10:00 PM – Party Castle – Wed 27 Jun 79
The inevitable panic reaction has set in – am I out of my friggin MIND? But it’s my battle and I’m dealing with it. I hear myself saying WAY too much around him as if tempting him to find something to be disgusted by and reject me – why can’t I just shut up and enjoy this? Because I can’t believe he really loves the real me– we haven’t seen each other in 10 years. I plunge gratified into the dizzying sensory experiences – he is very sexual and willing to talk about it – everything he says turns me so ON. Heavenly night of ecstatic sex. Trying to go SLOW, not empty out my bag of tricks all at once. I resent my own anxieties and my fear of being vulnerable. Here at work I wrote a poem about our past – The Duel. Will I ever be able to show him? I even like his snobbishness – he’s more elitist I guess you’d say. He assumes we’re “up there” – and it’s others job to qualify, to climb up to “our level”! That’s so refreshing after Usher Glayne’s weirdness! He just takes it for granted we’re in a class by ourselves; special people trying to do special things. And our tastes are so similar. He doesn’t plan to stay in Kentucky – wants to live in New England with its fall, its woodstoves and frozen lakes. I can barely comprehend such confidence much less contain it. Imagine being free forever from the fear that the party’s happening elsewhere. We ARE the party. I said I felt safe with him – he said he wasn’t sure that was justified – looked at me like a beast longing to rend, but restraining itself. Wild frissons! He must be horrified by how fast things are going – I have never met a man who wouldn’t be. But he’s driving this train. Told me he’s been so celibate lately – very upfront discussing his discouraging relationship with a virginal anorexic perfectionist frightened by everything who compensates by torturing herself and all the people around her. In a flash I realized, that’s exactly what Devon is also. Toss says he feels “stormed” by me –dizzied – by who and what I am, the summit of my “magnificence”. Wow! Such flattery very scary. How can he possibly mean it? Yet he seems so honest, so open. What will he do when he finds out I am human after all – a creature of mud and sludge like everyone else? Reading Margaret Drabble’s The Needle’s Eye – not so good as The Waterfall– beginning to be turned off by her towers of verbiage. My own life is so much more interesting. Good phone conversations with Toss – I am beginning to trust him. When I told him what I do for a living he was totally unfazed. “I knew you couldn’t get that body walking!” Tomorrow we explore Annapolis. Castle 12:05 am 2 July 79 Wrote D an angry farewell poem; “How did you meet?” Or, “Good luck with Sleeping Beauty’s castle!” That’s what he gets for messing with my heart. Can’t show anyone – most certainly not him– and it isn’t really finished – and I don’t think it ever will be. But thank God for diaries. Diaries can be told anything. Reading Secrets in the Family– it is so superb I am going to buy copies for all my sisters. Looking forward to discussing it with Toss. I’m beginning to miss him now – he’s so deep and interesting to be around – so alive on many more levels than anyone else – challenging all my levels. Falling in love – happy, crazy. Thurs 11:05 – Plush Palace – 5 July 79 Back at The Plush – its catch as catch can in my present situation. I am alienating managers left and right. But I am happy crazy and who cares? Because on the third of July Toss asked me to marry him and I said yes! Here’s how it happened. On Monday night we ate white clam linguini and crenshaw melon while listening to Keith Jarrett’s Koln Concert – then – came together in delicious, soul-freeing sex; two perfectly matched combatants recognizing each other not just from childhood and youth but school and dreams. He was eager to learn how I could best be pleased – so I surrendered to the inevitable. Fireworks! He left me sleeping there in the AM – I heard thumping downstairs but I know he has roommates so didn’t think anything of it – when he came back for lunch he discovered the door broken in and my purse missing. Keys, wallet, everything. I had to call into work – had to call a locksmith to give me keys to my car. Toss doesn’t know what else they stole because he doesn’t know what else is supposed to be in this house – called his roommates. They came, police came. So we spent a day of intense babbling and the worst kinds of petty annoyances – but none of it mattered because he was there. In