Category: Dance

Inspired Pleasure
Diary of a Poet Who Happens. to be a Dancer
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Tues, midnight, 9 Feb 78
        What a day. Lost a contact just before bed, which put 
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me in a hideous temper. 1 ½ hrs sleep, drove A to Laundromat, did
laundry, bought cosmetics, picked her up, did lunch and visited broker.
Just like the other rich girls except for the Laundromat part. Then to
MVA, got MD license renewed, new address, not too horrible photo. Avril
flunked her test must retake Wed.
Back to house managed 2 more hrs of sleep. Woke
up feeling cheerful and streaked hair with L’Oreal. Still have a rotten
cough. The trouble with being sick is you can’t imagine yourself well.
Intimations of mortality. Ate lasagna with A, then off to work. J dropped
in second set, said his car was fixed, seemed cheerful, said his sister-in-law
(whom I suspect of being The Pirate Queen) is reading my book “to
figure out what kind of person I am” (uh oh). He left during my 3rd set
without saying goodbye. Should I drop in on him? Tempting.
He also asked to read Demon. Hmmmm. A of course
thinks I should clamor for “boundaries” “rights”, “clarity” and “definitions.”
I am embarrassed even to tell HER that this is all completely hopeless.
I’d have to set him on my knee and move his mouth. I’d end up defining
every term and he would immediately forget anyway. Anyway, in my
experience, the less “clarity”, the better the sex. Once things have
been completely defined you no longer want to touch each other.
Missing Devon of all people. He must be sick of
Gwynne by now. Where will he find another like me? But it’s always
a bad sign when I plunge into “default” mode. So, I dropped in on Ryder
to take him by surprise. He was there and it was worth it. Gave me a
gorgeous massage. I gave him my cold. We are at the wrong points in
our life trajectories to connect in any meaningful way. Picked up Holt’s
Lord of the Far Island which one of the other girls is reading. Unbelievably
crappy. Why do people prefer this stuff to mine? Oh well. Feeling better –
night almost over.

Sun. 12 Feb 78 – 10:20 PM
Psychic tremors driving home. But when I walked in the
door everything was fine. It’s so comforting to be surrounded with one’s
own stuff – it seems to assumes a personality – like a separate self. A
reassuring stand-in – someone who “goes on” for you when you’re tired.
Very busy weekend – A moving into her own place – sorting, packing,
cleaning, buying. Moving. Hard physical labor since we are doing it all.
“Mother Truckers.” Rushed on to work with my arms aching – J. showed up.
His body seemed solider, less fragile. I gave him a comforter for his birthday
– he seemed to like it – we went to his place to watch Harper – side by side
like an old couple on the couch. I’ve decided he reminds me most of some
wild animal. He always wakes up like a deer finding itself in a cage. He seems
to be just now comprehending that I’m there. He insisted on pleasuring me
so I just accept it. Said his body “hurt”. I wish I could convince him that
caffeine, junk food and alcohol are his enemies, but he is too stubborn to
believe it.  I fear a return of that kidney thing that felled him before. I’m
afraid our relationship belongs to the bar and his apartment, however.
Can’t get him to go anywhere with me; he is “tired” and he works enough
that it’s a believable excuse. He’s so beautiful you’d think he’d be more of an exhibitionist but it’s just the opposite. Three days off. I need it. But on the
whole I am pleased with my life.
```
    1:45 PM MON 13 Feb 78
            Lovely dog walk. My desk collapsed under piles of 
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books, so I bought new furniture – unpainted. Cleaned, redecorated
spare room (A’s old room.) Looks good. Decided just thinking about J
is channeling my energies away from writing. We have a “sexual friendship”,
so there. That’s Hugh Hefner’s “highest good” so presumably some people
would be happy with it. But J has no influence on my life-plan. R called.
We had a decent conversation.
```
            5:45 PM Snow pouring down – four more inches 
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expected so I decided not to go out. Last night was the first night I’ve
actually been unable to rouse J – so I just left – went home dirty and
sleepless to a couple of short-changed dogs. Now it turns out he’s in
the hospital undergoing tests because of “passing blood”. Medieval
sounding. Does he have those big black knobs under his armpits?
Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. The sister in law phoned with this info,
also gave the brother’s number where J will go after tests.
```
    9PM Plush Palace – Wed 15 Feb 78
            J quite drunk when he came in this evening – said 
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he’s turning in his notice and returning to the South. (I wondered if they
fired him but didn’t say it.) I was so upset I walked into the men’s room
by mistake! (No one in there.) He did say “or I could live with you.”
This does not sound good to me. My monogamous soul does not aspire
to a lifetime playing nursie.
```
    10PM – Plush Palace – Thurs 16 Feb 78
            3 sets done – I’m exhausted and my legs hurt but I’ll survive. Spent the afternoon with Chloe and Dennis Parks at WPFW, taping 
```
a vibrant show on paperback publishing. Really enjoyed myself. A came
over for dinner and helped me paint my new study furniture. Got a
frightening letter from the IRS – I phoned – turned out that they think I
owe them an extra $56! They can have it.   Electric bill $76.   Disappointed
by Noel Coward’s Future Indefinite, seeking escape instead in
Mona Farnsworth’s Dark Wood. I deserve escapism after all I’ve
been through.

               11:40PM – Plush Palace – Fri 17 Feb 78
Just finished Rosenberg’s bio of Dorothy Richardson.
She seems just like me – then when I get to the end of her life – poverty
& anguish! Oh dear!

4:00 PM Mon 21 Feb 78
Lying in bed – hair set – an hour to go before work.
Spent all day tidying study – including file drawers – if I was to die this
minute I would give everyone the impression of being a hardworking
artist and an astute businesswoman. Maybe I shouldn’t wreck it by ever
going in there again. Gregory’s book about Dorothy Richardson – lots left out.
Putting myself to sleep with Homage to Daniel Shays – I must have a
lready read this because all the essays seem so familiar.   Very unpleasant
Vidal attack on Anais Nin.
```
    Plush Palace – 7:45 PM
            Lots of comforts in this job. Inhale the pleasure 
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of a messy dressing room, so full of life & hope. I was sitting down
taking out my curlers when GiGi asked me to do her last set – her knee
hurts – so I put on a gold G- string and did one set without makeup. That
paid my electric bill right there. Settle down with Anne Tyler. Comfortable.
```
    10:30PM – Plush Palace – Thurs 23 Feb 78
            Avril came to work with me – I’m having a great night. 
```
She met a guy here she likes who asked for her number – he seems nice,
but he must have the problems intrinsic to all who haunt this place – alcoholic
or druggy – or just unmotivated in some fatal, fatal way.
Paz’s been telling me her new honey’s too “big”
for her – makes her bleed. That can’t be right. This triggered an
avalanche of gynecological horror stories that ended up with all who
are interested examining Fatima’s hanging “meatus” left over from a
“botched childbirth”. She has trouble tucking it into her G-string!
I declined inspection. Missing an opportunity other writers would have
jumped at? Will I need to describe this someday?
```
    Sun. 26 Feb 78 – 9:45 PM
            J actually showed for dinner last night – while I was
```
stuffing the baked potatoes – we had a wonderful evening, played Clue,
very good sex. Said his sister read my “gothic” but called it Too Victorian.
Disguised praise? I decide to think so. He asked me to visit him in Alabama.
I’m sure there’s a novel in that but do I want to be the one to write it?
Then of course he had to leave early. I called A – had kind of a psychic
flash – a feeling of trepidation about the human condition – she said she
had been sobbing all night. Are we going no place? I asked her. Is it all an illusion? She said she feels she once had a home and family but somehow lost them and can’t adjust. She has a life others would envy – young college student with her own apartment in DC – but she wants back something she never had. “Neva vu” ex-husband Bruce and I used to call it. The unrecognized familiar. I am reading – very appropriately – The Troubled Helpmate. Misogyny in literature.

