Alysse Aallyn

Category: #InnerLife

  • Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn

                     Party Castle – 3 Feb 79 11:30 AM

                                         We did it – moved into the Queens Chapel Road house though nothing is organized yet.  My study is the nicest room in the house – a whole wall of huge windows – sunlight always blazing in.   I covered the walls with my pictures and they fit perfectly – leaving one wall empty for a big corkboard.

                                        Guess who showed up to help us move?  Ryder! 

    He brought his “girlfriend”,  plus a huge bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken and a large bottle of Irish Mist. Girlfriend a shocker – little nursy mousebird of a woman!   After all the hell he gave me, this is who he ends up with.  

    His sexual revolution is over – single shot fired.

                                         Went to see Corio play at Childe Harolde –  he acted surprised to see me – introduced me to his date, Bev.  I didn’t feel Bev is much of a threat – Avril says, “She’s a hot water bottle.”  I said, “I’m not giving up”. Zachary didn’t help move – so when he showed up for sex I sent him away.

     I was really annoyed – his excuse was he “wasn’t up to it.” Who is? Fortunately,

     I have strong muscles. Carried a gold velvet sofa practically on my head.

                 Mon 5 Feb 79

                                         Moments of pure joy while painting my bedroom shelves.  

    So adoring Sylvia Plath. Closer Look at Ariel & Letters.  Her letters burst with plans, lists & preparations – like this diary. That’s how it goes.  Feeling capable, independent – maybe strong enough to even rewrite Gift. There is pleasure to be had even at the start of a journey with no apparent end in sight. Back on my Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner diet. Feel house will be ready Sunday. Party?

                 8 Feb 79 Plush Palace

                                        Surprise today – Usher Glayne came in to see me 

    dance. Curtsied low and slow. I felt intimidated by him but he said he liked poem I sent. Struggling with Boston Adventure – Me no likey.  

    I’m on p. 300 of Gift and if there’s a novel in this mess I can’t find it.

                 8PM Mon night 12 Feb 79

                                         Snowed all night – didn’t feel guilty about calling the Plush Palace and saying I couldn’t make it.  Used the time well – finished my study.  It is perfect. Bedroom almost done – must unscramble my jewelry to put it away. Great having laundry in-house – I am washing all my costumes. 

    I give up on Boston Adventure. To think a critic compared her to the Brontës. 

    Well they did have under-functioning ovaries and the English language in common. Marc called – he will be in town and wants to have lunch at the Capitol. Which I would love to do.  Told him I took his advice and bought a house.  Roll my eyes while he complains about his horrible life investing other people’s money.

                                       Maureen is never here so we hardly see her. And 

    she’s very neat, so far sharing a bathroom is no problem. Recovering 

    from my bout of restlessness over Gift, I managed two pages. But it was too hot to work up here last night (I can’t seem to control the temp.) Tomorrow buy fan. 

    Usher called.  He wants to be “friends”.

                                                Queens Chapel Rd – Wed 14 Feb 79

                                                At last a comment from an agent who likes Blood Memory (latest incarnation of Gift).   We now have one agent who likes it, one who didn’t, one close relative who likes it and two who didn’t, one lover who likes it (and two who didn’t.)  I wish she would start a “sell job” with me but she’s just “dying to talk with me about it.”  In other words, she wants to know, how crazy ARE you? Sadly, it depends on the day of the week. 

                                       Avril just phoned – invited me downstairs for an omelet.

     I said no. Fasting today. (I like being somewhere the kitchen is not.) Later we’ll go out and try to find a pair of emerald pants for me to see my new agent in. 

    This is one of the ways Avril and I make do with living together – we respect each other’s privacy. 

                                       Yesterday at work who should be second dancer but Yvonne!  We had so much fun catching up. She’s still dancing at Mother Joe’s, but needs all the work she can get.  I feel a perverse satisfaction in the fact that even amazingly talented, flaming beauties can’t seem to struggle out of life’s junk pile. Her ex, whom she quit dancing for, went out with an “all nude” dancer the night after they broke up!  A friend of Ryder’s came into the bar – 

    I pretended not to recognize him.  I’m sure he’ll be running back with the story. 

     Dreamed I had open lesions in my face and you could see right through them. 

     Reading Greene’s The Human Factor. 

                                       2 PM 15 Feb 79 – Thurs

                                       Sleeting out. Feeling restless the way I do before I write a new book.  Hauled out Bride & Wolves for a rewrite – tremendously impressed with my own talent!  Development always was my problem (as in life). 

    Greene’s Human has an odd, unfinished feel.  Reviews did not prepare me for it in the least. I think they reviewed Greene rather than his book.  More impressed by Margot Ruddock’s letter to Yeats in Ah, Sweet Dancer (which could be retitled Dirty Old Man.) She compares the “fickleness” of men to the fickleness of God! Can’t blame her if God insists on being male.  Read Howatch’s Call In the Night as a purgative. Going to see Country Wife tonight at U. Of Md. 

    Usher sent me strange Valentine collage of Playboy photos, couples kissing, etc. 

    Avril says “I give up on him.  It’ll be a miracle if he can ever say what he wants.”

                                                Starlight Sat 18 Feb 79 – 11:10 AM

                                                 Waiting for my bangs to curl at the start of a 

    double. Had a nightmare where Devon performed marriage ceremony between me and some other guy!  Right up to the end I kept thinking he was going to “rescue” me.  Naturally he did not.

    “Psychic” about him as usual, I  got a letter saying he’s busy with this year’s Ladies Ski Team meaning he’s got 12 girls passionately in love with him and he plans to take his time to savor the field. 

    Vengeful poem results:

    Cloverleaf

    Some roads lead nowhere;

    They’re my favorites.

    I held my breath while

    You drew my face in

    Blinding strokes 

    Creamed my mouth with curling lines

    Destroyed one picture; then another.

    You

    Left at dawn while I

     Ran in circles, calling

    Raging, spending

     Nights & time

    Without you,

    No blue thigh guards

    My sleeping heart while you – alertly

    Gauge the coming storm.

    Trapped in cloverleaves , I’m

    Sentenced to perform

    School figures endlessly

    Disputed by a myriad angry judges.

    Every face I paint 

    Resembles you; balked by

     Our enervating past

    Of unlived lives I

    Open up the chilly ruffles 

    Of my breasts

    To beauty; yours 

    And mine and your

    Strange spine’s;

     A body so much lighter

    Than the mountain that you loved –

     The course you learned

    Much better than you learned me.

    Overconfident as always

    I tell myself that

     you’ll come back &

    Float across the powdered snow

    In bird-winged silence –

    all-enveloping

    Unrepentant

    Lost and frozen like my heart.