fact, I welcomed it; it was an extra opportunity to be together. At one point I said, you know, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a man. He said, if I believed that, I’d ask you to marry me. I said, if you did I’d say yes. So he said, “Do you want to get married?” I said, “I think so,” and there it was! He said I’m the only woman he has ever wanted to marry much less asked. We even chose the children’s names – there are going to be two of them – a boy and a girl of course; one named after Reed and one a combination of our addresses! Had to call Aunt Frederica to give her the good news because she’s the one who had to give the hospital permission to stitch me up ten years ago after our first unfortunate night together! (She was drunk of course.) Toss asked me to come back to Kentucky for his last year of law school. I “shouldn’t miss this part of his life.” Dogs too, natch – we are a package deal. He has a house he’s rehabbing that has so many rooms it is known as the Hilton. When I said I would come that was more important to him than our engagement even. He says I can file for divorce in Kentucky’s understanding Commonwealth. He ordered a case of Moet Chandon, saying now we have to drive up the coast and tell everybody. I am a little scared to tell my parents – this suddenness might only seem another strike against me. We told Avril and Maureen – they just stared – obviously thinking we both have lost our minds – it will take them awhile to believe in it. I told A about Kentucky – she says she can handle the house; she can always rent out my room to a college student if she feels pinched. I want to leave some money with her – at least $1000 – had the brilliant idea to sell my car. Wouldn’t want to be impoverished in Kentucky and I don’t want to be on “retainer” from T. Last night I read Toss The Duel and his eyes filled with tears! He said the only flaw he sees in this arrangement is that one of us must surely predecease the other! Could it really happen? Could we grow old together? Could it be that I will never make love to another person? Wrote a short note to Bruce, telling him I will definitely be needing a divorce, sooner, rather than later. Now I am trying to write a short note to D; but honestly, what is there to say? Summing up our relationship seems only to dismiss it. He has already fallen far, far back into the past. Toss is my future.
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Castle – 11 PM – Thurs. 15 June 79
Don came in wearing tennis whites (purple in the black light) complete with racket like a Noel Coward character. I told him I was emotionally involved with someone else and just couldn’t go. He just sort of nodded and left without getting a drink – or tipping me – so he probably came in only to see me. Relief. Freedom beats money any day. I secretly hope he never comes in again. I will live without the tips. I applied for a MasterCard – hoping that will give me a backup way to manage emergencies. Dramatic scene with Jordana tonight – she came in sobbing – her boyfriend wants her to marry him and go to Florida and she doesn’t know what to do. I said what I always say, take the risk. So she quit. Managers are furious with me. Queens Chapel Rd – Sun 17 June 79 Exhausting weekend at seminar. I was supposed to give a reading from Gift.I was a nervous wreck beforehand, sweating, had to switch my breathing to manual – the works. It went fine. There was so much silence and building tension – then at the end, the release was cathartic. Bravos. That was the good part of the conference. The classes were the bad part. Students disappointed that I’ve had only one book published and I’m still poor – they feel I might not be a “real” writer and I don’t blame them. Lamely told them about switching agents. I could have used some more stage presence or at least some baldfaced lies. My lack of confidence was broadcast far and wide. Having my period. Damn. Starlight – Sat night – 23 June 79 What a week! I have discussed it with A in depth but I still don’t understand it – I’ll just write it out and see what happens. Got a letter from Toss Sheffield of all people – my bloodmate from high school – a wonderful letter. He read my poem in the Alumni Directory and noted I was “divorced”. (Of course technically I’m still just separated because of Bruce’s malfeasance.) Toss is working with Ralph Nader on Three Mile Island in DC all summer and wants to see me. The rest of the time he is a prizewinning journalist studying law in Kentucky. Woo woo! Timing could