Alysse Aallyn

Category: Creativity

  • Inspired Pleasure – the Dance Diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    8PM Sat 6 Aug 77

                                Be careful what you want in case you get it. Devon and I are suddenly in the midst of a very satisfying love affair. He called 5:30 yesterday – wish it had been earlier because I was in a psychic tailspin.

     Immediately tidied the place up, anointed my body, put on my black silk jumpsuit exploding with roses (last worn on date with R.)  He came in wearing tight jeans and a linen safari jacket – we had a very silly time over wine.  Christ he can look beautiful when he wants to.  Out to a restaurant – I ordered a “flaming volcano” and they had it! More silliness. 

     D. said, “Going out with you is an experience.” He couldn’t compliment me enough on my general gorgeousness (heh heh heh.)

                                We saw The Deep which was just what we both wanted – titillating glossy glop. D. kept initiating PDA’s (which he never used to –

      Wow has this guy grown up! He used to act like the Amherst PDA Police were everywhere!  He suggested we go to bed! 

     No loitering on couch!  Sexually he has all the time in the world –

    he’s all out for my pleasure – his orgasm of no importance.  He’s particularly good with my ass and I LOVE that. (He treats every sphincter like

     another pair of lips – I’m in a threesome with myself!) I always felt like he was “holding back” – not any more.

                              Tendernesses and confidences growing. Nice to be loved!

    He goes on and on about the beauty & sensuality of my body; my sexuality

     “like a storm!” (Like dancing.)

    Sun 12:30 PM Deck 7 Aug 77

                              Sitting over coffee, grits (to which Mrs. McManus has now addicted me) and Dorothy Eden. (The Sleeping Bride – very good!)

    Praying like mad for writing money. 

    Lucky things worked out the way they did – keeps me from obsessing 

    over R.

                                Bike ride! It’s a form of prayer.

                     6Pm  Hammering away – great scene – getting the good stuff –

    – typewriter ribbon gave out! Come on! At 6 PM!! It’s like having your horse shot out from under you. I was going to spend the evening writing. 

    Goddamit.

                       Starting to worry about R coming back from the Finger Lakes – he

    knows where I am – would he show up here? Aack!  No!  Impossible.  

    He can’t be alone. Wouldn’t drive that distance without a captive ear.

                                Reading Jane Aiken’s study of Jane Austen. Don’t feel a moment’s anxiety about D. Miss dancing terribly.

                                Mon 8 Aug 77

                              3 PM On deck loving the rising wind, reading The Scalpel 

    of Scotland Yard (Spilsbury). A perfect day. Trapped here for a few hours till the man shows up to fix trash masher – but at least I got my “naked exercises” out of the way. Today’s a scorcher – using air-conditioning for the first time. Cheated on my diet – ate a whole can of tuna. 

    Packed in water, fortunately. Body screaming for peaches and 

    almonds. Gutted the Pevensey library. They are running out of 

    books for me.

                                12:45 PM Tues Aug 9 – 77

                              Coming out of my coma to write agent a note.  

    After 3 months of not being “pushy” surely SOMETHING should 

    be happening.  I decide I am suffering from a disease that should 

    be called “Dickensitis” marked by severe self consciousness and 

    complicated by “Plath syndrome” (brutal social induction flashbacks). 

     Freezes me in my path. 

                              Loving  Solzhenitsyn’s article on Shakespeare & Tolstoy.  

    But do I love Devon?  Before all of this I would have said yes, very 

    casually but sometimes the better you get to know someone the less 

    you can love them.  He was at pains to explain his theology – but it doesn’t seem to involve God – it’s all interpersonal relations – which I

     have to say I think is just weird!  He wants to be “of service” to people and he’s aware – but suspicious about – the “mysticism” athletes get into. 

    I hate to say this but it reminds me of my mother.  Any  “be wary of people who have an inner life and try your best to get rid of yours” philosophy 

    is a major turnoff for me.  When we talk about “self-perfection” and “self-cultivation” we are talking about VERY different things.

                               I casually told him the more I get to know him the lessI know him – and he was very pleased!  (Relieved.) He didn’t say why –

    but I know he doesn’t want to be “easy”.  I didn’t tell him he’s still held fast in Sleeping Beauty’s overgrown castle, in my opinion.  Don’t think 

    I can get him out of there. I always try to plan my strategy if he tried 

    taking the relationship up a notch. But he can’t suggest we live together while he’s a divinity student.  Think I can relax about it and just enjoy his magnificent body.

                                 Take, eat. Old wounds between us are entirely healed. 

    If D is stuck in SB’s castle, where is R?  He is unborn, a baby 

    dreaming in the womb. “When I grow up I’m going to have lots

    LOTS of girlfriends but they will all be PERFECTLY RESPECTABLE 

    and SEXUALLY DYNAMIC but only when I say so!” 

                              I regret most working so hard to make him “certain” of

     me, to make sure he knew exactly what I was thinking and feeling.  

    I put my cards not only face-up on the table, I handed them to the guy!  

    Not many people would be mature enough to handle that. Never

    discuss what I am feeling with D – haven’t mentioned R after our 

    preliminary intros “what have you been up to”.  I’m not sure he even knows how I make money in Washington.

                              8:45 AM Wed 10 Aug 77

                              Like the alcoholics say, one day at a time!  Exercises, 

    diet, sunbathe, bike ride, swim, etc. Doing a good job at that – horrible 

    job at writing – because I don’t hear from agent.  Confidence completely collapsed.  Sitting on the deck feeding Ms. McManus’ Caesar salad

     croutons to a squirrel.  He really likes them.  Reading Berckmann’s A Thing That Happens To You. Finished Thalberg’s bio – ho hum.  

    No swimming – maybe bike ride in the rain (just a misting). 

                              3:30 PM 11 Aug 77 – Thurs

                              Depressing letter from Chloe – she wants my help 

    with her MSS.  I agree with Henry James – all I can do is My Thing

     My Way. But I have to seem really approachable if I want radio

     work.  Conundrum. Catatonia.  Devon called.  Do I want to get laid? 

     I think so! Reading about grave robbers produces a poem;

    RESURRECTIONIST

    Unearth me, lover

    I’m a jewel now

    Melted

    In that crevice you once loved so

    Well; it’s an ingot now,

    a socket

    For our mingled liquid

    Essence

    Suck it up with

    Dust-lathered lips

    Strip

    The flesh as you once did

    The clothes; I’m burning

    Cinder-hot –

    Let me astound you with

    My time-perfected skill

                              Sat. 13 Aug 77

                              7 good pages writing, then bad letter from Ryder asking is our “living together” a ”condition” of “my return”?  Where the hell did he get that?  He just wants something to react against.  He can’t imagine a relationship that isn’t controlled by implied threats. He believes in

     working and suffering so much then – let him work and suffer. What would annoy him most?  If I don’t respond!  Ha ha! Let the panic begin! 

    Need to become more private – simply to protect myself.  For all I know he’s relishing the torture he goes through.

                              Devon and I had a glorious date – splendid dinner (steak!) 

    then made love all over the floor. He played with my body until he got it roaring and pulsating like an express train.  The way he handled me, 

    gripped me, held me, crushed me even – made me ask about his other girlfriends.  He said no, he never gets as much “touch” as he wants.  I said, 

    “Except with me”.  He said, “Except with you.” Over dinner he said 

    matter-of-factly that we are so alike loving me has always felt “narcissistic” to him.  I bet!  Happy, happy, happy… Picked up The Edwardians –

    I can’t get into it.  Keep seeing Devon’s body plying me, bending me…I know somewhere out there lies perfect happiness, waiting to astonish me. 

  • Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn

        7PM – Sat 23 July 77

                              Devon and I went for a long walk today, had a great 

    talk.  He told me all about his passionate relationship with

    English girl – asking “Do you really want to know?” I did – I managed to 

    be very hands off.  Said he’d written her “lyrical love-letters” and 

    she is saving money to come to US at Christmas.

                                Bit of a downer to find other people have split 

    minds like me. I told him a little about Ryder and even more about my husband. I had to hope he wouldn’t see it “retaliation” for what he’d told me.  (R would have.) Fantasies can be ugly if they prevent you from experiencing reality.

                                We hugged – he left – I know he thinks I’m too 

    “intense”.  I was stupid enough to read him my peach poem.  On 

    the other hand, if a guy can’t handle my poetry where am I? R only likes poems he knows are about him.

                                Wrote a whiny letter to Avril (who usually can handle 

    whiny letters).  Good today – bike, swimming, plus my walk with D. Long letter to Mom and Dad.

                                Reading Stella Gibbons’ Cold Comfort Farm – 

    can’t stay grumpy – laughing too hard.  Settling into my spaceship – 

    my own body – first day of the rest of my life. Listening to wonderfully crazy modern opera on the radio.

        Sun 24 July 77

        4PM

                                 Wrote 4 pages of A Demon Roused. Horribly

    dissatisfied. Patricia Highsmith on the suspense novel no damn 

    help at all. Everything I’ve ever written pure dunder written by a 

    dunderhead. Restrained myself from calling Ryder to yell at him.

                                Face facts.  Left DC June 4. This coming 

    month has to be gotten through. Feel I my “breakdown” I suffered last spring was a crisis of identity.  Attacked by the writing thing 

    (no money, no approval, no relationships) attacked by the relationship thing (R too critical, wanting to “change” me.)  Starving myself. Long mad midnight walks rampaging thru Chevy Chase with dogs. The ENDLESS  Devon situation only  explicable when seen in this light. 

    (He’s TOO good looking – too much fantasy.)

                              Now about my book. New beginning ALL wrong and

     I couldn’t figure out why. The characters seem alive.

    1. First Person Difficult. My husband always said 
    2. omniscient narrator no longer possible, making 
    3. me want to do it. However, I have to admit you 
    4. need to be somebody – an extra character and that’s a
    5.  bigger pain in the neck.

                                      2)    Scene Problematic. I’ve GOT to get these people out of England.  

            It’s artificial.  How about if I don’t say where it is?  Will the specificity cops come after me?

                                       3)    Format (Suspense novel) rough because I have to be

     the one who knows what’s going on and I want to write my first draft in a narcoleptic state. Means I have to be happy making a huge ness with a million 

    false starts and then write the thing ALL OVER when I know what’s going on. 

    But I feel time running out on me. Goddam it.

                             I should be happy to explore. Why all this pressure?  Two novels unaccepted, why write a fourth?  Am I deliberately trying to drive myself to the 

    brink of insanity? Also I HATE Sunday because the pool is packed, no stores are open, and there’s no mail.

                              Devon and his roommates Blair & Brian drop by and I 

    struggle to appear sane. Hard for me. 

        6PM

                              Called R.  to yell at him. He wasn’t there – thank GOD. 

    Maybe I just want to punish him.  He certainly deserves it. 

                                 1:30 PM Mon 25 July 77

                              Dark night of the soul finally over. Very athletic today – 

    feel deliciously tired. Decide I should go back to Washington no 

    matter what.  My choices are my choices. My happiness can’t be dependent on how people treat me. I plan to use my time to become powerful – to be the person I’m supposed to be.  In the drugstore line I was reading up on the showbiz personalities – nobody interesting before 30 and I have a few years yet.

                              Forget about weight – just follow & learn to love 

    “virtuous routine”. (I’m a size seven – that’s pretty good.) Today it 

    POURED rain –  night baseball Devon wanted to attend out of the 

    question.  He suggested we switch to a movie when he called this am. 