                                                2 PM – Jervaze came into the club!  Ducked away momentarily from his fiancée.  Glad he didn’t bring her in as I am having my period and feeling particularly fat and grumpy. My poor body’s been unloved for a month now and is falling to pieces.  Still it was an enormous pleasure to see him. Someone for whom I apparently remain The Holy Grail.

                                       Tues. 6:45 PM  20 Feb 79

                                       Struggling against a vast undifferentiated depression.  

    Going to treat it with diet and meditation.  Reading Tapie’s Richelieu and Louis XIII.

     History a great cure for all who feel unlucky.  Even being an aristo was no picnic. Avril accepted for both of us to go to Aunt Frederica’s party on the shore where she’s rented a house.  Hitchman’s bio of Dorothy Sayers very bad book. Sayers wasn’t “in love” with Lord Peter, she was him!  

    Will-to-power and dream logic.  Trying to “bind” her two halves together when she made him marry Harriet. Had to re-read Sayers’ wonderful 

    Unnatural Death (my favorite) to get the taste out of my mouth. Ah.  Such pleasure.  Painting till I’m exhausted then long walks with dogs through pretty Queens’ Chapel Manor.  Haven’t voyeured a neighborhood this satisfying since Chevy Chase. 

                                                Starlight Wed 21 Feb 79 – 11:45 AM

                                       Going through a phase where work feels like 

    being beaten. Think it’s because no one is caring for my body. Will warmer 

    weather turn the tide? I love my house but Marc Kramer is wrong – home ownership NOT the cure-all promised.  The only difference I can see is I can no longer mess around financially. Nose permanently to grindstone.

                                                Reading John Dickson Carr’s Blind Barber.  It is so awful.  Why does anyone like him? Pass my time sewing red rhinestone buttons to my pink satin blouse. Yesterday clutch cable snapped – pedal became a dummy.  Fortunately I was right NEXT to a gas station. Had to take a taxi home. Damn Fiat.  Financial nightmare – more doubles to get my car out of hock?  Turns out it’s not expensive.  A. gives me ride to work, Eddy gives me ride to car.

    Leaning heavily on inner life. Efforts to live “outwardly” all seemingly result in hideous failure. Shopping list: pasties, carpet tape, stockings, cotton balls, liquid plumber, string bikini.

                                                Sat. 24 Feb 79

                                       Devon turned 30 today. Great house party at bungalow Aunt F rented on Mulberry Island.  Interesting artist named Stockley there with an exciting mind but unworkable body. Fun to talk to though. He wears a hard hat and welds sculpture. Avril asked out by handsome redhead named John.  

    Fingers crossed.  Jervaze called to say he broke off his engagement.  Uh oh. 

    Macmillan says my novel “not their cup of tea”.  Very sneery.

                                                Starlight Fri 2 Mar 79 – 2 PM

                                       Bought a pair of yellow overalls to write in.  Hadn’t realized how thin I’ve gotten – I look fantastic.  House closing magically lifts depression when it cost $900 less than I expected.  I was fully ready to write these nice people a rubber check – Thank God that’s not necessary.

                                       Instead of wasting away in debtor’s prison, I get to compare myself to Sylvia Plath.  What if in a panic, I married a party boy who fails to cherish The Real Me? Wait, I did that. But I didn’t stay to wrestle with him and now I’m free.  

    Could be much, much worse. Hang in there and go it alone. See it as a strength. 

    Trying to apply for grants. There’s an art form all by itself. Avril’s redhead working out nicely.  I don’t like his comments about his mother though.  Is satisfactory sex possible with men who hate their mothers? Could be massive Red Flag.  

                                                12:35 PM Tues Mar 6 – 79

                                       Sit down to chat with diary over lunch – can’t eat 

    because scolding letter from agent gave me a stomachache. Didn’t I know it was 

    unethical to allow several agents to consider me at the same time? I do see it’s a very beneficial for the agents to drag this process out so they end up doing all the choosing and not you. But since she’s the one I want I can’t say so. 

    Play dumb, promise to Be Good in Future and throw my affairs entirely into her hands and let her speak for me. Silence frees the artist from “servile 

    bondage to the world”, says Sontag. 

                                       Letter from Devon saying he really respects me for buying a house (the opposite of what Mom thought would happen.  He says it makes me more interesting. Or he’s just less scared I will show up on his doorstep.)  Also, he says “it’s been a bad ski season” and asking particularly about the men in my life, closing, ”I love you Alysse. Our relationship is the most important thing to me.” 

                                       Whew! What are the odds that every girl on that ski team would turn out to be a lesbian?  Or were they chilled by his aura of untouchable purity? Most girls would consider it a challenge but some lack the stamina necessary to defrost him. Still, they’re all out of their minds not to give him a whirl I must admit. Interesting how very much we each fear the other’s loss.

  • Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn

                 Mon 13 Nov 78

                                        Busted, wasted day. Avril called to borrow $90 so she can pick up el Diablo from Courtesy Motors – fortunately I had it so we went to bank, then car dealer.  Then I tried to get an oil change but they don’t do Fiats. Took long enough to tell me they don’t have the right wrenches. Real estate agent phoned 

    to say I qualify for special FHA loan.  I had to call my landlord because apparently I don’t have heat.  

                                        Avril is having lots of trouble with Brady who is alternately aggressive and suicidal. I think he is more trouble than he’s worth but admit he has very pretty, very long, long thighs. He and Buck went to high school then trade school together – Buck exhibits a grisly picture of them at their prom with their dates. Brady’s date is his soon to be ex-wife. Buck was also B’s best man but I was spared those photos.

                                        Zachary asked me out next Fri night but I’d rather be with Buck – but if he doesn’t ask me in time I’ll tell him I’m ”going out with the girls.” 

    That’s what he tells me he does; “goin’ out with the guys” –  so presumably this is an OK excuse. If he says what girls I’m in a bit of a pickle. But I’m a writer – 

     I‘ll invent some. It can’t be anyone he knows. Fortunately, he has no idea what a hermit I really am.

                                        Still stuck in the childhood of my novel. Can’t wait for them to grow up. Re-read Le Ble en Herbe which helped a lot. (Aaaahhhhh…

    Colette!)  Off to Crown Books with A – then White Flint Mall for Christmas shopping – had coffee at The Perfect Cup. Nice outing.  I bought wonderful rhinestone cat’s eye glasses.  Saw Bergman’s Autumn Sonata – moving. 

                 Mon 27 Nov 78 – 1:35 PM

                                        Time to write in this neglected diary while waiting to have my snow tires mounted. This threatens to blow my entire day. They also had to replace a fuse that apparently blew in the middle of a rainstorm so that my wipers stopped working. 