not be better – my restlessness desperately seeks somebody new – someone I don’t have to explain my childhood, schooling and family to. The Boy Next Door! At the very least I could use him as a cat o’nine tails on D (which he royally deserves). Last Wed night Devon showed up in the middle of the night on his way out to California. More push me – pull you. Very unsatisfying night as we finger each other gingerly like priceless objects pre-smashed, badly glued and inexpertly set. He invited me out to Calif. in Sept. Long wait, big ticket, which is the story of Any Girlfriend of Devon’s Life. Mightbe able to manage if I get that MasterCard. On the other hand said our parents were “hoping we’d get together” which is major turnoff. GiGi came in again. She obviously misses us. Said she saw Buck the other day and he spoke of me fondly. There’s a load off my mind. Leave ‘em sighing, that’s my motto. Toss Sheffield put the phone number of the house where he’s staying in his letter – I’ll call him tonight around ten. Wait till he finds out what I do for a living. Or I might not tell him. It all depends on him. He said he missed me at our tenth reunion – only went because he thought I’d be there! I didn’t go because I didn’t want to “explain my life” – and if I tell him, there’s a possibility everyone might know. Can I handle that much exposure? Struggling to read Joan Didion’s Slouching Toward Bethlehembut she is pretty depressing. Read Millheiser’s The Mirror. Absolutely stank. What was Putnam thinkingof to choose that novel over mine? Shows there’s a factor here I don’t understand. Wish I was a multizillionaire with my own publishing co. Castle 26 June – Tues – 10:30 PM How to describe my ecstatic dinner with Toss? He opened himself up to me like a book. “Take. Read”. He loves the universe but in a healthy way – vibrates to it and wants to be overwhelmed, then empowered by it. Just like me! He explores the DC area with the zest of one “learning” a foreign country – touchingly amazed that one eats the whole of a fried crab – “Even the eyebrows!” We discussedeverything – politics, theology, my marriage – his parents’ divorce – his horrifyingly determined Catholic virgin of a high-maintenance girlfriend – he chose her because she reminds him of his grandmother. And he admits it! This is all scary but I feel I must ride with it. He is so intelligent– such a relief to talk to someone who knows the difference between a prodigal and a prodigy and can tell a scherzo from a schizo. He showed up for dinner at Queens Chapel Road, driving an immaculate yellow Rabbit. I was frightened to so much as look out the window – I said to Avril – “Tell me what he’s like.” She said, He’s exactly the same. And he was. Gorgeous poet’s face (Rupert Brooke) long blonde hair – wrestler’s body – maybe a little too thin. (He’s had a rough hardworking year of self-denial following Bad Relationship.) He wore a white cotton sweater and what looked to be the same corduroy pants he wore throughout high school. I wore tight white capris and my pink gauze blouse. He noticed my body immediately – how hard and slender – asked if I was a runner. I told him my doctor says I have a runner’s heart – but no, I’m a walker. I like taking my time to see all there is to see. We had swordfish prepared on my new gas grill. We responded to each other in exactly the same way we did right before he left for college – his eyes feasting all over me – so humbling and overwhelming to realize someone loved me so deeply at such a painful period of my life. Wemarked each other in every meaning of the verb. I feel chastened and grateful to have such an effect on another person. We have so many similarities – both listened to Miss Goggins as children! We can each quote whole skit, tossing back bourbon in brandy snifters. As soon as I was drunk enough I declaimed my poem about how we spent Class Day in the treehouse. He didn’tremember the frickin’ treehouse! The memories of people who don’tkeep diaries are appallingly patchy. I showed him the trunk under my bed – decorated with flowers and my childish handwriting – “Yssa” and showed him the diary that described those nights! He was open mouthed; he stared at me as if I were a witch. Who knew diaries can come in so handily to resurrect the dead? He told me I am a fabulouswriter and should nevergive up. That the purpose of existence is to find what you were born to do and do it. No one else in my life talks like this! There was no lingering hostility over our unfortunate parting – our fundamentally