To Drown In Air

Were the world as simple as

At first it seems

I’d be sky-haunted

Lay my emblems end to end

Ever seeking upward.

Have a fine ambition;

Possibility becomes the future

Without the prodigal waste of past.

Turn your gawper turkey-wards;

Survey the clouds for nourishment

Breathe in all that

Oxygenated snow; be

Young

Be beautiful

Be dead.
January 10, 2023
Inspired Pleasure
Diary of a Dancer
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Mon 27th Dec 77 11:00 AM
        See Dracula on Broadway – pure pleasure with some 
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honest scares. Frank Langella very sexy. At Italian dinner Mom and
Dad push island hard, but I know the old people would never leave me
alone. They’d be worse than R. Still, there’s something magical about
being protected from the real world by the ferry – places you can’t get
to easily are wonderful just for that reason.
Mom and Dad say further I can’t be serious about my
writing or I’d have a job in publishing or magazines! I’m so rocked back
on my heels its hard to argue. It sounds so sane. But why won’t it result,
really, in another “hostage taking” of my soul, which, so, so regrettably,
appears to be so damn fragile? Becoming one’s self is life’s greatest
challenge – and so far it does seem necessary to abjure group (gang? Team?) endeavors. Writing doesn’t satisfy unless it comes out of the wild side of
me – my secret side. There’s always the temptation to rip open the spider
and get the silk out faster. Dad rolls his eyes – it’s the old “I’m an artist so
I can do what I want” argument again. How to tell him yes, he’s right. Yes,
I’m taking advantage of my education, my family, my “privileges”; it’s who
they made me. No going back to some invented Dust Bowl life of drudgery
just so THEY can “feel superior & good”. They insist they don’t WANT to
“feel good!” It’s about what’s “right!” My turn to roll my eyes.
```
Detroit, 11:05 PM, Thursday 29 Dec 77
        At the adorably, impossibly 20’s Tudoresque manse my sister 
```
Merrill is restoring – it’s lovely here. Merrill and her husband say dancing is
“sex work” and “sex work” is “OK” if its “regulated so “sex workers aren’t
exploited.” I get annoyed that nobody can tell the difference between dancing
and prostitution! Lots of things cause “erotic titillation” – breathing for
example. Still, I find I’m inclining toward taking a two-month break in March
and going to the island to write. Is this family management? But one of
the reasons I like dancing is because you can “pick it up and put it down.”
Well, we’ll see.
```
Thurs night 29 Dec 77 9:30 PM
            I find as I distance from Ryder I remember some good things 
```
and that makes me happy. He was so unique. It was fun knowing him,
watching him perform impromptu magic for street children and restaurant
patrons. More extraordinary really than poor old Jervaze who in spite of his
glamorous looks drinks way too much and hates his job. Also R knew me as
a “not dancer” which J doesn’t – maybe that persona obscures who I really
am. I remember the excitement of watching Ryder make his television show – unexpectedly sweaty physical labor in choosing camera angles and shots,
timing, music, close-ups – building the tape as the excitement was happening
– more in common with sports than some couch potato activity like editing.
Greek Town for dinner after the Renaissance Center, so the
night ended in a wild bouzouki. Day occupied with antiquing – especially fun
since I am reading Rumer Godden’s China Court, which is basically a love
song to things. It made me worry that there are not enough details in
Demon – what should I add? Perhaps buy a Vogue to see.
```
            Dreamed about Devon last night.  Wonder; what 
```
he’s up to. Maybe I’m being psychic again. Getting some peace of mind
about him as well. Merrill’s daughter comes to read over my shoulder,
then when I move to hide the diary says, “Don’t worry, I can’t read cursive. “
```
    Plush Palace – Tuesday, January 3, 1978 – 9:25 PM
            Back at work. Can’t concentrate on The Murder of Sir 
```
Edmund Godfrey, which is the book I brought because I keep thinking
Jervaze will drop by. Dead silence from him – no call on Christmas. I sent
him one card but of course I only got back yesterday. I can’t bear to take all
the initiative. Oddly (especially after my dream about him) had a card waiting
from Devon. Maybe I AM psychic. Evidently he regrets that love-letter –
encourages me to “hang loose”. Quotes from Sister Goldenhair. In other
words, don’t try to get him to plan to meet skiing, that’s just way more
planning than he can handle. Kind of a pathetic specimen.
```
Plush Palace – 10:05 pm Thurs 5 Jan 1978
        Jervaze came in Tues after my 10:00 set – with lots of little 
```
presents for me, perfume, bears, cards, pins – in a Christmas stocking. He
wore a gold-banded black cowboy hat covered with snow and a shiny black
down parka, his platinum hair swinging around his face – like a visit from an
angel. Or possibly a Chippendale dancer. He is too pretty; mine eyes dazzle.
He stayed till I got off at 1 then walked me to my car – one kiss – asked me
out very formally for Saturday night. I gave him directions to my place and
he wrote them in a book – tipped his hat, climbed into his Shelby and vanished,
leaving me wondering, is he gay? Is he even real? I continue to struggle
reading The Young Romantics – artists in 1840’s Paris.