    Still feel stilted with him unfortunately.

                              Assault on library. Planning to ransack the place. 

    Leafed through Helen Hayes (poor woman); enjoying Thurber’s 

    My World and Welcome To It .

        Tues. 26 July 77 9:40 AM

                                Sitting on stonewall in full sunlight in my black bikini 

    waiting for pool to open. Swim and sunbathe till ll:30 when mail comes. 

    After 7 pm I can return – that way I miss the crowds.

                              Exercise, coffee, 3 glasses water. The Regime.

                              I’m down to $4. Embarrassing to be taken out last night 

    by Devon & his roommates. (We saw Star Wars. Childish, but they were into it.) Sent letter to Mom & D asking for stock certificates. They 

    won’t like it.

                              Dinner should have been nice but barbecue very messy. 

    Wore my tightest jeans and my pink French “Trés chic” t-shirt.         Devon surprised me by talking on and on about how beautiful I am.  Started to get stoked  – in fact I was horny as hell. I would have taken the three seminary students on if I could have avoided the interpersonal madness that would result. They all have beautifully athletic bodies. But I’m starting to get a feeling that if I just sit in my deer blind a bit longer Devon will come to me.

                              Every now and then I get a bad “Ryder – flashback”, like some synaptic slipup. What will I think of this years from now? Mirror images ache, then fade.

                                Cold Comfort Farm exactly 100 pages too long (but I 

    think most books are).  Take a long hot Jean Nate bubble bath and read The Thornbirds.

        2:30 PM Wed July 27 – 77

                                Masturbation is the better part of valor. Don’t make 

    decisions ruled by sex. Bike ride combined with cold shower doesn’t work.

    Must husband my wattage (joke). Too bad  sex is 

    such a fast way to get to know someone.

                              First draft of Demon so far bony and spare. Neatly 

    boxed “components” = “write your own novel”.  Trying to exterminate “dead” patches.  Wish I had done this with The Mass at St. Secaire – 

    but in those days I was in the “throw in everything you think of and 

    take it out later” school.  I like constructing this awkward armature better. Lean and mean superior to flagellate and winnow.

                              Will I ever let Ryder see my new body, my new confidence?  

    He will hang on for dear life and I don’t want that.  I want to go back to dancing but Ryder prefers I have neither security NOR money.)  Think I’ll look for a sublet – easier to impress a private owner than a credit union.

    I prefer living alone. Painstaking cultivation of intense privacy in the midst of a crowd has always been my forte.

                                Mom and Dad called – acting all worried. Apologizing

     for giving Ryder my number. I put on a good show of being completely ”over” him but I can see they don’t want me moving back to Washington and prefer Mrs. Duvall’s ski chalet option.  (My cynical side tells me it’s just cheaper.)  I act like I have connections to the literary life in DC and they don’t know any better.

                              Thornbirds is teaching me the great unpleasantness of 

    what publishers define as “a good read”. Contrary to my previous belief unfortunately the Victorian period has not ended. Forced to skip the war, potted history and scenery descriptions just to keep  going. 

                              7:30 PM Finished Thornbirds.  Neither Dane’s death nor Justine’s love affair rang true for me. Uh oh.  Danger signs.  My taste thoroughly out of kilter with the market.

                              Couldn’t swim – 3,000 spectators at some sort of race 

    in the pool. So went to library – checked out twelve books – bio, history murder mysteries. Alec Waugh, Somerset Maugham, Vyvyan Holland, –

    Hugh Walpole. Evelyn Waugh, of course. At this very moment R is 

    doing his very last show of 7:30 Live. Will they have a party or wake? 

     Probably go out drinking at the Shalimar, try to pick up dancers he can hector and assault. Time for me to go walking and see how the other (99%) live.

    HOT PROWL

    Don’t wake up.

    I surveil by night

    Your chiseled torso

    Slacken with exhaustion.

    Touching things that once

    You touched,

    Listing to your apnea –

    I turn away before you turn.

    Making peace with all my choices.

    It’s worth everything;

    Winning in divorce a

    Hard-won superpower:

    Invisibility

        2:45 PM Thurs 28 July 77

                              Loving myself today. I am very tan.  Hair strawberry 

    blond and my stretchmarks look like silk moiré. Any sense of inadequacy must be pounced upon and shored up – work like a beaver at his dam. 

    No worries, few fears. Daddy sent $ which I deposit in my acct. Since I can’t cash a check anywhere I eat what’s here; pickled beets and plain grits. Gallons of water to even it all out. Shake the old body out after 26 years.

                              Decide two people create love – I refuse to do it alone.  

    Reading Ford Madox Ford and grooving on his Violet versus Elsie 

    problems.  Schadenfreude. Years later poor Elsie says,  “I should have ignored everybody and divorced him.”  Alas, Ford is a self-centered fool.  

    Not a simpatico character.  However the period is a favorite with me. Mail hideously dull.  Nothing from Harcourt. Will my “Westerns” editor have thenerve to turn down an author they’ve got 105,000 copies of?  Yes. They’re all a bunch of weenies, frankly. Bike ride.

                              8:45 PM Finished article for the McManus mag about 

    Shadowe – “Island in Common” – 750 words – sent it off with letter.  

    Mission accomplished. Thinking of substituting a night ride for my walk.  

    Triggers fewer yearnings.

                             Ford’s moved to the US and I’m at the end of my tether with him. Tried 

    reading Jane Novak’s Razor Edge of Balance on V. Woolf – but she’s no threat –

    – Lingo Academico virtually impenetrable.

                              Loved reading Fowles on the Fr Lt’s Woman – even though he has a “tin ear” about the Victorians – their “failure” to depict “a man and woman in bed together” ! (How about My Secret Life!!!) He’s the real thing all right even though he launched 1st draft without any research. (It shows.) 

    I’m going to stop freaking out about how little I know London.

                                Full of joy & life & strength & immortality & pep.  Now thinking fondly of DC.  Resist the impulse to call myself a turkey for even MENTIONING living together to R. (I said in my phone message I had to have a house for dogs.)  

    I can see him crying over his beer at the strip club. Insisting his wussdom is independence. I feel and look mighty thin – but refuse the temptation to weigh 

    myself. Size seven is good enough. Took my walk looking indulgently at couples with children thinking, “This too is within my reach.”

                                Mail full of dull rejections NO interest or acceptances. But the UNITY MITFORD I’d ordered came which I’m reading now.  Must write about  sisters someday. It’s a trip.

      11:12 AM Sat 30 Jul 77

                                Going out tonight with Devon to see Annie Hall, that laff riot he hasn’t seen.  This is one of the things I love about life – it’s so unpredictable!  Give these guys space to stew they will eventually DO something. We had a nice phone conversation. I can tell he has “traumatized” himself by thinking he “lured” me fruitlessly here.  I tell him hardly, I’m writing 8 p. a day (of course it will all have to be thrown out) getting a tan and reading piles of books.  (All true.) Too cold & overcast today for pool though and now its raining.

                              Starting to get a feeling D and I will end up in bed. 

    It’s inevitable. How I crave that tight young flesh…Bet you $5. Will 

    wear my faded cerise linen jumpsuit, high heels and Nefertiti necklace. 

    Stoking! 

        4:15 PM Sun 31 July 77 Deck

                                Devon found Annie Hall so painful it took awhile for him to speak.  I was surprised but patient.   I couldn’t have dreamed up a movie more likely to focus all our reservations.  The scene where Annie tells Alvy she misses him made me think of poor Ryder – the separate fragile uniqueness of each human soul – and I could tell Devon was “feeling” his memories too.

                              We sneaked a pizza (a whole pizza) into the theatre 

    so we could come right back here for wine and coffee and more wine – 

    took three hours to get to the point of making love. 

                              In a fairly daring move D opened the buttons of my jumpsuit and stroked my stomach pulling down first one shoulder and then another to play with my breasts. Lovely feeling our bodies surge together. He’s good with his hands and has the most sensitive nipples of any man I’ve been with. At last I suggested we go to bed – the couch was really too uncomfortable. D went down on me – his body is the most gorgeous since the history of time – mountains, valleys, crevasses 

    – it’s like rock climbing making love to this man. He insisted on coming outside me which startled me somewhat, but after asking about my “protection” (IUD) fortunately abandoned this technique the second time.

                              He looks at me in a funny way like he wants to say 

    something but he doesn’t say it. I tried to tell him I’ve learned so much from our 5 year friendship – he seemed unable to take it in. He obviously fears the future and his memory is so bad – after the terrors of his childhood he thinks the whole past is all bad news.  It’s like he’s afraid to remember ANYTHING.  That would be the worst thing for a writer. 

    You dare not fear the past. Rhythms can’t evolve from longing alone.

                              We woke up, grapenuts & coffee, went swimming, sat on deck, watched tennis on TV.  Every time I changed clothes he said “the sight of you naked turns me on” and we made love again.

                              Tomorrow is the first of August – whole new beginning. 

    Try to see myself at 33, with a lawn and a bra and a trash compactor. 

    Freedom is key. No mail. Reading Geo Woodcock’s critical study of Orwell.

                              6:45 PM  Dark as night and pouring rain. Obsessing 

    about  D’s body – can’t get it out of my mind and our 22 hours together.  

    Welcome obsessions; R’s slate cleared. Did I use him? Is he “Brand X?”

     Thinking of all the things I wish I’d said to Devon.  He’s so intellectual yet so impermeable.   Strange delicate kisses – as impossible to get inside his mouth as his mind.  Loud thunder, lightning. 

  • Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    1 July 77

                       Today I should start my new novel – always the worst 

    part.  Lauren called to APOLOGIZE for our dinner.  I said nothing

     to apologize for I had a wonderful time.  She said she had an

     “off” night and they are upping my print run from 100,000 to 

    110,000.. So I guess I’m “on” again in case I write another Eng 

    gothic historical paperback they like (don’t hold your breath).  

    Threw aside Berckman’s Crown Estate suddenly can’t stand 

    other people’s writing. 

                       Very disllusioning dinner with Chuck Kornowitz. My 

    piece de resistance crab manicotti in Newburg sauce turned out 

    exquisitely but he only cared about the booze. When I mentioned The Great American novel he said it’s been written and offered to send it to me.   He edited it!  He only laughed at one thing I said – 

    he called Athenaeum a “very, very small publishing house” and I 

    said, “More of a hut, really”. He obviously thought I was going to 

    have sex with him so that he would read my book. I turned him 

    down but offered to make up a bed for him on sofa (he really seemed incapacitated by drink but he blamed it on jetlag.) He insisted on leaving, looking very cranky. He did wonder aloud who the hell I think I am?  What’s a little sex between “friends” (or supplicants & donors?) 

                       Letter from Devon (I needed it) cheered me up extraordinarily.  

    Just in the nick of time. I’m a loner, he’s a loner too – do two loners

     make a party? Having a hard time feeling beautiful when I am not 

    dancing and 50 situps a day and one filthy bike ride are no substitute.

     But this seminarian writes a mean letter. Loved  my novel. Looks 

    forward to servicing – er surveying Boston in my company.  Four

     hours on novel produces 8 bad pages. It’s a start. 

                       Ms. MacManus foisting her probate lawyer nephew 

    Henry on me. He came over to invite me to the beach 

    (and help me walk the dogs.)  He’s a pale,

     pale Ryder (he’d have to be Peter Frampton to arouse me at 

    this stage) and I feared he’d get sunstroke but I said yes. Saw 

    Jabberwocky – very Monty Python. 

