Thurs 16 Feb 67
RoachFace didn’t like my story. “I” for INCOMPLETE. Guess the whole Modern trend in literature has passed her by completely. She says she can’t “figure out what’s going on.” Ask Mrs. Dalloway! Read it aloud to Casey who said, “It does make you want to know more.” I call that a success! Anyway I can afford an incomplete since I run Junior English.
Working on an appropriate revenge. How about an incredibly ugly old lady with an empty love life and a non-existent sex life who falls hopelessly in love with 16 yr old pupil? Death in English Class. Unsubtle, ye thinks? “I’ve never seen a mind so tangled, a girl so strangled” as the Stones would say.
I may give her a pass. I’m in a very good mood, listening to the Stones and writing pornography. Even the discovery that Brice is “against” my relationship with Aiken can’t harm me! He wrote me a long KOB last night – “You’re everything a man could want – beautiful & clever” but goes downhill from there! “I am in love with both of you, trying to solve problems by bringing my “forbidden territories” together I’ve created Frankenstein.”
No he hasn’t! Leave us alone! Imagine his “conscience” acting up at THIS point! I have to find out how much of this he’s said to Aiken. If I were Aiken I would drop him like a hot potato but do I want that? If Brice withdraws support does our house of cards fall down?
This is all Aiken’s fault for allowing an intermediary like something out of Cyrano de Bergerac. It devalues him.
Took my own trip to Princeton yesterday to see Hamlet. Unfortunately a box lunch and a bus ride brings out the four year old in teenage boys. All the girls sat in the back watching transfixed while they bounced and screamed and threw chicken bones! This is why they have single sex schools, to preserve enough Healthy Mystery so we can Mate, already! We feel like sane people sentenced to the looney bin!
Should I tell this to Bloy the Boy Next Door? He was so envious of the whole Boys’ End, Girls’ End thing – when I told him The Legend of the Girl Who Sent Herself in a KOB I thought he’d die. The truth is so discouraging I would turn to Fleur the HalfBack if I didn’t have Aiken! (Alas Fleur is more of a FullBack these days.)
But I don’t have Aiken and that’s the point. In the arras scene I suddenly realized he’s Not My Type. Very Polonius (with a hint of Bolonius.) He’s just too staid. Do I want to be lectured lifelong on Southeast Asian Politics? Like marrying Daddy!
You also should never marry someone till you find out what they expect. I get the distinct impression that although I wouldn’t have to do housework for Aiken he would expect other Old Fashioned Disgusting Chores. You now like tending his Requirements. I can tell by the way he asks me to hook the cufflinks on his French cuffs he thinks he’s the racehorse and I’m the groom. Non merci! I’ve got races of my own to run!
But he has SUCH A NICE BOD! I wish I was seeing him this weekend. Damn. I’m too poor to go into Philly on my own – things are so bad I had to sell my alarm clock to afford ice cream.
And we have to leave – there have been blackouts and Power Outages lately. Looks like Scarface down in the PowerHouse is revenging for his minimum wage.
That will teach the headmaster to hire ex-cons.
Tues 21 Feb 67
I’m in the throes of some Fatal Disease. I’ve got bumps on my thighs, sores in my mouth and a headache running all the way down my lower back. Miss Cluny says “gargle with salt water!” My collapse is a defense mechanism against a pernicious environment. Failed a math test – 31 out of 61! Parabolas not my strong point! Now trying to create a map of Portuguese holdings in the sixteenth century but just can’t find Ormuz. Why do we need to know this stuff? Get me out of here! I’m MUCH more interested in anatomy and the human psyche – and the anatomy OF the human psyche – but they never let you study that stuff here. Our “health” text says picking pimples causes brain damage.
Still struggling with Simmons’ Chekhov. Not nearly as exciting as Pushkin. Hemorrhoids, pets and love affairs all treated exactly the same. He so feared happiness. I like his letters though. Next I’m trying da Vinci.
Roach Face daring us to read Moby Dick but the book stone dead beneath her pudgy fingers.
In French we are plagued by Miserables. Taught by a Miserable, studied by Miserables. All French to me!
Stukey FINALLY paid me the $2 he owes me so I am slowly getting together cash plotting a jailbreak. Last night after Die Fliedermaus rehearsal I planted myself in front of Brice and said I was going on a meal per to see Aiken OFF MY OWN BAT. He was nice about it gave me $5 and the phone no. He is a fickle guy. Maybe I could sell him his letters back.