                                        Visit with Mom and Dad very touchy. (They are staying with Peter’s mother Rita and everyone’s slightly angry I’m not dating him and I can’t narc on his Secret Relationship.)  Mom casually accepted an

     invitation for all of us to go out to dinner on a night I was going out with Zachary, so I said I would have to invite him and got a tirade on my thoughtlessness. Then I pointed out she was the thoughtless one assuming I didn’t have any plans. She apologized, I apologized.  It blew over. 

                                        Then Avril had the nerve to ask Rita if she could 

    smoke – Mom exploded just as if it were her house. (Rita said No. She’s trying to quit.)  M & D piled on me –  I’m insane to contemplate buying a house – even if the mortgage would only cost what rent already costs. 

    Their real objection is that I might “choose wrong” – somehow encumber myself with a property that will make me even less attractive (if that were SOMEHOW possible) to A Decent Man. Not even dragging in Marc Kramer’s sacred name as Advisor helped at all. 

                                         Dad did come see a few houses with us. (We’ve seen 16 so far.) He had to admit it isn’t a bad deal as long as I can get that FHA loan. Zachary behaved very well around M and D – the “Official Boyfriend” –

    – but of course he owed me. Fortunately the evening was over before they could find out too much about him (or he offered them drugs) so his cover wasn’t blown.

                                        Conversation at dinner very boring.  Psychology 101.  

    “Why don’t people say what they want?” “Why don’t people try to get what they want?” “Why do people lose interest in what they say they want?” (Rita’s going through her third divorce.)  Since no one seems the least bit interested in the complexities of achieving Actual Gratification by attempting to mesh one’s constantly evolving desires with those of someone else I can only shake my head sagely and flee at the first opportunity. 

                                        Mom and Dad actually tackled these questions and struggled with them like a pair of marriage counselors. The truth is Rita’s ex has found somebody else and she shouldn’t be so surprised – they were both married when she hove onto his horizon.

                                        Got a very stoned phone call from Zachary last night – he was over at Rod’s and “something” was making him horny.  (I’ll bet I can guess.) Fortunately, I managed to convince him he was in no state to drive – leaving him prey to Rod, probably.  Well, we all have to take our chances in this life.

                                         Saturday night with Buck unsatisfying – he claimed his non-breathing nose is preventing him from going down on me. I let him know his account is in arrears and he will have to do something about it sooner or later. He chose later and fell immediately asleep. So, I left.  I’m not sure I will ever get to Stage 2 with this guy.  He made a point of tracking me down at Avril’s apt, calling to apologize.  A and I saw 3 more unacceptable houses – but the real estate agent says there are plenty more. Fun to be in a buyer’s market for a change.

                 Sat 7 pm Plush Palace – 2 Dec 78

                                        Just recovering from some tremendous bout of food poisoning – must have gotten it from the Sleazy Restaurant Around the Corner – but all I had there was a takeout salad.  Still, it could have been the dressing.  

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

                                        I am already exhausted and needing a vacation. 

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

                 Thurs night – Plush Palace – 11:30 PM – 7 Dec 78

                                         Manic night – a dancer literally dragged off the stage by the police because her roommate is accusing her of stealing $3300 of furniture.  

    Thank God she came back so I only had to dance one extra set.  Wed night we found a house!  It has 5 bedrooms, 3 bath perfect in every way except that that it’s packed into a neighborhood of like houses so there are absolutely no vistas. But the price is right. We made an offer but they accepted another offer –

    – ours is the “backup contract.” So, we still might get it.

                 Thurs am 1:07 14 Dec 78

                                        Finished the novel in an insane burst of speed – 10 pages a day for four days. Now I have to calm down and see what I’ve got.

     I still feel pretty good about it – but probably reading it will depress me.  

    And Devon will probably never speak to me again since he is in it. His Christmas card says I am a genius and he is in awe of me.  Hey, it could be true.  My publisher’s statement arrived. $50. $50. There goes that Feb vacation. Pretty sure I need a new agent.  What did “stooping to genre” achieve exactly? I didn’t get a living wage. I didn’t get a publisher, agent or editor receptive to my work. It’s like I’m starting over – again.  

    On an up note: looks like we might get the house! It is SO perfect. Fenced in yard and everything. 

  • Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn

                                         Plush Palace, Sat 1 July, 9 PM

                                         Rod and I engage in a little smoochy-smoochy hand -holding following Christie play.  I make an effort not to get so drunk that I pull down his pants to view his namesake. Impatient to find out exactly where my next sexual meal is coming from. Tach it up buddy. 

                                         In Dancer News, GiGi says Charlie NEVER goes 

    down on her unless he’s absolutely plastered. I want to know, “And then what good is he?”  She has to admit “not much.”  Says he laps at her like she’s a melting ice cream cone. 

                                         Did like Pamela Hansford Johnson’s Helena trilogy. 

    (Impressions of childhood, though, painfully unreal.)  Now struggling with Grahame Greene’s It’s A Battlefield. Diseased whores abound; women bear their 12th child in crowded rooms (and because he’s a Catholic that’s presumably All Right By Him) and a gay time is had by none.

                                         Midnight Sun-Mon July 2-3 78

                                         Taking Avril to Cellar Door for her birthday before she flies to Michigan to see Merrill.  Gifts Dior dusting powder & wrap around dress.  

    Festive occasion demands dress-up. Avril & I saw Grease, Rod and I saw Heaven Can Wait.  Just sweet enough but it didn’t “move” Rod as much as I hoped. What if he’s one of the “pod people” with nothing inside?  Jury still out.

                                Thurs 4:15 – 6 July 78

                                         Missing Avril so much!  Boy, did I get dependent. 

     It’s just SO Fun to have someone to do things with who thinks ALMOST EXACTLY the same as you do but with interestingly nourishing differences.

     Rod is no substitute.  Still can’t figure him out.  His apartment is 

    completely stark.  Bare.  Not ONE THING on any of the walls. The

     closest I can get to understanding him is that there seems to be no feeling in his family.  They don’t talk at meals. Father’s dead, mother still sends him clothes he hates and he still wears them. (They are perfectly presentable. But what would he wear if she did not dress him?  We’ll never know. I’m not getting in the midst of that.) 

                                         He never  suggests things to do.  I suggest everything. 

     Charlie Byrd in Annapolis (just because I love Annapolis) was OK.  On the other hand, when we went to Le Bistro he ordered Piper Heidseck champagne out of the clear blue sky! Because he said now he’s “finally dating.” 

    So that took initative. Right?

                                         Nice letter from Devon who ‘feels veneration”  for my talent.  

    Sweet. Reading Green’s The von Richthofen Sisters. 

                                         8:30 PM Fri – 7 July 78

                                         Driving in to work in a haze of ecstasy after Perfect Day, heard an infuriating review of Heaven Can Wait  by Penelope Gilliatt.  Really the woman’s a moron. She says she would understand a movie about transmigration of souls in “wartime” but why now!  Who GIVES these people a podium? How did she get this job with so little artistic sense? Bullied her way to the top, most likely.