                       Wrote a long wailing, complaining letter to Avril.  Try to 

    read Women & Madness but it’s too poorly written and repels 

    every attempt.  Norah Lofts White Hell of Pity – very depressing. 

    But you’re pretty much asking for it if you pick up a book with that title. 

                       11:00 AM Sun 3 July 77

                       Had to walk Genevieve’s dogs all the way to Columbus 

    & Ninth to find NY Times.  Henry cancelled – I didn’t know why till 

    Ms MacManus told me he found out I wasn’t Jewish!  Now she tells 

    me! (She’s not Jewish either.)  Reading First Person Singular – 

    actually some helpful dating advice.  Is it too crass to count on 

    having sex with Devon July 20? (That’s as long a wait as I think

     I can stand.) 

                       12:45 PM Mon 4 July 77

                       Almost strangled the dogs today. Sam rolled in horseshit 

    in the park. Had to wash them both.  Then they bothered me so much

     during my exercises I had to lock them up.  They howled.  Penance all around. Ms. McManus invited me to see New York, New York

    . We enjoyed Unsung Cole last night – and she is going to Martha’s Vineyard so won’t be around to make me her new chew toy. 

                       11:25 PM  Wish I could read the future. New York, 

    New York none too reassuring about male/female relationships. 

    Reading Leonard Woolf’s depressing Downhill All the Way.  

    His mind so different from Virginia’s you could call it “antithetical”. 

    Tomorrow’s excitement – double feature of Shame and The

     Passion of Anna.

                       12:25 AM 9 July 77 

                       Ryder’s divorce final. His relationship with me?  Still in 

    “separation” phase.  Trying to hate him but it’s not working. Pity 

    the petty man who revels in bondage. Feeling sorry for all his 

    future lovers is the best I can do. He would respect me more if I 

    was less sexually excitable, and that’s the ugly truth. Totally 

    resigned that Harcourt will reject Secaire. Went to Patti Smith 

    concert with Brett’s brother.  Kind of fun the way she barks out

     her poetry; but little too butch for me. He is an incipient pedophile 

    remarking on every thirteen-year old he saw (or possibly he was

     just trying to annoy me.) 

                       11:45 PM Sun 10 July 77

                       Loved  Rhoda Lerman’s The Girl That He Marries

     – never were reviews so misleading! 

                       July 14, 1977

                       Power out in the whole city! Living by candles. No 

    elevator doesn’t affect us readers. Doorman up and down the 

    stairs with flashlights looking for old people.  Dogs poop on 

    balcony. I seize any excuse not to write.

                       9 PM Fri 22 July 1977 – Mrs. McManus’ condo 

    Pevensey Old Farms

                     New deal: all I have to do for luxe pad is write an 

    article for Mrs. McManus’ real estate mag. I think rich people 

    are masters of bait and switch – I was supposed to be doing HER a favor – but of course I say yes.  Contemplate novel about homicidal house-sitter called Other 

    People’s Houses  but I see from Books In Print it’s been taken.

                       Lying here making new breakthroughs in the art of 

    writing sideways; disinfecting my ear from swimming. Wanted 

    to write about Monica Dickens’ Man Overboard or N Ephron’s 

    Crazy Salad or at the very least make a New Plan for My Novel 

    but find I can’t. Was very “good” today – swam, bicycled, some 

    writing. Allowed to eat anything here luckily her food is not too 

    outrageous – hamburger and zucchini salad.  Marinated artichoke 

    hearts.  

                     Refuse to shred my nerves further by hating myself.  

    My body’s not perfect but I do feel on the home stretch to self-control.  

     Give me six weeks and I’ll be flying.  Emotionally, I’m a mess.  

    Devon brought up marriage and I am smotheringly certain that I 

    can’t live up to either of our expectations as a parson’s wife. 

    Might be fun to try – but that’s not the point.  I fear the idiot side of me that just keeps coming out. Can’t seem self-assured, playfully 

    grave instead sexually voracious and maniacally ridiculous. 

                     Anyway Intuition told me he would call tonight between 

    8-10. 

                     He called at 8:30. I cracked too many jokes – conversation 

    painfully bizarre.  He seemed calm and unfreaked. He got a new

     job that gives him more “room” (he’s a waiter- he’s sick of teaching 

    people) asked when he could “show up” and suggested tomorrow.

                     Moving a lot faster than I expected from my memories of 

    Shy Boy. Do I want to have my fantasies played fast and loose with in this way? (Am I over Ryder?) Do I want to get over him?  Or are mismatches of Time & Desire my Fate?

                       I am certainly NOT turning down D’s offer to see what 

    there can be for us. Companion? Lover? Second self? Brother?

    Alas he is too blindingly handsome for me to be rational.

                     If he comes tomorrow there won’t be time for more than 

    necking (has to get to new job by 4.)

                       Forget “July 20”, entered on my calendar as S Day. 

    I WILL NOT MAKE LOVE TO A SCHEDULE. We have to have 

    a night alone to make things happen.  I can be patient – can he? 

    Well, I can be honest.  Best anyone can do.

                       10:45 PM  Back from a walk, reliving my years as teenage 

    prowler. And peeper.  These walks are very informational as I spy 

    couples hanging plants & merrimekkos, having fights and pouring wine. 

    Macramé is de rigueur. Try to imagine Devon & me in similar situations. 

    Maybe he won’t be a parson forever.

              Celebrate my freedom from R. Nice to know I can go to parties without fearing R’s paranoia & restrictions mixed up in his exhibitionism & flamboyance. Freeing me maybe to be those things. Fantasize 

    pleasurably about long drives with D – my hand on his thigh – separate but equal thoughts unfolding with the journey.  My emotions a difficult horse to ride.

        11:50 PM

                                Interrupted by phone call from R. 

    Offered to send me money. What is wrong with him? 

    He said, “You were right the way you always are.  When are you 

    coming back to me?”  Loves me, misses me, wants me back. He’s 

    been sick – Emmys a complete bust – his TV show cancelled – 2 

    directors actually fired (25 people in total.) Today’s the first day he’s 

    been back to work, amazed not to get a pink slip. He’s taking a two

     week unpaid leave to go to the Finger Lakes and find his soul. If 

    they fire him so what. He refuses to take out of town job.

                                He really worked me over – gave me a bird’s eye 

    view of what life with him would be like.  For example, said, “his 

    place is my place.”  If he means “move in” he knows I’ll say no 

    because his skyscraper doesn’t take dogs.  He asked, “When 

    do you come down to get your furniture?” I don’t like him having 

    all this information.  Thank God for D.  Six weeks to decide 

    whether I even want to return to Washington. I write a poem for Devon. 

    Angel Clothes

    You are like a ripe peach

    Swollen in the summer of your life

    And as the peach surrounds its stone

    Your skeleton enwombs your soul

    But thinly.

    I often see it shining

    Through the hollows in your cheeks.

    I need your body

    Need to know its shadows

    Sound its pleasures

    But as the stone

    Though small at first

    Must grow; feed off the dying peach

    So your spirit must transhume your flesh

    Disgorge it in

    A thousand peaches a thousand summers a

    Thousand eternities more beautiful than

    You or i

  • Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    11:45 AM  Sun 1 May 77

                                Keith softened me up by calling to ask if I’d been in 

    his office. He smelled my perfume. (I hadn’t.) Agreed to go out with him 

    Sat night.  Just awful.  Awful. Keep wishing he was literally ANYONE 

    else. Dating someone who doesn’t interest you sexually is like trying 

    to diet by ordering food you dislike. (I actually tried this. Ordered tripe.) 

    Howlably  stupid. Yet no one to howl to.

                                R. says he’d “hate” to think I “needed” him and didn’t 

    call. Am I the stupid one here? I think so. Sucker for punishment. Upstairs, 

    Downstairs cheers me up a little. Considering renting little house in the 

    wilds of Virginia. Or garden apt. utilities included. Dogs would like it – 

    close to clubs. Read Eliz Savage’s Good Confession – very minor. 

    Cleaning. Laundry, dishes, garbage.

                           Thinking about Sylvia Plath and the problem of panic 

    attacks. It’s all about learning to steer into the skid.

                        Wed May 4 – 77

                           Made illegal copies of novel at work, drove to Plush 

    Palace in Virginia to audition. (10 Mins down Rt 1 from Woodrow 

    Wilson bridge. 1 HR commute). VA pays better, mandates pasties 

    & stockings, Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco & Firearms (I’m not kidding) 

    makes sure you don’t sit with or talk to clientele. Amen! I was hired 

    immediately $90 day plus tips.  So pleased.  Got a car appt Fri 13th

    so El Diablo won’t die on Beltway. Working Thurs, Fr. Sat and there’s 

    no holdback, they pay you immediately.  Buy G-strings & pasties

    Landover mall. 

                           Avril says R “betrayed” me.  But do you “betray” someone 

    by having a weak character? He can’t help it. A says he’s behaved 

    so badly there’s no hope for him.   I think he can’t make up his mind – 

    he wants me only if I don’t want him.  Plus if he finds out I’m dancing 

    again he’ll want to “convert” me.  (He’ll think I’m doing it just to torture

     him. I don’t plan to tell.) Gave A a copy of my novel to read – feeling 

    insane – got to get reaction from SOMEBODY. Broadcast asks me to 

    stay “on call” so Mr. Pierce has forgiven me or is desperate. 

                       Plush Palace – 9 PM Fri 6 May 77

                       Very nice dressing room. Girl I’m dancing with (Darla) is just 

    awful. Find the comparison very cheering. A gobbled my novel up, says

     it’s “deep” but “obsessive”;  made me feel on right track.  How much can 

    I torture my audience? I‘ve GOT to stop blubbering and start fantasizing. 

    Who CARES about the pathos of my existence? Make something up.

                       Sat. 7 May 77

                     House is mine! Everyone moved out.  (A’s & Mason’s new 

    place just what they wanted – skyscraper urban nightmare.) Listening 

    to opera, reading NY Times, feeling like a Big Success. Dog across 

    my chest in blissful rapture. ($100 in tips last night!!!) R called to say

     I “always have a place with him” and He “has never taken my heart 

    ring off”. Is he nuts or am I?             

                     Realize for the first time he says things he KNOWS aren’t 

    true just to hear himself say them!!  Just like the Victorians – 

    mouthing something is halfway there!  Because you’re making an 

    effort! You could not imagine anyone more opposite from me. Hopeless, 

    hopeless, hopeless, as the rock musicians say. 

                       Reading Bottle Factory Outing – so wonderful. (But liked 

    The Secret Glass better.) Trying to numb weird longings to write ghost 

    stories by eating chicken potpie (regression). Wrote first draft of a short 

    story about a grandmother telling her shocked granddaughter about 

    “the time I almost committed suicide”. Very matter of fact.  Feel I’m 

    recovering from “mono-soul-iosis” – not just R but my first marriage, 

    Devon and everyone between.   Shoulders asks to borrow lawnmower – 

    asked me if I want to watch him use it.  (He knows he’s pretty.)  I do. 

                       7:15 PM 8 May 1977

                       Feeling much better, like I’ve passed a turning point.  Wasn’t 

    sure how much I could trust myself in the past, but if I’ve come through 

    this, my core must be solid, instead of the jelly mass I fear. Sitting in my

     far-from-clean study beneath my poster of Blake’s God & the Angels

    enjoying an after dinner cup of coffee. Sanity returns. A. is coming tonight

     to get her flokati rugs – that will make the downstairs look empty.   Trying 

    to finish Household’s Courtesy of Death, so I can take all these silly books 

    to the library, dump them, and get a lifetime supply of Peter de Vries. The 

    only proven painkiller is laughter. My damn novel’s made a fool out of me.

