28 Aug 80
Trying to assemble poetry MSS depressing the hell out of me. Who am I kidding? Ordered $63 worth of shorts. Baked honey bran bread and felt better. Need to take up bike riding when we get to Grovers’ Mill. Police cars assemble outside. Mr. Booger hopelessly drunk again. Wed 30 Apr 80 T and I had our WORST FIGHT EVER last night – any fight I don’t dissipate rapidly becomes OUR WORST FIGHT EVER. I was so angry that it would be my JOB to smooth things over. What if I don’t? Will he just explode and spatter the walls like John Cassavetes in The Fury? I get sick of being “blamed” for everything. I refused to let him off the hook. “Where did you put the car key?” What if I didn’t touch the car key? How about “The car key is lost. Do you know where the car key is?” I’m starting to see why Seth is crazy. This kind of milieu would drive anyone crazy. No of them has any idea how to apologize. There is frenzied hysteria about “status” and “loss of face” that would fit right in in thirteenth century China. I pointed out if he wants us to have a pleasant dinner with Judge Liebowitz he is going about it wrong. Why show up a party at each other’s throats? He suddenly confessed his parents ALWAYS started fights before a party and his mother ALWAYS began parties angry at her guests! He had never seen it before but he certainly agreed it’s mighty stupid. He smiled, shook his shoulders and said, “I know you’re going to be your effervescent self” and I said, “You better fucking hope so. Let’s hope I don’t vent my spleen on you the way you do on me.” The Liebowitzes came and I was very nice. The Judge and I got into a spirited conversation about Erle Stanley Gardner and the Judge said, “Of course he never practiced law.” I could see the alarm in T’s eyes that I would contradict him but I sweetly let it pass. Dangerous corner averted should be worth quite a few orgasms (Gardner did a lot of work for the Chinese community whom he saw as victimized.) Judge very impressed that I had read Clausewitz’ Art of War (his favorite book. It would be. I told T later “You don’t want to clerk for this guy.” He is T’s “biggest connection.) I try to discuss it after with T. he says I am “harping.” Anyone waiting for him to apologize about anything is going to wait a long time. 1 May 80 T. still angry. Slamming doors and accusing me of “nagging.” I thought, boy will my children be lucky having me for a mother if this is the way some people are raised! Will he ever get over it? Time will tell – four months till the wedding. I remember when I stopped trying to fix my relationship with Bruce it immediately became broken forever. What I don’t understand is WANTING to be miserable. Seems like a phase T has to go through. 7:05 PM – T came home whistling, walked upstairs, said, Forgive me. I hugged him and hugged him and tore his clothes off!!! Novel up to 240 p. Writing to the point of dementia. 6 pm Fri 2 May 80 Getting exciting! Two weeks! In this weather the city really presses in. Have started taking my walks in the eve. On draft 3 of that idiot blood novel. Too, too depressing. I need to cheer it up somehow but how? Literally do not know how to be literarily cheerful. A bad sign. Should I write a love story? But love is fraught with problems! Think I need to put it away, take another look this summer. Figure out how to saturate it with Colette luminosity. Send mystery to Liddy for ideas. Last night I had to call the police about Booger kids throwing bottles at the house next door. God the last 6 mos has been difficult. I wanted to live here but I couldn’t. It’s more than the rights of wife vs live-in lover. T. can’t handle any mention that this house is less than ideal. But at least it’s been a good investment. I think he will be as glad as I am to leave. Sun 4 May 80 3:30 PM Now I am REALLY depressed. Tried to read An American Romancewanting to see what The New Yorker considers a good love story. Ghastly. Bad style. Literally unreadable. The sex scenes were at least interesting (he calls cunnilingus a “duty dance” with the hostess. Sounds like fun, right?) Starting to think alienation comes from Puritanism. Refusing to allow oneself to feel. Think I need to stop “Fitzgeralding” my novel (he always restricted his own choices out of second-guess self-hatred & panic.) The way people see themselves can save them or destroy them. God I love T! He had excellent interview with Judge Ackerman who might take him for a clerk! $20,000 year. Reading Carole Klein’s Aline– T Wolfe would have published nothing without her. Feeling actually encouraged by HIS depression. Wed 7 May 80 Definitely a fish out of water at T’s compatriots’ “goodbye parties.” Guess I have the rep of dragging him away. Rushed out to buy typewriter ribbon and who should I run into at the office supply store but T and 3 of his workmates who invited me to lunch. I find T’s work persona a bit of a strain. Felt I’d been dragged into the smoking room of a men’s club. He described my novel to them as “about incest.” H ho ho! Hysterical! And T wonders at my “rivers of blood.” I guess we haven’t grown together enough yet. Just hope we can fit into our new skin. I’m absolutely sick to death of this novel and very doubtful that this is the way to write but EVERYBODY says it is! Vomit it out and lap it back up! Ugh. All these rejections really play havoc with your sense of accomplishment. Looking at Plath’s suicide in a new light. Taking my vitamins religiously. Doctor says I don’t have mono. I must be in mourning. Feel like my parents deliberately raised me to have no survival skills. 6:45 PM– Just finished the book. Did feel some pleasure at the end. 302 p. Mon 12 May 80– Clouded over day Just finished My Cousin Rachel– a man kills a woman out of overwhelming jealousy. Similar plot to Rebecca – poor old Daphne in some kind of deep distress. Kind of reminded me of Jane Eyre: “wish fulfillment.” Of course the gang likes that. What is the literary tradition of WOMEN tortured by jealousy? Hags & harridans. Prostitution is an interesting theme. Imagine having a “cash value for everything. We’re going to have a real storm today. Fortunately Lois made graduation easy (not competitive with me as per usual) although when Sutton (T’s father) was here a certain iciness warns us not to have TOO good a time. On Sun we made love all afternoon till she finally called us down. Today I got an acceptance as a writing fellow at Brooklyn College! Doesn’t sound like much money but status, mentoring, help. Maybe. T. has faith in society: I haven’t. Plumly exemplifies our experiences: he was praised and cossetted (teachers turned a blind eye finding him off bounds) my skirts were measured while I was forced to knee. What kinds of boys would we raise if we measured their codpieces, one asks? One needs courage to believe in one’s own experiences. Still, it means I can’t go to Princeton Theological Seminary. Easier to spend than earn that’s for sure. What a joy is the intellect! I am a late starter but I have been distracted. Have to spend all tomorrow packing. Goodbye dinner at T’s editor’s house: his wife has a sign on the wall: “Happiness is where you find it Not where you seek it.”
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Alysse Aallyn
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