dishonest Dear John – Dear Jane letters. No game playing – none of that. I can’t even recall who touched who first – my guess is we lunged at each other – it must have been mutual. Well, if I’m a witch, he’s a knight in shining armor. Only he can rescue me from this hellish situation I’ve fallen in with D – with all of them. That he could make love to me that way and not want to see me till Sept has been playing tricks with my mind. Devon uses me to flagellate himself and I can be so much more than that. It’s definitely fun to talk to someone who has exactly the same background as me – someone who reads and gets all my references. I was beginning to feel like an exotic (about to become extinct) rarity. He wants to date me solidly the whole time he’s here – (he leaves in Sept – that mystic date). Fri we’re going out – and probably Sun and the fourth of July. He says he’s never gotten over me, never loved anyone else the way he loved me. He wants me to come to his family’s place in the Berkshires in August – where I last went at 18 years old – why not say yes? I turn down work joyously while the managers gnash their teeth. It’s only money. Party Castle 8:20 PM Fri May 18 - 1979
Fasting all day so feel much better. Two more sets. I am the only dancer willing to dance to Baker Streetso they keep playing it for me and it is a tiring song. However all that stretching is good for my muscles probably. Reading A Time to Keep Silence. St Secaire has got me on a religious kick. Genevieve’s Apt. off the Park – NYC – Sun 20 May 79 It’s me laughing and joking and eating a whole box of Entemann’s cookies – and it’s not me. Family. The constant pain of having so little of myself accepted. It’s like being with people like Usher, really – they want such a little piece of you. The worst part is, you get so used to the pain you can’t imagine life without it. Thank God I am usually content to be alone. Went to the Whitney – gave me some ideas to recast Gift – unfortunately not ones people will like. I want to make it even more choppy and episodic– rather than “telling the story –“ which is what everyone seems to want. But that’s the only way I can get excited about it – I would like reading it to be like visiting an art gallery. Queen’s Chapel Rd – Tues 22 May 79 That trip helped. I feel better, more focused. My new agent submitted Gift to Putnam who loved it but said they had just published a book with incest theme! Goddamn it all to hell. But their reaction cheered me up – they didn’t say anything about choppy, episodic, incomprehensible motives, etc. So maybe I’m a real novelist and not just a poet hungry for money. Started The Lives of the Dancers– a poem for each one. Fun. More fun than novelizing with such a hideous plot – can’t seem to get my people out of the airport. Fasting again today. So horribly fat right before my period it would not surprise me to go into labor onstage. Apparently no one else has noticed I have lost my waist. Have agreed to see Devon in Boston next month. I am going off birth control so we will see what happens. I feel sure I can get him into bed. But never telling him he is a father? Can I pull it off? I will try. Getting past block in my novel by having different characters tell different parts of the story. I give up on Pamela Hansford Johnson. Holiday Friend is The Perfectionists all over again– but not as good. Castle 12:35 AM – Fri 25 May 79 Funny how it all comes together sometimes. Dancing tonight has been ecstasy – is it the fasting? I am cutting my schedule at the Plush Palace – the audience here is so much better. They are really quiet and intense. Probably because it’s so close to the FBI. They get the same relaxation from watching us that you get from a tank of tropical fish. Except of course with a sexual frisson that reminds you you’re alive. Read Laura Hobson’s The Tenth Month– pretty shocked by a doctor who would prescribe Nembutal to a pregnant woman. But of course that’s the way they were back in the Dark Ages. Now I’m on Highsmith’s Edith’s Diary– which is fabulous – the review in New York Times was downright immoral. Books should not be reviewed by the stylistically tone deaf. Reviewer should be open to many styles – I don’t think that’s too much to ask. The idiot. Went on stage glittering with body jewelry – big stones. Big tips. Queen’s Chapel Rd – 28 May 79 – Memorial Day Very staid and old-lady weekend working on the house. We have a wonderful big backyard with gas grill – A. and I “broke it in” yesterday for shish kebab. Last week’s trip seems