     Time to admit it.

                       3:15 PM 9 May 77

                       Called into Broadcast to sub for Loretta.  Working on Devlyn

    galleys. The main scary thing about this place is that no one works 

    here willingly. “Morale” is a poisonous miasma.  Kind of like the 

    architects’ office.

                       Mom & Dad raise hell over A’s living with Mason.  I thought 

    they were so worked up about “commitment”!  Sharing an apt is a 

    commitment, isn’t it? Not according to them. Glad poor A is taking

     the storm for once and not me. Couldn’t cope with them on top of

    everything else. R. and I are trying to evolve into a “friendship”. It

      sounds stupid but there has to be some third place between 

    attraction and avoidance because each of those is obsession. 

    When I ran this idea past R he said I was his “best friend”.  This is 

    why he is so impossible to deal with.  Best friend? He wouldn’t 

    treat a pet the way he’s treated me (the SPCA would come and get him.) 

                       Speaking of Ryder, he just called. Finished my book, 

    found the Black Mass a little short otherwise liked it. Didn’t say a 

    word  about “who’s Hank based on.” Thank God. He did ask who 

    the baby’s father is – I said even Nilssa doesn’t know.  According 

    to R.  I have “no problems”. (He doesn’t know about the dancing.  If 

    he was REALLY my best friend I could tell him.) He says we have 

    the whole rest of our lives to talk.  He’s uncannily good at saying 

    what I want to hear (unfortunately).  Seeing him tonight.  Take the bus 

    home, buy wine, wash & set my hair.  If only we could get to the stage 

    where we no longer fear each other.

                       4:50 PM Tues 10 May 77

                       Well we’re not out of the woods yet but perhaps have 

    found a path.  Last night was like losing my virginity all over again 

    – we were both so shy. Slept wrapped up and embracing. Many 

    compliments on my body (no tell-tale glitter in the bed.)  He said he

     was so upset by me breaking up with him at McDonald’s he can’t 

    go to any McD’s anymore.  Pledges of love somewhat ruined by 

    an argument during breakfast about whether a novel can be “good”

     if no one will buy it. Uh oh. I tried keeping it philosophical, not 

    giving historical examples he wouldn’t recognize (which would be

     “one-upping”.) Finally stopped when he got a call from a “goofy 

    chick.” Should I be worried, I ask, and he says no. But I can’t avoid 

    the sinking feeling that I don’t dare hitch my wagon to anyone 

    so dependent on mass psychology – even as a friend – without losing my way

  • Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn

             Fri. 25 Feb 77

                       I fuss, I fume. I shriek and scream.  I circle my 

    desk warily. Cannot get into this awful novel. Stare hard at

     the clutching sisters in the Victorian photo for inspiration.

     None comes. Instead slapped together a first poetry collection

     – In the Vein.

                       5:20 PM Sun 27 Feb 77

                       Ryder will be here any minute. Driving straight 

    through from Pittsburgh because he “misses me so much.”  

    Flank steak marinating, turnips, parsnips & parsley, tomatoes

     & sour cream – everything ready but wine.  Too lazy to drive 

    to the Tick Tock. Day of ecstasy sorting books in new study.

     Sections are: crime writing, Victorians, Great Novels, the Occult, 

    Women Writers, Cinema, Politics, Science, Children, History &

     Murder Mysteries. (Move those downstairs.) Hating Orlando. 

    Why did Bowen write Afterword if she didn’t like the book?

                       Mon 28 Feb 77 – Broadcast Agency

                       Bad sex. Sore.  Feel like I’ve been run over. Something’s 

    up with him.  Mauled me again in the middle of the night. Guilt? 

    Surprise visit from landlord – heard about “violations” from 

    Montgomery County. Ha ha. Obviously only two people living here – 

    (nothing visible of Mason’s.) Landlord calmed.  Says he wants to 

    sell the place. Would we allow to be shown? I said sure. Everybody happy. Sorry to lose such a beautiful house but it is too expensive for one person anyway.

                       Thurs. 3 Mar 77

                       Long talk with Avril about Mason. He is a racist. 

    She says how is it possible to feel superior to and inferior to someone at the same time? Human condition, I say. Spring wind makes me long to shed my clothes! Poor Ryder! It’ll be halter tops and hot pants the minute temp hits 65. Finally got a V. Woolf poem –

    VIRGINIA WOOLF:

    The Membraned Sieve

    O bliss to be red admiral afeast

    Upon a rotten apple in the grass; she dreamed that guiltily

    Woke to Leonard bringing milk

    Nessa dancing bear-like on the lawn, woke

    To pain; cylindrical as seasons

    Burning white and burning blue like friends.

    The words fell fast, the blood fell faster;

    Split the membraned sieve.

    She raced the whitecaps out to sea

    Parting the waves with her mother’s hand.

           Keith and I still talk but he has made no moves. Relief.

          Mon 7 Mar 77

          Ryder says he talks so much about me associate director 

    Kerry’s asked to meet me. (He told Kerry he doesn’t deserve 

    me.  It’s the truth!)  I said he can’t come to our party at 

    The Plum – we have no room.  

              Sex too rough. Experimenting or letting his anger 

    out? Maybe I’ve stopped lubricating – my body’s ready

     to quit even if I’m not. Wants me to wake up and smell 

    the coffee. Lunch w/Maeve at Carmac’s, me splendid in

    orange leather suit, boots, bracelets. Bloody Marys. 

    I gave her phone bill – also letter from collection agency 

    about plane bill she said  boyfriend paid for. He’s obviously 

    running a scam on her.  She says she found a Bethesda 

    efficiency $180/month. Had to rush to get back to work – 

    then saw List of Adrian Messenger with A. Made up writing 

    schedule for Secaire. But the minute I start I get idea for 

    another work – story about father/ daughter/ stepmother war– 

    A Demon Roused. Who’s the demon? Reading The Ring,

     the Book & The Poet.

    11 Mar 77

              Sent home 3:30 because B’Nai B’rith under siege 

    by terrorists (3 blocks away). Police will tell us when to 

    come back. Real estate agent leads inspector thru house.  

    Bad letter from my agent telling me not to try to sell “old” stuff, 

    write in “new” vein – but she means “like Devlyn”.  No more 

    historicals for me!!!! Got to get out of this stalemated “love”

     relationship – when I tax R with things he’s said, he 

    claims he “doesn’t remember” so we never advance 

    and I feel diminished. Had to tell him sex is over – I can 

    see he doesn’t believe me.  Must ask for his key back, 

    that should do it. Dragged Avril protesting to Freaky Friday – 

    it was worth it. Barbara Harris Chaplinesque. Told Broadcast 

    I will work only one full day per week – must go back to dancing. 

            Read Ellen Glasgow’s The Woman Within. Trying to 

    rewrite Secaire in third person. Unsuccessful. Dreaming 

    about houses with deep, cool porches but tax people 

    giving me only $112. Avril crying over Mason’s “hideous brutality” 

    but she won’t break up with him. Ugh. (Feel my relationship mirrored.)

    13 Mar 77

            Made love with R for what I hope was last time 

    (he brought lubricant.) His body no longer a key to mine.  

    Think I’m started on Secaire Final Draft. God I hope so.  

    R will sulk for a while, then we’ll “talk”.  Prayed for the first 

    time, to the “life source”. Pray away panic and disorder, 

    pray for clarity, purity, calm. Beautiful long walk. Heat like July. 

     Storm burst 4:30.  Coffee, orange slices, do my nails. Re-

    read Great Gatsby, pitying Fitzgerald the while. Someone 

    should write this novel from Daisy’s point of view.  Exciting 

    way to get back into Courtney – but I don’t want to put it in the ‘20’s. 

         Told R I’m dating so had to invite Keith to All Night Strut – 

    he was pleased. Says he’s not hung up on men paying for everything.

    17 Mar 77

         Thank God for dancing. a fe moments of complete bliss each evening.

    Everyone fussing about Scenes from a Marriage.  It is excellent. 

    Reading good bio Dorothy Thompson.  Novel going swimmingly – 

    suddenly feel fearless. Sex scene perfect. Why elaborate? 

    Why elucidate? Need to be out of this house June 1 – can do,

     but should I return to dancing or take summer off? Undecided. 

    Mon. 21 Mar 77

                       Wish I hadn’t called Ryder but I did. He was very injured 

    by my sex comments.  I said I was very injured by the sex. (He says he fears me.) Goddamit feel like turning in my phone if this is how

     I am going to behave. Watched Upstairs Downstairs, Monty Python.  

    Felt better. All Night Strut amusing – Keith invited me to Voyage of the Damned. (He pronounces it Dam – NED. In a class by himself after all?) 

    Unfortunately not feeling the chemistry.  Trying to take what pleasure I can in high heels and see through blouses. Could we just date? Secaire solid, beautiful, disturbing. Avril says its very exciting. Found a shack in Virginia for $200/month.  But maybe I have to flee this state to eradicate R from my soul. 

                       23 Mar 77

                       Voyage classically awful. Majestically, stupendously awful.  

    Bad date. I talked too much. Goddamit dating’s awful.  Like those endless “teas” we suffered through in Girl Scouts.  Sex is less work (not that I indulged. He has a repellently gooey corpus.)  He took me to Alfio’s for dinner!  Scene of R’s & my first date!  Couldn’t resist telling him I used to dance at Shalimar next door. Keith invited me to his house in Potomac.  I said nix. Dumped on doorstep with closed mouth kiss. 

    Shudders of relief. Walked in on Mason in a rage over my “betrayal” of Ryder!! I said he’s dating other people. Mason said but he loves you! 

     I didn’t say his love is a septic condition. (Because Mason’s love is also a septic condition. Poor Avril.) Happily to bed with Becker’s Escape from Evil.

                       2 April 77

                       Crisis at work sending my first cablegram to France – Keith showed up looking extremely handsome.  Terrible suspicions novel is bad.

     Off to splendiferous bash – literary party.  Met Chuck Kornowitz, 

    editor from Athenaeum.  Acted interested in my work – where can we have dinner? Took him to the Serbian Crown.  He is NOT interested in my work he is interested in me. Damn. Told me the most erotic encounter he has ever had was with a stranger in an elevator!  Feels sex with complete strangers has not yet been fully explored!!! Not by me that’s for sure.

                       He drove me home, insisted on walking dogs with me, holding my hand! Weird but I don’t want to turn him off entirely. (He’s old and ugly – looks like a Gila monster.) Fighting the impulse to call R and yell at him.  Boy am I sick. Poor Keith does not know I need him for a rabies shot. Against hair of the dog?

                      Fri. 8 Apr 77

                       Agency offers me over-time while files are reorganized.  More cash. We celebrate Avril‘s new job as fake nurse at urology office.  She hasto buy a nursing uniform so patients won’t know. (Doctor not willing to pay over minimum wage.)  Still, it looks classy. Went to Black Tahiti where I had sweet & sour shrimp. Turns out I need to stay away from booze because called You Know Who came right over and we indulged in mad passionate sex all night long. R was delicate and gentle – brought me to the edge several times before finally pushing me off cliff.  Showoff. 

                       Talked about me like he’d read my work. (Praising it. 

    Thought I’d be pleased.) Then told me he’d “busy” this weekend. 

