#Haiku: The Goddess: Power Incarnate
Your
Brave,
Burnished; brutalized
Carapace.
Manifest.
Gaze. Accept.
Love.
Category: #Goddess
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Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn
Powder Mill Rd Thurs 19 Oct 78
Still balancing thank God. Had lunch with dancer
Yvonne – she said she still wakes up having screaming nightmares about Warren (he was killed in a car accident. Faced smashed in by a coke bottle he was drinking at the time. He bled to death.) At least I don’t have those worries. I sleep like a baby. Worked on costumes.
Waiting for Avril to go with me to Interiors. Reread my stuff. Think there’s a great deal to be said for the short, short novel.
Maybe encapsulate them into short stories? But no money there.
I remain unappreciated because of refusal to hook up with some “movement”. Drown rejected. Started dividing the novel into geographical locations – Hooks Lane, Paradise Road. Would make good short stories.
11:30 PM
Awful, awful night. Dancing badly, shoes broke. Rushed
out and bought another pair in my break. Pasties fell off – carpet tape of inferior quality or possibly I sweat too much.
12:15 PM Oct 23
Sitting by phone feeling illogical joy. Wonderful date with Buck – restaurant with lots of wood and Tiffany lamps – just a pleasant, free-flowing conversation. No sex at the end – hug and kiss in doorway. “May I call you?’ I told him yes – invited him to be my date Nov 5 at Shadonna’s wedding. He said he would.
Fri 27 Oct 78
Concord, Mass – the grave of Nathan Bond.
Seems a good place to write – sitting on a gravestone in the sunlight.
So, what was last night like? I arrive to the theology college and another student goes up to get Devon – I overhear him say “There’s a very good looking girl here to see you and I mean very good looking.” Hecame down looking so different with a new silky beard – exclaimed over and over again about my gorgeousness. We went up to his room and were making out on his narrow plank of a bed when the radio played Ambrosia –
– How much I feel. Too much for me! Started to cry and lost a lens!
Now Devon thinks I’m a psycho – which I am. Luckily (for him) and sadly for me psychos are his specialty. Wish he wasn’t so unctuous about it.
When he attacked me with those eyes I had to get myself a drink – broke out in shivers and hives – thought I must black out. He was talking in general ways about what he wants out of life – he seems to be expressing fear he can’t find someone better than me. I did my best to get him back to specifics – even saying a woman can’t propose to a man (Well she could,
But if she proposed to this man she’s never hold him.)
Obviously, he loves me. That question answered. But there are bigger questions. But as much as I deserve love? Seems like not. He’s incapable of making the kind of statement I need him to make. He wants to get a clinical psychology degree and he hinted that I wouldn’t be such a disaster as wife to a psychologist. (Flattering?)
I told him he has a fear of “emotional success” and he agreed. He astonished me by making passionate love to me – I didn’t have to do a thing (other than wear my short pink gauze peasant blouse and the denim gauchos that show my bellybutton) – he couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough. Very satisfying – wasn’t an inch of my body he didn’t kiss – including my heels. I told him my heels had never been kissed before – so he kissed them again – also sought out all the other unkissed places. I do feel satisfied for at least a century. We went out to a Greek restaurant for dinner, then to see The Deer Hunter. Powerful movie. Crazy, just like life. Christopher Walken lovely.
Drove to Concord in pouring rain. Inn is no Night
at the Plaza – more like Early Hardy Boys. Read Violet Clay before falling asleep. Dinner tonight with my cousin Tory – pumping him about Hill School experiences to use in Paradise Road. Buy some wine for tonight and celebrate my own existence.
G’s place – NYC – Central Park West – 30 Oct 78
Why do I do this to myself – visit Genevieve?
I just realized the mirror in her hall is a fat mirror. I did eat a lot of
junk food on this trip but I don’t believe I look this bad. On top of that,
Genevieve’s life is a fat mirror to my life – that’s the truth. We just saw Chabrol’s Violette – we both have a pash for him – but agreed this is not his best – plus the only Chabrol we know of with absolutely no romantic elements. It’s probably something I will end up thinking about a lot – and rewriting in my head – so maybe it’s Ok after all. Wrote a poem for Devon
– Practice Cuts.
Practice Cuts
The dead gush cruelly after dying;
High time to change
Get religion
Have yogic visions
See god
Be a nun
Be a self worth knowing.
Time is gunning for me
Arthritic fingers
Scrabbling at my dreams
Playing old tunes
scratchier, less sensitive.
I’m a body in search of a car wreck
Crime scene consubstantial;
The old deus ex machina
Disaster;
Blood is so good
At erasing uncertainty
Bringing back
A taste for life.
Reduce me, silence
To the essential bones
Of my non essential self
Fortify some other ego
Mine’s tired;
Peel from my eyes the thickened skin of grief
Unstop my ears from the dust of
My own consequence
Free my feet from judging splinters
Life passes from my like a fever in which
I cry out and cry out and yet
No sound is made.
Out
Like the tide
Cauterize
The woof-warp pattern
So plain that even I can see it.
Teach me not to envy
The gulls their mirrored flight
Unmeasured unlike my own
Reduce me to
Unbending bones of my
Essential self
Dark sister;
She;
The soul I was
Before
I became me.
Can’t turn it into a presentable poem – yet – however, it did make me feel better writing it. I guess I don’t like being Devon’s flirtation with damnation. Writing really is the best revenge.
