coming together after I left my husband in Plympton was The Most Significant Event in his life. But does he see me as a Minister’s Wife? No one can. Me included. Problem. Drive him to the ferry today, after that a sail to Brimstone Island. Shadowe Island - The Cottage – Sat 12 Aug 78 Mom giggling about how sweet and pure Devon is. She is certain I’ve been dumped. If she only knew. Five good pages on novel. Working in omniscient third person – a violently new departure. A few vague worried sensations that I am “telling” too much about characters but the Victorians used to get away with it on a regular basis. I envy them. There I’ve said it, I envy Mrs. Henry Wood. One thing left out of Gardner’s On Moral Fictionis how rarely we see the book the author wanted – instead we see the draft the publisher agreed to buy. Or am I cynical? On the whole I am appreciating Gardner’s ideas – but more thanready to get back to V Woolf’s letters & diary. That is ecstasy – the “unstructured real.” Farprefer them to her novels. Nice long talk with D. Feeling freed since he described to me his definition of a future wife; she is notme. In fact she will be a very unlucky girl who gets – by his deliberate plan – the leastof him. It is comical that I, something of a contemporary expert on all things Victorian, should even findthis profoundly divided, profoundly Victorianmale; product of a hideous religious and sexual mangling one would think barely possible in this enlightened century. “Wife” seems to be a whole new scary dimension that has nothing to do with sex. Bruce wanted a fount of approval and cash. Ryder wanted a mule. Jervaze wanted a mommy who will bed him down with a bottle of Southern Comfort and then drive him to the hospital. I can’t even figure out what Rod wants. But Devon seems to want someone whose holiness will “cancel out” his “bad behavior”. All Iknow is I don’t want to be any of thosepeople. But what do I want? I’m embarrassed to admit it out loud. I want the spiritual and physical closeness – the “soulmate connection” – to just keep on intensifying until we switch bodies (and I get to live two lives). Castaneda says it can be done. (Good subject for novel.) Devon flat out admitted he is afraid of me – says I have too much power over him. I was too aggressive with him this time and I think my “free agency” is where the trouble lies. It “wakes him up” too much to the existence of another person and reminds him this isn’t all happening in his head! I am too impatient to wait for him to get ready to have an actual relationship. In the past, the better he got to know all his girlfriends – and the more certainhe became of them, the less he wantedthem. We are dancing on a knife-edge with our pleasure now. Psychologically he rules out “sexual fire” in long-term relationships. Everyone but me (and Dad) seems to think it must burn out. I look forward to getting back – change in seasons, change in clothes – working, writing, even running around town with Rod is starting to look good. Cold day – sun hidden by clouds. Burnside Inn – 10PM Sunday 13 Aug 78 Told my dad I took the room here because my typewriter needs electricity – really I wanted privacy with Devon and we ended up at the Barnacle! But a public inn (with a handy bar) requires a lot of discipline. More than I have. I am recovering from a scandalous night – too tired to take a bath I fell asleep in my clothes after cocktails with Marc Kramer who tried first wooing me with his completely unfettered, unapologetic interest in money then just flat out tried to get me drunk. (I didget drunk but not enough to makehimseem desirable. He is very hairy.) However, “investment banker” would be a good job to give to my character Cloud if he ever grows up. If I can ever get him out of prep school. No more hanging around the bar for me – I plan sit here every afternoon writing between three and six. Seems to be all my social schedule will allow. Feel myself getting fat and should cut back on food – tall order. I just need to go home and dance. Stupid diary! One love problem after another. Well I can always go back to poor Woolf… her talk of mushrooms, chair covers, butterflies… Mon 14 Aug 12 midnight -78 Very unsatisfied with everything I’ve ever written. The difficulty is I need to bring allmy writing up to my current level of philosophical maturity (such as it is.) But it keeps increasing exponentially! Never be embarrassed to start over. Dinner scene in Paradise Road (newly retitled)feels shaky. Too many characters for me to handle. Maybe wedding next? Trying to invest my characters with what I’ve just learned from Devon. Would choosing “the right person” come first (my Mom’s theory) and then the love follows after? More convenient for everyone, certainly. Almost rolled a poor pimply little fisherman down at the docks this afternoon because I am such a sucker for gorgeous naked (hairless) shoulders. And the friendly, friendlyinnkeeper – but don’t get me started, he has a “wife” or “wife substitute”. Mom’s been very cruel to me lately. At dinner last night I discovered she rode the ferry with poor shell-shocked Devon (probably deliberately) whom she apparently grilled the whole ride. She sniffed – “He’ll never marry you.” Too proud to tell her I just reached that conclusion myself and it doesn’t elevate him in my estimation (the way it obviously doe in hers!) I would say I now know Devon better than he knows himself (he talks in his sleep), and I can positively state that his stated intentions will never bear any relationship to his actions. Not a good thing. He alsotold he could never become a minister (because his mother wanted it too badly!) and yet here he is almost all the way through divinity school. He keeps making rules and I keep