    Steeerike three!  Tragically I need a guardian, conservator AND a 

    bodyguard.  (Keith doesn’t have the build.)

                       Chloe apologized for bad writing workshop with dinner 

    after at Armand’s.  My advice to writers – learn what kind of writer 

    you need to be and get on with it. Found myself getting defensive about Devlyn – if I don’t want to write “that way” again it must mean there was “something wrong” with it!!!  Bad advice from Ted Hughes :

     “When you find yourself using someone else’s voice, stop at once.” 

    Nothing ventured nothing gained under that theory.  This is not making me eager to hit the “literary events” as Chloe advised. The “noise” interferes with my working mind.  

                       Hostile questioning from Mom and Dad who don’t know 

    why I don’t move closer to Devon!!!  They say “playing the field” is

    cheapening my brand. Reading Mrs. Starr Lives Alone.

  • Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn

                       Fri. 24 Sept 76

                       Checked my acct – $54!! Don’t know where it came from 

    but I will spend it.  Sent poems to Chloe Aparo, borrow bike from 

    Shoulders. Ryder wants to go horseback riding, we went to see 

    The Tenant instead. (Cheaper).  R managed to discuss it intelligently. 

    Trying to research the occult for Secaire.  Reading bad suspense 

    novel – Geoffrey Turtons Devil’s Churchyard. I liked all his other 

    books. Dump it for Aleister Crowley’s Diary of a Drug Fiend. $10 

    to live on for 2 weeks. Mom & Dad sent emergency check.

                       6:25 PM – Sun 3 Oct 76

                       Fabulous dinner party last night. Steak tartare, crab 

    and cheese casserole, lots of wine. R and I fall asleep in each 

    other’s arms.  We have more sex “broken up” than when we were 

    dating. Got offered $3.50 an hour for 4 hr a day legal secretary!!! 

    Out of their minds.  Trying to sell my wedding dress for $150 – 

    got one porno call.

                       Tues 5 Oct 76

                       4pm appt with Environmental Defense Fund. Howard 

    Nemerov such a relief after Auden.

                       Thurs 11:30 PM 7 Oct 76

                       Typical Tyler St evening. Lying in bed (alone) powdered 

    and polished from bath. Maeve and Avril out on dates. R is working,

     I’m reading Quest for Theseus. Got too depressed reading 

    Shirley Jackson. Her life solutions: food and cigarettes – plenty 

    of both.  Lost EDF job –  as soon as they turned me down I 

    decide I want it!  To WTTG to apply for “production asst” job – 

    200 people spilling into street!  Didn’t bother.  How write about 

    love if it’s impossible?

                       I owe Maeve money – she doesn’t like it and I don’t

     like it. Tension almost unbearable waiting for my check.

                       R offered jobs in Pittsburgh & Detroit. (He says he 

    doesn’t ever want to leave though it’s the only way to make more $$.)

                       12:55 PM Wed 13 1976 These are the times that try 

    women’s souls. Desperately accepted switchboard job at Broadcasters Agency because it looks easy and I can think my own thoughts.  

    Replacing a girl going on maternity leave so I’m not stuck if I don’t 

    like it. Agent sent check told me not to cash it for a week!!! Thinking 

    they’re all scam artists. Reading Diane Johnson’s brilliant Lesser

     Lives. Avril depressed over Mason. Maeve depressed over George.

     I am buying diet pills because of sedentary job.

                       Switchboard – Broadcast Agency 9:15 AM – Fr. 18 Feb 77

                       New notebooks such a thrill. Always a fresh start:  

    I could almost become anyone. Worked 3 full days this week – 

    more $$ in the coffers. Avril coming in to Broadcasters Agency 

    to apply for Zelma’s old job – $8500/yr for 7 hr day.  Hope she 

    gets it. Brought in The Voyage Out today – I WILL finish it –

     bring it to its knees. Perfect example of everything usually wrong 

    with first novels. Don’t like her novels as much as letters and diaries.  

    Talk about peering through a glass darkly. Oh well. Still drinking 

    coffee and picking the fuzz out of my eyes. Period’s arrived with its 

    usual exquisite timing. Once I’ve finished Secaire (needs a final burst)

     can rewrite Find Courtney. Sort of a love story there.

                       10:30AM Sun 20 Feb 77

                       R and I went on ski weekend to Massanutten.  

    Didn’t work.  Never felt so far from him, and he realized it. 

    Opal & Garrett over for dinner last night – their relationship is 

    boring when I’m alone and don’t have R doing all the work for me. 

                      Drank too much out of sheer boredom and because I was 

    depressed over R, then I get depressed over being depressed 

    and drink more.  Clearly he’s worthless and I must be too if I can 

    get depressed over him. No good work on novel. Filing, cleaning, 

    paying bills takes up all my time and my room still looks like a filthy hole. 

    Hermiting seems only option (cheaper, too). Must learn to roll 

    with the punches.

    Fantasizing about Devon because 24th is his birthday. Bad sign.

                       1:00PM 21 Feb 77

                       Dizzy from dieting. Not dancing very bad for my body.

     Current weight 122. (Opal says I have the perfect body. Glad 

    someone appreciates it.) Ryder suggested jogging – bad mistake.  

    Instantly attacked by colds & flu. Instead of eating go to library on 

    my lunch hr to take out books. Went to see The Sentinel somewhere

     in the burbs with Avril and Mason, who drove like a crazy person 

    (“I’m not afraid of death!”) Never again. Ghastly flick. Mason moving in

     – his money is good.  Another secret to be kept from landlord. A guy 

    at work (Keith Dalrymple) is courting me. He looks all right, though 

    he has receding hairline. Kind of old.  Asked to read my novel. I gave 

    him my poems instead. He needs to hit the ground running.

                       Tues. 22 Feb 77

                       Mason trying to talk A into moving to Calif with him. Uh oh. 

    Maeve also wants to move out because I’m critical of her

     “dating” her married boss (they have sex in the supply closet). 

    She believes his tiredest lines.  “Drop him – he’s outrageous 

    and destructive,”  I say.  I’m one to talk. Will use her room for 

    my study.  Try to live without roommates. Sent Devon a long 

    grey silk scarf for his birthday.

                       3:40 PM Wed 23 Feb 77

                       Keith Dalrymple amazingly told me he loves my 

    poems. Wow. Having good literary taste definitely works with me! 

     Having a drink with him tonight.  Had to struggle to keep myself 

    from hurling cash at a gorgeous $50 suit in going-out-of-business 

    dress shop on Dupont Circle. Slogging through Mrs Dalloway –

     it’s her best book. But all this blind struggle not my thing. Require 

    some consciousness. I guess we were reptiles in those days just turning amphibious.

                       Thurs. 24 Feb 77

                       Can’t seem to write poetry anymore. Cocktail bar buffet 

    with Keith (Avril calls him a “dim bulb”. We are very critical of each 

    other’s honeys.)  He’s a Woolf novel – smooth glossy surface, 

    violence and trauma beneath.  He is intelligent – quoted Frost – 

    38 yrs old – divorced (was married 15 years!!!) I sat swilling 

    Scotch and giving him the hairy eyeball – do I have the strength 

    for this? He blanched when I ordered escargots chablisienne. 

                    Wouldn’t even kiss him. I demand exceptionality and refuse to settle for less.  Whatever else you can say about Ryder, he’s definitely one of a kind. I am in a unique position compared to other women writers. Given the chance to rise above sexual 

    strictures.  Bought an exquisite pair of very high-heeled boots. I tower over Ryder – in more ways than one. Heheheh. 

  • Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn

        9:45 AM Wed July 28 76

                                Anniversary of Toss Sheffield relieving me of 

    my impacted virginity (as I relieved him of his.)  R came yesterday at 2 – 

    left at 3 – came back at 5.  Another watershed in our relationship – Fears. 

    He’s afraid to lose the hearing in his good ear. He speaks sign 

    language but doesn’t want to live in a world without sound. I made 

    him promise to go the doctor. He agreed to make an appointment no 

    later than Weds. 

                       Reading Christina Stead’s wonderful Dark Places of 

    the Heart. Considered inviting Ryder to live with us – rejected 

    the idea. I need too much alone time. So important to establish 

    amour proper. I am so impoverished from setting up the house 

    (though I’ve made enough in tips to pay my taxi ride home tonight) 

    I am barely going to make the rent. Need a windfall.

                       Sweaty and smelly. I think I’ve boogie –oogie-oogied 

    till I just can’t boogie no more.  

                       Club Shalimar– 30 July 76

                     Cookout at Ryder’s parents – I met his folks – two 

    roly-poly people who are nothing like him –  one sister who is

     a lot younger. 

                     We had glorious talks on our way there and back – 

    about having our own space – (we agreed he needs to live alone);  

    our hopes and dreams (he used to write music, wants to do that 

    again someday – I told him I have an agent shopping a novel around) 

     first impressions (I discovered he was in the bar when I auditioned! 

    Horrors!) He said what intrigues him most about me is that he 

    can’t figure me out – still can’t – everything about me is a surprise. 

    I guess I could say the same about him.  

                     Wonderful abandoned sex – just crazy stuff – I came and 

    came.  He told me he spent last night at his old house – he and 

    his wife had to have a “meeting”.   I was jealous until he told me 

    that his wife is sexually dead – and always has been. He didn’t 

    understand it when they married, assuming it was something you 

    get over.  I suggested she was probably molested as a child – 

    he didn’t want to believe it. He thinks some people are sexually

     just asexual. I thought – but didn’t say – there’s a self-protective 

    concept. He doesn’t want to think she is turned off of him but in

     my experience – such as it is – chemistry is a completely 

    mysterious yet crucial factor women have a tendency to discount 

    it when choosing a life partner.  So they end up married to the 

    “perfect” person, except they’re not sexually stirred. 

                     2:00 AM. He tucked me in – kissed me – left – then 

    I was wakened with his hands all over me. When he got to his 

    car he realized our clock had stopped and he didn’t have time 

    to go home before work. So he snuck back in the sliding door.

     We had sex again, and the whole night became a snake

     eating its own tail. This morning got a wonderful poem: 

    Love, the Magician.

    The Magician is a Capricorn

    Bleeding cock’s milk from nipples

    Pale like mine but

    Maler.

    Illusion, he says is memory

    Of things that should have been.

    Doves and rabbits he entices

    From sacred groves between my legs

    Placed by ruse, and freed by art.

    When he dies, passion turns his eyes

    To quarters.

    He hears the world but faintly

    Through his one good ear.

    The other turns to me,

    Safecracker’s daughter.

    Trust the magician, voices tell me

    He knows when to drop the dice.

    31 July 76 Shalimar

                       R came in but I managed to get rid of him. Sandy 

    brought in a huge bag of string beans, squash and tomatoes 

    from her garden – I told Ryder to take them home and cook them. 

    My job is turning into a source of tremendous conflict – he is the 

    snake in his own paradise.  Plus, tips really fall off when he is 

    here. I am already looking at a very tough month financially – 

    trying to take so much time off.  He said he’ll be back at the end 

    of the night to pick me up – he’s hurt when I’m “in need” and 

    don’t call him. So that saves cab fare anyhow.  

                       We took a walk between sets and talked about his 

    parents – second generation immigrants,  lifelong Army. He doesn’t 

    tell them anything (they obviously know his marriage broke up 

    and now he’s with me – but they don’t know about his deafness, 

    for example or about his classes at Gallaudet.)  He said to me, 

    can you believe I’ve only seen these people twice in the past 

    four years? And we live in the same state.  Wait till he meets 

    my parents – shudder. I’ll put it off as long as I possibly can.

