Wed Jun 28 67
The girls here are a really good bunch. I am sorry I was such a snob. Outward differences really are skin deep. Shows how prejudice can be defensive. I am happy, struggling to achieve the balance between solitude and group endeavor. Carrie Benoit, Jeannie Morrison and Kathy Knoop are all the dancing girls – we have such fun together. We have to lace each other into ridiculous children’s tutus that barely cover our backs! Thurs. June 29 – 67 Today was the sorest I’ve ever been. I am cross-eyed with exhaustion and half way through the ballet I was shot. I can’t believe they picked me for this! They must be crazy! The worst part is doing it over and over. I can see all sorts of shortcuts but I am not allowed to take them (I’m already faking a split beneath my skirt.) Ballet is a punishing discipline. I think it may have been made up originally as a punishment. Sleep without dinner (two oranges and iced tea) my jeans are HANGING on me. Mr. Johnson says the soreness goes away and leaves fine muscle. I hope so. I think I’ve just about stretched myself out. Robin invited me out but I didn’t want to be alone with him so we went to the Black Hawk. Fran and John sat with us – I think they have the ideal relationship (they live together but it’s a secret.) Fran’s a dancer now that poor Jeannie threw her knee out. Occupational hazard of cancan dancers! Feeling indestructible (fingers crossed.) Think I am finally growing up – I hate it when Casey or Aynsley say they wish they were children again! UGH! To be my own mistress at last is all of my dream. Letter from Casey that she 69’d with Dan! Shudder. I can’t visualize it – what do you do with your knees? Letter I longed for from Mom I didn’t get. Tues 4 July 67 Coldest July fourth in history! No tan possible under these conditions. Last year I had to rub my body with ice cubes and 4711 to get the fever down, now I lie beneath 2 blankets and a spread, swilling tea. Sooner or later all this tannic acid is going to catch up with me. On the other hand Mr. Nichols says tea’s the reason the Brits conquered the world – their insides had turned to leather and they could tolerate anything. First day we’ve had off! Washed my hair, did my laundry, finished Waugh’s Men At Arms. His Catholic confusion really starting to show. He hates everybody for not following the rules, on the other hand they think they ARE following “the rules”. Constantly changing the rules is not helping. Also finished The Killing of Sister George, which reminded me of A Thousand Clowns. Preferred George for technical reasons, Clowns as a play. Study of the individual floundering in a cage a lot more interesting than the cage myself, if you get my meaning. Reading Sean O’Faolain’s tales with occasional snacks of Shelley and Baudelaire, when I get bored which happens often because he’s no Chekhov or Henry James. The Darling and Europe still stand alone. Luckily Baudelaire comes with the original French. Would you translate: “Des costumes qui sont pour les yeux une ivresse Des femmes don’t les dent et les ongles son teints Et des jongleurs savants qui le serpent caresse” As “we have seen wonder-striking robes and dresses women whose nails and teeth the betel stains and jugglers whom the rearing snake caresses” sacrificing beauty for rhyme? Makes me wonder what’s really going on when I read Yevtushenko. My feelings for Robin are a wild seesaw through indifference, unaffected affection and outright rudeness. Had it out with him on our walk. I hate this “game” – can I get my hand up her thigh? Will she let me touch both breasts? It pushes us apart. He said “Do you realize after three weeks we may never meet again?” I said, “If we stand long enough in Piccadilly Circus they say we’re bound to see each other.” He was very huffy: “I’m not going to Piccadilly Circus!” He called me a “prick teaser” so I called him a bastard. There’s even less in it for me than there was with Aiken! I refuse to walk with him any more, will only see him at The Black Hawk. My diet of One Meal a Day (can’t be bothered to leave my room) plus constant dancing has exposed all my ribs. I’d like to be even more emaciated but have no will power (two ice creams for dinner!) Frannie’s having a party tonight and Robin WON’T be there! A welcome change.