months ago already. Thought about poor D all day. Am I using him? Is it wrong? Nah. I am giving him a chance to be more than he is – and he doesn’t need to know if he can’t handle it. I haven’t even told A about this – and I won’t unless it actually works. With my irritating body I might not be able to get pregnant just because I want to. A and I saw Peter Sellers in The Prisoner of Zenda– just awful. Sun went back to the Unitarian Church – unfortunately it was a downer. The worst memories of childhood surfaced as we were lectured on current events as if we were a class of high school students. I would rather hear about personal fascism than international fascism – that is the real spiritual problem. Bullying a captive audience seems eminently fascist to me. We recovered at Ms. K’s Toll House – such a fun place. Spent the afternoon trying to write a poem about how beauty and finiteness are the same thing – when we love someone’s beauty it’s their mortalitywe are in love with. Not laying a glove on it. Saw Alien in the eve – the treat of our lives – what a rollercoaster ride! We both adored it. I’m now officially giving up on reviewers – the Washington Post said it wasn’t as good as Star Wars. What is wrong with people!!! Apparently reviewers have to pass some sort of idiocy test. The “cure” was completed when I crawled into bed with Bloomsbury Portraits.Fabulous people. These are the ones my father refers to as the “sexual degenerates.” I adoretheir interior decorating. Going to ask Maureen to make me a dining room mural. By sheer good luck I don’t work till Wed. So I get a real rest. That feeling of pressure negatively impacts my work. Slept twelve whole hours – which means I may be up half the night – but I don’t mind if it’s productive. I especially like walking the dogs in the middle of the night so I can ignore the leash law. They are so good about voice command. 2pm 30 May 79 To my surprise novel goes well. Finished first bloodletting scene. Reading Flannery O’Connor’s The Habit of Being– love it. Dreading work tonight – not ready to get back. 1:15 AM 31 May 79 Hard night. Feel like I have had some protective coating scraped off my eyes and I can see everybody’s pain. Everyoneis in pain. Not pleasant. Plush Palace Fri night 1 June 79 7:50 PM Had to stop at dance store to buy fishnet Danskins on my way to work. (Kristi darns hers but I’m too lazy). Horrible traffic jam coming and going – then they were out of the ones with the seams which are the only kind that properly shape the buttocks. So I bought a black pair. They only look good close up. So I arrived in an automatic bad mood – put on my black costume with the little mirrors. I’ll go to the Maryland Danskin’s tomorrow. Feel better after a couple of bourbons. I can see how dancers get into the booze not to mention the bute. I am trying to do too much. Working, fasting, writing the Great American Novel (it’s turning into the Great Canadian Novel) – something’s got to give. Two bagels, two bourbons, then I’m cutting myself off. Zachary coming in tonight. I feel I’ve had it with the purely recreational sex (with quarrelsome underpinnings) that is all he has to offer. At least I have a good excuse to turn him down till June 22 – I’m booked solid. Idly reading George Weinberg’s Self-Creation. Ho hum. Working with Kristi tonight. She has the most perfect body I have ever seen but is totally neurotic about it. She can’t appreciate it herself. I speak to her in monosyllables because I don’t want to get sucked into her game of “How can we improve me” that she lays on other dancers. She’s a “yes, but”, never pleased with anything. Fatima came in hawking her used makeup. She is so bizarre. Claims she needs to sell everything for an “important medical operation.” Won’t say what it is – she probably just wants to ruin her breasts as is the fashion lately. Maggie’s breasts are hard as stone. She’s ruined her body. The air is heavy with female paranoia. Specific personal worries degenerate at a moment’s notice into far-flung government conspiracies. Nervous about upcoming visit with D – at least twice a day I decide not to go. If he knows me better than I think he may guess what I’m up to. 8:30 PM Sat 2 June 79 Rescued today – got four nights work instead of a possible six. Thank God. Bought wonderful music on the way to work at discount store – all Tchaikovsky’s orchestral music and Purcell’s Fairy Queen. Therapeutic listening after boogy-oogy-oogy. My parents finished Gift– want to know who Oz is based on. Uh oh. That rattled