                       Dancing tonight with Alicia. Poor Alicia. She’s a 

    “dripper” (constantly leaking pee) but blames it on hypoglycemia. 

    She hates dancing when there are so few people in here. 

    It’s kind of interesting.  She sort of has a whorish appearance and 

    doesn’t realize she’s trapped in a vicious cycle – audience thinks 

    she’s a loose woman, she thinks they’re perverts.

                     I’m trying not to fall into the super-loving, super-giving

     trap but Ryder is the first guy I’ve ever met who would obviously 

    be a wonderful father. Rare among men under thirty?  Or something.

                     Talked to Avril on the phone – she was bored to tears at home

     so I suggested she come in. We shared a burger basket and she 

    saw me dance for the first time. She wasn’t grossed out at all by 

    the semi-nudity – which is good – told me I’m a great dancer and 

    she really envies me my pelvic wiggle.  

                     Also told me I have a terrific body – which really cheered 

    me up because I still feel too hefty around Ryder.  (At his parents’ house 

    we went over his old scrapbooks – he was the star quarterback in 

    high school football.  They described him as 5’4”!  That’s a lot 

    shorter than he admits to these days. His boots have at least two

     inch heels.)  A left after one set because all the guys of course 

    came on to her. Obvious losers, alas, including the one who insists

     he’s a hitman for the CIA and another who claims to be giving 

    away government jobs. 

                     Unfortunately I’m dependent on the tips of these characters.  

    Ryder has been telling them all that I’m a writer (instead of a call girl,

     presumably) which gives me a lot of explaining to do.  

                     I wish I had money to buy things the house needs – 

    flashlights and fuses and drainers and shelving and all that stuff – 

    but I’m saving every bit for our trip to the Finger Lakes. Aug 5 will 

    mark one month in the house and six months since I quit the 

    architects. Seems like much longer than that. Where will I be 

    six months from now? 

                       Hope my gothic novel sells – I need an immediate 

    hundred grand. I really can’t write with R sucking up all my free time. 

    I’ve been struggling with another poem about him – even that isn’t 

    coming. Hopefully we’ll settle down into being able to work side 

    by side quietly – maybe after our vacation.

    6:00 PM, Chevy Chase Tyler St, 2 Aug 76

                     Across the street Shoulders, dressed in a skimpy football 

    undershirt, is mowing his lawn. He is a sight to behold.

                     Sitting over my repaired typewriter with a cup of hot tea 

    and a case of writer’s block. I could write a poem about Shoulders – 

    already R is interfering with my life. Beautiful day – a little chilly – 

    a little Maine edge to it.

                     Finished Stead’s Dark Places – which I adored – absolutely 

    one of a kind.  Another bothersome thing about R – he really doesn’t 

    read. He’s been dragging around a sleazy paperback “heist comedy”  

    he pretends to read from time to time. At this rate it will take him six 

    months.  I am struggling with All Authors are Equal but I may give 

    up on it and read Famous Washington Ghosts which R picked up 

    for me to add to my considerable collection of ghost stories (I must 

    have 50 vols.)

                       On the phone with Maeve my old Baltimore buddy – 

    she is behind in her rent but looking for a new job. In the meantime 

    borrowing from boyfriends.   I take a perverse pleasure that anyone

     is managing worse than me.

                       Shalimar – 10:20 PM

                     Called in tonight to replace another girl – great – that 

    means I work 5 times this week.  Just that small amount makes a 

    big difference. A is in the chips right now and I could owe her 

    but don’t want to.

                     When I came in they told me R had been in 30 mins

     before. That was a little unsettling – I didn’t realize he would come in 

    if I weren’t here. Of course it is really close to his job – but equally

     of course the food is more expensive here than just about 

    anywhere else he could choose.  I look at who was dancing 

    to see whether he would think she was in any way better than me –

     luckily it was the pisser Alicia instead of potentially scary 

    competition like, say, Gloria. He didn’t know I was coming in, 

    because Carmen didn’t tell him.  Reading the Ghosts of 

    Washington. Wonderful poem potential. 

    Shalimar Thurs 5 Aug 76

                     R dearer every day, in spite of the fact that he’s 

    been checking up on me. Called and called last night – wondered 

    where I was – I wasn’t too sure how to tell him A and I were 

    over at Shoulders’ drinking, so I just said we were visiting 

    the neighbors.  Standing in their yard, which wasn’t true. He is 

    jealous of Shoulders and I don’t blame him – such lush male 

    beauty makes women helpless. A is a complete mess over him. 

    He frequently wanders around the house in nothing but his 

    boxers –  we call them as his “huppa”.

                       R. finally got an apt and can stop “crashing” with

     friends –  one bedroom at the top of a Rockville skyscraper. 

    Sounds crazy expensive to me.  Wrote a good poem – 

    capitol ghosts – today from the book R gave me. 

    Trying to think where to send it. Tomorrow’s my day off – 

    R coming over at 2.

    CAPITOL GHOSTS

    Pale Guiteau

    slants his disappointed child’s face

    downwards; the better to study bloodstains left

    by assassins more accomplished than himself

    who required benefit of anonymous surgeons 

    specially qualified for skewering

    the muscles of the mighty.

    The guard who saw him

    claimed also to hear demon cats

    and could not be relied upon.

    these portents once were matters of

    congressional dispute; now

    no matter; caught within the marbled lurch

    of history, victims

    of the uninspired mad; 

    those who pursue the corpse from whom

    the ghost escaped. He haunts our history

    like the villainous barber who sings as he slits

    both throats and wombs, a pure tune

    some say, picked clean of tragedy

                                   which only the dying hear.

    Shalimar 7 Aug 76

                     Sitting here in a stupor of exhaustion. We had an 

    Al Green fan in here tonight – kept playing same song over 

    and over. Presumably working through some kind of 

    relationship crisis. They don’t realize coming here and blowing 

    their money kills any relationship – and I am not going to tell 

    them. Anyway I hate Al Green.  Missed my bus this AM so 

    took the Fessenden bus and walked across. A better way to go – 

    I like the walk – to hell with this transfer business. 

                     I have to admit R doesn’t seem to understand 

    poetry. He’s very suspicious of all ease, elegance, lightness. 

    Too much Nature!  “Work” should make you grit your teeth, 

    groan and bulge your forehead veins.   The easier it comes, 

    the less valuable it MUST be.  (He would hate Picasso’s very 

    best stuff!)  I’ve tried getting him to understand by comparing 

    art to athletics – it only looks easy – it’s the training beforehand 

    that’s so hard. The trick is to render training invisible. But he 

    seems to think modern poetry is a plot to make him look stupid. 

                     Really worried about money lately – everything at 

    Unibank is bouncing.  It doesn’t take much to set off a chain 

    reaction.  Guess I’ll have to borrow from Avril after all.

                     How true it is that before you can love you must 

    love yourself. My love for myself is wavering.  Just finished 

    Sean Stiles’ Occam’s Razor. I hate to see a good idea wasted. 

    Mostly I am depressed by the poor quality of the stories in 

    the Times Detective Story competition anthology.  This is 

    something I should aspire to?  I’m on a wonderful streak 

    of poetry – keep piling them up – got ophelia and 

    haunted house this eve.

    OPHELIA WAS A MAN

    The best revenge is growing up.

    Behold a street of suicides –

    Fringed lampshades &

    Mullioned windows where

    The dentist’s son grew dope

    From seed (they had eight bathrooms and

    The dentist couldn’t be everywhere)

    His wife was nowhere; we saw her leave

    With the cat in a suitcase clawing to get out.

    “Crazier than thou” averred my aunt.

    That boy blew the fruits of orthodontal science until

    The day he blew his mind –

    We traced the hissing-pissing-noise

    To the garage of the stockbroker’s son; he’s

    The one who stayed home from Yale to rewrite Hamlet

    (Made it better – put in people you could recognize)

    Type-cast himself – since he saw ghosts.

    Two fine boys married to each other

    Rosy-cheeked and sightless

    In their parents’ wedding clothes.

                     Tomorrow R is taking me on a tour of the television 

    station and out to lunch. This is a biggie – see where he works.  

                      So I had to buy a gorgeous black linen jumpsuit (size 5!) Should 

    be worn with high red heels – but needless to say, can’t around 

    R. So instead, flat sandals. Fortunately everything is on sale.  

     A and I have decided to ask Maeve to move in with us – we can’t 

    seem to manage alone and we do have three bedrooms, but 

    she’ll have to hide from the landlord. I hate to do it.  Letter from 

    D today – he’s in love with the 18 yr old virgin daughter of his minister. 

    Didn’t do a thing to me. God bless ‘em.

                     Rick the gambler in tonight. He’s a friend of R’s – cheered 

    me up by telling me I’ve done so much for R who was really “hurting” 

    over his divorce.

                     Ryder – I love you – but I don’t really know who you are.  Hope you are who you pretend to be. 

  • Inspired Pleasure – The Dance Diary of Alysse Aallyn

                     Fri 16 July 76 – Club Shalimar

                       A & I hung living room paintings today, and the last piece 

    was moved in. Half an hour till my date with Ryder. Will his 

    name mean anything to me in twenty years?  Brought blow dryer,

     change of clothes and unguents sufficient to slap me back into shape 

    after 7 hrs dancing. Idly listening to gossip of Randy 

    (bouncer), Jinx (dancer) and Bobbi (bartender).

                     A and I had pleasant evening last night – wild storm 

    and the power failed. So we went out walking afterwards with 

    dogs & flashlights. Fun looking into people’s houses, seeing 

    them move about with candles. What does the future hold? 

     I worry both that Ryder will be there and that he won’t be there.

     Margery Sharp’s The Faithful Servants has a lot of sweetness.

                       17 July 76

                      Interesting date. I want to write about it but first I have 

    to say today has been a TERRIBLE day – I had to follow ex-stripper 

    named Edie who wore a black lace corset and gloves and carried

     a whip onstage – everything but the donkey, as one of the other 

    dancers remarked. Then I had to listen to loud speculation on 

    how I got the bruise on my ass when it was my turn.

                     But Ryder Arlen. We had a wonderful dinner. He 

    ordered in Italian.  The weirdest thing about him is that he 

    doesn’t like mushrooms. Long dinner, then over to the Gangplank 

    for Irish coffee. He insisted upon carrying me across two puddles – 

    he’s not very big and I was sure he’d get a hernia – but he made it.

                     We got back to Chevy Chase the house looked wonderful – 

    A had obviously slaved for hours. We had her down for a glass of 

    wine, then she went back upstairs. We ended up reading my poetry 

    I didn’t show him the erotic stuff because I didn’t feel the time was right.

     He liked valentine the best – 

    Valentine

    I sent myself in a letter

    Heart-creased

    Like a glove

    Too much folded

    An anecdote

    Too much told

    Dear stranger don’t

    Lose me

    I forgot the rule

    (Hold back a copy)

                       Then we made out for hours. He was deliciously 

    passionate. I said, “You don’t want to end up in bed on the 

    first date, do you?” He said, “You pick the time and the place 

    but I hope it’s inevitable.”

                       I said it was certainly feeling that way but I’d have 

    to get to know him better. I wouldn’t let him take down the 

    top of my dress either.  He left at 2:45 AM. He seems to 

    really care for me – so my worry that I’m just a first experiment 

    after leaving wife seems baseless. He invited me to go crabbing

     tomorrow, then on a four-day cruise sometime in August.