After setting my hair and donning my day-glo nightshirt I commandeered The Senior Phone Booth, sitting on floor instead of seat for Utmost Privacy. Dialed he number trembling with eagerness to hear his voice. Would he even be in?
HE ANSWERED RIGHT AWAY! “Hello?”
I didn’t even recognize his voice, it was so impersonal! The next few seconds fraught with drama! I mean, I knew it was me but he didn’t! Gives one an appreciation of the difference just a few seconds can make.
“Hi. It’s Alysse.”
“A-leeeeeeeessssss…” drawling in the familiar way! Yes, he has a special voice he uses only with me! So exciting!
“I could come visit you for lunch on Saturday. Brice says you might be writing a paper though.”
“I think I’ll be done by then,” he says. “I’d love to see you.” Then he gave me complex directions how to get to his place by subway which I had to memorize stupidly having no pen!!!
“Your time is up” droned a nerdy voice.
“Give me your number and I’ll call you back,” he said. So I did. Then I screamed, “Lindles! Get me a PEN!”
He called right back and we had a lovely chat. Our first. Maybe he’s my type after all.
Sun 26 Feb 67
Wearing tights, purple corduroy miniskirt, wide belt and boots I found his apt without trouble. I was bouncing with excitement but he left a note saying he went to borrow a car – “Make myself at home in the vestibule!” So I did, borrowing somebody’s Inquirer to read. A luscious blond exited. We eyed each other. Then I tried to figure out who he was from the nameplates. Cooper Fowler? Fowler Cooper? Great name!
After only a few minutes Aiken came bounding up and gave me a kiss — on the forehead. He was wearing a blue sweater and some khaki pants – eyes blazing out like sapphires. I just sucked him in, gulping like a guppy. He opened his mailbox – one letter. Said it was a check of his that bounced!
I told him I could stay then fearful I’d outstay my welcome but he seemed thrilled and offered to drive me back! We went to a smoky place next door where he always has lunch and I ordered the most appalling beef stew – worse eve that the school’s! Muffins, salad, coffee. We talked about Russian writers – I extracted a promise from him to read Gogol. He was very sneery about my acting aspirations – just like my father. They seem to think it’s all outer presentation with no inner work involved and I just can’t explain my attraction. I believe the word “exhibitionist” – horribly – was used. Brice, who worships the theatre, wouldn’t do that. I talked him into the 5:30 show of Blow Up, which I’ve been dying to see.
Then back to his apt where he put on some Cannonball Adderly. I must say it’s just awful, awful stuff. At least I coaxed him to turn it down, then I made things very easy for him by sitting on his lap. In moments we were making out furiously. Dizzying heights! I’m not so crazy about the “grinding” though. (You know what I mean!)
Then we got into a “shadow” conversation about whether it was better to be “partially” frustrated or “thoroughly” frustrated. Felt he was asking me something else – unspecified. Like I know what I’m doing! I love just being touched – like a concentration camp victim.
At a certain point we had to stop or we’d be late to the movie. I could tell he was grumpy. But he was so much fun in the movie line, pulling me inside of his coat, touching and grabbing me. Ate it up!
Blow Up is as magnetic and gorgeous as I’d heard. I fell in love with Jesus-eyed David Hemmings. Aiken too was stunned. He seemed to admire it — said it was like an extended dream. I loved especially that the mystery wasn’t solved but Aiken argued we were supposed to see something in the blowup and the resolution wasn’t good. I said we aren’t supposed to solve the mystery and he said very rudely “Where did you read that?” as if I can’t come up with my own ideas. I couldn’t remember whether I’d read it or not but at least I could say I’d seen L’Avventura and I know that mystery isn’t solvable. I prefer making up my own solutions but Aiken says that’s “unfinished” art.
There was one horribly embarrassing scene where David Hemmings plays with two teenagers who are all elbows, hair and knees. I winced but Aiken made no remark. At least I’m not child/skinny and when we got back to his apartment I proved it by taking off my top like Vanessa Redgrave. He complimented my “amazingly pale areolas” – palest he had ever seen! He touched my breast and an electric shock went through him! In moments we were making out passionately. He took off his shirt so we were skin to skin. Best feeling in the world! After a few moments he rolled over, took my face in his hands and said, “I have to finish.”
I said, “It would be my first time.”
He said, “Did you think I meant intercourse?”
“Didn’t you?”
“No,” he said. “God, I thought girls talked about these things on dorm!”
He mistook Plumly for a “finishing school?” He’d be better off with the girls from Wilton who wear eye makeup like raccoons and play hockey like them, too. I said, “We talk about nothing else but we don’t know what we’re talking about!”