                                         Von Richthofen sisters turns out to be boring PhD thesis. 

    So hard to get it right.  Therefore switched to Murder of My Aunt.  Amusing.

     (Richard Hull).

                                         Big tipper in tonight.  $138 so far!  I feel like the pigeons in Avril’s class experiments. “Intermittent reinforcement!”  I have to pick up Genevieve and Brett up at the airport tomorrow for Women’s March (we all wear white.) 

     Bringing them back to my place to eat first – I made a gorgeous salmon mousse. Invited Rod just to see if he’s cool.

                                         Sun July 9 78 2 AM

                                         He’s cool.  Wore white, walked the whole march and 

    was so charming to Genevieve and Brett they were dazzled. I’m now feeling relief that I only have ten days till vacation – don’t think I can become “over involved” in that short period of time. 

                                         Adelphi Grist Mill Park – 11:15 AM Mon July 10 – 78

                                         Sunbathing on my favorite rock.  When I get hot

     I’ll splash around (like the dogs are already doing).  Hardly a dry spot left on this rock – but who cares – my diaries have seen worse.  A year ago, the Last Act of the Romantic Psychodrama just beginning.  Whew. 

     I think I came out of it all right.  I’m starting to see a possible Harold-Nicolson/Vita Sackville-West thing developing with Rod.  (He actually KNOWS WHO Harold Nicolson is!!!)  Last night I almost raped him in his theatre seat but I am determined to let him make the first move.  But I do need to know how long I’m going to have to wear Glamorous Lingerie every day (just in case).  I am starting to run out of glamorous lingerie.  But we are having a lovely time – he is witty, intelligent and aware.  I “confessed” all about Devon – my longest relationship – but because he’s a “newly consecrated minister” I can see Rod’s not too worried.  If he only knew! 

                                         A good development is I’m learning not to drink so much. If there isn’t sex right around the corner one must stay aware.  Coffee “without dessert” so to speak.  It’s good for me.  I told him the whole plot of Secaire – weak points become immediately obvious.  He tells me about his ex-wife.

                                         2 PM – Back at home to ringing phone – new 

    croquet ball on the pitch!  Marc Kramer coming into National – do I want

     to have dinner and discuss My Finances. Hmm. Maybe. He knows I’m too poor to invest in anything. But I say Yes.

                                         Fri. 8:05 Starlight Club Springfield, VA Fri 14 July 78

                                         I hate this club. It’s a bitch of a drive so I rarely come here but the tips are good.  Need the cash for vacation.  Unfortunately, I am working with Danielle – the Brazilian lesbian who threatened to kill me.  I’m hoping she won’t recall she threw boiling hot coffee at me.  (Her aim is bad.) 

    She’s usually pretty much out of it. Got $100 tip already from a guy who wonders why I don’t dance at The Gaslight downtown.  Because the dancers have to waitress  there!  Ugh! That place is legendary.  I tried to be polite but really.

                                         Anyway, Kramer was different from what I expected.  We ate prime rib at The King’s Contrivance – he seemed a lot older and a lot sadder. 

     He says whenever he hears 10 CC’s “I’m Not In Love” he thinks of me. 

                                         I asked him what about finances – he said I should invest in real estate.  Wants to “watch my stocks.”  I was embarrassed to tell him there isn’t anything to watch what with Dad keeping such a closed fist on the shares, and me having to sell everything I get. I start to suspect Dad is CONFIDING in him about his estate planning and PRETENDING “our” investments are actually OURS.

                                         This meant we didn’t have that much to talk about and the evening ended with a damp kiss when I turned down sex.  I say I’m In a Relationship.  He says he’s thinking of proposing to his red headed secretary –

    who reminds him of me.  I am kind of insulted but told him to Go For It. I guess 

    I had this built up in my mind – sort of like Chuck Kornowitz where you think it’s going to FINALLY be about SOMETHING ELSE.  How my Mom would jeer!  

    (Wore my 3-piece suit, anyway. With eyeshadow.)

                                         He says he has to come through on his way back

     from Oklahoma, thank God, I could say I’ll be in Maine.  Looks Like It’s Over.  

                                         2:15 AM Mon 17 July 78

                                         Another fiasco.  I should leave now while I’m behind. 

    This has certainly been Trial and Error Week. How did poor Rod – Desirable Husband Material become Inevitable Discard?  I’m sick to death of the Hand Kissings and the Knee Pinchings, Goddamit.  There is something seriously wrong with this man. We had dinner & drinks at the Peter Pan Inn, then drove up and down Price Distillery Rd until I assaulted him.  I admit it.  He is under 

    the impression that we “made love”.   Trust me, one time was plenty.   This is a man who does not “think” with his body.  He gives nothing back, an absorptive rather than reflective surface. 

                                      I worked hard not to let him know how just how incompetent he is, because really, there’s no hope.  

    Some sad girl somewhere who hates sex is going to find her “dream man”. 

     I shouldn’t have pushed it, although seriously I don’t think he will even question if it never happens again.

                                         Damn shame is all I can say.  A cruel waste, when he’s so charming in every other respect. Life is brutal. Sigh. Enjoyed Pretty Baby so much I saw it twice. (Can’t pay close enough attention while Rod is talking.)xxx

  • Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn

                     

                                        Plush Palace – Midnight – Fri 12 May 78

                                        I love Friday nights.  They’re always exciting.  Gay girl in tonight approaching the dancers (without success) you’d think that would happen more often.  If she went a bit slower she might get lucky.  

    Unfortunately, she just asks us if we are gay.  How can we know without any experience?  With the right kind of situation I think we’d admit we’re all at least a little bit gay.

                                        Avril came over to the house at noon – we had white wine, macaroni salad with ham and croissants. Eddy called me in 3 sets early – $265 extra. Irresistible – means I can go to NYC.  

    Carol tells us about her sexually sadistic husband – handcuffs and everything!  She orders pancakes for dinner to “cheer up” even though maple syrup gives her hives!  Jerrilee tells how hard it was to leave her husband.  He held a gun to her baby’s head.  Kristi found a new “wonderful” guy but gave him herpes and now she fears he’s “done” with her.  What a waste since now they both have herpes!  They’re perfect for each other!

                                        This is all a lot more interesting than Ann Bridge’s 

    Emergency in the Pyrenees. (Even Mrs. Radcliffe was more fun that that). 

                                        Who should come in tonight but Peter’s brother Julian!  

    Thought he was in San Francisco.  Apparently, I’m one of the Eight Wonders of DC – can’t pass through without getting a gander.  Kissed me in a brotherly way.  We had a nice reminisce about childhood till Eddy sent me back to dressing room. He saw one set – when I came out again he was gone.

