Inspired Pleasure

Diary of a Dancer Poet

            8:45 PM Plush Palace – 24 Jun 78 – Sat
            Bad mood. OD’d on junk food then lost my favorite 

hairbrush and other people’s plastic versions break my hair. Growl. I can
write it out. It’s a dirty job but someone’s got to do it. Emotional roller coaster
continues. Just when I declare myself a Celibate Slave to Art a very handsome
(and very blond) man comes in tonight. He works in radio, considering story
about dancers; wants to interview “somebody”.

“You hit pay dirt, my friend.” I tell him but I insist on
pseudonym. I was wearing my silver lamé outfit with the see-through silver
sleeves so looked tiptop if I do say so myself.

His name’s Rod Avery (I’m not kidding) and although
he’s newly divorced he lacks the Rip Van Winkle leer. He works for a reputable
national outlet. I can work with this. Mom would just eat him up. Bought tix to
an Agatha Christie play – maybe I’ll invite him instead of Avril.

            Plush Palace, Sat 1 July, 9 PM
            Rod and I engage in a little smoochy-smoochy hand 

holding following Christie play. I make an effort not to get so drunk that I
pull down his pants to view his namesake. Impatient to find out exactly
where my next sexual meal is coming from. Tach it up buddy.
In Dancer News, GiGi says Charlie NEVER goes
down on her unless he’s absolutely plastered. I want to know, “And then
what good is he?” She has to admit “not much.” Says he laps at her like
she’s a melting ice cream cone.

            Did like Pamela Hansford Johnson’s Helena trilogy. 

(Impressions of childhood, though, painfully unreal.) Now struggling with
Grahame Greene’s It’s A Battlefield. Diseased whores abound; women
bear their 12th child in crowded rooms (and because he’s a Catholic that’s
presumably All Right By Him) and a gay time is had by none.

            Midnight Sun-Mon July 2-3 78
            Taking Avril to Cellar Door for her birthday before she 

flies to Mich to see Merrill. Gifts Dior dusting powder & wrap around dress.
Festive occasion demands dress-up. A & I saw Grease, Rod and I saw
Heaven Can Wait. Just sweet enough but it didn’t “move” Rod as
much as I hoped. What if he’s one of the “pod people” with nothing
inside? Jury still out.

        Thurs 4:15 – 6 July 78
            Missing Avril so much!  Boy, did I get dependent. 

It’s just SO Fun to have someone to do things with who thinks ALMOST
EXACTLY the same as you do but with interestingly nourishing differences.
Rod is no substitute. Still can’t figure him out. His apartment is
completely stark. Bare. Not ONE THING on any of the walls. The
closest I can get to understanding him is that there seems to be no
feeling in his family. They don’t talk at meals. Father’s dead, mother
still sends him clothes he hates and he still wears them. (They are perfectly presentable. But what would he wear if she did not dress him? We’ll never
know. I’m not getting in the midst of that.)

He never suggests things to do. I suggest everything.
Charlie Byrd in Annapolis (just because I love Annapolis) was OK. On the
other hand, when we went to Le Bistro he ordered Piper Heidseck
champagne out of the clear blue sky! Because he said now he’s “finally dating.”
So that took initative. Right?

Nice letter from Devon who ‘feels veneration” for my talent.
Sweet. Reading Green’s The von Richthofen Sisters.

            8:30 PM Fri – 7 July 78
            Driving in to work in a haze of ecstasy after Perfect Day, 

heard an infuriating review of Heaven Can Wait by Penelope Gilliatt. Really the woman’s a moron. She says she would understand a movie about transmigration
of souls in “wartime” but why now! Who GIVES these people a podium? How did
she get this job with so little artistic sense? Bullied her way to the top, most likely.
Von Richthofen Sisters turns out to be boring PhD thesis.
So hard to get it right. Therefore switched to Murder of My Aunt. Amusing.
(Richard Hull).

Big tipper in tonight. $138 so far! I feel like the pigeons
in A’s experiments. “Intermittent reinforcement!” I have to pick up Genevieve
and Brett up at the airport tomorrow for Women’s March (we all wear white.)
Bringing them back to my place to eat first – I made a gorgeous salmon mousse. Invited Rod just to see if he’s cool.

            Sun July 9 78 2 AM
            He’s cool.  Wore white, walked the whole march and 

was so charming to Genevieve and Brett they were dazzled. I’m now
feeling relief that I only have ten days till vacation – don’t think I can
become “over involved” in that short period of time.

            Adelphi Grist Mill Park – 11:15 AM Mon July 10 – 78
            Sunbathing on my favorite rock.  When I get hot

I’ll splash around (like the dogs are already doing). Hardly a dry spot
left on this rock – but who cares – my diaries have seen worse. A year
ago, the Last Act of the Romantic Psychodrama just beginning. Whew.
I think I came out of it all right. I’m starting to see a possible Harold-Nicolson/
Vita Sackville-West thing developing with Rod. (He actually KNOWS WHO
Harold Nicolson is!!!) Last night I almost raped him in his theatre seat but I am determined to let him make the first move. But I do need to know how long
I’m going to have to wear Glamorous Lingerie every day (just in case). I am
starting to run out of glamorous lingerie. But we are having a lovely time – he
is witty, intelligent and aware. I “confessed” all about Devon – my longest
relationship – but because he’s a “newly consecrated minister” I can see
Rod’s not too worried. If he only knew!