watching him break them. Plus I’ve been taking responsibility for “making” him do things he doesn’t “want” to for years. It’s a spiritual game of Chinese checkers he insists on “losing”. I guess it’s just a matter of time before he starts holding it against me. 10:20 AM Wed 16 Aug 78 I am so excited by the “newness” of my novel – starting to feel confident; like I can make these people do anything. Can’t wait to go home and spread all the versions out – play Max Perkins to my own Tom Wolfe. Might be able to patch something together. Still my tone needs emergency assistance, which dictates a massive overhaul. All this omniscience is just too painfully reminiscent of somebody like Balzac – “In the forbiddingly cold winter of 1863” or worse, Dragnet? Must read Speedboatto see how far one can go. Should I throw everything out and start over againor leave it a 500 p hegira? Rod sends me a letter every day. He is smart, witty and culturally aware. His handwriting is perfect. Unfortunately this does not feel as good as it should. I have rejected him as a potential husband (or father) because he is so totally lacking in Projection & Charisma. Unlike Devon I plan to marry a person I can also have soul-shattering sex with. Even Rod’s mythsare sub-standard. He needs Tale of Genji and Kraft-Ebbing but all he has is Beowulf. Still, this is not the kind of thing you can tell a person you don’t want to get serious with. According to him, Miss Youby the Stones is “Our Song”. My song is Urgent, by Foreigner, and time’s a-wastin’. I can struggle with this goddam party scene or I can go out and buy toothpaste. Ferry coming in – very foggy. Came in tonight and immediately lost a lens. Searched and searched. Would this be the bill that would break the poor fragile financial camel’s back? Then I found it – stuck to my hair. A miracle. Mom took me on a walk after dinner – apologized in her weird oblique way. For a woman who claims to have “given all for love” she really is quite calculating and cynical about it. “Why buy the cow if the milk is free?” sums up the whole of her philosophy. She wants me to marry Marc Kramer and live in wretched discontent, or open a dairy farm and send out pricelists. Those are the options. Has doing too much of the emotional scutwork fatally dimmed the stars in her “love makes the world go round” eyes? “What if I’m not a market-based economy?” I inquire. Another missed bonding opportunity. Dad showed gorgeous slides of Fox Island. Every frame was a poem. Made me think I should read old diaries to see what I can get. Not that Cloud would keep diaries – not reflective that way at all. But Suni might keep them. 9:30 AM Fri 18 Aug $100 honorarium from Coltsville Community College for my presentation – I can eat for a month off of that! Dare I get my dancing down to 3 nights week? Would be heaven. Discussion with sisters about Mom. Here’s their advice: “Remember she’s crazy,” “Remember she’s old,” “Don’t give her any information” and “Lie.” There it is! If only she could hear them! And I’mthe one with the “Bad Kid” reputation! Over dinner she lectured us on how costumes for the ballet exaltthe human body. Nothinglike my combination of pasties, fishnets and glitter! Hard to listen to after the contempt she has expressed for my job! Said nothing. What they really hate is that I am my own choreographer. I was too dispirited even to point out that back when ballet was “invented”, back in the dear old Dead Degas Days, dancers were VERY “declassee” with damn near NO control over their own bodies: hw to express themselves sexually much less how they were viewed. Looking back over it, my most serious depressions were all caused by attempts to conform. I’m so OVER it. Am I afraid of loneliness? No. Stigma? Childlessness? Sexlessness? No.I am confronting all these fears, one by one. Hard however to keep my head high around Mom and Dad’s evident conviction that no one can everbe found to love me. They insiston giving me money because I’m so pathetic. OK, I’ll take it (I’ve taken tips from fans harboring worse thoughts) but insisted on giving them a poem in return. Read Sex Cadetsout loud (pretty sure they wouldn’t figure out it’s about D. ) They rolled their eyes. I must be determinedto make them look bad! Need to get car in line for the ferry tomorrow AM at nine. Good vacation this has been. Mostly. Last letter from Rod mentions a big society wedding we are invited to. He doesget invited to the best parties. 1:45 AM Horrible last dinner at the Mermaid Creek House. Am I speaking a different language from everybody else? Uncle Clive downgraded his current girlfriend right in front of her – “she’s got no skills – she’s not too bright.” I agree – there must be something seriously wrong with her to want to be around him. Genevieve wants to know how I can love men who are “weak”. This would have more significance if her own first marriage wasn’t totally on the rocks. I said weak men are “doubters” and doubters are interesting. The opposite is arrogance and how attractive is that? Marc K, for example, is not a doubter. He’s also not very interesting. It would be easy to be swept along in his wake on autopilot. Maddens me to hear Mom and G discuss A’s “low self-esteem.” The nerve! I think they want to pretend that life “makes sense” and is not a dangerous lottery. According to them, A has too lowan opinion of herself and I have too highan opinion of myself. Hmmmm. What’s wrong with this picture? Ferry Sat 26 Aug 78 Made the ferry with nine cars to spare. 3 PM Tues 30 May 78