                                        11 PM Mon 15 May 78 

                                          Sun night got blind drunk on my day off through sheerfrustration and exhaustion; then  couldn’t sleep.  Intermittent nightmares that someone was trying to break into my car and throw acid in my face. Decided to kiss the novel off and let it go – just get an opinion.  Concentrate on something else. Weather depressing – no sunbathing – four day monsoon!  

    Trying grumpily to live without booze. I can see myself becoming Lida, the Alcoholic.

                                         2 AM Mon 22 May 78

                                         Exhaustion follows mania.  Yesterday couldn’t keep my 

    eyes open long enough to read the NY Times, but refusing to go to bed dragged out my notebooks to arrange beside my desk.  Horrible old valentines, photos of Ryder, dreadful wailing screeds fall out.  I have so many drafts of Flycatcher –

    it’s ridiculous. Purging isn’t easy – I totally understand hoarding. How can you be certain you’ll never need something again?  Must get to bed – tomorrow meet Avril at College Park Library to see Dear Detective and listen to Couperain.

                                         Fri. Plush Palace – 26 May 78 – 7:20 PM

                                         Dancing badly.  Reduced to eating saltines (bad girl!) 

     Feel I can see the end of all this and it’s a cold cold chill.  Apparently nothing pleasurable lasts forever – as soon as it’s a “job” it’s over.  Poor me!  What’s the next incarnation? Tending art gallery on windswept rainy isle? Living 

    drunken and obese in a trailer on the edge of the estate? 

                                         Lovely “date” with Avril.  We went to Sea Fair 

     (corner Calvert & Conn) for drinks, scallops, mussels at the outside

     café.  She says Shoulders is a total washout.  Looks like Mom succeeded all too well in convincing us romantic love is the most important thing in life – I say let’s blame her.  A having horrible insomnia troubles so before movie we bought six classical records to soothe and stun.  I really hesitate to go out with Peter – why cultivate new people when they’re so likely to turn out just as awful as the old people?  I like him now  but… he’s on his best behavior.  

    Really feeling shy and buried in myself.  Instead of new man, start a new novel.  Something crazy. 

                                         Avril tried Barbara Ellen (exercise studio) but was put off by their insulting sales techniques.  It’s like being chained to a TV listening to a half hour of ring around the collar commercials. Too bad. 

                                         I say she’s got to stop telling prospective employers she has “no experience”.  She worked for hotline, courier service, horrible fake gyno, etc. We need to construct a resume out of this – we are too damn honest.  Better to project even a witless confidence.  I don’t want to have to tell people about myself, either. 

                                         Dear Detective was superb!  Followed it up with 

    gold rush sundae and coffee at Swensen’s.  Trying to get into bestsellers 

    – reading Velda Johnson’s ghastly Etruscan Smile. Would rather read theology (and Secaire shows it. Alas.) My novel is terrible. It stinks. 

     It needs to be rewritten from the bottom UP. Plot beyond help.

                                         10:45 AM Sat 29 May 78

                                         Woke up this morning muttering about betrayal and failure.  Seems my life separates into two phases: pre and post Bruce.

     Pre-Bruce I was such an innocent – I think “goober”  is the descriptive expression.  Schools should not let these pathetic characters out – but we were so eager to roam free. There is no savagery to which people will not descend to protect their egos.  On top of all this, we have to battle M & D who, of all people, SHOULD be in our corner. They’re pissed we’re not more successfully infantilized.  Determine NOT to do this to my kids.  

    Reading Hodgson’s Carnacki The Ghost Hunter (1900) heartbreakingly dull.  And it could have been so good – a combination of Gerard Manley Hopkins and Sherlock Holmes is just what the doctor ordered. 

                                         3 PM Tues 30 May 78

                                         Struggled through 2 bad pages on Demon that will have to be rewritten, then finished Sylvia Townsend Warner’s tragic At the Stroke of Midnight. This beautiful short story almost finished me. Yesterday Italian food made me & Avril logy – we tried going dancing. 

    Horrible place, bad band. (Tramps). Predatory males (who spoke bad English) very difficult to get rid of.

                                          Saw Greek Tycoon instead – worse even than we’d been led to believe. Came home and read two bad detective stories by “good” writers.  Guilt-inducing cash from M & D – makes me feel inadequate but I need it.  Means I can buy new vacuum cleaner  AND summer dresses.  Call Peter like a dutiful child – this whole affair is tinged with doom. Thank God he is “busy” with his Secret Married Woman (who turns out to Someone Big in the Democratic Committee)!  His parents and my parents should just date each other. Dogs need walking and I need to check on vandalism at abandoned house. 

                                         2 PM Sat June 2 – 78

                                         Trouble opening latest letter from Devon – I had 

    the weirdest premonition it would a marriage proposal!  It was indeed very loving – he has hit a summit of boredom and restlessness for which I am doubtless not the cure. Praised my novel for its “mystical sense of altered consciousness.”  Wow.  I like that better than “brilliant satire”.   Avril & I went to Dillards concert at Cellar Door – they are so charming. Reminiscences of seeing Bruce play there.  First act was Scarlet Ribera and Black Rose Band –

     liked her even better.  Some attractive men, but casual sex seems to raise more problems than it solves.  A & I agree that after the “healing” comes the “strengthening” period.  Coltsville Community College asks me to teach seminar on gothic 

    novel – of course I said yes.  Poor misbegotten bastards. But at least I like watching the birds stuffing themselves at my feeder.

                                         Plush Palace Mon 5 June 78

                                         Perfect day – interesting stirrings inside – feel I am on the edge of some sort of breakthrough.  Yesterday fresh sweet corn and turkey salad at A’s, then we watched B Stanwyck’s Double Indemnity on TV.  Classic Chandler.  “Aren’t you going 75 in a 30 mph zone?”  

    After that I dressed up in my satin 3-piece suit to see Helmut Berger at the Kennedy Center. (Sigh). What a honey that man is. 

     Then sent Bruce a letter with the Unwelcome News that I am “estopped” from filing for divorce in the state of Maryland because he made me sign a “no contest” paperand then dropped his suit!  Paralysis!

                                          I know he was hoping to get out of this without paying –

    (his last girlfriend proffered enough cash to get us this far then predictably abandoned him as soon as his True Colors became apparent.)  Maybe –

    I can establish residence in Virginia and start all over again. 

                                         Had an eye appt in Bethesda so went to that library where I’ve never been and got a TON of interesting books. Treasuring Patricia Beers’ Reader, I Married Him.