Plush Palace – Thurs 2 Nov 78 8:30 PM
GiGi’s last night onstage. She is very down. Charlie is making her quit because “no wife of mine blah-blah-blah.” Eddy says she’ll be back: can’t find these perks in any other job. I am dancing well.
Apparently, no one but me realizes how fat I’ve gotten.
Both a good and a bad day today. Worked hard on Gift and Drown – sending out query letters – took pkgs to post office –
only to be told a MS has to be bound to go mss rate. I made them look it up in the manual so I won’t have to go through this again.
They treated me like this must be personal – I’m
trying to “catch” them in mistakes – forgetting I’m the customer entitled to service who doesn’t want to pay extra for no reason at all. And the book spells out what services I get – in case they forget. Apology letter from Tory: his girlfriend “out of line” to be so jealous during our paella dinner. She did seem strange but since she’s an artist I didn’t question. I respond with a short note saying I think my questions were just too personal for her ears so I really cannot blame her.
Reading Edmund Wilson’s life like watching a slow-motion car wreck – horrible man.
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Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn
10:30 PM – Plush Palace – Mon night 10 April 78
Two more sets. I’ll live. Finished study of Mary McCarthy by Doris Grumbach. Much prefer that to actually having to read McCarthy who reminds me of Aldous Huxley – Is it possible to be too contemporary? Trends of modern writing a little too sketchy for me. No book should feel like flipping through a magazine. Sensory overload sans enlightenment.
As for Angus Wilson – we are parting forever. I read all but two stories in Such Darling Dodos – back on the shelf he goes.
Wonderful day – up before 7, read New York Times, sent out poems – magnificent walk with dogs – explored abandoned house. Haunted by novel – so went back and got six pages – one good new idea.
Called publisher – ordered ten more books. Little self-promotion. While writing got call from the Plush Palace – would I come in two sets early for Glory, who is sick? Love to. Just feeling bankrupted by the drycleaners. I was justified too because first set got a big tip. ($300)!
Peter called – said he would have loved to go to the Raitt concert with me but had to go to Vermont. He certainly talks differently when his girlfriend/housekeeper/telephone answerer person is not around.
He hinted that his love life is impossibly complex and he doesn’t want his parents to know. I’m guessing that she is married. He promised to get in touch when he gets back. I’m in the ladies room because the air-conditioning in dressing room not working – it is suffocating in there. Yesterday evening thoroughly enjoyable – steaks wine and hot fudge sundaes at A’s then watched Richard Brooks Happy Ending which really
was a bomb. Trying to read Anthony Powell’s Venusberg but feeling nothing yet. Tried Sarton’s Miss Pickthorn – a hash of all her other stuff – very slight. Avril not home for past four hours – out on date with Jordan.
Can’t wait to hear the play by play.
11:45 PM – Thurs 13 Apr 78
Safe & warm in my gilt-canopied bed, happy in spite
of my cold. A & I got “El Diablo” inspected today – $70 – But at least she can take it to the MVA tomorrow and have it put in her name. That great feeling of “starting out fresh”. In spite of dribbles & wheezes, blissful dog walk followed by deep-dish pizza & wine at Armand’s. No painful memories.
Cherry blossoms are out.
Saw Coming Home with Jon Voigt & Jane Fonda. Good, if somewhat earnest. Bruce Dern acted like he was in a different movie. Rough role deserves a hero’s commendation. I stare at the casually interdependent couples – it’s been a year since I could lay a hand on another’s thigh with that proprietary air. Poor Avril dissolved in tears towards the end – too reminiscent of the “endless pain” of vets like Bruce and Mason.
I’d be more sympathetic if they didn’t take it out on others. What they learned apparently is how to “stage a war”. The people we love inflict the worst damage. Avril’s at the stage where she’s still haunted by Mason but feels it’s “boring” to talk about him so she bottles it up. I tell her get a diary. Hope to finish Powell’s
Agents & Patients tonight – but it is a little dull.
Plush Palace –Fri 14 Apr 78 – 3:50 PM
Only 3 more sets, with 4 dancers. Still, made
enough tips for groceries. Buy wild birdseed for the birds cavorting
outside my desk’s bay window. Daringly went on without stockings – such a savings if we didn’t have to buy them but Eddie told me No Cigar.
Too bad – they’re hot in summer. Alvera says Yvonne’s back at Mother Joe’s. I thought she wouldn’t be able to eat enough shit to stay in her music clerk job. We goddesses so spoiled by our pedestal. Called A in the afternoon to see how she was doing – Shoulders was there flexing his muscles at her and she is over the moon. Trying to be glad for her but in spite of his obvious beauty I’m afraid he is a bit of a shit. (See testimony of past burnees plus eviction notices.)
I feel I must disappear deeper into solitude and see what’s down there. Gift (new version of Courtney) coming along interestingly but slowly. I’m afraid it has no plot other than my own life, when what it needs is a couple of murders. (Same thing my life has always required.) Poems so much easier instead.
Tried to read Phyllis Bottome but she’s a fatal cross between a
didact and a pleaser; sort of like a barky little dog. Most unpleasant.
And that casual anti-Semitism pretty shocking.
Plush Palace – Sat 5:50 PM 15 Apr 78
Halfway through novel – can’t figure out if I’m
satisfied or not. All my discoveries so agonizingly slow. Can’t afford
fuckups – then I’ll have to go through it all AGAIN. Slept late, breakfast at Avril’s. We did laundry together, then played gin.