Struggled through 2 bad pages on Demonthat will have to be rewritten, then finished Sylvia Townsend Warner’s tragicAt the Stroke of Midnight. This beautiful short story almost finished me. Yesterday Italian food made me & A logy – we tried going dancing. Horrible place, bad band. (Tramps). Predatory males (who spoke bad English) verydifficult to get rid of. Saw Greek Tycoon instead – worse even than we’d been led to believe. Came home and read two bad detective stories by “good” writers. Guilt-inducing cash from M & D – makes me feel inadequate but I need it. Means I can buy vac clnr and summer dresses. Call Peter like a dutiful child – this whole affair is tinged with doom. Thank God he is “busy” with his Secret Married Woman (who turns out to Someone Big in the Democratic Committee). His parents and my parents should just date each other. Dogs need walking and I need to check on vandalism at abandoned house. 2 PM Sat June 2 – 78 Trouble opening latest letter from Devon – I had the weirdest premonition it would a marriage proposal! It was indeed very loving – he has hit a summit of boredom and restlessness for which I am doubtless not the cure. Praised my novel for its “mystical sense of altered consciousness.” Wow. I like that better than “brilliant satire”. A & I went to Dillards concert at Cellar Door – they are so charming. Reminiscences of seeing Bruce play there. First act was Scarlet Ribera and Black Rose Band – liked hereven better. Some attractive men, but casual sex seems to raise more problems than it solves. A & I agree that after the “healing” comes the “strengthening” period. Coltsville Community College asks me to teach seminar on gothic novel – of course I said yes. Poor bastards. Birds stuffing themselves at my feeder. Plush Palace Mon 5 June 78 Perfect day – interesting stirrings inside – feel I am on the edge of some sort of breakthrough. Yesterday fresh sweet corn and turkey salad at A’s, then we watched B Stanwyck’s Double Indemnity on TV. Classic Chandler. “Aren’t you going 75 in a 30 mph zone?” After that I dressed up in my satin 3-piece suit to see Helmut Berger at the Kennedy Center. (Sigh). What a honey that man is. After that sent Bruce a letter with the Unwelcome News that I am “estopped” from filing for divorce in the state of Maryland because hemade me sign a “no contest” paper and then dropped hissuit! Paralysis! I know he was hoping to get out of this without paying (his last girlfriend proffered enough cash to get us this far then predictably abandoned him as soon as his True Colors became apparent.) Maybe I can establish residence in Virginia and start all over again. Had an eye appt in Bethesda so went to that library where I’ve never been and got a TON of interesting books. Treasuring Patricia Beers’ Reader, I Married Him. Plush Palace Mon 12 June 78 – 7:00 PM Horrible experience last night at the Garland Dinner Theatre – we were seated with some couple where the male was obviously severely mentally ill –she fed him 1,000 pills throughout dinner to keep him from exploding. We could have “complained” and demanded to be seated elsewhere but it just seemed so cruel. We used every bit of our mother’s otherwise completely pernicious training and tried to act like nothingwas happening. I’mtrying to muster up the discipline to unplug my phone till six – I’m getting too involved in A’s job hunt. She told me to Butt Out. She’s right – I should write. What the hell am I thinking being somebody’s “mother”? We have too much of a mother already – for both of us. Martin Green’sChildren of the Suna survey rather than the illumination I’d hoped for. Now I need a real Brian Howard bio. Fri – Day One – 16 June 78 Phone awoke me at one am – no one there. Got back to sleep by sketching out plot for novel where woman hires PI to find out who on list of names has been sending hang-up calls. Major Names of a Lifetime. Yesterday excellent day – haven’t known such joy since April. Sunbathing reading Ada Leverson & Her Circle– delicious. (Of course she was a bit of an idiot.) Cleaned entire house yesterday so when I got back from dancing it was immaculate. (The dogs messed it up again immediately.) Read Jane Rule’s excellentLesbian Imagesat work. She’s dumb about Colette and Bowen but I agree with her that loneliness and bad experiences are the enemy, not homosexuality. But I don’t think I’m up for a lesbian experience – women too emotionally demanding. They do too muchwork (men do too little). Hideously unsatisfactory choice – like having to choose between a ton of salt or none. Better to go without. Peter called to say we “ought to get together”. Seemed very halfhearted to me. Bet he wanted to tell his mother he’d made an effort. I doubt we can surmount this fundamental lack of attraction (we both prefer blondes) but Mom thinks just the opposite. Marry people you’re NOT attracted to so you won’t be “swept away” by “hormones” and you can make “reasoned decisions”! Is that pitiable or what? Avril says she’s lying because everybody lies about sex. Probably handed Dad her wet underpants on their very first date. (At the ballet? I don’t see it.) Mom has also said the worse you are at sex the more likely you are to get a proposal. Does this make sense to you? Ryder’s marriage (under these exact principles) lasted 2 yrs and he wanted to be anywhere but home. Plush Palace – 22 June 78 – 3 PM Second double this week. I hate them but I need $80 for typewriter, $300 to pay back A, $100 to quiet the utilities people, $200 Burnside Inn and at least $200 “Mad Money”. You know, in case I gomad. It could happen, especially the way things are going. Need extra cash for Vacation, which I approach as if it were a Sacrament. Secairegets written NEVER under this regime. Oh well. Yesterday cleaned house, walked dogs, cooked fish stew. We read family letters, then went out to see A Different Story. Both liked it enormously. |
Alysse Aallyn
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