                                         Plush Palace Mon 12 June 78 – 7:00 PM

                                         Horrible experience last night at the Garland Dinner Theatre – we were seated with some couple where the male was obviously severely mentally ill –she fed him 1,000 pills throughout dinner to keep him from exploding.  We could have “complained” and demanded to be seated elsewhere but it just seemed so cruel.  Avril & I used every bit of our mother’s otherwise completely pernicious training and tried to act as if nothing was happening.

                                         I’m trying to muster up the discipline to unplug my phone till six – I’m getting too involved in Avril’s job hunt.  She told me to Butt Out.  She’s right – I should just write.  What the hell am I thinking being somebody’s “mother”?  We have too much of a mother already –

     for both of us.  Martin Green’s Children of the Sun a survey rather than the illumination I’d hoped for. Now I need a real Brian Howard bio.

                             Yesterday excellent day – haven’t known such joy since April. 

    Sunbathing reading Ada Leverson & Her Circle – delicious.  (Unfortunately she was a bit of an idiot.)  Cleaned entire house yesterday so when I got back from dancing it was immaculate.  (The dogs – who had been outside in the yard – messed it up again immediately.)  Read Jane Rule’s excellent Lesbian Images at work.  She’s dumb about Colette and Bowen but I agree with her that loneliness and bad experiences are the enemy, not homosexuality.  But I don’t think I’m up for a lesbian experience – women too emotionally demanding. They do too much work (men do too little). 

    Hideously unsatisfactory choice – like having to choose between a ton of salt or none. Better to go without.

                                         Peter called to say we “ought to get together”. 

    Seemed very halfhearted to me. Bet he wants to tell his mother he’d made 

    an effort. I doubt we can surmount this fundamental lack of attraction (we both prefer blondes) but Mom thinks just the opposite. Marry people you’re NOT attracted to so you won’t be “swept away” by “hormones” and you can make “reasoned decisions”!  Is that pitiable or what? Avril says she’s LYING  because EVERYBODY lies about sex.  Suggested Mom handed Dad her wet underpants on their very first date. (At the ballet?  I don’t see it.)  Mom has also said the worse you are at sex the more likely you are to get a proposal.  

    Does this make sense to you?  Ryder’s marriage (under these exact principles) lasted 2 yrs and he wanted to be anywhere but home.

                                         Plush Palace – 22 June 78 – 3 PM

                                         Second double this week.  I hate them but I need

    $80 for typewriter, $300 to pay back Avril, $100 to quiet the utilities people –

     $200 Burnside Inn and at least $200 “Mad Money”.  You know, in case I go mad. It could happen, especially the way things are going. Need extra cash for Vacation, which I approach as if it were a Sacrament.  Secaire gets re-written NEVER under this regime. Oh well.  There’s always poetry.

    SYLVIA PLATH: The Festering Weight

    I know you deceived me

    With the bald-headed lady

    My true kin;

    My mother renounced

    Your swollen giblets in my name.

    See? I bleed tulips.

    It’s happened twice before; I seed the earth

    With children, little miracles.

    I give them their inheritance – a

    Carriage full of baby dung

    Flung

    Down the coal hole

    To remind me of you.

    Pearly maggots bee–like

    Suck my lip to

    Scent the fault that clings to me:

    Heredity.

    This enemy’s face shifts cleverly;

    First male, then jew, then

    blurred and unfamiliar, genitalia

    like narcissi.

    I reserve the right to reject

    This choiceless life.

    See? My body’s scarred by

    Your refusals.

    The blackbird sings out

    Blackly.

                                         Yesterday cleaned house, walked dogs, cooked fish stew. Avril & I read family letters, then went out to see A Different Story.  Both liked it enormously. 

                                         8:45 PM Plush Palace – 24 Jun 78 – Sat

                                         Bad mood. OD’d on junk food then lost my favorite hairbrush and other people’s plastic versions break my hair.  Growl.  I can 

    write it out.  It’s a dirty job but someone’s got to do it. Emotional roller coaster continues.  Just when I declare myself a Celibate Slave to Art a very handsome –

     (and very blond) man comes in tonight.  He works in radio, considering story about dancers; wants to interview “somebody”.  

                                         “You hit pay dirt, my friend.”  I tell him but I insist on pseudonym. I was wearing my silver lamé outfit with the see-through silver sleeves so looked tiptop if I do say so myself.

                                         His name’s Rod Avery (I’m not kidding) and although he’s newly divorced he lacks the Rip Van Winkle leer. He works for a reputable national outlet. I can work with this.  Mom would just eat him up. Bought tix to an Agatha Christie play – maybe I’ll invite him instead of Avril. 

  • 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. 

  • Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn

                 Wed Mar 22 78 – 4:15 PM

                                        Waiting for cocktails, I discover a flaw in the divine Miss Elizabeth Bowen. She doesn’t like to admit that she is of the same clay as her characters. Those creatures based on the Mosleys she repudiated utterly as if creatures from another planet. I’ve got news for her.  Creatures from another planet are 

    not that interesting.

                                        Last night was one of the most traumatic family 

    Evenings I have ever experienced – I think my eyes are still puffy. I heard we would be having Island People to dinner – he used to be a university president/professor so presumably would be good company – they met because somebody was the bridesmaid of somebody else’s bridesmaid so there is a connection.  It started with me wearing a green silk shirt, my denim gauchos and hardly any makeup (yes I wore eyeshadow) and being told by Mom that my “get-up” was “more suitable for a bar.”  (All of a sudden she’s an expert on bars.)  

                                   Harvey and Edna turned out to have “heard of my job” –I gather in some commiseration session on Incredibly Unsatisfactory Children – however they refuse to accept that there is any difference between being an exotic dancer and being a stripper (hello! I don’t strip) and somehow Harvey

     segued from castigating  “exotic dancers who try to feel superior to strippers”  to  criticisms of “ total sexual freedom”  which apparently means  that  “everybody should jump on everybody.”   

                                        I tried to dignify this mess by explaining that it is actually the reverse – in the “old days” under the “ancien regime sexuelle”  a dancer could expect to be “jumped on” by “anybody” because of her job (like poor old Degas’ ladies) but that actual freedom for women would mean a world in which one could be a barely clothed dancer (I would think anyone would admit nudity is at least an equally valid way of expressing the art of muscle – 

    line and form as heavily costumed artificial approximations) without it becoming  some sexual signal that one has “lost caste” and therefore privacy and choice. I recommended Susan Brownmiller’s book to this painfully ignorant male (God knows what he taught –  he had never heard of Brownmiller – seems to have her confused with Ti-Grace Atkinson assuming she mustwrite books no self-respecting intellectual would read (maybe he was the type of university president who just brings in wads of cash).  