me. Should I tell? Decided not to and feel like a coward. But they wouldn’t believe me any way and thatwould be waytoo painful. They translate any vulnerability or sharing into “no wonder you’re so sick”. D’s most recent letter suggested canceling our date – he’s about to be ordained and must “purify”. He wants to escape from his past – which I’m a part of. Get it? He knows me so well he psychically intuited where I’m at, or more likely he inhaled a whiff of neediness and we can’t have that. Hemust be the needy one. Zachary and I went out to breakfast after work last night. For an “artist” (I use this term very loosely) he has less intuition than a stone. His compliments are so over the top I am filled with disgust but he doesn’t appear to notice. Had a horrible insight I now can’t get rid of. I am his Devon– the Great White Whale. Horrors! Will he now try to get pregnant by me? Thank God the sexes AREN’T the same. Feeling a little slowed up by O’Connor’s prejudices in Habit. She seems too content to be a creature of her era. Tried to read Caroline Gordon because of friendship with F – but notmy cup of cappuccino. She is Edith Wharton strained painfully through Somerset Maugham. Instead I am branching into a self-help jag – brought a book tonight called TheGift of Grief. Is this a gift anybody wants? Avril and I trying Silver Spring Unitarians tomorrow. Party Castle Tues 5 June 79 – 12:35 AM D ordained Sunday. I blew up under all the pressure yesterday – sobbed and sobbed. A. said she would go out, get a part time job and just give me the money. I am so jealous of her for being a full time student I guess. What an idiot. I apologized. I am experimenting with giving up writing. Why force myself to do it? I just won’tdo it – enjoy life and job at least for awhile – till I have to write. We’ll see when thatis. Trying to read bio of HP Lovecraft. There’s an object lesson wrapped around a cautionary tale. Thurs 7 June 79 2:40 PM Foolishly agreed to go to the Belmont Stakes with Don, my patent lawyer who is now a regular at the Castle. (He has forgiven me for my hair.) Now I want to back out. He says we can have separate rooms, he’ll pay for everything, etc – he is going up with a whole party of people. I can’t believe I am going to get into this whole ordeal of having to get to know someone again. What would he do if I said absolutely nothing about myself? He doesn’t even know I’m a writer, for example. And if I go to Belmont, can’t see D. It’s all too stupid – have to think of an excuse to get out of this. If I ruin him as a big tipper what a dope I am. I guess this means I have gone through the whole dating thing and emerged out the other side. Ready for the next stage – whatever that is. Invited again to present at the Writer’s Conference at Coltsville. Shall I tell them I’ve given up on writing? Plush Palace 9 PM Mon 30 Apr 79
Had my hair cut today and dyed platinum blonde – like the color not the cut. I wanted it all off – she asked to “try something” and if I didn’t like it she would “fix it for free”. Of course I don’t like it but I didn’t have the time to stay and have it re-done. I think it’s almost too much trouble to go back – get somebody else to fix it. Everyone likes color however; I needed a boost. But it’s not what I pictured – looks like a medieval “bowl” cut to me. Fistfight! Guy dragged out in handcuffs. Joselle says too bad; he was such a good tipper. Feel too old tonight – I obviously need a vacation but the only one I can take is in my own mind. I love the house but it always needs something. I was perched on the edge of celibacy but J showed up last night. Fabulous sex! Turned out to be worth it! 2 Hrs of 69ing (I counted!) Oh, bliss. Reading very bad romantic suspense - ARelative Stranger. It’s a serious problem that I hate everything popular. 2:30 PM Wed May 2 79 Perfect day at home. Worked on poems listening to Mozart. Got my “medieval bowl” changed to “little boy” haircut – it’s wonderful! Do nothingto my hair anymore! Don’t have to wash it, brush it or look at it! Of course I have to deal with all the sobbing men at the clubs. Long hair a powerful masculine fetish. I consider pretending I’m a different person – but I have the same old costumes. New stage name? Wonder if “Colette” is taken. Guess I didn’t plan this very well. Yesterday overeating so today it’s a fast – only coffee. Phone keeps ringing I refuse to answer. It’s probably Paz begging me to come in and sub for some dancer who had an onstage breakdown. Reading Wagenknecht’s “psychograph” of