PLACES I HAVE NEVER LIVED

From which house came my teenage lover?
I should recognize the one – where
As a sick moth haunts the moon he
Marked me in my blood.
He’s the one who died.
Women are more flexible
Turning shit to gold like
Earthworms; men are brittle
Sharp and angry, fall so
Easy out of tune. I sharpen
Ears these winter days
For all the sounds I never heard;
Screen doors slamming –
Secrets, arson,
Stolen kisses
Mustered music, borrowed
Penchant; Mayhem – trenchant
Terror – sentient.
```
        Avril and I found a perfect black sequin tube top while
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we were out promenading yesterday – I’m going to wear it with my
black silk trouser suit. She thinks she found herself the perfect
apartment too – a studio in a skyscraper with a great kitchen, huge closets,
only $216 month utilities included, says she is going to look for another
week before she decides. Financial fount M & D don’t want her living with
me because I am a “harmful influence.” We saw Armon in a bit part on
TV last night – there weren’t any credits, but I knew it was him.
Listening out of one ear to gossip – Gina says the bartender
at the Starlight is bisexual and that Tony the bagman is her male lover.
She is big, he is little, I can’t imagine them together. He is called the “bagman”
because he runs between the clubs in a Lincoln filled with bags of money.
Gina also says that she is a priest in a mail order religion and that her
breasts are real and her ex-husband raped her nine-year-old daughter.
I can tell for a fact those hard breasts are fake so it does make it tough
to believe anything she says.
Last night went out with Erika to see the new Bunuel
(in spite of her claims to revere him she failed to notice he used different
actors for the same part) and to eat at Chateau Gesundheit. Depressing
conversation about how terrible men are – says her ex-husband is a cross
between a psychopath and a momma’s boy – she naturally assumed
because of R that this would be my favorite subject. She also says all exotic
dancers and showgirls were molested as children and as a result are lesbians who hate men. Asking or inviting? All I can say is that all little girls have unpleasant memories of Adult Men but this is just a chip on her breeze. A breeze I think
I better stay out of in future, perhaps. I also get tired of hearing the Marxist
slant on Life. Love doesn’t exist, people do everything for “self-interest”, etc.
etc. If that is true they are doing a piss-poor job of it. I think people live for
fantasy and some people’s fantasies are very, very cheap.
Hoping drinks with Maeve will be more fun.
```
        Midnight - 6 Jan- 78
        Crazy with love.  Jervaze and I had one of those unforgettable 
```
dates last night – Took him to my favorite restaurant in Ellicott City – Coco Lane
and we talked for hours. He loves dogs – wants to raise Grand Pyrenees. His
favorite cats are English blues. Wanted to be a vet except he always hated
school, so that’s how he got into working with his hands and he thinks there’s
no way back now. He loves WC Fields and horror movies.
The thing I love about him most (apart from his astonishing
beauty) is his natural courtesy, his dignity (he is very polite to anyone in a
service position – the exact opposite of R who acted as if being exigent
was the same thing as being discriminating. Status.) He has such an aura of gentleness and calm, just like those big dogs he loves so much. His isolation,
I like too – he’s the only male I’ve met in quite awhile who doesn’t travel in a
pack. He has a brother in the same job locally – that’s why he came up from
Alabama – but he plainly thinks suburban Virginia is the “fast lane” and I don’t
disabuse him.
He eats seafood by preference and wants to live on the water.
He probably drinks too much and could be an incipient alcoholic. My parents
would be totally, totally appalled but of course it doesn’t take much to appall them. Alas, he hasn’t finished my book – claims he’s “working on it”. I am
waiting for him to outright say he doesn’t understand it – maybe when he
knows me better.
When he kissed me goodnight he only kissed me – a relief
at the time, since it was one less worry. Now of course I wish I had some clearer indication from him that he finds me even attractive. Is he polite or am I resistible? Don’t want to be resistible – we’ll have to change that.
```
 Sat -1 pm 7 Jan- 78
        I’m at the Starlight – our club owner owns this one too – it’s huge.  
```
How I hate this stage. It isn’t a true stage but a runway winding through the
audience, which means you must keep walking all the time – and they try to
fill it by having several girls up at once. One can’t build any audience hypnosis – people pay less attention and have more business meetings – and tips
really take a nosedive. The bartender is a grizzled old lesbian who stares
right up my crotch – supposedly to see if my stocking seams are straight
(they aren’t. Fortunately she doesn’t offer to do them for me – but she still
watches.) Four of the other girls tried to get me to let them smoke dope in
the dressing room – I told them no. They’ll have to go out back with the alley
cats.
Thank God Glee – who has a lot of class – backed me up. So
the two of us had the dressing room to ourselves, which made a pleasant
change from watching the others trying to disguise the scars from their breast operations. Book I brought – The Pleasure of Ruins – does not go with this atmosphere in spite of its title.
R called me here – says he found me thru Randy who
was impressed because Ryder’s on TV! I flatly told him he is scaring the life
of out me with this behavior.
```
         But he seems to know just how far to push things, amazingly 
```
we had a wonderful talk! Gentleman Jim lets us talk in his office: very respectful
of our “privacy”. He obviously thinks we are dating. Wonder if he will tip
R to the fact that I have a “honey on the side” at the Plush Palace? Jesus!
I told R I am sick of his “psychotic twin brother” (good idea for a novel,
actually) and he really laughed – admitted he has “a Jekyll-Hyde” thing
going on. (It’s actually worse than that – it’s really Hyde and Mr. Nastier
Hyde – but didn’t say that. Keep conversation light.) He promised to stop
calling me at work.
January 5, 2023

Inspired Pleasure

Diary of a Dancer

8:30 AM Thurs Sept 15 1977
        Up early spending the last of my money on necessaries – hardware, lampshades, contact paper.

Fri 16 September 1977
        My books arrived at Larry’s!  I spent the morning sending&nbsp;them out. Then drove to the Landover Mall, bought two g-strings and pasties and off to the Plush Palace. Steve was there – (Randy the bouncer just hired) thrilled to see me. 
        Wanted to know where I’d been but I turned that easily away.Vacay! Who wouldn’t!  Told me to come to work Saturday night and they’d give me my schedule. So that’s settled. I don’t like trying to live without money. Took the landlord my paint color selection – he buys the paint and I do the work. Probably will take me the next week. Every now and then am attacked by that claustrophobic feeling of restlessness and purposelessness but I am able to keep it at philosophical bay. Working at my poem index made me feel strong and soothed.

PREPPY

Corseted with verbs
French teacher sweeps
Cherry blossoms from the tennis court
As she would like to french
The cherries, squelch them soundly
Beneath her soccer-spiking shoes

While the headmistress
Cello-breasted
Polishes graffiti carved upon her coffin
In Chaucerian High English,
And the girls –
Nun-white, nun-blue

Soar above the hockey fields like
Foul-mouthed angels, anticipated ecstasy locked
In narrow hope chests ripening on
Amphetamines
Free Love
Bad dreams.

        Called Chloe to see if I can get on the radio – she was excited to hear from me, but unfortunately gave Erika my number. Erika called – I was nervous that she wanted me to rewrite her manuscripts, but she just invited me to breakfast.&nbsp; After that she has another appointment so she can’t swallow up my day. Letter from Avril saying she is coming end of Oct.

10:15 PM Sat 17 Sept 77 – The Plush Palace, Alexandria Virginia
Ego lift. Nothing’s changed. I’m still the best dancer in the place. Four dancers on and I know two of them. The gossip, the Costume exchange, the curling irons, the dope in the dressing room – it’s all coming back to me. They’ve introduced some weird rules, like customers get to play the music, but it’s still a fun and relaxed place to be. Steve the floor manager says I can have all the work I want so I might be able to put money away.

Sun 18 Sept 77
Opal comes to over to say “hi” but really to complain about her incipient divorce. Not the best company. Not the best climate for me either – I found myself sobbing over Ryder (fortunately was alone by then). Why does it seem a lost paradise? So I can still get into that sort of mood.
Nice phone call with Mom and dad, not too pressured. They are coming to a boatyard in Annapolis to look at a boat – will see me then. One of the best things about this house is the month-to month lease. Feel I can leave any time but if I behave well they won’t kick me out. Gorgeous location but forty-five minute highway commute to The Plush Palace. Still wish I could live in Virginia.

Wed AM 20 Sept 77