I was the first one here thank God (means I’m the
first to leave). Got my schedule – 4 nights in a row, 2 days off. Good.
Congratulate myself on my intellectual freedom as I wrap black lace around my throat, recalling all the put-downs I suffered back in the day when I was an “architect’s helpmeet”.
Reread Alvarez’ description of Plath’s suicide – I don’t agree her death was some “by-product.” Her mother raised her to be murdered by other people;
Nazis or husbands. There had to be a “bloodletting” – Mrs. Plath’s ulcer – Sylvia’s “suicides”. If you don’t “accept” martyrdom someone will have to die in your place. Kid yourself it’s” freedom” just because you choose time & place.
It bothers me terribly that Mom & Daughter shared a bedroom during Sylvia’s formative years. Death would seem inevitable just to get some privacy & distance. Poor Sylvia offered those magnificent poems to Alvarez and he
backed away terrified because Art is terrifying. $30 for lost contact that came out when a necklace scraped my eyeball while I was hanging upside down.
Teach me to wear contacts onstage. Who needs to see the audience anyway?
7:15 PM Sun 16 Apr 78
Spent the day in bed eating oranges, raisin bread, peanut butter. Avril’s spending the night at Shoulders’ new place – then tomorrow we’re going to the new Cassavetes film and I’m excited. Jervaze in for last set to invite me to his going away party. I slept nine hours.
Horrifying Who Made the Lamb – author really lost control of this one but I bet she would say she was just “reporting”. Books Do Furnish a Room much better than Powell’s previous – has a sense of direction. “Trapnel himself always insisted that a novel is what its writer is”. I would agree. Style follows taste, I think. Realize Dad and I don’t mean the same thing by the word “intellectual”. He means a person who knows specific things, (education) I mean a person who thinks a certain way (style).
Twain never meets. I am not respectful of artificially acquired patinas –
“points of view”. Wrote the infirmary scene – just what I wanted to say.
Maybe I need to give up sex and even male companionship –
– just can’t afford them.
Plush Palace – 6:45 PM Fri 21 Apr 78
Wonderful walk along Powder Mill Road thinking
about the mystique of money. I eternally fight a rearguard action. Mom & Dad call at noon – Genevieve had little girl – Belinda. Avril delivers my new lens– bounce notice in mail – I tear my hair in a frenzy. I get to dance 2 sets for GiGi – $200 – she tells me about her night of sin with Louie. And she wants another one. Life’s a soap opera. Management says there’s going to be a drug raid with dressing room search warrant. Panic among the girls – but not me. Check out the customers with a more intense interest. Are narcs here? Everyone planning to leave town except me. I offer to work tomorrow night.
Reading an interesting study of Iris Murdoch novels – the Disciplined Heart. Too much coffee – I’m switching to tomato juice.
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Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn
7:45 Pm – Plush Palace – Thurs 12 Jan 78
Called Jervaze and suggested we do something tonight – he acted enthusiastic. I said, “Should I be calling you? Wouldn’t want to call too much,” and he said, “Call all the time.” Ryder–induced horrors dropping away one by one. It’s snowing – I’ll go straight to Jervaze’s. (He’s close to club.)
4PM Friday, Jan 13-78
I think Jervaze may really be an angel; one of Milton’s
sexed up angels who took a wrong turn to our planet by mistake. Some anxiety is relieved. We never did get to go anywhere – stayed in bed. Bliss.
But if this doesn’t work I will damn well marry Devon whether he likes it or not – I can’t take much more of this.
I’m at my desk hammering out letters – trying to answer one from the island realtor. The studio apt has “no cooking facilities”. I don’t care but the realtor does, she has a house on the pond for $175 “long lease” she wants me to take. Says it has a Franklin stove and I could “bike to town.” I admit I’m interested. Jervaze has offered to come to the island with me in March –
I really shudder at the thought of introducing him to my parents, how to tactfully say, Please don’t ask him about Ideas and only offer him one drink.
Last night I let myself into his apt, took a shower, tried to use his sparkingly hazardous blow dryer, gave that up, crawled in bed with him. I had lots of Ryder-induced fears that he wouldn’t be there, in bed with another girl, etc. But no. There he was, nude, gorgeous, asleep – and when he woke up, happy to see me.
5:25 PM Plush Palace – Sat 14 Jan 78
Snakes dropping into paradise one by one. First, although Jervaze is incredibly easygoing – it is impossible to get him to state a preference about a movie or a restaurant, for example – (had to drag him to Eastwood’s Every Which Way But Loose) I can tell he is nervous about introducing me to his brother and sister in law. Should I just suggest we lie about what I do for a living? I guess that wouldn’t really solve anything.
Sartre is so right. Hell IS other people. Then there’s my mother – the latest demon fondling my ear. Once a woman has made herself vulnerable to a man, she’s through. Uncommitted sex brings out the worst in men, blah blah blah. Because it’s “too perfect” ( his point of view). I am “causing him moral hazard”. Yes, I tell the voice,
and it would be perfect from MY POINT OF VIEW TOO IF YOU WOULD JUST SHUT UP. WE ONLY STARTED DATING A COUPLE OF WEEKS AGO. But one can’t shut out THAT voice so easily. Mystified by Willard Gaylin’s irritating Caring. He acts like mutual dependence or interdependence is some “failure” of personal autonomy.