Nathaniel Hawthorne. Interesting. Sun 6 May 79 -1:50 PM A and I drove to St Michaels yesterday – such a pleasure – I remember sailing into that port. So beautiful I fantasize about buying a house and “retiring” there. I tell A, you get the country house, I’ll have the town house we can go back and forth. She says she does not want to live with her sister FOREVER! Why not when I’m so perfect? Delicious lunch of soft-shelled crabs and homemade coconut cream pie. Didn’t get to work till 6:40 and I was the only dancer till 9 PM! Apparently previous dancer unconscious in dressing room and ambulance was called. Sorry I missed it. Eddy gave me extra $$ but told me I can’t wear my black jade rosary on stage (too many complaints). Too bad – it looks so good with white collar and cuffs. He says the place has been sold again and we will be getting new management. Hope it’s not Tony. Plush Palace – 10:10 PM – Mon May 7 – 79 Would like to break my 2 day fasting record but I got up at 5:30 AM this morning and was just too hungry. Cucumber sandwiches with lots of pepper on whole wheat bread…mmmmm. Here’s my latest plan – rewrite Secaireand Blood memory – get pregnant Sept 1 1980, have baby May 81! Father as yet unknown. Crazy, huh? ReadingThe Restless Journey of James Agee. Tues 8 May 79 – 4:45 PM Great day’s work on Secaire. Not “done” but better. Completely new scene showing why Hank and Nilssa are attracted to each other. 10 P!!! Celebrated by going out to buy new notebooks. Sniff the paper hungrily. New lighting at the Palace very bad – guess who came in to audition? Brandy! I told manager she was lying about her age so he wouldn’t hire her. Nobody wants to work with her. She’s a grenade with the pin removed. Interesting book by Louis Cassells about the differences between religious faiths. So far I like Unitarianism best but want to expose my kids to as many different ones as possible and let them choose. Joselle keeps asking me if she’s going to be in my book. (I’m afraid she thinks I cut my hair for her.) I start instead a poem beginning “the chaste warrior sleeps only with his prey…” 3PM Thurs 10 May 79 – Plush Palace New manager Jasper comes in. Seems nice. I curtsy very low. Yesterday fasted till evening – wrote 7 pages – walked dogs then A & I saw Truffaut’s Love on the Runand went out to dinner. White pizza with plenty of garlic. Usher is reading at a NJ college – invites me to go with him. Hmm. Needing a pair of hot pink pants to visit this college in. 9:30 PM Fri night 11 May 1979 No hot pink pants. Did find a nice pair of aqua polished cotton jeans and matching high-heeled shoes. Usher phoned and we commiserated about publishing. A and I went to see the movie, A Little Romance. Very good. Long walk with dogs, further exploring our new neighborhood. People keep their lawns very tidy around here. Since I don’t do ovens, windows or lawns, this could present a problem. Must hire out. I’m bored with my job, but it pays the bills so well I don’t think I can make changes till July. But who knows what lies just over the horizon? Reinventing oneself could be the greatest pleasure there is. Plush Palace – Sat night 12 May 1979 Another exhausting goodbye with J. I wore see-through chiffon bell-bottoms and flowered Qiana shirt – gratified to see they had their effect. He said he will always feel the same about me, always be jealous of the person I marry. I must say I now wish he would just go away. Which he’s supposed to do – off to Alabama. Again. I am not, shall we say, invited to this on-again, off again wedding. Awww. Feeling emotionally drained – only 30 short hours till I see Usher and I want to be witty and “on.” As opposed to slack-jawed and twitching. Queen’s Chapel – 4:30 PM Sun May 13 -79 Dragged A to Unitarian church. There was a woman minister. I found the service satisfying enough and the church (River Road) very beautiful. They seem to have a lot going on – discussion groups, plays, theology class. I could be interested if I had the time. Of course everyone seems old. Could I overcome my misanthropy to go alone? Remains to be seen. The church has a bookstore – I bought an interesting book on female contemplatives. I’mcontemplating a future as a single parent. Feel a faint hormonal stirring. (A says it’s the house.) Who’s the lucky guy? Jervaze would have been perfect if it wasn’t for that alcoholic gene. And I don’t think I could hide a baby from D for the rest of his life. Usher probably has some impressive genes along with the vast millions to which he constantly alludes. On