Sent out a ton of poems. Replied to a woman who wants pieces for an anthology. Got a beautiful love-letter from Devon! His usual length – both sides of one page. Talked about how much fun we had in August, dressing up and going out and “afterwards…!” Made me smile. I said to hell with money and called Avril because I wanted to share – Mason is not there during the day. She is in a bad place. Providential I called. He has taken to staying out at night without explanation – she is frantic. Thank God she is coming here. I told Randy since I’m your best dancer, how about a raise. He gave me one! Only flaw to this house – they need to fix hot water. I had to heat water to wash my hair. Bought 2 more costumes bringing my total up to six – the bare minimum I’d say.
Plush Palace – 11:20 AM Sun 24 Sept – wrote a fourteen page letter to Avril tonight. There’s a very pretty blond here who looks just like R – they could be mistaken for each other – but it’s not him.
9:40 PM – walls dry so I could hang paintings. What a difference. Reading Redinger’s bio of George Eliot, The Emergent Self. Like it very much. Turns out I love driving to work – 5Pm is rush hour on the Beltway – everyone’s coming home but I’m going out for the night! Makes me feel weirdly close to all those people. And apparently they feel close to me – though they could just be reacting to my bumper sticker (Colette was a Nudie Dancer). They don’t seem to get the literary reference.

Mon 3 Oct 1977
I hear only from my sister Merrill who declares my book a “brilliant satire”. She wants to know why I work? Shouldn’t I tour with book? Sigh. Give me the money and leave me alone I say.
Spent the AM phoning around trying to find my book in all the stores. Only found it one place. Dropped note to publisher.

Out for Courvoisier with Erika who lectured me on my book. I ended up defending the Victorians saying everyone now thinks “honesty and openness” are going to save them but we don’t know enough about ourselves for real honesty and our lives are still based on “smothered panic” as far as I can see. (See Janet Case’s strictures to V. Woolf. ) Well off to my double life. When I pull into the Plush Palace parking lot I have such a good feeling. Everything coming together. Down the old runway.

Bought the most wonderful gold stripper shoes that tie with ribbons and have clear Lucite six-inch heels. I finally have enough costumes to feel really professional – every set should be good. Randy always compliments me. I am slowly phasing my hair from red to blonde – seems to help with the tips. I can live on fruit and cream of wheat – only buy groceries with tip money. Little man down front muttering “fuck me-fuck me-fuck me” over and over but not loud enough to be evicted. Randy said I am the best dancer in Washington area.

Sat 8 Oct 1977
Giving a dinner party. Bought 8 old-fashioned glasses for 50 cents apiece, five floor pillows, peacock chairs and a glass dining table. Now I’m looking for silk eiderdown (for my bed) in some violent color. Bought beautiful rose-lilac fabric for curtains. Randy gave me another raise without my even asking for one. I love my body again! After the long estrangement caused by Ryder…he deliberately tried to undermine my faith in my body. He would prefer bad sex with a slave as long as he can be boss. Wait – isn’t that the marriage he just got out of? Guess we all repeat ourselves.

7:30 PM Tues 11 Oct 77
I’m too fucking fragile. All my problems come from pretending I’m not. I look forward to old age when presumably throbbing metabolism, soaring hormones and plunging brain waves will have smoothed out. How to describe this scrambled day? I’ve been vibrating like a cilia ever since I got up this morning. Made dentist, gyno appts, shots for dogs, dog licenses, took angel puppies on an hour’s walk. Divorce lawyer on the 26th: “John Love”: seems appropriate. Clear the decks for writing.
My area of Beltsville very rural. Poetry in all directions. Reading Mildred Savage’s A Great Fall and getting lots of ideas. Vac cleaner to repair shop they say they can fix for under $15. I hate errands, a disgusting dribble of irreplaceable time. Rewarded myself by getting Sleeping Murder at the library. Already know Dr Kennedy is the murderer.

2PM Wed 12 Oct 77 – Plush Palace
Some men seem to interpret the fact that I’m a dancer as some sort of personal challenge to them. You can feel the spike of hostility. “You’re making me think about sex again!” Is it fear of rejection? Any aura of professionalism bothers them also. I always curtsy especially low to the hostile tables – they can never figure out whether I am mocking them or not AND THEY THINK I PROBABLY AM! I save them a lot of money by getting them thrown out early. One guy asked me how long it would take to get in bed with me. His erection was so obvious I almost asked, “And what is your little friend drinking?” but instead I said, “5 years.” He showed up next night, saying, “Day one of the five year plan!” I like those guys much better.
Final R conclusion: What a JERK! Jerk’s absolutely the right word - in instinctual reflex – no brain activity involved. Will I ever find a gorgeous man (blond, please) whose soul connected to his brain?

9:20 PM Thurs 13 Oct 77
Shopping Loehmann’s yesterday with Maeve. 3 sweaters, silk jumpsuit with jacket & scarf, lime-colored silk jersey blouse, socks, boots, shoes, gloves - $140 cash. Nice. Saw a wonderful fake fur coat I’d like to come back for. It has a priceless air of Ken Russell camp. Buy it with my Folger money – Shakespeare would understand.
Maeve bought nothing. Couldn’t find one thing she liked, reading labels with the expression of Queen Victoria viewing a slum. And the free-for all dressing rooms full of naked people just astonished her. (Stuff I see every day.)

She wants to know exactly why Wealthier People rejected this clothing at its first price? They must know something we don’t. (Wondrous rhinestone earrings to dance in, too. M. expressed pious horror. ) People like this amaze me. Why is your own taste of little importance? Then went out to dinner at a Middle Eastern restaurant – my choice – heavenly lamb shish kebab and a belly dancer! I loved it but Maeve had to rush out before dessert. But as it seems I can never be with ANYONE – even lovers – longer than 3 hrs it was just as well.

Folger morning started badly, hair looked mangy, face requires immediate skin graft. Dog hair even on NEW clothing (How is this possible?) Running an hour behind schedule (compulsively early me). May Miller gave me worst intro I ever hope to have, misquoted my poems and said I was a grad of the U of Minn. I thought I would sob with emotion 52 times during reading. My “woodcunt” poem did not go down well (even though it is definitely my most Shakespearean).

Damn. Then I could have strangled Erika Gelbfisz (at the after party) who is so scornful and cynical about everything you can’t even have an ordinary conversation with her. I felt like throwing my wine in her face saying, “Suppose you actually succeed in making us all feel rotten, what then? Fighting in the streets?” Nothing’s worth anything in her opinion, so why is she alive exactly? This is what gets my hostility going but because I am at a party I DON’T WANT TO GET INTO IT. So I just growl and stew. I don’t care for Cocktail Party Standing Around – my right boot was trying to extinguish my left toe, a toe already threatened with extermination from dancing. This is real Italian leather so SHOULD ultimately fit my feet – I can see each boot slowly outlining my toes – if I don’t come down with gangrene first. Will try Wet Washcloth Stuffing tonight. (Still, I looked ravishing, my dear, in a blue gaucho three-piece suit and my red, red, high-heeled boots.) Poet Usher Glayne seemed impressed with me – but he’s an old man.
To bed with my main squeeze, Agatha Christie. Thank God for that woman. She has pulled me single handedly through the last three months.
I was just drifting off when Marc Kramer called. We talked ½ hr. He bought a sailboat and a BMW and wanted to be sure to let me know. I like the sailboat and the car but the desire to “impress” me diminishes him in my eyes. Sad to say. He’s presently at risk of being filed under “has no conversation”. Well, he did talk about work. They wanted to fire him from The Washington Project, then admitted he had been right all along. He’d love to have dinner sometime, “see how I live”. Uh oh. Can I keep this relationship out of the sexual? I don’t want to go to bed, even experimentally with someone Lacking the Necessary Spark. Could they make up for it by enthusiasm or step-by-step instructions? I hesitate. Is it ever possible to just date? It was AWFUL with Keith. Marc, however, has a gift of humor. And my parents like him. “No expectations?” I finally say. And he promises.
4:20 PM Fri Oct 14 – 77
Blessed book! The joy, the solidity, the security this diary has afforded me all my life can’t be measured. Bizarre letter from my dentist thanking me for referring “Mr. Arlen” to them! Apparently he is stalking me. Now I have to wear makeup to the dentist! Hope I don’t run into Ryder while wacked out on Novocain. Usual day of quotidian pursuits, washing lingerie & hair, filing, letters. Avril writes that Mason is moving in with a friend! He thinks it will be “better” for her. Bet the “friend” is female! Sure sounds like death knell to me – he dragged her all the way out there, ran busily through her money & lost his spark. Still other’s relationships are always so much clearer! Now we can be glad she’s not going to school – she needs to get out NOW.