Powder Mill Road – 11 PM Sunday 15 Jan 78
Jervaze “dropped by” this afternoon. Since it’s such a
long way from his place to mine I was astonished. Is it that I can no longer believe a man will climb mountains for me? Or is it just my sensitivities to Jervaze’s strangely inchoate “disabilities” warning me and sending up red flags? We had a nice talk – he seemed faintly down –
then he had to leave because he needs to get up extra early tomorrow.
I was in too good a mood to work on my novel, bought clothes instead.
3 pairs of pants, sweater coat, five pairs undies, one pair gauchos. All clothes
size 7. Packaged MSS when I came home so as not to feel too unproductive.
Coleridge poem taken by Virginia community college
screed. No money. (Natch.)
11Am Tues 17 Jan 78
Reading Evelyn Waugh’s diaries over my third cup of coffee with open mouthed amazement. It seems almost a work of fiction. Try to imagine these whines and wails ever appearing in print! Imposserous as Bert Lahr would say. Thank God for The Victorian High Colonic: a pre-mortem bonfire. Highly recommended, my dear.
7:30 PM No word from J so I assume he is really coming to eat dinner here. The evening’s menu: sherry and smoked oysters, cheese and crackers, burgundy and manicotti stuffed with crab. French bread, banana nutbread and coffee for dessert, if we make it that far without attacking each other. Need to watch the drinking – had two glasses of sherry while cooking and am definitely feeling it.
2:15 AM Wed 19 Jan
J gone – he had to – no clothes here. I let him go
fairly gracefully – after hours of sex without anyone coming I was happy to be alone. He’s definitely an alcoholic. He gets away with it by never seeming drunk (only once in awhile. His “tell” is he wants to talk about Alabama.) But he’s also never not drinking. He seems too young but it definitely explains the physical problem.
11Am
Avril came to consult about a bad date. Glad her classes start tomorrow – Limbo an unpleasant place to live. Need to walk dogs now
– going to AFI theatre tonight to see Next Stop, Greenwich Village.
Time keeps chewing us up and spitting us out.
1 PM Thurs 20 Jan 78
Excellent morning lying in bed reading Byron. It would
be lovely to be rich – it would not be lovely to be Byron.
Another deeply rooted legacy of Ryder’s is that I now expect others to constantly lie (to themselves, above all) about their motivations.
You can only judge by what they actually do which throws all planning
into the crapper and means you’re stuck with a lot of confused, open mouthed standing around waiting for disaster. I don’t make promises either – I just don’t say anything – which fact apparently caused me to assume I’d really enjoy a relationship with a totally nonverbal type like J.
Turns out: noooooooo. I torture myself about what he must be thinking and feeling which – let’s face it – may not be much. Wish my royalties would arrive – I’ve spent them over in my mind a thousand different ways.
Can’t do anything about island property, travel, car, or self-publicity without them. Capital expenditures, all. I am making dinner for A at four thirty to hear all about her first day of classes – then I go to work. Love driving down the highway with the other “night shifters” – I always think I can pick them out. Our special sense of purpose makes us different.
Sunday 24 Jan 78 7:30 PM
Read Popcorn Venus, saw Julia, so alternately
depressed and cheered by turns. Thinking a lot about “impure relationships”.
How innocent to assume those are the ones with certain kinds of sex in them. In actuality, it is more the hostage taking mentality that is to be feared. Can one just “Glance in” so to speak and then hustle the hell out?
I’ve been so scared off, I am having a non-relationship.
When Jervaze is not in my bed, it’s as if he never existed. Would I be surprised
if I found out he had some secret life? Hell no, I’d be encouraged. I think the truth is he watches football alone, gets drunk, sleeps and works –
that’s all he does.
I liked Julia because I am interested in the question
of what repressed sexuality does to relationships – does it change them?
Seems it would have to. Well, you can fool some of the people… Starting to re-think Courtney. Worst novel ever written? If so, what can I do
about it? Is it too late? Tell it from the cat’s point of view – something radical like that. Write it in blank verse like Spoon River Anthology.
Jervaze is mystified that I read by choice. Avril says “Don’t you get it?
He’s a mud puppy.” What can I say? I’m such a sucker for male beauty.
Mon. 23 Jan 78
Enraptured by biography of John O’Hara. Starts brilliantly –
describing his study at the time of his death – framed awards, Cape Cod lighters, bound diaries. Everything just “perfect” the way poor F. Scott always dreamed. The novels were steppingstones to the study, not the other way around! I am feeling alienated from my study at the moment.
Have decided that my typewriter table – a board atop a wine rack – is all
wrong. A and I went to Hechinger’s and studied several “office systems”.
Plastic cubes $70 even for a looksee. I’ve set my heart on satinwood so I guess next stop antique stores. What would an antique typing table
look like? A dressing table is the right height? Sans mirror? Wouldn’t want to look at oneself while working! First step to madness!
When I work without interruption, time vanishes. Maybe it’s like riding without spurs: you become the horse (one’s deepest self).
J. showed up Sun night. We drank sherry, played cards. He is getting to like sherry, which I’m afraid, is my fault. Someone needs to go on the wagon and I don’t want it to be me. Heard via the rumor mill that Ryder broke his leg skiing! Ha ha! Did he get insurance for that? Maybe he wasn’t kidding and he was trying to kill himself. I just don’t understand people like him. He approaches everything as “it’s you or me” so the mountain let him have it although frankly I’m surprised it wasn’t someone else’s leg that got broken. Maybe he killed the other guy. Sent him a card – he’s “recuperating” at his parents’ house on a steady diet of Italian food.