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Mon 26 Jun 67
So much has happened! I covet every moment! Screwtape Letters remind me every day is a gift and warn me against reverting to self-pity. CS Lewis amusing & cultured. Unfortunately his God demands belief and I do not believe in a jealous God. Jealousy’s a sin! Also don’t care for “forcing” prayer. Is it a tribute? I pray to my inner resources every day! Finished Quennell’s Byron – Years of Fame and started Miss Bigland’s Lord Byron; sheer plagiarism! Reading Waugh’s Men at Arms instead. He is a genius! I think we would look like his stumbling, bumbling characters if we could view ourselves objectively. The weird part is Waugh LIKES the army! I guess he makes fun of everybody. The Madwoman of Chaillot is a failure because everyone knows going in that rag pickers with daisies are Good and Presidents in tall black hats are bad. But we don’t live life like that! Spent half an hour putting on my gypsy makeup. Jodi very worried I don’t do it the same way every night! Looking forward to Tiplady’s party – having someone interesting to talk to makes everything worthwhile. Tues. 27 June 67 Everyone got drunk on beer at Tiplady’s party. I hate beer! I guess I should be glad there weren’t whisky sours or Purple Jesuses. I cold-shouldered Robin and he grabbed me and kissed me in front of everybody! Told him I forgive him. I’m the forgiving type. We danced and sat around. He stroked my thigh beneath the table. Horrible letter from Shawn – a more prosaic and fatherly epistle cannot be imagined. Why do all boys flunk writing? If they knew the power it confers! Maybe Robin will do better. Shawn is a Victorian – working hard to separate girls into “types”. (He’s the “Victorian type!”) This is the boy who bit my breast! I ran right up to dorm after and refused to talk to him until he apologized over and over. Obviously to his way of thinking it’s somehow subtly my fault! His bad letter had the good result of keeping me from missing him so much. I let Robin stroke my belly, even though if he was Shawn it would have given him “dangerous ideas”. Got a coveted part of Dodo in the Merry Widow – a Maxim’s dancer! I didn’t even want to try out I was so convinced of my own inferiority but Mr. Johnson made me! Abject humility! Mr. Dolan was very polite about my reading – he is the best of the professional actors here. (He completely saved the last play.) Alas the play is hopelessly insipid. But we do get a lot of fun costume changes. (I run right up to the audience, throw my skirts over my head and show them my backside! This will be especially fun with a theatre full of nuns!) We have been working so hard I am a living bruise. Back to the dorm to boil myself pink, enjoying Gladys Schmitt’s very well-written Rembrandt. It’s full of trivia but LIFE is trivia. She’s latched onto a great theme – birthright sold for a mess of pottage. Of course if you need pottage, what are you going to do? Solitude is as refreshing as a meal. Starting to feel bad for Casey - she doesn’t know what she’s getting into. I must be a trial to live with. 12:50 AM Fri 16 June 67
Trying to keep away from Robin or I think The Inevitable will happen. Three months without love can’t be borne! He keeps following me around and joking with me. He elbowed into being my partner in ballet! He lifts me up with a smooth flat hand, right beneath my rib cage. He may look spindly and sick but he is strong and lightning sensitive. He always catches me in the “trust falls”. During rehearsal I was writing to Shawn and Robin came and sat by me and said, Is that a letter to your boyfriend? I told him it was and nobody writes long letters the way I do! Robin said HE DOES! We can write each other after we leave – or starting now of I want! Uh oh. Dangerous to ask me what I want! Shawn didn’t ask me for my address – I’m putting it on the envelope but I might hear nothing. Feeling very down right now and not seeing a single lovable quality in myself. I am one of those insecure people needing constant reassurance – like a spaniel. Do I have patience for The Endless Games? I prefer erotic dreams… Thurs 22 June 67 I am in the smoker listening to Barbra Streisand who always brings my emotionalism to the surface. Lost the part of Mollie in the Mousetrap – my own fault. Robin is so good – (he is Giles) perfect accent and everything – I just can’t manage it. Said I’d learn it - overconfident as usual. Now I’m just a stagehand. Robin is worried he will be stereotyped in villain roles because he does them so well! (It’s that thin, sinister face.) I got stuck with Julie Haydon after the preview performance. She talked endlessly about how bad she’d been and it didn’t matter how many times I said she was fine – it didn’t register. Robin was dragged into a passing car to go to the party, I’m stuck Helping the Star Take off her Makeup. I wanted to talk about George Jean Nathan and New York City in the 20’s – (she says their anniversary’s in a few days) but she wanted to talk about her wrinkles. And when I said the part needed wrinkles that was NOT the right thing to say. She did tell me about her wedding aboard a Caribbean cruise liner and their conversion to Catholicism. Finally a car arrived for her from the hotel and I walked back to the dorm by myself. Pathetic! When I got to the dorm I was told it’s Illegal for girls to walk alone after dark! Great! Then my purse broke and my stuff went everywhere. Fortunately the nuns are very kind – they really control the atmosphere of this place and work hard to seem human and not just institutions. I feel most sorry for them having to wear such cloddy shoes. Oh, well, they’re not out to satisfy my aesthetic tastes! Up till 2:30 AM reading Byron. Dressed in my blue and white polka dot voile culotte dress with the white collar and cuffs to perform for the NDEA reception. My drama piece is Shelley’s Letter to Maria Gisborne, which kept the teachers mesmerized while nuns played violins & harps. Robin said, “You look cool and pretty.” He looked good, too in a green madras coat. Of course he wanted to now why I wasn’t at the party! He said Jodi is making a huge play for him but he doesn’t like her. Says the party was depressing - the director yelled at everyone. Says we better hope the reviewer from the Minn Star doesn’t come – don’t get false hope - our all-nun preview house will laugh at anything. After dinner we walked out on the golf course under the stars. He said, “You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met.” I was genuinely surprised. “Me?” “You don’t like it here, do you?” I said all my failures are bringing out my stubbornness then HE was surprised. He didn’t think I felt like a failure but I’m so BAD at EVERYTHING! He said he would “help” me, which doesn’t make me feel better. I’m used to being good at things! He was also surprised that I don’t consider myself beautiful. But really! My face is all misshapen and lumpy! He said I had “a good face for makeup” and I could tell he meant it as a compliment instead of “cover yourself up” which most girls would think. He wanted to hear all about my friends and family – said I obviously came from money, has a chip on his shoulder as a “poor boy”. |
Alysse Aallyn
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