Alysse Aallyn

Diary of a. Dancer

1:45 PM Wed Nov 9 –78
            I’m in need of a “carte d’identite” so I can look at it 

and figure out who I am. Read the first draft of The Speechless and the
accompanying comments of my college writing teacher. She bollixed it
up. Her deconstructive destruction seems purposeful – I don’t believe she
didn’t know how good it was. Can I save it?  I know I should work on one
thing at a time but apparently my mind doesn’t operate that way.
In the mail a letter from a publisher offering to read
my poetry – for $50.00. Took me longer after that to sink to the necessary
depth to get some writing done. And it still probably wasn’t any good.

    Thurs night – Plush Palace – Nov 9 - 78
            Working tonight with Roulette and Jerry – wonderfully 

hilarious old hands. We laugh until we fall over.
“How Deep Is Your Love “ is throbbing through the walls, Maureen’s got me in a costume-trading whirl and Roulette is so heavily
into the Jack Daniels she is showing everyone pictures of her dog. (A
Doberman. Who looks exactly like every other Doberman I have ever seen.)
Suddenly I’ve acquired a whole new dancing wardrobe. But will it make me a
new person? That’s what I want to know.
With a view to listening to Marc Kramer for once in my
life because he’s rich and I’m not. Avril and I went house-hunting. The trigger
was a wonderful broken down old house in College Park (complete with
white pillars) so I called to ask the price. Real estate agent sucked me
effortlessly in, entering into our quest with gusto. I am almost 28 years old
and although I don’t make much money – apparently I make enough.  The
house was hopeless. It needs $50,000 on the roof alone. But the agent has
plenty others to show us.
Bizarro letter from Ryder. He said “after that visit I
thought you’d never trust me again” and  “I bow down to you.” Which visit?
The one where I allowed him to give me a massage? I refuse to inquire further because that’s exactly what he wants me to do. He is just needled that I have so obviously given up on him. Why am I attracted to these weirdos? I know the
problem between us is that I want a mutual relationship and he wants a pack
animal. I want to be with the person I love and “love” makes him want to
run away (because it makes him feel “out of control”). But where is the
fun in telling him this? He couldn’t use the maze clue even if I gave it to him.
So I write a short note telling him I’m busy with Zach and Buck. That should
fix his jealous wagon.
I didn’t tell him about the hours of sexual bliss Buck and
I shared last night!  Buck is warming up nicely – invited me to his parents’ house
for the weekend – they will be away. Unfortunately, he snores horribly – sounds
like he’s strangling.  A by-product of motorcycle racing. Needs that cartilage
cleared out with a vacuum hose.  Trying to read Rumer Godden’s Breath of Air. Boring and unctuous. Put it down for Dear Scott/Dear Max, which is of course delightful.

    Mon 13 Nov 78
            Busted, wasted day. Avril called to borrow $90 so she can 

pick up el Diablo from Courtesy Motors – fortunately I had it so we went to bank,
then car dealer. Then I tried to get an oil change but they don’t do Fiats. Took long enough to tell me they don’t have the right wrenches. Real estate agent phoned
to say I qualify for special FHA loan.  I had to call my landlord because apparently I don’t have heat. 
Avril is having lots of trouble with Brady who is alternately
aggressive and suicidal. I think he is more trouble than he’s worth but admit he has very pretty, very long, long thighs. He and Buck went to high school then trade
school together – Buck exhibits a grisly picture of them at their prom with their
dates. B’s date is his soon to be ex-wife. Buck was also B’s best man but I was
spared those photos.
Zachary asked me out next Fri night but I’d rather be with
Buck – but if he doesn’t ask me in time I’ll tell him I’m ”going out with the girls.”
That’s what he tells me he does; “goin’ out with the guys” – so presumably this
is an OK excuse. If he says what girls I’m in a bit of a pickle. But I’m a writer –
I‘ll invent some. It can’t be anyone he knows. Fortunately he has no idea what
a hermit I really am.
Still stuck in the childhood of my novel. Can’t wait for
them to grow up. Re-read Le Ble en Herbe which helped a lot. (Aaaahhhhh…
Colette!) Off to Crown Books with A – then White Flint Mall for Christmas
shopping – had coffee at The Perfect Cup. Nice outing.  I bought wonderful
rhinestone cat’s eye glasses.  Saw Bergman’s Autumn Sonata – moving. 