the other hand the kid he has sounds defective. Need to get clear about his marital status. Queen’s Chapel – 9:30 PM May 15 -79 Bad visit to NJ with Usher. Thank God it wasn’t an overnight. First he showed up in a Mercedes he described as “the color of Lena Horne’s skin”. UGH! Next – brace yourself – he wanted to hide me from his audience!! Dumped me at an antique bookstore (that part wasn’t a total waste – bought the diaries of Cynthia Asquith) then took me out to an apologetic dinner. I was so annoyed I commanded everything to be set on fire – fondue, oysters, and 2 desserts. (He chose a very good wine. It was the least he could do.) He didn’t want to talk about his reading – said if I had attended there would have been “too many questions”. And as artists, aren’t we SCARED TO DEATH of questions? Aren’t we? Castle – Wed 1:15 AM 16 May - 79 Unspeakably rotten dinner at the Cosmo Club with Usher. Forget him and his majestic New England genes. He is simply “collecting” me as his latest oddity. He has “so many” “warm, women artist” friends but no danceryet (he’s wayoverdosed on poets) and he drifts from one “presence” to another, sucking wattage like a radioactive swamp creature. He and his wife have an “understanding” which probably means she has no idea where the hell he ever is and nobody’s had sex in eons. Can’t I do better than this? In spite of the fact that I’m a person who has no idea where her next sexual or emotional meal is coming from I think I must insist on a note from wifey before taking this matter further. According to his poetry he associates sexuality with evil – not that I’m physically attracted to him, it’s just so piquant to be with a man who gets a fresh barber’s shave right before seeing you. (It’s been awhile). I don’t think he listened to a thing I said, just gazed at me rapturously. I tried getting him interested in helping me write a screenplay for Faulkner’s Mosquitoes– to me a completely ignored, obviously filmable work. He dismisses, “It’s been done.” Well it may have been “treated” BY SOMEBODY but the point is, it hasn’t been treated by usand it hasn’t been filmedand it would be WONDERFUL. Couldn’t ignite him. He really doesn’t want to talk about writing with me – I guess he has other people for that. I was so happy when our “date” ended I could have wept for joy. On the other hand I am sorry to see his millions slip away. My children could have used them, not to mention all my fantasies of early retirement busted. Looks like I have no one to depend on but myself. Enjoying Monica Dickens’ enchanting The Moon was Low. But had to buy a Quaalude from Maureen to get to sleep. Finished V. Sackville-West’s The Devil at Westease. I can’t figure out why she wrote it. She speaks entirely in lost codes. I reallydragged myself in to work today. That’s how you know you’re working too much. Letter from D – he’s off the California to “find himself.” What he really wants is any way to figure out how to be minister in a state of sexual abandon and he instinctively knows if the answer is anywhere, it is in California. On the other hand, will this reallyturn out to be what he wants? Not if I know him. The only good news about him is that his genes are impeccable. Plus I’m very depressed about my writing. Spreading myself too thin – thinking about one project while working on another. My St Secairebook is starting to get ridiculous, but I want to follow up this “satanic rites” thing to see where it goes. Why did I come up with it? What does it mean? Who knows? Cheap and derivative everyone would probably say at this point. Yet it holds some interest for me. Love and sex as hostage-taking. The question is, who’s the hostage and who’s the keeper? To the spoils belong the victor says F. Scott Fitzgerald. Very cynical. Got a good poem out of it though: In the Butterfly Pavilion. Could it be hours of research, prose and bitching produce only a single poem? Lucky if so. Also miserable about money and my body. Buying the house was a great idea – I love it – however, there are constant expenses I can’t ignore that keep me chained to this goddam stage and dressing room. My mortgage calls for my monthly payment to increase next year – I could worry about that if I wanted to. And then I always respond to depression and worry with a desire to eat which of course threatens my job. (Sigh.) Tips down (I should buy a wig.) And my face is all broken out so I have to use heavy makeup – and my skin doesn’t like that. |
Alysse Aallyn
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