Plush Palace – Mon – 11:40 PM 17 Oct 77
4 Dancers on tonight but Cindy and Linda walked out, ticked about my raise (I didn’t tell them.) So more dancing (and $$). Plus coffee machine broken and we need to order out so I treated myself to 2 Krispy Kremes. Ah, the simple joys. Five-year plan guy is back. His fave play? “Love is Alive” – unfortunately.
The most gorgeous autumn weather tonight driving here – my heart soared. ONE MORE SET! Then fling on fake fur “Shakespearean” coat, jump into El Diablo, off into the night. Bar deserted, tips unspeakable. Asked if I could cash a check with Randy he just handed me a $20 bill, so there’s gas. Kiki says she’s getting married, worked the whole evening on her guest list for Big Event in Fredericksburg. Reading Hardwick’s Seduction & Betrayal and appreciating it although something’s “off” about her. Why won’t the ventriloquist put down the dummy and just talk? And she’s just flat wrong about Woolf and Plath.
I brood about letting R. know where I work. Brave or stupid? Stupid, I think. Better class him with “dead end relationships”. I have plenty of people I’d never want to see again – Bruce and Kyro springs to mind. Other people I feel good about like Toss Sheffield. He’d be fun to see again. Could he handle my dancing? He had a fun “hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy” attitude in general towards effort & enterprise.

I can’t sleep
Because you’re gone
My muscles wake
My mind goes spinning on
And where your fingers
Plied and pruned my face
Night air is cold and
Caustic in its place
And where we turned and woke
In complex rhyme, I’m left
To face the music frayed by time
A waltz which once we won
A losing battle choreographed for one.
None to explore or
Appreciate my line though now at last
It’s incontestably mine.

January 2, 2023

Inspired Pleasure
Diary of a Dancer

10PM Mon 16 May 77
Finally got a reaction from agent to Secaire. I was
physically sick when I opened it but she was full of praise. I could
teach Poe, Verlaine and Mallarme a thing or two! She’s sending it
to Harcourt but telling them it’s “too fine for a paperback”. Says it’s
also readable, which is a thing more “precious than rubies”. I was
really afraid of what she would say after our literary discussions
and her poetry sneers.

So elated! Hit the library today and hit it hard – Nancy
Mitford’s novels, Hilaire Belloc’s Letters, life of Brontë. Delicious
dreaming.
```
    5:35 Pm Broadcast Agency – 17 May 77 
    Enjoyed Helen Bevington’s The House was Quiet and 
```
the World Was Calm. In my bloodthirsty way would have preferred
a better description of her husband’s death. Must make do with
cuckoos and thrushes and loblolly pines.
```
    Bored to tears with this stupid job but you can’t say 
```
it’s “hard”. I’m the last happy dodo in a world of dinosaurs – all this
equipment about to be ripped out. In 5 mins I get to disconnect
phone, walk to Church St (parking’s free in Mafia territory). Drive
to Arlington. Fish sandwich for dinner, read about Unquiet Haworth
while wearing G-string & stockings. (So appropriate.) Expanding
my house hunt to Rt 450. (Towards Annapolis; might need Dad to
co-sign.) Obviously I can handle 45 min commute. (Don’t like rain,
however.) Aware El Diablo is nothing but a hunk of junk. Future of
American literature is fragile on some of these May nights.
```
    Broadcast Agency Thurs May 19, 77
    Only $134 in my saving acct and $7 in checking, curse that 
```
clutch. Crisis brewing with R. He is jealous and suspicious that I am out
so much in the evening. He’s the one who wants to be non-exclusive
so let him sweat. I have too many negative emotions about him – that
he’s a coward, for example. Which would make him angrier – if I was
dancing or screwing some other guy? (Which I have no desire to do and
he should know me by now.) I think he sees my privacy and aloneness
as infidelity. While he’s doubtless experimenting with “goofy chicks”
who’ve “never been touched”; I’m only “unfaithful” with Shelley & Brontë.
But that’s STILL too much for him.) After all this time if he still doesn’t
realize I’m the best, the hell with him.
```
    Worry about the dangers of scars. They can seem to heal, 
```
but sometimes they re-shape the life beneath. All I know, is, contempt
is the ultimate relationship killer. To love is to be happy with! Boy scout
methods won’t work with me, the sabre-toothed tiger. Our relationship
may already be fatally spoiled by resentment and revenge.
```
    Last night audience bored and hostile, but who cares? 
```
Bouncers won’t let them show it! We are goddesses to be revered and
if they won’t worship at the shrine they’re out. Compared to the Shalimar,
Palace is sheer joy. We are never hassled. God forbid if they try to
touch us! They are bounced on their heads in the parking lot.
If I have plain grits when I wake up at 9:30 or 10 (also coffee and
orange juice) I can last till 4. Hunger peaks at 5. Salad, then rush
to work – when I get there I’m not hungry anymore. Would like to cut
the burger habit.
Need to sew my G-strings but Merribeth can see me
through the glass and she won’t leave. Reading Robt Fish as an
antidote for poor Charlotte Brontë’s pain.
```
    1:00 AM Plush Palace – 20 May 77
    Four dancers tonight. Less work, more intellect. (!) Fred, 
```
the cook, insists I try his potato pancakes and they are DAMN good.
Can’t say no. Long wailing phone call from Maeve this afternoon. Why
is it we can see other’s relationships so clearly? “Dump him”, I always
say. Am I telling myself something? R & I make date tomorrow night.
Now wearing black velvet, smoky eyeshadow, black stockings and
glitter I look in the mirror and am astonished by my own beauty. Take
that, Ryder, you poor bastard. Eight mins and I’m up – One more
dance and home. Front table of impressionable navy cadets eminently
shockable.
```
    11:30 AM – Sun 22 May 77
    It’s all over, baby blue.  Getting up my strength for our date
```
tonight by sunbathing in back yard – literally cooking in coconut oil.
R. complained on Fri he called me “all night long” and I wasn’t home.
Aww. Could have told him I was writing but lying just postpones the
inevitable (because next time he’ll come over.) So told him I would
explain on our date. A poem came suddenly :In the Butterfly Pavilion.

This evening you said you wished
I was more conventional.
I bowed my head. I did not speak.
Outside the animals leaned together,
Breathing lightly; waiting
For my answer.
Cats-tongue ferns
Swelled up like swords, pushed out a stink
Occluding fields of vision while
The rabbit-bloodied lawn curled away.
Phlox flamed
Sows littered in the cyclamen
Dwarf stars broke free as
Frazzled molten ore raced across a sky
Darkening to night.
Summoning my power
My hands stay folded in my sleeves.
Nighttime is my kingdom.
.

Exhaustion from the violent motions of the pendulum.
I made dinner, but he refused to eat. He said, “I think
I know what you’re going to tell me. “
I said, “I bet you don’t.”
“It’s another man.”
“No. I’m dancing again. I’m living here alone. I need the
money.” (I should have said “it nourishes me UNLIKE
SOME PEOPLE” but I’m a coward too.)
He said very dismissively, ”Well, if that’s all you think you can
do.”
He who read my novel! Bastard! He said, “Well, the ball’s
in my court.” So I guess, that means “Game on!” (Was it ever
off?) And he left! Put his dinner carefully away in the freezer
(I’m not made of money) and took the dogs on an hour’s walk.
Now I lie here again in Paradise – baking, basting, trying to recall
every detail of the last time we had sex. Because that’s all I’ll ever
get from him.
11:30 PM
Session this aft with Chloe at Pacifica and a young PBS guy
named John about writing a radio play for kids. I threw out some ideas.
Then out for dinner with Chloe who complained that her husband has a
mental illness given to him by the Army – he only wants to fuck never
kiss. He fantasizes about “swinging” with another couple. I stolidly
drink red wine and eat bad doughy pizza. She says he’s always on
the verge of suicide, but she would never leave him. Play around,
OK, but never leave.
And I think that I have problems. I reject “victim” AND “slut”. The
poet alone in her lofty palace. Feels like an abscess has been lanced.
Heard about a great apt in Takoma Pk that’s OK for dogs.
```
    Broadcast Agency – 4:20 PM – Mon 23 May 77
    Present tenant says do not mention dogs so I am out of 
```
love with Perfect Apt. Would rather have a house. Lots of calls today.
I seem to be getting fat – but I look so good – much too good for 128.
How I hate to starve but it’s the only way. Need to be a fine-honed
racing machine.
Considering entering Courtney in the Saxton fellowship.
Can I get a readable copy? Lack of sex keeping me awake at night.
Now I know why people take drugs. Devon writes to say he’ll be in
Maine on the island but not at Genevieve’s wedding for “financial
reasons”. I plan to do my best to seduce him. Reading Mitford’s
Wigs on the Green – not as funny as it is sad. Pastiche, really –
Wodehouse is better. But I feel that way about E Waugh’s humor
