Wed Feb 2 10:30 PM 83
Exhausted – twitchy – bundling together 8 erotic poems for Yellow Silk (“no porn.”) I have a cold but it’s not terminal – ears crackling like a forest fire. Sat 5 Feb 83 Trying to wean sugar sent me right off my diet like a drug addict. Depressing occasion: Louisa’s 91stbirthday. Could have eaten the whole cake myself. Must get something sweet – some “diet” puddings around to inoculate myself. Dearest T so romantically handsome, solid & perfect. His Mom doesn’t appreciate him. She’s such a bully – always looking for someone to beat up. Blood in the water. Injury sites that can be opened & explored. A piranha with a soft little girl voice; she flirts with the waiter! “Isn’t he magical!” No, he’s not. Just dragging plates back and forth hoping you don’t throw something, like the drink in Sutton’s face at S’s christening. In her own bizarre way she admires me but that won’t keep her from killing me or anyone else who gets too close. Then she’ll die of loneliness. Allergic to intimacy, apparently. But we’re all fake fake fake, drinking and eating cake. T and I are organizing the closets and I found a forgotten stash of poems – almost as good as if they’d been written by someone else. Like me the hummingbird Transcribes inner space A half wingtip pinwheel Leaving outer reaches To the ragged hawk that flies alone The hawk is: I am what shall be Isn’t that kind of fun? Sun 6 Feb 83 Poor Baby sick – threw up in his crib – sad little guy. Without a washer helpless to clean his blankets & sheets. T acting like this is all my fault in some kind of bizarre way. Making sure I know I’m on my own. Every man for himself, stab or be stabbed is the psychology. Doesn’t occur to him (unless I point it out) how much easier it would be tackling things together. Guess I’m home with Bug tomorrow. Wouldn’ be the end of the world. Watching The Winds of War tonight – not as bad as Blue & Gray. I know I’ll struggle to freedom someday. 2:45 PM Thurs 10 Feb 83 Feel sure this terrible period of my life is coming to an end. Tamsin very appreciative of what I’ve done for Color – nice woman. She’s very worried I won’t finish in time but I will. T. finally installing washer/dryer. Shane is an astonishing gift – lovely watching him get older. Reading Thwaite’s life of Frances Hodgson Burnett. Lucky lady! Being rich would mean NEVER HAVING TO PLEASE ANYONE ELSE AGAIN. 11 Feb 83 Unspeakable day. 1:15 and it feels like midnight. Worn to a frazzle – can’t work in a disordered study. These awful curtains are intolerable. But do I want to spend money on new? I’d adapt some sheets if had the time. A bad week without Nancy. Ghastly zit on my face – everything I do makes it worse. Bathe self & baby– then ALCOHOL TIME. Celebrating Avril’s phone call – she’s pregnant! Insulate Shane with cousins. Mon 14 Feb 83 Read Rosamund Lehman’s failure of a novel Ballad & Source. Henry James would have loved inquiring why she chose this weird 2ndhand way of telling her story. Never shifts gears (like House in Paris) into “what really happened.” Too bad because author got some “Rector of Justin” mileage out of the two Mrs Jardines. Reminiscent of You Know Who! Self-justification Or control? Skipped class again this AM – T had been up 2 nights installing washer/dryer system and really let me have it when I suggested he drive S to Nancy’s. I shouldn’t be going to college – I shouldn’t be driving Dom’s car – his is screwy & he can’t afford to take the train - many and various are my misdeeds. Stayed home, cleaned house, worked on Tamsin’s book. She’s worried its too short – told her I’d add 7500 words. Book will be done tomorrow and GOOD RIDDANCE! Wed 16 Feb 83 Just finished vacuuming in prep for mother-in-law. Unfortunately she’s spending the NIGHT (study.) T obstinately keeps up the fiction that I’m the Family Slob (in spite of all evidence to the contrary. ) Yeah he’s Organization Man. Enough to make a saint weep. Fri 18 Feb 83 V Woolf & E Bowen: Contrast & compare. Diff between The Suicide & The Survivor not as simple as who had the thicker skin. Woolf could be surprisingly crass about others – never allowing them the delicacy that nourished her. In spite of Bowen’s “unhappy” life one gets a sense of enjoyment, of expansion – she is notably “unlonely.” V more dependent on people, spiraling from pole to pole of Vanessa & Leonard. Servants unimportant in Bowen – earthshaking in Woolf. Woolf’s novels claustrophobic – Bowen a fantasist, a mythologizer. In moments of crisis they acted differently – Bowen seeks “outside” herself, Woolf feels “disowned”. Never recovered from that cruel childhood ragging – literary criticism an extension of that. Horribly puffy and exhausted from period. How to be a survivor, not a suicide? I sat and read while sailing surged around me: a promising sign. Cultivate a challenging serenity. Re-reading Lehman’s Dusty Answer.
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Alysse Aallyn
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