                       Fri 23 July 76 – Tyler St, Chevy Chase, Maryland 

                       R and I have seen each other every day since Fri – 

    I think he’s in love. I could fall if I let myself but something holds me back. 

     I like our relationship now – he drops by the house after work 

    and we’re both in jeans. I think tonight’s the night for sex – 

    first time – I’m nervous but since I love his body I expect 

    to be all right.

                      Adore these slow working mornings. I get up 

    with A (depending on when her first run is – she’s now 

    working courier) to have time to set my hair before leaving 

    at 10. Beautiful walks up Tyler St. Early AM at the Shalimar 

    such a pleasure  – sitting at the bar with my diary balanced 

    on my hipbones, watching the barmaids get ready,  feeling 

    like a character out of Toulouse Lautrec. 

                     Yesterday we met across the street neighbors – 

    one of them is a gorgeous guy named Larry getting a degree

     in Hospital Administration.  Among ourselves we call him 

    “Shoulders” because he has such a gorgeous pair. To see 

    them dimpled with sweat on his way back from a run is to be

     in heaven.  Invited Larry and roommates Garrett and Opal to 

    dinner tomorrow night – if they can come.

    Thurs 22 July 76 – 9:25 Pm

                       God I’m in love. I love his fragile, tense blond body – 

    love holding it. Love looking at his Lorenzo diMedici face. 

    Those blond Italians!  He wouldn’t like to hear me say it – 

    he has a black belt in karate and thinks he’s so tough – but 

    he probably only outweighs me by 20 lbs. Made love all afternoon – 

    he is very skilful – obsessed with my pleasure. Says he doesn’t 

    care if he ever comes – wants to see what gives a woman joy.  

    We fit together exactly  – interlocking puzzle pieces even 

    upside down.  I can feel his feet with my feet – his knees 

    with my knees – it’s like having a mirror body – only with a 

    hard chest and penis. After the first time the relief of the orgasm 

    was so great I wept.  I fell asleep with him inside me.  Wrote 

    a poem about him but don’t know if I want to show him.  If I 

    learned anything from Bruce it’s that people misrepresent. 

    He could be shockable and its early days yet. Today I want 

    to buy a bookcase.

                       Love equals, unfortunately, anxiety attacks – could 

    he possibly love me as much as I love him?  Yesterday walking 

    in the park I expressed fear about him going straight from one 

    serious relationship right into another – but he says he refuses to 

    limit the experience.  Which of course was exactly the right answer.

    The worst part is his trouble with my job. 

                       He says he knows he can’t ask me to quit because

     he can’t support me – I pointed out he wants me to go on the Divers 

    World expedition, and then to Cozumel, and I want to take him to Maine,

     all of which would be impossible if I had a regular job. He says he 

    can deal with it only by avoiding the Shalimar – OK by me as long as 

    I see him outside. He came in today – I got rid of him after a half hour, 

    before my set.

    11:05 AM – Shalimar Tues 27 July 76

                     Feel like throwing out all my diaries. Driveling gush broken 

    up by gushing drivel. But I go right ahead and produce some more.  

    Randy throwing ice and cases of beer, Bobbi cleaning trays, Carmen 

    checking paper towels and me writing. Perfect.

                     We were lying in bed – me and Ryder – I have to lie on his 

    right side because he only has one good ear – and he told me a long 

    purposeless allegory about bullfighting. Can’t tell which of us is the 

    supposed to be the matador. I’m the only one with a poetic license 

    in this relationship.) He said I should just write, and he’s going 

    to see to it.  I said fine by me. I love this job but not as much 

    as writing, love and freedom. Then he said, I love you. 

  • Inspired Pleasure – The Dance Diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Fri. 16 April 1976 – 2 PM – Train to Philly – a zombified
    redhead in suede coat, oversized purse & glasses.
    Lacking mirrors, we lose our faces. Got to get my emotional
    house in order but I can’t think how. I used to have a
    roadmap and none of this was on it. What am I? An idiot?
    No. Just an addict of spiritually orgasmic livnig. Still, all is
    grist for the art mill.


    Reading The Fortunate Miss East, a charming,
    charming little novel. Aunt Fred picking me up – I’m scheduled
    to read my poetry at Baldwin School.

        Zevin Towers – Wash DC 9:30 AM Wed 21 Apr 76
    Baby sis Avril and I are totally broke. We are eating

    our way thru Mom & Dad’s supplies. The grapenuts went first
    then the soup. Now we are on sauerkraut and spinach.
    Playing Fleetwood Mac & Jimmy Spheeris while sitting on
    the balcony looking over Rock Creek Park. You don’t see one
    building; Washington DC masquerades as a virgin world. I
    need a job by next Mon. Something tells me I can’t finish my
    novel and sell it in time. I refuse to be a cubicle drudge again
    so what is there? Nude modeling sounds dangerous. Topless
    dancing?

    Avril admits she sits on a park bench instead of going
    to class as she told Mom! Uh oh. She says she just can’t “make
    herself” do things. What a relief to have someone worse off
    than me.


    How I wish I could fall in love with Marc Kramer. He’s longing to buy jewelry for someone! I could sell that rather than the contents of this old folks’ apartment. But he’s too sane if anything andwears funny old man lace-up shoes.

    Plus he’s covered in a thick mat of dark fur. And there’s his endless talk about shorts,hedges, futures. PARALYZINGLY DULL. Raining outside.


    Isn’t life rotten?

        10:50 AM Sun 2 May 76
    Answered an ad for “go-go girl”.  You wear fringed

    bikinis and go-go boots and dance for the troops! No
    more than 2 gigs a day (gotta drive there) and
    each one only lasts an hour so $60 seems very generous.


    She asked for my “experience” – I said I used to be a Maxim’s
    dancer! (I didn’t say it was for the nuns’ THEATRE
    SCHOOL in Minnesota!)


    DeeDee is giving me my schedule tomorrow.


    Tips are welcome because I don’t get paid till the 15th. Have
    to clean this apt and I don’t want to at all. Dad says apt
    lease up in two months so I’ll have to find somewhere else
    to live (Mom refuses to live here because 16th floor.) Dad
    says men are put off by us because Avril and I are too
    “masculine” by which he means determined, decisive and
    pleasure seeking. (A. very disappointed because she’s had
    two dates with Paul and no sex yet.) Reading
    Spink’s Hans Christian Andersen and his World – what
    a painful ugly duckling story!

        Tues. 4 May 76 9:45 pm
    Totally exhausted. Had to dance 2 hrs at Andrews

    AFB because my partner didn’t show up (but it’s double the
    money.) Jefferson Starship’s Miracles my favorite song to
    dance to. Soldiers always want to play I’m A Man and
    that’s no fun. Of course I have seen Spencer Davis’ dark side up
    close while I was trailing around dragging an echo-plex after
    rockstar husband Bruce. Would be reading The Place at
    Whitton     by Thos Keneally if I could keep my eyes open.

        11:20 AM Sat 8 May 76
    No word from Beautiful Faraway Perfect Man

    Devon about whether he will ever visit, but speaking of
    attractive young men I had a “conversion experience” at
    the Ft. Myers’ officers club yesterday. I was registering
    at the front desk when this young man with dark curly
    hair and the face of an angel asked me who I was and
    what I was up to. I was wearing my go-go outfit plus
    military-style jacket so I did stand out. He wore a sweatband
    around his head and was all set for running but his plans
    changed in a flash. He would rather watch me dance instead.


    His name is Frank and something Italian. Took me down to
    the dark Hideaway Club and watched me the whole time –
    playing and replaying the Pointer Sisters’ Chick on the Side.
    I gave him my number and he gave me a $20 tip. Does he
    represent a break from lonely masturbation? At this stage
    of my relationship with Devon I can hardly be unfaithful.
    We shall see.


    Marc Kramer called offering to fly me to the island
    and back for Memorial Day weekend. I have $266 in the bank.
    Should I take him up on it? Just doesn’t feel right.
    Wouldn’t be able to get rid of him when I wanted to.
    I hate feeling “beholden.” Reading Norah Lofts’ Hauntings
    to help me with my ghost stories.

        2:15 PM – Sun 9 May 76
    Lying in bed surrounded by Sun papers. Have decided

    to get tix for me and Avril to Royal Danish Ballet’s Triumph of Death,


    Royal Ballet’s Romeo and Juliet and All’s Well That Ends Well
    at the Folger Shakespeare Library. So glorious having money.

        Tues. 2:30 pm 18 May 76
    Guy came forward at the Army Navy Yard, offered

    me his card and said I could make a whole lot more money
    dancing at his club. I have to admit this rushing around in a
    car is getting old – our Gremlin AKA the “el Diablo” is acting up. ThinkI will go to his club, talk to the other dancers and see what
    the scoop is. It is “topless”, but so what if you aren’t supposed
    to (or expected to) “fraternize’ with the audience. There is a stage.


    Went to look at a townhouse off Dupont Circle –
    2 bedroom, $435 a month but no place for dogs. Can’t live without my dogs forever.

    Jeannie and I perform at a private party in
    Annandale. I am nervous but she is completely cool and they
    are content to look. Avril has a new man – Jack.

        Wed 26 May 1976 – The Parkway East
    Waiting my turn to go on. Thought I was going to have

    dance alone but thank God Darby finally showed up – fucked up,
    but she can dance. (Her boyfriend brought her.) Phoned Devon –
    boy that was stupid – to see if he wanted to go to the island for
    Mem Day Weekend. He is playing in a tennis tournament and not
    “available”. Every time I reach out to him I feel like a sap.
    Never know whether his mysterious “tides” are “in” or “out”.
    He did his best to sound warm and affectionate but he is obviously very stressed – he was actually panting! Now he’ll have to meditate for a week. Must let this man go.

    When I wail about him, Avril
    makes me laugh by saying, “He’s GAY! He just won’t admit it!”
    But I have to say in the sack he didn’t seem gay to me.
    Genevieve invites us to NYC for Mem Day weekend.
    She has filed for divorce and fallen in love with someone else.
    Ex Kent doesn’t know but she warns us he is calling everyone in
    the family begging us to intervene.

        2 PM – 9 June 76
    Sun night I invited Frank and his roommate to dinner.

    Horrible. They were 45 mins late and my blintzes were ruined.
    Avril & roommate took against each other immediately. They
    brought Thai sticks, we refused to smoke. On an up note I
    took a cab to the Club Shalimar (Gremlin in shop) and the taxi
    driver was so excited about having a poet in his car he didn’t
    charge me. Said he had never met a poet before. (Gave him
    a poem on the spot.) Shalimar seems possible – other dancers
    like it but constant turnover; no one has been there long.
    Bouncer very nice, and I can take a bus there so A. can have car.
    Tempted to risk it.


    11:05 PM – waiting for Jeannie in the empty Bethesda
    Naval Officers Club. She is giving me a ride home. She is an
    interesting person – has done a lot of nude modeling – showed
    me her portfolio. Very Playboy. Officers keep marching through
    in their whites. They are very polite.

        Fri. 11 June 76 8:15 PM - 
    Things could hardly be worse.  Got my hair cut the

    other day – I only wanted a trim – he absolutely butchered me.
    It is barely shoulder length and it looks like a cow slept in it.
    I hate all hairdressers, gynecologists and dentists – you’re just
    completely helpless in their hands. Plus I got another piercing
    in each ear and the left one seems infected. Now my face looks
    crooked. Also having my period so I am swollen up like I’m
    pregnant. Avril has a college friend (male) coming for the
    weekend and she is beating herself up – “Why did I say yes?”
    She would call and cancel if only he had a phone.