too – that it is basically tragic – “this is all we can expect”. R. called
this AM as I was rushing to get ready – I said I was surprised to hear
from him, he said he “knew I was upset”. We could have had a little
argument about who’s more upset but I said what have you been up to?
Horseback riding out in Sperryville. (Doubtless not alone. What would
be the point of that? He is such a pain.)
Asked me when I was moving, when going to wedding.
He couldn’t be hinting for an invite – if I show up with him my family
will have me institutionalized for sure. They never could figure out
what I was doing with this hysterical little man.
We’ve said our fond goodbyes. If the ball is in his court,
it died there. Need to buy a dress for wedding. Macy’s? My mother
criticizes me for:

1) Making money
2) Caring about making money
3) Needing money AND
4) Buying inexpensive clothes. AND fake jewelry. A lady
never – etc.

You figure it out. Finished Farber’s essays – very bad book.
He seems to regard the female orgasm as some kind of personal insult –
“Now I’ve got this to contend with!” We’re not doing it to annoy you.
Hopelessness on the subject of sex a grave inadequacy in a philosopher
I would say. Merribeth sent me to the bank today – I was thrilled to get
outside – when I came back Keith called down to say he was having
lunch at the Hyatt Regency and had seen me walking and wanted to say
hi! Nothing to say after that. I thought of inviting him to the Palace
but what would be the point? Everyone would think he’s my boyfriend
and it’s a tips killer.
December 24, 2022
Inspired Pleasure
Diary of a Dancer
```
    10 PM Sun 24 Apr 77
    Very good day working "critic" at Pacifica radio. Worrying if I get 2nd job 
```
novel will suffer. Maybe Mr. Pierce will take care of that. Finished
Shelley – why is Triumph of Life always the Triumph of Death?
Nothing left to read – Natural Hist of Vampire; ho hum, Beyond
Belief is a yawn, Spoor of Spooks holds some interest but grating
tone. Finished scene between Nilssa and Labarraz – not really happy
with it. Total collapse of self-confidence a real problem for an artist.
```
    Tues 26 Apr 77
    Keith Dalrymple came in to place a call and unfortunately 
```
asked me how I was. Threw myself sobbing into his arms. Scary bad
news.
R. called last night to say, “I’ll take care of you.” Then said
I should move to Maine and get an apt I can “afford”!!! Then said he’d
been comparing everyone in Boston with me – no one stacked up.
Whiplash. “Taking care… isn’t that what hit men say? Butchers?
Garbage men? He is schizo. The unspoken message is I have to be
what he expects – clearly impossible. So why am I stuck? Why can’t
I just move on?
```
    Sexually he’s spoiled me, alas. Must finish this goddam novel 
```
but I need to run around town in a G-string auditioning. Wish there
was anyone I trust to show novel to but everyone’s taste is so weird.
They don’t see what I’m trying to do and they don’t see any point in
getting there. Must learn to please myself but I’m bone tired, dammit.
Making a list of Sources of joy:
Art
Writing
Sisters
Dogs
Nature
The Beauty of Everything
Friends
Love?
```
    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 and eat 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 flicati 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”. I know
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. I
f 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.
```
    8:20 PM Plush Palace
    Getting ready for my 2nd set. Thinking hard I decide
```
I need 8 months in Maine. I should quit Broadcast Agency right
away (I think they need two weeks, poor bastards. No one wants
to work there. When you have to quit a job that allows you to read
you know its bad. This job lets me read and it’s a lot more interesting.)
Stay there the summer at the very least. Just writing. The problem
is, if I’ve got Mom and Dad working on my one side and R working
the other, I’m like a chew toy.
Horrible realization that if I told R I was dancing he would
demand I quit and I might do it. So when I realize the person I need
to be afraid of is me, it’s a Mary Shelley-like horrific moment. Trying
to read Household’s Three Sentinels but all I can think of is those
awful Juan Carlos coffee commercials; “harvesting de beans wid de
donkeys”. My own life way more interesting.
10 PM – It’s my diary that’s my best friend – tell you
anything. Household’s women are unspeakable. Just got to the
place where he describes being “turned on” by the hair on a woman’s
upper lip. Doesn’t do a thing for me. Hungry, but maybe when I get
home I’ll have a yogurt. Trying to save $1000. And stay away from
the 12¢ donuts.
12:55 PM In an hour I’ll be on the road and not a moment
too soon. Fall into the arms of empty house & importunate dogs.
Just ate a whole plate of cold French fries (not good). Boredom’s
my worst enemy. Food at least feels like excitement. Such pathos.
Gentleman Jim just gave me Thurs night, which is welcome.
```
    Broadcast Agency – Wed – 11 May 77 5:35 PM
    R. says his latest philosophy is “To Love is to Be 
```
Happy With.” He’s all worked up about snowshoeing and horseback
riding as the cure-alls for anything that ails us; says he’s budgeting
money to spend on me every week. I do not find this appealing.
He’s a warm puppy, all right, but I’ve already got two of those. In
spite of that I fall into a reverie where we buy an old house outside of
Annapolis, slowly fill it up with precious junk and love each other to
death. Need to go home, eat rice & vegetables, and give dogs a
good long walk. Reading Martha in Paris but thinking about Alysse
in Annapolis…
```
    7:50 PM Sun 15 May 77 
    Justifiably proud –  paid ALL my bills and sent off my 
```
galleys. Nothing like money! (Stupid car needs a new clutch.
It’s always something.) Able to refuse “help” from Mom and Dad
who are dithering about whether I need to be institutionalized.
```
    Told them I was working at a “restaurant” (Let them 
```
assume waitressing. They know I can’t cook. PP does serve food;
State of Virginia makes people who serve alcohol serve something
to sop it up with. Good old Virginia. ) Sent M & D a DEVLYN cover.
$57 left in my acct.; $100 in my purse. (Open a savings acct tomorrow).
```
    Ordered a beautiful Vietnamese print ($80) for Genevieve’s 
```
wedding gift (last time she got married I sent candy. Well, I wasn’t
invited!) Horseback riding did make me horny however – Ryder & I
made love like a pair of wild animals. He may be compact, but he’s
beautiful. Cleaned the entire house. Now darkness falls – means it’s
time to walk the dogs. How I love peering into people’s windows.
When I get back, strong tea with milk and the “splendeurs et misères”
of Monica Dickens. Or will I succumb to that modern master of
the Grimm fairytale, Agatha Christie? No poetry, but plenty of trolls.
December 23, 2022
Inspired Pleasure
Diary of a Dancer
```
  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 A 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. A 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
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.
Gave Divina a hysterectomy to please Nicky. Not sure it works. Then 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 A‘s new job as fake nurse at urology office. She has
to 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!!! All this “playing the field” is
cheapening my brand. Reading Mrs. Starr Lives Alone.
December 21, 2022
Inspired Pleasure
Diary of a Dancer
```
    7:45 AM Mon 20 Sept 76
    R’s latest accusation is that I fell in love first!!  So weird.  
```
Reminiscent of ex-husband. Some version of gaslighting? It’s a definite
power grab. He said he was “embarrassed” by my emotional intensity!
I have a feeling he’s trying to cobble together a story he can tell other
people. As for me, I’m trying to figure out what really happened. Used
to think R’s lack of experience wouldn’t affect us but I can see it really
has. Got my hair cut; of course I think it’s too short. Dreading what
Genevieve will say.
```
    10:40 AM Wed 22 Sept. 76
    Woke up after horrible nightmare in which Jacqueline 
```
Susann showed me her cancer to have R drive me to the station.
We’re in a financial nightmare – A’s rent check bounced twice so
expenses going up. R says I have to start an exercise plan –
since I can’t dance. He’s hilarious!
Lunch with Ruby and my agent. Agent (Ruth) was euphoric.
Starting to feel the book was written by a stranger. I tried so hard to
make it English and Victorian – I NEVER want to do that again.
Can’t say THAT, obviously, especially after Ruby remarked I was
“so good looking we should make it a series.” Devlyn’s best gothic
they’ve ever read! They both drank heavily while disagreeing with
virtually everything I had to say about poetry and literature. Their
recommendation: write a love story. Pity we don’t know what love is,
isn’t it? I MIGHT be able to manage a sex story. Oh well. Genevieve
full of secret divorce-and-getting-together-with-hush-hush-sweetie
plans. Don’t tell Kent anything. He asks me what’s going on –
I play dumb but not too well. He must know something’s up.
Awkward! Walk to library and back thinking about St. Secaire.
How make that a love story? Everyone’s a predator or an idiot.
```
    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.
December 19, 2022
Inspired Pleasure