                                        He challenged my premise that the ultimate societal freedom would be for unattached females to not to be under the threat of rape every minute.  Harvey insisted – with a perfect straight face that women rape men every bit as much as the reverse – “psychologically of course” which he says is just as terrible – and in fact probably even more so since we all know the “physical thing is no big deal” and often does people a “favor”.

     I must say this does not reflect very well on his wife Edna but she was smiling smugly so I think she may have just been too obtuse to follow any of the arguments.  

                                        I really could not cope with this free-for-all avalanche of idiocy especially when my parents played their trump card – if bars where women sit in front of a drink and watch barely clothed men cavorting don’t exist, therefore this is an antifeminist exercise and my claim to be a feminist is a 

    sham. I think it was at that point that I burst into tears.  Which of course was 

    totally demeaning.  I sorely missed Avril’s assistance – she refused to jump in

     but made peacemaking noises like “you both have a point” (untrue – their “points” are a disgrace). Ugly Harvey apologized – what a monster! but there could be no satisfaction in it for me at that point. Avril went walking with me until they left.

                                        Alas, waiting till they were gone did not end the discussion. Mom and Dad pounced on us to drive home their point that the male animal is a violent dangerous creature barely contained by the civilizing influence of the female.  (Guess they can’t get behind Harvey’s “female rapist” idea.) Of course they are going to rape any female who lets down 

    her guard for a second and it will all be her fault.   (Didn’t Ryder make this case?

      I’m ashamed to share a world with these people.)  Any kind of a sexual display (I guess the beach would certainly qualify) is a declaration of :

    “Jump in boys! It’s free today!” At least they recognized Harvey’s

     behavior as extreme (“Two drinks and he’s lost” was Dad’s comment.)  

                                        Basically, as long as I work at “that bar” I’m the 

    “lost cause” and if any decent male finds out about it our relationship will be over in a trice. This kind of thing makes me wonder why I bother to visit them.  Fortunately, I’m escaping soon, but the whole ferry reservation problem means one loses the right to fight irretrievably with one’s hosts on this island.  Dad’s big mistake was giving me an example of a good marriage as Lillian Hellman and Dashiell Hammett!  

    Did I blow my top! He probably thought I’d listen to him if he produced a literary example. He wasn’t aware that not only were they not married but Mr. Hammett was married to someone else and cheated on poor Hellman whenever he could manage to stay stiff long enough.  (I really didn’t want to “get in” to the alcoholism problem.  Lillian tried to make him seem like a “mentor” but honestly she was just his keeper and bail bondsman.)

                 11:30 AM Friday, 24 March 78

                                        Staggering down for my first cup of coffee when I heard Harvey’s voice in the kitchen. Thank God I heard it in time – if he had seen me in my baby doll nighty I guess he would have considered himself justified in pinning me immediately to the floor. He brought me a hibiscus flower as a peace offering.

                                        A more significant peace offering came from Mom and Dad who gave us each 100 more shares of stock.  I tried to refuse it– they insisted. I warned them I’ll only sell it. Maybe I’ll be able to buy a new car when I get back.  I could use it.

                                        Spent last night trying to read Welty’s Bride of Innisfallen, couldn’t get my mind around it.  Read Faithful Are the Wounds instead. 

    Very like a stage play – which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

                 Powder Mill Road – home – 8:30 PM Sun 26 March 78

                                        Can’t describe the ecstasy of being in my own

     place. On the island I am hideous – here I am beautiful. The loss of confidence there is so severe as to actually induce delusions. Now that I am back I am ready to tackle my existence brilliantly.  As always. 

                                        We got in last night in the pouring rain – 11:30 PM 

    – Avril had coffee and left.  I read a soppy love story and slept in my Own Bed.

     Today we did laundry, went to see a bad movie – actors working madly away to no effect. Tomorrow I get mail – hope there’s lots of it.

                                        Did get a beautiful poem out of the island – 

    Peacock Pavement: The Poet on her walk – submit to Denver

    Quarterly – which has been very polite about me lately.  They’ve shown an interest in my stuff though nothing has ever been exactly “right. 

  • Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn

        Chevy Chase, MD – 10:15 PM Thurs 8 Sept.

                              At Shoulder’s house. Not a bad drive down – (washing the dogs right before the ferry (I had to – they stank) put some time pressure on me – but I made the ferry anyway. Shoulders looks different – has a moustache. Talks about needing a roommate – does he mean me?  He doesn’t know where yet and I don’t want to live with him. His constant string of ignorant pickups would eventually get me down. 

                             He doesn’t mention Ryder and I don’t look up his TV show. 

    Promising stuff in the classifieds – a garden apt in Landover, a townhouse in Dale City, sharing a house in Kensington. Took the dogs on the old walk – they remembered the route. Huge construction at my old house. 

     L’Escargot closed.

        5 PM Sept 9

                              Kensington House hopeless. You have to join some

     kind of food co-op that’s like a cult religion and there’s a huge emphasis on kitchen and cooking duties. They all eat together. Seems like the worst of college and boarding school to me. I’m now sitting in a real estate office which is really a garage waiting for a guy who’s already an hour late. He’ll be here in 10 mins they say, then he’s going away for 2 weeks so I hope he will want to close the deal tonight, It’s described as an old apartment, high ceilings, fireplace. $210 a month. So I’m just praying  the neighborhood’s not too bad. 

        7:00 PM

                              Bleak. Too bleak. Tried to imagine myself doing my 

    exercises on that floor, standing in that kitchen waiting for water  to boil, etc. Couldn’t manage. Feeling very stressed. Do I even want to live in this city? It’s just that I know I can easily make a living if the 

    book doesn’t take off. Went to the library and loaded up on Agatha Christies to help handle the strain. It works.  Maybe I need to get a shag haircut  and spend the winter in Spain.  Now why don’t I do that, other than the obvious reason I can’t afford it and have already missed my dogs as much as I ever want to. Another guy says he has half of a house I might want.  With a fenced in yard.

        8:15 AM Wed 14 September – Powder Mill Road

                              Drinking coffee in my own kitchen from the mug that 

    was my present to myself last morning on the island.  The guy is 

    selling this house as a rental property and was amazingly cavalier – 

    needed a tenant – didn’t look up my refs or demand cosigner.  

    Absolutely cool when I described myself as a ”writer” so “dancer” 

    remains beneath the radar.  (Dad would say that proves I know 

    dancing’s “bad”! I refuse to be unsafe just to convince my own father I’m respect-worthy.) 

                             Yesterday very full day.  Got up at 8 and moved

     the dogs to their fenced in yard. Fetched the truck, loaded and 

    unloaded with Shoulders’ help – bookcases, boxes, mattress, 

    desk, sofa – had truck back by 3. A thousand robins on the weed-grown lawn. I wonder how long I will be looking at this peaceful green view.

        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 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. 