Thurs 26 Jan 78
Jervaze came in the Plush Palace last night and I talked to him until Eddy got restive. Turns out he has horrendous financial problems –
including hospital bills for a kidney complaint. Probably will have to sell his car even though it is a part of him like his cowboy hat. I was feeling carefree and immortal and suggested he move in with me – he’s thinking about it. Now of course I’m aghast. What if I gave him Avril’s room and he started bringing girls home? I could listen to them making love for hours and hours and hours – no one ever coming. Would I be jealous or would I feel sorry for her? See, this relationship is complex – I am wanting to run like hell or place an ad for “Needed: Goal oriented individual – good at sex – not too inflexible.“ Hopeless. They have to get stiff and then hang loose at just the right times – “Impeccable timing”? A tall order, I know.
Today I had trip to the dentist and letter from Mom –
trip to the dentist was easier. (He told me I have a “runner’s heart”.
Did not tell him I was a dancer. Said I was a walker. True – since 10 mos old.) Mom says that if I really loved her I’d get a decent job. She and Dad offered to give me money so I don’t have to dance. Respectful endowment of course would be great. Unfortunately, they only mean, “till I get over my sickness.”
Happy to turn ‘em down flat. Mom keeps saying a
feminist wouldn’t allow men to look at her in a sexual way. This is my
mother of the “Marilyn Monroe dress” (still hers and Dad’s favorite.) My mother who has always turned heads and received accolades as a major
beauty, with drunken men pawing her in European restaurants, dazed Arab men following her down the beach, stoned college professors slobbering over her at parties. All “her fault” apparently!! It’s a critical component of hers and Dad’s relationship that he “captured” such a “prize”.
But all this must remain unsaid or “someone” will boo-hoo.
Who would bother to deny the roles of biology and
acculturation? I’d like to live off my writing – but it is rapidly becoming apparent that to do that you have to write to “their” taste. And they have such bad taste! Plus, I find I covet anonymity. In spite of my profession of “being stared at”, I feel like I am the observer. It’s a heady sense of power.
This is theatre, after all. They may think they sit in darkness, but I can still see them.
Off to visit Ryder and his broken leg. Took him cookies and magazines – cookies I did NOT bake myself. I wondered if I would end up telling him about Jervaze – flirted with the idea – he would be scared to death if he ever caught sight of that beautiful, beautiful man. That’s what J is best at.
But I would be doing it to hurt him and since he has always accused me of doing everything to hurt him (born on an island, sentenced to prep school, losing my virginity to someone else, writing) it seems as if actually doing it I would
be “giving in” to his worldview. I must remain a refusenik. In the end he never asked me about myself; but talked incessantly about him. Trying to impress me, like on a first date.
Looking back on it I think he’s just trying to stoke any hots I may still have for him. He’s never bought into his own “friendship bullshit”;
he doesn’t even believe it about same sex friends. The universe is fundamentally competitive and we’re all crabs in a barrel trying to step on each other’s heads to get a better view. Eat or be eaten, baby! He made allusions to the fact that “you” only value things you work hard for… or things you’ve lost. Ha ha – zinger! A grenade lobbed at me.
The visit left me feeling uncomfortable – frustrated –
vaguely “one down” – but unable to put my finger on it. From the way his sisters treated me I have a horrible feeling he tells people I was the love of his life but wouldn’t give up my selfishly immoral lifestyle. That’s what he would do, the bastard, act like he was the victimized one. I hope his leg heals crooked.
Probably a good thing I didn’t mention Jervaze – he looks so good but he’s totally non-nutritious and collapses like a creampuff on scrutiny. We’d have to live in Alabama – he’s made that very clear. I can’t even imagine him having a conversation with another person in front of me.
He has no family pictures. I’d drop in on him at work just to catch a glimpse of him interacting with humans but it’s the Pentagon ! They wouldn’t let me in. He’s only a repairman, too, so he probably has a completely fictitious personality there.
Still working on Waugh’s diaries. Hard to avoid the
conclusion that he became Catholic to avoid giving up his pride.
Just another elegantly exclusive men’s club. Anything to get out of “becoming human”. You know. The way Jesus did.
Almost midnight – last costume change of the evening. Pink and black lace, pink gladioli in my hair. Black tassels, the works. Gentleman Jim – now a magnate with a string of clubs – was in earlier – I was dancing my absolute best – wild applause – the crowd was chanting my name. But when I went to find him to ask him for a raise he was gone. Next time.
This is the time of the evening Zombiehood sets in. Jervaze comes in earlier and earlier – he asks me to come over, I don’t have to bring it up.
Made me promise to wake him. I told him I would be “merciless” with him.
He wanted to know “how merciless”. He is pretty cute. He wasn’t wearing my ring – said he took it off at work because it was bothering him. Uh oh!
I can imagine. What an idiot I was to give it to him. Tips have been good –
– I think I’ll buy a steak on my way over. He doesn’t eat well at all. I am so hungry I have been stealing saltines from the kitchen.
No excitement here. Neither Gina nor Mary pregnant as they thought. Turns out both have flu. The new girl, Maggie, has been telling me she’s got $35,000 in parking tickets. She is one of those see-through thin girls who can’t dance at all – but has a great sense of humor. She injects bute directly into her knees, as if she was a racehorse.