Diary of a Dancer

20 Aug 76 – 11 AM –
Inside I start my psycho-thrillerThe Mass at St Secaire for the thousandth

time with one good idea: Manage transitions by IGNORING them.

Just start abruptly somewhere else and worry about it later! Outside

R sits in a lawn chair playing the guitar. When he falls silent he’s writing

down notes. He says I have a good effect on him, getting him writing again.

In the meantime, I made a list of literary essays I want to

write and to my surprise there were more than 20. When I get back I

will make a folder for each one and start collecting notes and ideas,

beginning when I feel I have enough. How to finish a book of poems,

finish and send out a novel, write 20 literary essays while working a

45 hr week? My heart quavers. I’m afraid I won’t be able to get a job

that isn’t straight typing – then I have to type when I come home.

Balzac could have done it. Trollope could have done it – I don’t

think I can do it. But I certainly don’t want to lose R – he is a rare

being. I need a deus ex machina of some kind. Maybe my gothic

will sell.

So glad this is our last day. Couldn’t say that to R –

he would think I hadn’t enjoyed myself. Last night he stretched

me out naked on his lap and played me like a guitar – most

delicious thing. Waves of ecstasy bulging, rolling and crashing

inside me. He says I’m so fun to please. Talks about how he

would like to adopt deaf children. This means I would have to

learn sign. Sounds good but I feel lazy and stubborn. Feel like

a fledgling – flight pattern undetermined.

R. wrote a song called Blue Lake Blues. Bad. I wrote a

poem called Diaries. Don’t know what I think of it.

Diaries

I don’t remember anything –
I’m an amnesiac so
I write everything down
Stuffed in my closet
Beneath discarded ball gowns
utterly useless but
too beautiful to throw away.
Recollect & treasure
Acts of writing
An up and over downtime scrawl;
Recall a surgeon
Cutting flesh
Tugging, swearing, splitting ,sweating
peeling waste & want.
Fierce liftoff –
Airborne I’m granted
Hawk’s-eye vision
Backwards , forwards
Past & future.
Too much dig is spoilage-
Freedom mined
Invaluable.

Club Shalimar, Mon 23 Aug 76

Should be glad to be back but I’m so depressed.

Everything so mixed up. Promised R I’d get another job so

now I have to look for one, which won’t be pleasant. God

knows what I’ll have to say I was doing. Once when I was

married I tried to get a loan and of course they wouldn’t give me

one without “collateral” – something of which I’d never heard.

Dad told me to tell them I had a basement filled with gold bullion.

I guess I could just tell employers the bullion ran out.

Then I walk up to the club and whose car should be

there – but R’s. He had told me he wouldn’t come in as long as

I was working there. He said he just needed to talk to Rick because

Rick is helping him feel better.

I think what will happen is that I won’t work there any

more but R will drop in when he feels like it. I want to “ban” him

but I even more don’t want to be having these conversations.

He says I just do it for the money and because it’s easy and of

course that’s perfectly true. If I got $500 a week from writing I

probably wouldn’t dance.

The fact that something feels natural and pleasurable

and doesn’t leave you feeling depleted at the end of each day

isn’t a point against it to my way of thinking. He’s just an old

fashioned sexist pig. On the other hand he is a special person

and I definitely don’t want to dance forever.

Sometimes I think the whole problem is that he’s

getting a divorce and he’s so unready for a relationship he’s

giving me hoops to jump through. But even if we got married

I’d have to be at financially independent – he’s just too different

from me for me to trust that he will agree with me about what’s

right for me. My theory is it doesn’t hurt to look for a job. Maybe

I’ll find something special or interesting.

11:20 PM – A called – R staggered in dead drunk,

said “Call Alysse and tell her I’m here and set the alarm for 5:30”

and then passed out on the sofa. I told them to hide his car keys

in case he wakes up and tries to go someplace. I’m glad he’s safe,

on the other hand I’m annoyed that he’s been touring the bars.

He plainly didn’t go to his apartment, drink and then go to my

house. My guess is total strangers up and down Wisconsin

Avenue have been hearing his heartrending saga of the misery of

dating an exotic dancer.

December 17, 2022
Inspired Pleasure
Diary of a Dancer

Shalimar – 3:30 PM –13 Aug 76
Was sitting on a box of Lite Beer sipping coffee

reading Miss Read when Carmen warned me that the boss

might fire me for reading. Apparently writing he doesn’t mind

so much, probably because he can’t imagine anyone keeping

it up longer than 10 mins at a time. R. will be here soon, then

we hit the bank, pick up my stuff and we’re on the road for the

Finger Lakes. Five hours alone in the car. I find I have a lot

of inhibitions against voicing boundaries in our relationship –

mainly because I don’t want to be lied to. I want to find out

how things really are. For example, he spent last night in

Gaithersburg with his wife. Now her I’m jealous of, because

he used to love her, used to think she was a “catch” and

was surprised and gratified that she “descended” into

marriage with him.