                              Called Chloe to see if I can get on the radio – she was excited to hear from me, but unfortunately gave Erika the Pest my number. Erika called – I was nervous that she wanted me to rewrite her manuscripts, but she just invited me to breakfast.  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

  • Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn

        7PM – Sat 23 July 77

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

    talk.  He told me all about his passionate relationship with

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

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

    she is saving money to come to US at Christmas.

                                Bit of a downer to find other people have split 

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

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

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

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

                                Wrote a whiny letter to Avril (who usually can handle 

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

                                Reading Stella Gibbons’ Cold Comfort Farm – 

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

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

        Sun 24 July 77

        4PM

                                 Wrote 4 pages of A Demon Roused. Horribly

    dissatisfied. Patricia Highsmith on the suspense novel no damn 

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

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

                                Face facts.  Left DC June 4. This coming 

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

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

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

                              Now about my book. New beginning ALL wrong and

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                              Devon and his roommates Blair & Brian drop by and I 

    struggle to appear sane. Hard for me. 

        6PM

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

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

                                 1:30 PM Mon 25 July 77

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

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

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

                              Forget about weight – just follow & learn to love 

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

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

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

    Still feel stilted with him unfortunately.

                              Assault on library. Planning to ransack the place. 

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

    My World and Welcome To It .

        Tues. 26 July 77 9:40 AM

                                Sitting on stonewall in full sunlight in my black bikini 

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

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

                              Exercise, coffee, 3 glasses water. The Regime.

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

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

    won’t like it.

                              Dinner should have been nice but barbecue very messy. 

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

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

                                Cold Comfort Farm exactly 100 pages too long (but I 

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

        2:30 PM Wed July 27 – 77

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

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

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

    such a fast way to get to know someone.

                              First draft of Demon so far bony and spare. Neatly 

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                Mom and Dad called – acting all worried. Apologizing

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

                              Thornbirds is teaching me the great unpleasantness of 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    HOT PROWL

    Don’t wake up.

    I surveil by night

    Your chiseled torso

    Slacken with exhaustion.

    Touching things that once

    You touched,

    Listing to your apnea –

    I turn away before you turn.

    Making peace with all my choices.

    It’s worth everything;

    Winning in divorce a

    Hard-won superpower:

    Invisibility

        2:45 PM Thurs 28 July 77

                              Loving myself today. I am very tan.  Hair strawberry 

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

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

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

    Reading Ford Madox Ford and grooving on his Violet versus Elsie 

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

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

                              8:45 PM Finished article for the McManus mag about 

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

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

    Triggers fewer yearnings.

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

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

    – Lingo Academico virtually impenetrable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

      11:12 AM Sat 30 Jul 77

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

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

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

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

    Stoking! 

        4:15 PM Sun 31 July 77 Deck

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                              Tomorrow is the first of August – whole new beginning. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn

             Fri. 25 Feb 77

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

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

     the clutching sisters in the Victorian photo for inspiration.

     None comes. Instead slapped together a first poetry collection

     – In the Vein.

                       5:20 PM Sun 27 Feb 77

                       Ryder will be here any minute. Driving straight 

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

    Flank steak marinating, turnips, parsnips & parsley, tomatoes

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

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

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

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

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

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

                       Mon 28 Feb 77 – Broadcast Agency

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

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

    Surprise visit from landlord – heard about “violations” from 

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

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

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

                       Thurs. 3 Mar 77

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

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

    VIRGINIA WOOLF:

    The Membraned Sieve

    O bliss to be red admiral afeast

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

    Woke to Leonard bringing milk

    Nessa dancing bear-like on the lawn, woke

    To pain; cylindrical as seasons

    Burning white and burning blue like friends.

    The words fell fast, the blood fell faster;

    Split the membraned sieve.

    She raced the whitecaps out to sea

    Parting the waves with her mother’s hand.

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

          Mon 7 Mar 77

          Ryder says he talks so much about me associate director 

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

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

    The Plum – we have no room.  

              Sex too rough. Experimenting or letting his anger 

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

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

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

    orange leather suit, boots, bracelets. Bloody Marys. 

    I gave her phone bill – also letter from collection agency 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     the Book & The Poet.

    11 Mar 77

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

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

    come back. Real estate agent leads inspector thru house.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    it was worth it. Barbara Harris Chaplinesque. Told Broadcast 

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

            Read Ellen Glasgow’s The Woman Within. Trying to 

    rewrite Secaire in third person. Unsuccessful. Dreaming 

    about houses with deep, cool porches but tax people 

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

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

    13 Mar 77

            Made love with R for what I hope was last time 

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

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

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

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

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

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

    read Great Gatsby, pitying Fitzgerald the while. Someone 

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

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

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

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

    17 Mar 77

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

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

    Reading good bio Dorothy Thompson.  Novel going swimmingly – 

    suddenly feel fearless. Sex scene perfect. Why elaborate? 

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

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

    Mon. 21 Mar 77

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

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

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

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

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

                       23 Mar 77

                       Voyage classically awful. Majestically, stupendously awful.  

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

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

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

                       2 April 77

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

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

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

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

                      Fri. 8 Apr 77

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

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

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

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

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

                       Chloe apologized for bad writing workshop with dinner 

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

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

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

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

                       Hostile questioning from Mom and Dad who don’t know 

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

    cheapening my brand. Reading Mrs. Starr Lives Alone.

  • Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn

                       Fri. 24 Sept 76

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

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

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

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

    Trying to research the occult for Secaire.  Reading bad suspense 

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

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

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

                       6:25 PM – Sun 3 Oct 76

                       Fabulous dinner party last night. Steak tartare, crab 

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

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

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

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

    got one porno call.

                       Tues 5 Oct 76

                       4pm appt with Environmental Defense Fund. Howard 

    Nemerov such a relief after Auden.

                       Thurs 11:30 PM 7 Oct 76

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    love if it’s impossible?

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

     like it. Tension almost unbearable waiting for my check.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     I am buying diet pills because of sedentary job.

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

                       New notebooks such a thrill. Always a fresh start:  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                       10:30AM Sun 20 Feb 77

                       R and I went on ski weekend to Massanutten.  

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

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

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

                      Drank too much out of sheer boredom and because I was 

    depressed over R, then I get depressed over being depressed 

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

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

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

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

    with the punches.

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

                       1:00PM 21 Feb 77

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                       Tues. 22 Feb 77

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

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

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

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

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

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

    grey silk scarf for his birthday.

                       3:40 PM Wed 23 Feb 77

                       Keith Dalrymple amazingly told me he loves my 

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

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

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

    dress shop on Dupont Circle. Slogging through Mrs Dalloway –

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

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

                       Thurs. 24 Feb 77

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

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

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

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

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

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

    for this? He blanched when I ordered escargots chablisienne. 

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

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