    Mon 27 Nov 78 - 1:35 PM
            Time to write in this neglected diary while waiting to have 

my snow tires mounted. This threatens to blow my entire day. They also had
to replace a fuse that apparently blew in the middle of a rainstorm so that my
wipers stopped working.
Visit with Mom and Dad very touchy. (They are staying
with Peter’s mother Rita and everyone’s slightly angry I’m not dating him
and I can’t narc on his Secret Relationship.) Mom casually accepted an
invitation for all of us to go out to dinner on a night I was going out with
Zachary, so I said I would have to invite him and got a tirade on my thought-
lessness. Then I pointed out she was the thoughtless one assuming I didn’t
have any plans. She apologized, I apologized. It blew over. 
Then Avril had the nerve to ask Rita if she could
smoke – Mom exploded just as if it were her house. (Rita said No. She’s
trying to quit.)  M & D piled on me – I’m insane to contemplate buying a
house – even if the mortgage would only cost what rent already costs.
Their real objection is that I might “choose wrong” – somehow encumber
myself with a property that will make me even less attractive (if that were
EVEN possible) to A Decent Man. Not even dragging in Marc Kramer’s
sacred name as Advisor helped at all.
Dad did come see a few houses with us. (We’ve seen
16 so far.) He had to admit it isn’t a bad deal as long as I can get that FHA
loan. Zachary behaved very well around M and D – the “Official Boyfriend”
– but of course he owed me. Fortunately the evening was over before they
could find out too much about him (or he offered them drugs) so his
cover wasn’t blown.
Conversation at dinner very boring. Psychology 101.
“Why don’t people say what they want?” “Why don’t people try to get what
they want?” “Why do people lose interest in what they say they want?” (Rita’s
going through her third divorce.) Since no one seems the least bit interested
in the complexities of achieving Actual Gratification by attempting to mesh one’s constantly evolving desires with those of someone else I can only shake my head sagely and flee at the first opportunity.
Mom and Dad actually tackled these questions and
struggled with them like a pair of marriage counselors. The truth is Rita’s ex
has found somebody else and she shouldn’t be so surprised – they were both
married when she hove onto his horizon.
Got a very stoned phone call from Zachary last night – he
was over at Rod’s and “something” was making him horny. (I’ll bet I can guess.) Fortunately, I managed to convince him he was in no state to drive – leaving him
prey to Rod, probably.  Well, we all have to take our chances in this life.
Saturday night with Buck unsatisfying – he claimed his
non-breathing nose is preventing him from going down on me. I let him know his account is in arrears and he will have to do something about it sooner or later. He
chose later and fell immediately asleep. So I left.  I’m not sure I will ever get to
Stage 2 with this guy.  He made a point of tracking me down at Avril’s apt, calling to apologize.  A and I saw 3 more unacceptable houses – but the real estate agent
says there are plenty more. Fun to be in a buyer’s market for a change.

    Sat 7 pm Plush Palace – 2 Dec 78
            Just recovering from some tremendous bout of food 

poisoning – must have gotten it from the Sleazy Restaurant Around the Corner
– but all I had there was a takeout salad. Still, it could have been the dressing.
No fever. I was throwing up all Wednesday. I called A to drop by after class but
she was so worried she came right over. I finally was able to keep down some
chicken soup. Then we went to Bethesda in the eve to see Zach’s Gordon
Lightfoot impersonation – I had a little wine to make me feel better. (Free
drinks always taste best.)  Finally finished the childhood section but I don’t
feel good about it. Novels don’t want you to do anything in life but write
them all the time. I am only at p. 133. 

I am already exhausted and needing a vacation.
Cheered myself up by wrapping Christmas gifts – baroque music and Victorian
gift-wrap did it for me. I especially love those chubby Victorian cherubs who
couldn’t become airborne without at least two brawny stagehands hauling
on a mighty hawser. Reading My Mother/Myself in between boogie-oogie-oogying.   Dinner party with A, Buck, and A’s old boyfriend who happened to be in town. We ate stuffed Cornish game hen, played Clue and went dancing at
the Bastille.