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Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn
7:50 PM Sun 15 May 77 Justifiably proud – paid ALL my bills and sent off mygalleys. 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 themassume 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’swedding 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 .– 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.10PM Mon 16 May 77 Finally got a reaction from agent to Secaire. I wasphysically 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
cuckoos and thrushes and loblolly pines.Bored to tears with this stupid switchboard job but you can’t sayit’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 thatclutch. 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 psychic 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 datetonight 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 .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 oflove 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”.
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.
12:50 AM Plush Palace – exhausted and bathed in sweat.Man tried to crawl onstage with me. He was in the mood to dance!
Every dancer (except me and I guess him) is using Darla’s overdose death (suicide or accident? I say why not murder?) as an excuse to not dance. I like dancing. Passes the time faster and the tips are better. Steve managing tonight – he looks just like Dylan Thomas.
I keep expecting a Welsh accent when he warns the old men with their balls hanging out. Great tales from new dancer Charmian –
she has toured the entire country. Just dancing. (She has the body of a seven year old. Plasters pasties on her completely flat chest. )
There’s a townhouse in New City I like the sound of but nobody
EVER answers that phone. Tomorrow dinner with poor Avril and that awful Mason whom I loathe and despise. Couldn’t get through Babs Deals’ The Walls Came Tumbling Down – and Crystal Mouse was so good. Fortunately I have Steven Marcus’ The Other Victorians which is excellent. Pornotopia, indeed! Should have $1000 in savings by the 24th June.
3PM Wed 25 May 77
Weighed myself – I shouldn’t have. Lost two pounds but I
can gain it back through thought alone. Reading Gore Vidal’s essays –like them better than his novels – unsettling man. Avril says Dad’s taken hotel rooms for everybody in NYC. New City townhouse a terrible shock – NOT to be thought of. R. called to invite me to the Emmys June 4. He had the nerve to say I’ll “always come back” to him. So I have to be careful not to, even when at night I howl like an animal.
I can’t trust him to “take care” of me.
7:45 PM Thurs May 26
Who knew the worst was yet to come? I was talking to
A at Broadcast Agency and a call came in and it was Ryder. “Hello
Broadcast Agency”. I said, “You’re on the wrong line.” He said, “Your private line is busy and I’ve got to talk to you. Need to come clean and beg your forgiveness.” Uh oh.
Yup. He invited another girl to the Emmys BEFORE me
(that’s his story) she said she couldn’t afford to come, he invited me,then she contacted him to say she managed to get a plane ticket.So he’s disinviting me! I disconnected him immediately. He’ll be
lucky if I ever speak to him again. I ought to be glad it happened –
I was dithering. Needed a decision maker.
I said to Charmian this evening, “Are you happy? I’m
taking a poll.” She said, “Well, I feel all right. All that bothers me
are asshole men.”
So true! I think the pain is over if I decide it is. Struggling not
to be feel ashamed of ever loving that man. Distance is required.
Distance & discipline. Dancing makes me feel better. I kicked
really high. Audience enjoyed it.
3:10 AM
Home dreading Ryder would be here – if so I was prepared
to scream the place down. He wasn’t. Just a note – saying I was
“right to get rid” of him. Calling himself a worthless shit! He said
he’s “sinned” ever since he met me by refusing to admit how much I mean to him. The problem is it doesn’t matter. We are the wrong people for each other.
8:30 PM Fri. Plush Palace May 27 1977
The only place I can sleep is work, dozing off between
sets. Not even masturbation knocks me out. Tempting to make
Mon my last day but I should last out the week – I need the cash.
Still have so much packing to do. Keith in my office the last day of
Broadcast Agency work – I told him about the Emmys – he said it
didn’t sound like a deathblow. Men! I had considered inviting
him to the wedding – this decided me against it.
3 weeks alone in NYC house-sitting for Genevieve
while she’s on her honeymoon. Parents will take dogs. The Blessing is an awful book. Nancy Mitford not cut out to be a novelist; she’s really not interested in motivation. Only wants a forum for her retro opinions.
4:30 PM Sat 28 May 77 – Plush Palace
A girl left early so Laverne and I are splitting her sets.
Courtly Jim of the hush puppy body and the Elvis Presley hair
realizes he has to pay us more to keep someone onstage. Good tips –
holidays make people feel richer. Only 3 days left.
7:30 PM Sun 29 May 77
Packed for six straight hours, ate yogurt and chicken,
walked dogs now I’m lying on mattress more exhausted than
I’ve ever been. Shoulders has agreed to store my furniture –
we don’t need a van since his house is right across the street.
Told him he can use whatever pieces he wants. Jim will be in
to pay me Fri so I don’t need to trust the mails. Called phone,
gas, water, elec people.Don’t think I like EM Forster
(where Angels Fear To Tread) – Henry James without the
Henry James. Edwardian didacticism makes me miss James’s
scrupulous objectivity. Why did he write this book? Because
he’s “The Literary Type”. Compare with Woolf’s Unwritten Novel.
Stagger about forcing myself to gulp Yuban. So enjoying throwing things away.
Wed. 1 June 77 – 8:30 PM Plush Palace
$770 to take off with – not bad I think. Ryder tells me
I am “fleeing.” Damn straight. Mom asked me what was going on –
I said I proposed to Ryder and he turned me down. She was
squeaking on the other end of the phone like a gerbil but I couldn’t help it. It’s almost true – I didn’t take her advice but showed him my true self! Too bad!Reading Forster’s Longest Journey. Still feeling another story
trying to get through. Pretty sick of the glory that wasn’t Greece.