I probably won’t ask him if they had sex because

it would be making too much of it. He’s said before he wouldn’t,

and she definitely wouldn’t. But I can’t believe a woman who

knows she’s losing a man might not change in her feelings –

just to see what power she has left. I would, if he wanted the

divorce and I didn’t. Will I be able to tell just by looking at him?

R feels the right to be jealous and possessive over me, which

I don’t grudge him since I’m naturally monogamous. He feels

no discomfort making rules for me. But he should.

6:00 PM Saturday 14 Aug 76 Finger Lakes
Lying on the bed in our tiny TINY two room cabin –

with just a curtain separating the rooms – I was going to write

here about how much I love my job (I really miss dancing so

much when I’m away from it – the ideal thing would be three

sets a day for life) – when R came in, threw himself on me,

tore my clothes off, began kissing my breasts and exploring

my tan lines and pressing his beautiful valued body hard hard

hard into mine – and you know what happened next. If he turns

the fan on high I don’t think the other campers can hear our little

yips and screams. At least I hope not. We spent last night in his

grandmother’s house in Binghamton, New York.

She bedded us down in separate rooms – he gave me a

long lecture about how you have to respect the house rules of

whoever you’re staying with – and then who do you think showed

up in the middle of the night saying he couldn’t sleep. It is ecstatic

to have sex almost without moving – this must be what Tantra is like.

We were directly over her and the bed creaked so we didn’t move a

muscle – absorbed and shed each other like snakes. Wonderful.

Next stop was R’s cousins who own the cabins. I don’t know

what to say about them – plastic flowers and Sonny James. My state

of deep shock probably resembled mental retardation. Some people’s

houses are frighteningly ugly. Their clock has eyes, they keep the

plastic on the lampshades. I just sat there while the ethnic and sex

jokes filtered around me. Who could blame R’s first wife for

shunning this bunch?

I would not choose them for buddies either. And the fact

that they are renting us a cabin doesn’t appear to mean we will

also get privacy – so I have taken to wearing my glasses. Number

one – I don’t see as well – number two – it creates a kind of screen

between me and them.

The Lake is beautiful – but I don’t need to go in more than

twice a day – I also don’t have the patience for the fish-a-thons that

absorb the rest of them, dawn till dusk.

Plus one time waterskiing was plenty. Since dinner is a

vast barbecue down at the beach every night and we only have

sandwiches for lunch and cereal for breakfast there is not that

much to do, thank God. Sadly the dinners are followed by

hours of dancing, drinking and fighting. I go to bed early to read

but R stays and plays “peacemaker”. Tonight he says he’s going

to let them kill each other and join me. Therefore I can set up my

typewriter on the kitchen table and get right to it. People keep

coming to bring me coffee and cookies – I think they really

want to see a writer “in action” – at the end of this trip I MAY

be 20 lbs heavier. The rest of my time is spent sunning and reading.

Unfortunately St. Secaire going VERY badly. Complete

horseshit, alas.

I’ve started it four separate times. I think at this point I just

have to keep going and hope it’s possible to clean up the mess later.

Tuesday 17 Aug 76 7:30 PM
Outside a fair number of people, all high as kites,

revving their engines and swearing they’re leaving and never

coming back. I don’t know if anybody’s actually going to GO

or not but I wish they would. No wonder R had nothing to do

with these people for four years – he may conveniently blame

his wife but the truth is none of them can stand each other.

Pack of wolverines. I’ve been left totally alone and am well

out of it – they may have forgotten I am even here. Last night R

was so depressed he just lay on the bed exhausted by them. I

tried to explain to him about resentment and the resulting succubae

and incubi thus created. (Subject of my novel, in fact.)

He said something about “our next 25 years” that just

floored me. Even my husband didn’t talk like that. Remember

saying to my father – I would be fine if I could only find a man who

treated me as well as I treated him. Dad – so ready to take

anybody’s part over mine, said, Has it ever occurred to you that

you might be hard to live with? Such a typical Daddy remark –

the more you think about it the worse it gets.

Well, R treats me better than anyone else so far.

He’s almost talked me into looking for a new job when I get back –

and that’s a lot. But if he wants to introduce me around, can’t lie

about what I do, etc etc. (This group – doesn’t know about my job –

he says they’d eat me – and him – alive. I can scarcely believe

they would take the moral high ground with me but I suppose

anything’s possible.) Tried to read a Redbook someone brought

–
shouldn’t do it. So depressing. Could never write like that or

be like that. If that’s the standard this whole thing is hopeless.

Then I picked up a book by Grace Livingston Hill. I’m going to

include her in my article on female pornographers.

R told me he had the impression that if I didn’t have my

novel to write I would probably go bananas. I said probably. I tried

to prepare him for the very different kind of vacation he’s going to

get in Maine – where people very deliberately leave each other alone.

If somebody sets off down the beach and you wanted also to walk

on the beach – you’d turn and go the opposite way. R says in his

family that would be grounds for a six-year grudge punctuated by

sobbing, screaming and threats of suicide.

12:10 am
Went night fishing with R because he wanted me to.

Wrote a wonderful poem about Coleridge – just came to me in

one piece. Couldn’t really share with R – he doesn’t know who

Coleridge is. So I showed him – Haunted Wedding.

HAUNTED WEDDING
The pregnant car disgorges
Only us. It’s winter.
Drunk as silver fish
We beat our gills as light
As hummingbirds.
In an amethyst ring
Of drypoint trees
The half-built house
Gapes and swells
Its timbers stink of sap.
Windrill fields occlude
Our crossing, so you carry me
High above the thorny osiers.
We sleep aloft for safety
Locked and levitating
In this space of air
One season only,
Unseen by angry outriders;
Bloodless in our wedding robes
Like the doubled membranes
Of the frozen flowers
```
    This triggered a fight because he says it wasn’t written 
```
for him. If he jealously searches my work for other lovers

madness is assured.) He almost talked me into thinking it a

bad poem.

I feel my mother’s disapproving stare on all of this – “

don’t ruin what you have by trying to get something else” – as

if showing R this poem would be a deliberate way of hurting him

by making him feel inferior – part of her larger accusation that I

channel so much energy into writing I’m no good with people and

that’s why my relationships suffer. All I can say is, thank God for

my diary.

Writing now with my feet in R’s lap while he plays cards.

He strokes my toes from time to time, as if I were a cat. We came in

from fishing and he just took my pants down – such earthy

sexuality has never existed for him. He told me he’s never

been so happy. And as for me? One side of my multi-prismed

personality is happy, but some of the other sides are complaining.

Difficult to contemplate an existence where I am not mentally alone

six hours a day.

One of the reasons I like my job is that it leaves that part

of me remarkably intact – dancing is a lot like sleepwalking. If I get

another job there’s a strong chance I’ll have to interact with humans.

Hell. And we both know how humans can be. Then I might be too

exhausted emotionally and battered psychologically to have the

energy to write – it’s a serious risk. Those architects ran roughshod

over me.
December 16, 2022
Inspired Pleasure

Diary of a Dancer

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 A 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 a

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 A 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.

December 15, 2022