    Thurs night – Plush Palace – 11:30 PM – 7 Dec 78
            Manic night – a dancer literally dragged off the stage by 

the police because her roommate is accusing her of stealing $3300 of furniture. 
Thank God she came back so I only had to dance one extra set.  Wed night
we found a house! It has 5 bedrooms, 3 bath perfect in every way except that
that it’s packed into a neighborhood of like houses so there are absolutely no
vistas. But the price is right. We made an offer but they accepted another offer
– ours is the “backup contract.” So, we still might get it.

    Thurs am 1:07 14 Dec 78
            Finished the novel in an insane burst of speed – 10 

pages a day for four days. Now I have to calm down and see what I’ve got.
I still feel pretty good about it – but probably reading it will depress me. 
And Devon will probably never speak to me again since he is in it. His
Christmas card says I am a genius and he is in awe of me. Hey, it could
be true.  My publisher’s statement arrived. $50. $50. There goes that Feb
vacation. Pretty sure I need a new agent.  What did “stooping to genre”
achieve exactly? I didn’t get a living wage. I didn’t get a publisher,
agent or editor receptive to my work. It’s like I’m starting over – again.
On an up note: looks like we might get the house! It is SO perfect.
Fenced in yard and everything.

    Mon 18 Dec 78 – Plush Palace 6:30 PM
            Horrible day. Everything that can go wrong has. 

Mailing off mss wildly expensive. Drove Avril around because the Gremlin is
in the shop again. Reading Bodyguard of Lies – history having its usual
soothing effect.  (Everything much worse for everybody else.) It looks like
I will have to work two jobs in Jan to pay for this house. Maureen the
costume designer wants to rent a room in our house – that would help. 
She wouldn’t be a problem – getting a masters in textiles at U. of M so
not the usual flaky personality that finds itself onstage. Concluded I really
have to break up with Z. It won’t be hard – just stop seeing him.
One good thing did happen – I was lying in bed at
1:30 AM nodding off over Bodyguard – phone rang. I almost didn’t
answer it – how could it be anything good – but I thought it might be Avril
with some emergency. It was Jervaze! He’s coming back. He’s been
offered “crew leader” position in his old job at the Pentagon with a $5,000
bump.  He wants to celebrate by taking me out – we can go to Clyde’s
where we partied for his birthday last year.  I hung up feeling good –
until I thought this will give me a reason to give up Buck. There’s no way
Jervaze won’t find out about him. Ugh. Confrontations. Unless I can keep
J out of club? Doesn’t seem possible that he is off the sauce. Must make
sure he gets a place of his own – he will be living with his brother to start
with. He sounded sober, I’ll say that for him.

    Plush Palace Tues night 19 Dec 78 - 7:30 PM
                Wiped out my savings account to pay bills – well, 

that’s what it’s for. We got the Queens Chapel house! Target date
for the move is March 1. Avril  and Maureen very excited. (It really is
huge. 5 beds, 3 bathrooms, divideable into 3 suites. Perfect. Huge
kitchen, dining room and fenced in yard.) I contemplate writing a book
of poems called The Lives of Dancers.  Trouble is, I’d have to tone it
down to make it believable. Got one poem already – Impure Women.

IMPURE WOMEN

Between my breath and your breath
Beneath the phallic philanthropic statues on
The volcanic dragstrip of my city
The wounded in the scorched earth policy
Of love
Muster, linger, await
Embodiment.
Pills to make their hearts race faster have
Stopped their faces dead as clocks
That witnessed crimes unspeakable
To mothers versed in tabloid gore.
Who will bring them
Absolution now that I am gone?
In the fresh wounds of a
Seconal summer
The stopped children meet
And kiss.

  Is it the approach of Christmas that’s bringing all
the old boyfriends back to me like elephants to a boneyard? Ryder
called. Marc Kramer refers to me his “dream girl” and can’t get me
out of his mind and we’ve been out what – three times?  Buck gave
me my present at the club – he looked adorable – bath goodies.
Don-the-Patent-Lawyer who’s been hanging around the club lately
asked me out for New Year’s eve. I had to refuse because Merrill
and husband will be in town but I told him to try later. He seems interesting
– like to get to know him better. Mature. Always trolling for someone
presentable to take Home to Mom.