Everyone in book sanctimonious prig.
12:30PM
Forster so foul I reread this diary. Deeply shaming.
Maybe Forster is right: whatever you do, don’t write about what is actually going on – nobody may ever recover.
Opal took me out to lunch at Apple Tree – painless. Crab
quiche and 2 Brandy Alexanders. An elegant poem unspools in my head about the difference between hummingbirds and hawks.
Will I go round in circles? Or will I fly high like a bird up in the sky?Like me the hummingbird
Transcribes inner space
Half wingtip pinwheel
Leaving outer reaches
To the ragged hawk that flies alone
The hawk is:
I am what shall be -
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 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.
-
Sleeping Orchid – Creative Boot Camp for Sensitives & Empaths with Alysse Aallyn
Chamomile – Healing Rituals
If This Archetype Chooses You – Let’s access the gifts of the Creative. Let the healing begin. Are you a believer in magic? Do you dream of restoration, of nostalgia, of lost youth?
Creatives Believe in Magic – Bravely, we put ourselves in the way of harm, and harm is done to us. But we believe in the magic of restoration through transformation. These scars, these wounds, these experiences make us smarter, harder, brighter and more beautiful.
Understand the Meaning of Your Scars – These are life’s tattoos, which have ennobled you. It is your honor to embody the story of the universe with your blood and your bone. But it is the Creative’s Brain that brings us closest to God. The mystery of suffering is that it educates us into the greatest mystery of all – that God is willing to suffer with us because Love means holding each other through pain and infusing our strength into another’s sadness.
Bow To Each Other – Show Respect – We are each other’s masters, we are each other’s pupils, we are each other’s lovers, siblings and rescuers. Drinking ginger tea from translucent porcelain cups, we lift our cups to each other. We bathe together in steaming pools. I release you as you release me. When darkness falls, we touch one another’s hands before departing. If we can bear it, we touch bodies.
Creatives Recognize That We Cannot Diagnose Ourselves – We offer ourselves for the universe’s good and so it takes a world to cure us. Healing and diagnosis alike will come from the welcome lips of another. It has been scientifically proven that even plants respond to kind words. We yearn for the laying on of hands, for the gentle rituals that pass us from one stage of life to another.
Creative Challenge – Paradoxically, no “medicine” can succeed unless we “accept” our healing spiritually. We must feel “worthy” of restoration. What are we fighting for? Think deeply. We are not self-punishing but stating as clearly as we can that life is valuable in all its forms. If you are only as “young” as you feel, are we only as “healthy” as we allow ourselves to be? Forgive yourself. Accept change. Contrary to our fears, it is change that keeps us young.
Creative Danger – Healing cannot occur in an atmosphere of self-hatred and self-blame, but many of us are STILL “blaming” ourselves for twists of fate, for unlucky genetic, social and medical outcomes. “Fundamental attribution error” consists of blaming individuals for group effects. We are all caught up in the machinery of temporality. Never forget that we are souls who happen to have bodies, not bodies who happen to have souls.
Creative Opportunity – “Restoration” is such a glorious promise that early Christians found themselves ensnared in decades of argument about PHYSICAL resurrection. How would it work in cases of burning and dismemberment, exactly? It is easy to laugh at these painfully ridiculous theological conflicts. One is reminded of St. Joan of Arc’s response to interrogators at her trial who asked if angels appeared to her naked – “Do you think God cannot afford to clothe his angels?” Accept the power accorded to you by the universe. Accept the strength of your own mind, the control given by your chosen attitude. Healing is not just possible, it is a life-force in which we can all participate. Jesus came to us as a healer.
Models & Mentors – “Healing yourself is connected with healing others”
– Yoko Ono“What happens when people open their hearts? They get better.”
– Haruki MurakamiYour body cannot heal without play. Your mind cannot heal without laughter. Your soul cannot heal without joy.” ~ Catherine Rippinger Fenwick
“We are healed of suffering only if we experience it to the full – Marcel Proust
“Maybe the dragons in our lives are princesses”
– Rainer Maria Rilke#Haiku: I Don’t Know
Admit ignorance
No shame –
It’s healthy –
Empty glass
Asks for water -
Sleeping Orchid – Creative Boot Camp for Sensitives & Empaths with Alysse Aallyn
The Thistle – Resistance
If This Archetype Chooses You – Armor up. It’s coming. Are you feeling muzzled? Do you dream of battles? Do you wake up angry? Worried? Afraid? Do you gnash your teeth while you sleep? Do you love proving others wrong? When others speak are you eager to jump in and “set them right”? Is your favorite word, “No?”
Resistance is Never Futile – We become creatives for a reason. But what kind of creatives are we? After all, we can’t make our contribution unless we know who we are. Strangely, we get a lot of push-back on this seemingly basic investigation. First, there’s enormous cultural pressure against us defining ourselves while international corporate overlords compete, waging schemes to entrap us into fighting for them. It’s enough to gnash anyone’s teeth.
Creative Challenge – We must be protective of our special gifts. Specify under what circumstances you are relaxed, happy, creative and “In-Flow.” The ‘flow” state is “bliss” – your brain oozes alpha waves as you sink into some interesting exploration, losing any sense of time and feeling at one with the universe. Suddenly, we are experiencing the pleasures of “Eternity” while still very much a part of this sphere. Is “flow” achieved for you through music? Dance? Composition? Reading? Sex? Some lucky people access this state through meditation alone. It is certainly worth a try; meditation is very good for your brain.