Then followed the most excruciating fifteen minutes of my life. He wanted “me” to “finish him!” Eeeew! I mean, I did it with Trey but he was doing me at the same time! I don’t even know how to ask for what I want! I just bubbled purposelessly like a landed trout! He got up and made himself a drink – offered me one but I don’t like vodka.
“Don’t you have anything else?”
(Very annoyed) “No”.
So I guess he didn’t get to “finish”. Very, very hairy blue balls presumably! I’m frustrated too but that doesn’t seem to count – he assumes whatever I get is what I want and it’s true I’ve learned to roll with the punches (hem hem.)
I don’t even LIKE the word “finish” – it seems so unnecessarily terminal and I can’t quite picture it. Trey and I, after all, were rolling around nude in a bed – but this would presumably be me giving Aiken a hand job! Would I need a washcloth? Sounds so prostitutional! Inner visions of a fire hydrant coming loose and spraying everything in sight! Would we both need a shower after? Two showers? Am I frigid for not wanting to do this?
I did discover he WEARS SOCK GARTERS and this is the first real turnoff I’ve had with him. They look like slingshots! What baldness and fatness couldn’t do, sock garters have achieved. Ugh. There must be times he DOESN’T wear them! Surely they’re an artifact of some sort like collar studs.
He could read revulsion on my face. For a good actress, I’m a bad actress. I said, “Are you mad at me?”
He said, “Don’t say silly things” and bolted the rest of the vodka! Incipient alcoholism? I was sort of in a state of shock on the way back to school. I finally said, “Maybe this is post-coital tristesse.” I was joking but he said, “Without the coitus part.” Kissed me goodbye very affectionately. Should I stop being a virgin with a guy who wears sock garters? Can’t decide.
Fortunately I have Pushkin to come home to! “I was in love with you it seemed…I lost the kingdom of my dreams.”
Sun Mar 5 – 67
Incomprehensible greeting card from Aiken covered with Japanese writing. But at east it says inside, “je pense à toi” which I can understand.
Showdown with Reed Hambro Friday. I had just come back from performing detention in the Costume Room (I was sorting bats from fairies – I’ll have to go back to do peasants vs. nobility.) He dragged me into the Trunk Room to ask me, “Would you be disillusioned if I took wyamine!”
It’s that inhaler drug they’re all taking. Reportedly keeps you high for three days.
I said, “I don’t like the word “disillusioned”. Mad is what I’d be.”
“Well I took it after lunch.”
I felt manipulated! I said, “Have a nice oblivion!”
He said, “What if I have a bad trip?” All puppy eyes.
I said Bon Voyage! And left him there in the trunk room. At dinner refused to sit with him till his roommate Brent came over, all mad at me for being one of those Dylanesque blonds put on earth to ruin Man’s Good Time. The usual druggy spiel. “He thinks rabbits are devouring his insides! He thinks his skin is alive!”
“It is alive!” But I sat next to him and ate a few pretzels and tried to pretend I didn’t think he’s a dope. (I even let him put his arm around me). But for a good actress I’m a bad actress. I haven’t seen him since.
Sat. I called Aiken. He had such a bad hangover he could hardly speak. He said Brice was passed out cold on the floor. (“Finished” each other?)
He said he’s “trying” to have me “up for the weekend.” I said my parents rented a townhouse on Penn St and when they get back from Europe I can take weekends there. He sounded unenthusiastic. He promised to call me. I said “I’d better give you a time – I’m hard to get ahold of”.
“But very nice to get ahold of.”
Aww. Am I forgiven? (Particularly if I’ve got Brice doing the “wetwork”.)
“It’s best at night.”
“Particularly at night.” When his garters are off…
“After ten?”
“Wed after ten.”
Got this note in my box from Reed to ponder as I sucked down milk & crackers: “How to say I am sorry when you seem so sure I am not. I never pretended it would be a substitute for you…” (Like that’s what gets me. Jealousy!) Quite a double-edged sword it’s been this weekend for more than a few people. The disadvantage of your current frame of mind is I can’t put on paper how I feel. Would you reconsider Prom?”
I would. Because otherwise no date. I even apologized for hurting his feelings! I’m so sorry the rabbits ate up his insides! If nobody can produce that “special feeling” in you I guess you can always produce it in someone else. His eyes really lit up. Soon we were hugging and kissing. He is so different from Aiken! But at least I feel safe which is very emboldening – he is just going to pet me FOREVER. Soon I was huffing and puffing like a steam engine!
Isn’t life peculiar? The next voice you hear…
Alysse Aallyn 
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