    On the plus side, tips at the Shalimar are really
    good and the dancing is as energetic as you feel like –
    which means standing there swaying is Just Fine. You
    can rock yourself to sleep if you want to. Of course my
    ego won’t allow too much relaxation.


    Piece of good news – agent loves my gothic novel!
    Reading The Royal Victorians. Gremlin seems stabilized
    so Avril applied for a job as a driver with a messenger service.

        Fri. 18 June 76 ll:00 Am
    A’s friend a complete bozo.  Fortunately he has other

    places to be so we hardly see him. Huge sigh of relief and
    lesson learned. Let’s just hope he doesn’t steal the silver.
    DeeDee and I come to a Sad Parting of the Ways – her
    money too small, gas costs, etc.


    A and I got a wonderful 3 bedroom in Chevy Chase
    on a charming little side street but the landlord very snooty
    about only 2 tenants. We said OK, OK. Big yard. I can
    have my dogs! Moving in July 5. Struggling with Christina
    Stead’s Puzzleheaded Girl. She is overrated. Maybe I can’t
    read fiction any more.

        Fri 25 June 76 – Club Shalimar 
    Eating free scrambled eggs the cook gave me:

    “Somebody’s got to eat them” while waiting to go on. A lot
    of interesting men come into this place. None perfect obviously
    – and unfortunately I need more than perfection. I need
    mysticism, competence and money-earning capabilities. Shalimar owner seems to be something of a gangster.


    I got 2 standing ovations today.


    The job is actually enjoyable. I am really getting
    into it – dancing for pleasure – for the connection with
    the audience. They stare spellbound like deer in the
    headlights. Feel like I’m living in a Simenon novel as
    I learn the ins and outs.


    Avril loves her new job – thank God – they
    want her to do dispatch (no wear and tear on fragile Gremlin)
    and the drivers are all foreigners who don’t know the city.
    She’s always yelling at them to “Look out the car window
    and tell me what you see.”


    Met the most charming little man – a TV director
    at a local station – speaks sign language, is a magician
    and a karate black belt, he’s just so full of joie de vivre.
    His name is Ryder and his excitement about me puts
    my non-relationship with Devon in a new light. Reading
    Meyer’s Ibsen.

        1:15 AM – Sat 3 July 76
    We’re supposed to “wait” in the dressing room

    but they don’t seem to care if you don’t so I spend all my
    time talking to Ryder. He says he’s just separating from
    his wife and it’s extremely traumatic. They have been
    together since high school. He’s a tad hyper – always on
    the go, but very entertaining. He usually brings me gifts –
    flowers, magazines, stuffed toys and cards. Also he’s a
    diver and underwater photog. Today he brought pink roses.


    Avril warns me not to fall in love. Just date.
    Easy to say! I want security, privacy, ecstasy, exclusivity…
    and love. It’s a problem!


    The oilman came to the house today says he’s
    shocked we have no credit references and will have to pay
    COD! Fortunately, I had just got off work and I had the cash
    on me but I don’t like it at all. Guess we won’t need
    much oil till winter. Let’s hope.


    Ryder gave me a long spiel about how he
    gave another dancer a ride home (Darlene) and she
    expected him to go to bed with her and he said, I don’t do
    that. I could tell he was sounding me out! I said,
    I don’t either! No sex, ever! Sex, bad. He laughed till
    it hurt and he begged for mercy.

    Poor Avril had a long hard
    day – 7:30 AM to 6:30! I promised to take her out to eat at
    Steak & Egg if she picks me up. She said make it Bob’s
    and it’s a deal.

    Sat 10 July 76 – 9 pm – Shalimar
    7 hours packing at Zevin Towers before I showed up here.

    10:30 AM Tues 6 July 76
    Sitting on a mattress on the floor of my Tyler St

    bedroom surrounded by a jumble of stuff. So exciting
    starting a New Life. This time I am waiting for the gasman
    – if he doesn’t come by 1 pm I have to leave.


    9:25 PM – sitting in the Shalimar dressing room
    eating a plum. Last night A and I saw Antonioni’s The
    Passenger.     Goes down with La Prisonniere, Persona,
    Pierrot Le Fou     and Weekend as one of my favorite all-time
    films. So perfectly constructed it was like a series of Canalettos.
    Ryder just asked me if I wanted to go to dinner some-
    time. I said sure. He asked me about a lot of Italian food I
    didn’t recognize – I said I like everything. Covered with sweat
    from dancing to ”No one knows what its like to be the bad man…”
    have to take it really slow, freezing in a series of poses. Then
    suddenly I meet someone’s eyes and he drops his drink.

    I hate packing. Getting to
    be a bit of a trial having Ryder in the bar all the time. His
    expressions embarrass me to dance around him. I said I
    thought this place was full of stories. He said, don’t stay
    here just to pick up stories. He said he would “subsidize”
    me to keep me from “doing this.” Hmmmm. Right after
    talking about how little money he’ll have when he splits
    with his wife!


    He’s been offered a job in Detroit for a lot more
    money – that’s how they get ahead in his business –
    jump from station to station. I told him he should take it –
    turned out that was the “wrong thing” because he hoped
    I’d want him here. But I told him, I’m a citizen of the world.
    I can go anywhere. Fear only empty experiences. So he says,
    why are you doing this? I said, to meet you.
    Otherwise he is perfect. So charming, smart and
    funny, with so much ambition, spirituality and humility.


    4 sets left – then 2 days off. Just bought 3 costumes from
    Sunny for $30. Feeling personally confident in a way I
    haven’t for years. R invites me out to dinner next week.
    Have to buy special shoes so I won’t be too tall and tower
    over him. Today marks year and a half since my separation from Bruce.

  • The Demon Lover – a play for two voices by Alysse Aallyn

    VOLCADA – CAPSIZED

    EVA
    Allen’s buried.
    Without husband, I re-experience my youth.
    Oh, the bafflement of the young!
    I broke off my first
    Engagement because I loved too much
    And cast about for a spouse I could
    Control. I believe you did that, too.

    EVAN
    I experienced our parting as unbearable.
    I had to run away –
    Your rush of talk was like someone bursting into tears.
    I felt like an executioner robbing you of sleep.
    Without you
    My nose began to bleed and
    It’s been bleeding ever since.
    We must love each other less to become more tranquil.

    EVA
    I am a witch and you should fear me.
    I glow with contempt and boredom and fury.
    I don’t understand why
    I can’t experience life by your side.
    We share the same senses,
    The same vein of joy.
    Our life together is timeless, continuous.

    EVAN
    Your letter fraught with dynamite.
    I can never be alone, it is me and the gin bottle.
    I am home nowhere now – except with you.

    EVA
    Please don’t get yourself into a state –
    But Edgar has proposed, forcing me to face the fact
    That I literally cannot live without you.

    EVAN
    I dread you will succumb to Edgar.
    You called him “sweet” and “cozy” and “brilliantly entertaining”
    And I am none of those things. Did you bewitch him?
    I ask in my persecuted voice.
    It would be your ultimate justice, sending me to hell.
    We lose each other by inches.
    Aren’t we doing that already?

    EVA
    I can’t show Edgar the brutal candor
    Behind my loving kindness.
    He mistakes the hostess for a person.
    I arrange my flowers in symbols of you
    And everyone’s too stupid to notice.
    To bed alone again tonight.
    I wish Elayna would die.
    Then we should be equals.

    EVAN
    I must refuse your guilt.
    I feel a shift in the angle of vision
    Further from you than ever.
    A foreboding so final it seemed the end.
    Your pleading for our life dissolves my will.

    EVA
    I am gnawed by an aching hopeless wish.
    Loneliness leads to breakdown,
    Becomes dementia. I batter
    Around the rooms of this castle,
    Brightly-plumaged,
    Knocking into furniture,
    A tragic bird who’s trapped indoors.
    Even dizzy with drink I maintain the frigidity
    Of an Edwardian hostess
    Intolerant of scenes at meals.
    Without you life’s a half-lit room.

    EVAN
    I’ve become a character in your melodrama
    An absurd scalawag of romantic vice.
    Let’s reject this
    Hopeless dilemma.

    EVA
    What could be more beautiful than our ten days in New York,
    Among perverted architecture.
    No loss of illusion there, rather an increase.
    I’m in the midst of a dreary financial crisis,
    Having breakdown on my feet.
    I hope I don’t sound too shocked and sad.
    You are life to me as nothing is.
    My fingers still tremble,
    Touching you after 17 years.

    EVAN
    This is the Eva I first met, first knew, first loved.
    We waited it out and didn’t lose each other.
    I was sane or mad to doubt you & myself.
    We are like two people sweating blood
    I dread losing you
    But Elayna’s power still holds me.
    One of you may do me harm.

    EVA
    Thanks for the cash,
    I hope it doesn’t embarrass you too much.
    You are a reviver and a balm.
    We shall be in Paris together before we die.

    EVAN
    If you want me to be unselfish, let me be unselfish.
    You are my greatest friend. I’m
    Trying to keep off the drink while you’re here,
    Otherwise I know I’ll wreck everything.
    Three manhattans makes me crazy.
    Your feverish cheer does not seem solid.
    Is this the wreckage of our love?
    Once frightened of your clinical eye
    Now I’m more frightened of my own.
    I’ve matriculated in
    Your fearful university.

    EVA
    We sheer away in horror
    Scenting fumes of evil
    As we lose control.
    Defeat and exhaustion, alarm and despondency.
    Demoralized and sad.
    Slam down the lid on pain and resentment:
    I have taken against your family.
    Let’s dance. To sit
    In silence denigrates our love.

    EVAN
    My heart aches for you.
    We talked for the first time in weeks
    About hurt and resentment.
    I could manage my life if it weren’t for you
    And you could manage yours if it weren’t for me.
    You infect me with your despair and I flee to my wife
    To release the pressure.
    Her quickening influence works my imagination.

    EVA
    I hate that you travel the world without me.
    You pervade that place as God pervades our hearts.
    I obsess that you’re in places where I’m not.
    I could not live without seeing you. Yet
    Our visit may turn sour.

    EVAN
    Everything except your beautiful self rusts
    Or dies or goes away.
    My love only seems dead;
    it’s alive underneath. If you die
    I shall never forgive you.

    We need ideas that are less about ourselves.

    EVA
    My rage is based on my assumption
    Of togetherness and my
    Secret fear you’re being got at when
    We could be so snug together.

    EVAN
    I hurt Elayna tonight
    But there’s no help for it.
    She cares for me and I only care for a life apart.
    A clean break, an amputation
    Makes me frantic and guilty.
    She says we have a happy marriage only because
    She willed it. This smell of death and decay
    Makes me long for sex.
    Could you help me find a girl – any girl you choose –
    Or will you call me a sex mad degenerate?
    Panic makes my hands shake.
    I thought of Elayna and I wept.

    EVA
    I received your sad, wild letter.
    I accept that you can’t free yourself.
    Do you accept it?
    I feel so very near you.
    I accept that you make sex
    Desperately with strangers –
    Do you accept it?
    Can anyone love such a cold-blooded person?

    EVAN
    How silly I am, I thought
    I reconciled to our ending,
    Expecting a collapse of tension & illusion.
    But it’s a prospect I just can’t face.