Creative Danger – The danger of Eternal Resistance is that it becomes reflexive. Our Resistance must be chosen, carefully thought out and promoted by History and Fact.
Creative Opportunity – You are a work of art. Your whole life, your experiences, your very dreams, have brought you to this moment. Your resistance to invasion, to malformation, to co-option, to corruption, has blossomed into an individualized focus that must defeat their blander, blunter, self-serving opposition. You lose nothing – gain everything – by becoming yourself; a unique creative nonpareil who has never existed before and will never exist again. You are the opposite of a faceless soldier, you are rare, sui generis, customized for this moment of space and time but perfected for eternity. What fears are left to surmount? What can you dream?
Models & Mentors – ‘When injustice becomes law, resistance becomes duty” – Thomas Jefferson
“Every moment of resistance to temptation is a victory” – Frederick William Faber
“To fly we must have resistance” – Maya Lin
“The history of liberty is a history of resistance”
– Woodrow Wilson“The more important an activity is to your soul’s evolution the more resistance you will feel” – Steven Pressfield
#Haiku: Counter-Pressure
First –
Relax;
Melt;
Slide;
Upend
Onslaught;
Be attacker’s
Banana peel -
Sleeping Orchid – Creative Boot Camp for Sensitives & Empaths with Alysse Aallyn
Sex – Soulmates
If This Archetype Chooses You – You are searching for your “other”. Do you look in the mirror and see another face? Do you dream of a lost twin? Do you imagine “the other” across a crowded room, and think when you touch their hand, you will feel a strange galvanic charge? Do you think soulmates are even possible? Is there only one or are many soulmates potentially developed over a lifetime? Are you disenchanted with sex? Does it seem like more trouble than it is worth? Do you have sex dreams that feel more like night terrors? Does sex make you feel increasingly worthless and untouchable?
Soulmates Are Real and You Have One – It’s never too late. You are never so “lost” you can’t find your soulmate. The problem is, your soulmate feels just the way you do and both of you are frightened of those feelings, isolating you further in an invisible, impenetrable membrane. You want your soulmate to rescue you, but creatives rescue each other. This takes a lot of bravery, a lot of humility, much insight and a little magic.
Desire Can Be Slaked – Temporarily. Creative must stay alert. We don’t pursue numbness – or even satiety. It’s good to get acquainted with hunger. Pro tip – hunger keeps you young. Hunger is a condition of youth.
When Creatives Bond There is No Going Back. – The potential magic of sexual connection ignites the search for a SoulMate. Creatives believe that once found, a Soul Pair becomes capable of Time Travel, TransSubstantiation, and Immortality. Genders merge; either one can be feminine, masculine or androgyne at will. One wing searches for another to form a bird and fly. The question we must ask ourselves is: are we willing to undergo the pain of having the boundaries of our borders breached to fully merge with another?
Creatives Lift Each Other’s Souls – The power of a doubled pair is raised to the nth power by their knowledge, commitment and shared purpose.
Creatives Release Each Other – There are so many permissions, forgivenesses, and skills we cannot give ourselves. Love literally gives you eyes in the back of your head. There is no hiding from your soulmate.
Doubled Creatives Power the Universe – The constant clash of mating, sharing, satisfying and negotiating is the music of the spheres. It keeps us all spinning in an ecstasy of selfless selfhood.
Creative Challenge – There are plenty of frogs out there and some vipers, and you will kiss each. Possibly more than once. It’s also possible that we have “rewired” our system – through porn, games, and casual sex – so that it actually prevents us from recognizing a soulmate and forging a life bond. This is why starting as friends is so critical. It gets your defenses down to the point where you can talk about fears, desires and problematic reactions. Go slowly, welcome mistakes and be prepared to learn.
Creative Danger – Sometimes – let’s face it – most times, you and your soulmate are “sick.” You have “caught” infection from a society that says “fuck you” to eternal, mystical, mutual sexual union. That makes things hard. You don’t recover overnight. You must commit to good mental, emotional, physical, spiritual and sexual hygiene and you will both have to figure out what it is. You need to make a plan – yes, a map – out of each other’s minds and bodies. If the other person refuses to accept health you will have to detach for your own sanity and safety. Vampires make other vampires, and bliss will elude them. The most important part of soulmating is the mutual pledge for health and growth – for both of you.
Creative Opportunity – My book, I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead – is about the supernatural powers of soulmates. It’s about what to do when you dislike and distrust your soulmate at first. It’s about what to do when you and your soulmate both have horrific pasts and are pursued by actual demons. I can’t say it clearer than that. Don’t be frightened. Your bond is eternal, across time, geography and multiverses. Take it slow. You have all the time in the multiverse.
Bereavement Is Never the End – As life itself is not the end, bereavement cannot be. The glory of bliss still awaits, and detached Soulmates have been known to find each other and form new spiritual and physical connections.
Models & Mentors – “A soulmate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life and then introduce you to your spiritual master” – Elizabeth Gilbert
“A soulmate is the one person whose love is powerful enough to motivate you to meet your soul to do the emotional work of self-discovery and awakening”
– Kenny Loggins“They fought all the time and challenged each other every day. They were crazy about each other” – Nicholas Sparks
“I know what love is, because of you.” – Herman Hesse
#Haiku: I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead
Only soulmates can
Slay each other’s dragons
Says Tibetan Master
Alysse Aallyn 