A good development is I’m learning not to drink so
much. If there isn’t sex right around the corner one must stay aware. Coffee
“without dessert” so to speak. It’s good for me. I told him the whole plot of
Secaire – weak points become immediately obvious. He tells me about
his wife.

2 PM – Back at home to ringing phone – new
croquet ball on the pitch! Marc Kramer coming into National – do I want
to have dinner and discuss My Finances. Hmm. Maybe. He knows I’m too
poor to invest in anything. But I say Yes.

            Fri. 8:05 Starlight Club Springfield, Fri 14 July 78
            I hate this club. It’s a bitch of a drive so I rarely come 

here but the tips are good. Need the cash for vacation. Unfortunately, I am
working with Danielle – the Brazilian lesbian who threatened to kill me. I’m
hoping she won’t recall she threw boiling hot coffee at me. (Her aim is bad.)
She’s usually pretty much out of it. Got $100 tip already from a guy who wonders
why I don’t dance at The Gaslight downtown. Because the dancers have to
waitress there! Ugh! That place is legendary. I tried to be polite but really.
Anyway, Kramer was different from what I expected. We
ate prime rib at The King’s Contrivance – he seemed a lot older and a lot sadder.
He says whenever he hears 10 CC’s “I’m Not In Love” he thinks of me.
I asked him what about finances – he said I should invest
in real estate. Wants to “watch my stocks.” I was embarrassed to tell him
there isn’t anything to watch what with Dad keeping such a closed fist on the
shares, and me having to sell everything I get. I start to suspect Dad is
CONFIDING in him about his estate planning and PRETENDING “our”
investments are actually OURS.
This meant we didn’t have that much to talk about and
the evening ended with a damp kiss when I turned down sex. I say I’m In a Relationship. He says he’s thinking of proposing to his red headed secretary
who reminds him of me. I am kind of insulted but told him to Go For It. I guess
I had this built up in my mind – sort of like Chuck Kornowitz where you think
it’s going to FINALLY be about SOMETHING ELSE. How my Mom would jeer!
(Wore my 3-piece suit, anyway. With eyeshadow.)
He says he has to come through on his way back
from Oklahoma, thank God, I could say I’ll be in Maine. Looks Like It’s Over.


Poor periwinkle hides
within the final
spiny spiral of his shell, no
stronghold that from
hungry file-worms’ whippet tongues nor
sun-mad amateur biologists nor
ten year olds; while I
more evolved, lie
among the oval-jointed shells, the
sheepswool sponges, camouflage
my breasts as comb-jellies, hair
as seaweed, fooling none yet
impressing those
I can’t deceive.

            2:15 AM Mon 17 July 78
            Another fiasco.  I should leave now while I’m behind. 

This has certainly been Trial and Error Week. How did poor Rod – Desirable
Husband become Inevitable Discard? I’m sick to death of the Hand Kissings
and the Knee Pinchings, Goddamit. There is something seriously wrong
with this man. We had dinner & drinks at the Peter Pan Inn, then drove up
and down Price Distillery Rd until I assaulted him. I admit it. He is under
the impression that we “made love”. Trust me, one time was plenty. This
is a man who does not “think” with his body. He gives nothing back, an
absorptive rather than reflective surface. I was just able to prevent myself
from rushing to the bathroom to masturbate. I worked hard not to let him
know how just how incompetent he is, because really, there’s no hope.
Some sad girl somewhere who hates sex is going to find her “dream man”.
I shouldn’t have pushed it, although seriously I don’t think he will even question
if it never happens again.
Damn shame is all I can say. A cruel waste, when he’s
so charming in every other respect. Life is brutal. Sigh. Enjoyed Pretty Baby
so much I saw it twice. (Can’t pay close enough attention while Rod is talking.)

            Wed 19 July 78 - 3:20 PM
            Unbelievably hot. Woke up sluggish, ate last night’s 

macaroni, felt worse. Ate grapefruit, felt better. Eddy called me for a double,
I refused. Read Mary Kelly’s Cold Corse. Interesting. Gave me new ending
for Secaire. Off to the creek to play in the naturally freezing Jacuzzi. Must buy
Perrier, fruit and yogurt. Reading Jessica Mitford’s A Fine Old Conflict. Charming.

    Shadowe Island – Burnside Inn – 31 July 78
            The island its usual immortal, eternal self.    A ragged

paradise. Avril 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 at the Burnside Inn Paul Morris offered me a drink and we chatted

very enjoyably. Trying not to be attracted to him. This vacation might resolve
its masturbatory throbbings when Devon 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 about Moral Fiction – 

I feel an enormous pleasure in his intellect. He asks me if being a poet means
you enjoy life more intensely. I say YES. Maybe we can transition this into a

            11:30 PM – Devon just phoned – long conversation 

on power, authority and ambivalence. He is tormented by his family – can’t
figure out how to escape them. He needs to move out of their town but of
course they get him jobs SO HE CAN’T MOVE OUT OF THEIR TOWN. 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 determinative. Doesn’t in the least change who he really is.)

            Midnight Tues 8 Aug 78
            M & D both wrong and right. Devon DID NOT flee me 

at ferry but fell ecstatically into my arms. HE DID, however, painfully said he
can’t express his love for me in “a fully integrated way” (because parson!) 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.)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: