Alysse Aallyn

Category: Joy of Writing

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Thurs. 19 Oct 67


    This is all I need: I’m in the infirmary with a fever and swollen glands. My throat making me super miserable! No sailing for me – parents suggested it instead of Parents’ Day. These blankets are so stingy; I have all the blankets they had in the blanket closet and still I’m shivering. Damn things are razor thin. It’s the same room I was in last time, The Alysse Aallyn Memorial Chamber. At least they have a bathtub (not that they let you use it enough.)


    I used to visit Shawn here when he had his shin splints. Back when he loved me. Snuck in an Andrew Garve – pretty thin plot. Begged Nostrils to let me call Aynsley for a copy of Fathers and Sons. She gave me pills instead – there’s everything wrong with modern science in a nutshell. (One of the pills is a charming turquoise.) I’m sure the Russians could cure whatever I have. (Freud would not be a good idea for a swollen gland sufferer.)

    Miss Wickersham in to say Shawn Kobler just arrived with a head injury from soccer! That boy is very accident prone. Will he open his eyes to find the year erased and think we are still dating! There’s a plot! When Miss Wickersham’s back was turned I used the office phone to call Mum – took some pleasure in alarming her. But I had to call because of the sailing. They don’t know what they’ll do now (I know. They’ll go sailing.) Avril has a boil she has to take penicillin for and they’re taking HER!

    Now I’m too warm but that beats an arctic fit. I don’t even need a book I’m so busy wondering who Shawn will be when he wakes up. Jekyll? Hyde?

    Fri. 20 Oct 67
    Accidentally woke the nurse prowling around trying to find out what time it was (5 AM.) Mom called at ten said they decided to go sailing without me. (Natch.) Mom offered to take me to tea (“show me off” was how she put it) at the Annual Service Committee Meeting. I suppose Casey and I could go before the play. She invited us to spend the night but we GAVE to get back here at 11PM at the latest – it’s Halloween Parties – what with the Tunnels & the Crypt the world’s queerest entertainment. I’m going as a wart – which ought to be effortless considering my swollen glands.

    Mom reported something weird – she USED that soap Robin sent me – it broke open and there’s a tiny switchblade inside! I begged her to SAVE it for me – she is dubious. Aren’t these illegal? It’s an inch long – press a button and the blade comes winging out. I won’t thank Robin but as he must have known I covet it tremendously. Avril was so taken with it she said, “Do we have to tell her?”

    Slept all day – Nostrils is going off and Mrs. Wickersham coming on. Bazarov so pitiful in Fathers & Sons. Paul Petrovich is the most sympathetic character; very finely drawn. “He strolled as far as the end of the garden…lifted his gaze to the sky. But his fine dark eyes reflected only the glimmer of the stars. He was not born a romantic and his soul, so dry and elegant, passionate and misanthropic in the French way, was incapable of reverie.” Bravo!

    Sun 22 Oct 67
    Slept through Vespers and what everyone tells me was a very fine sermon by Dr Elton Trueblood. Up on dorm wrote some godawful poetry, read 10 p of one book and 7 of another, then into Casey’s room to bother her. She won’t allow herself to be bothered, however. So here I am back, night and day all fatally screwed up.
    McKenzie’s parents pointed me out to her and said I was “the most beautiful girl” on campus. Tell the photographers is all I can say. Photos look like Mt Rushmore in a light drizzle.

    Thurs 26 Oct 67
    Easy to become lethargic and apathetic in a system depending on routine. Master Gwill doing me the honor of treating me like an adult, shaking me out of my coma. Tells me he has never seen so much “natural talent” blah blah blah. Now I’m embarrassed about all the mean things I’ve said about him. (He likes Steinbeck! So bourgeois!)

    He presented me with a ticket to see Marcel Marceau! He was a little crushed that I have already experienced this but OBVIOUSLY it will be different as that was YEARS AGO. I had to say I was seated behind a pillar at the Paris Opera and could barely see (although maybe that was Mme Butterfly.)

    When they let me out of the infirmary I knew I had an excuse to miss dinner so I put on ski pants and a ski sweater, tied my hair back and walked all the way through Girls’ Bounds and Boys’ Bounds down to the farm. Climbed a dead-looking tree and watched the horses eat and the sun set. Cleared my eyes and lungs.

    It occurred to me that it doesn’t matter who I am. As I sit in this tree I can be anybody! None of my failures or mistakes even matter because I don’t matter. What a relief! Felt I was in a state of grace. The pageant of the world’s beauty is the model of perfect giving.

    Bible class just ending. We are reading The Great Divorce. “So why desire truth if the truth hurts?” asked Biff Withers who is the only person in this class who ever asks an intelligent question.

    “Knowledge brings freedom and freedom is worth having” was the answer.

    Uh oh! Don’t tell the slaves about freedom. You could see the restless stirring. I nearly stood up and cheered. But of course I didn’t!

    I have far too much to read. 5 books in 2 weeks, 3 of them being over 300 p long. Insanity, that’s what it is! Rather read Polidori’s The Vampyre… Occasional flashes of Byron do come through, that magnificent pagan! He did become a sadistic, soulless, stupid fiend when in fact he was neither stupid nor soulless. Shows what can happen.

    I feel in Byron lies the secret of the world’s malaise. Must steal him for Lord Noone. When he broke bottles on the ceiling of the room below his wife accouchement I was his forever. It’s the Bad Boy Problem.

    Lindles came in and asked, “What’s that?”
    “I said, “Writer’s practice book”.
    “Are you writing about me?”
    “I am now!”

    Fri. 27 Oct 67
    Stunning day, warm for the end of Oct. I ought to be
    a) Sitting in my tree; or
    b) Fast asleep;
    c) Reading a ridiculously romantic novel and loving every minute of it

    Instead here I am in 214 with have a red sign on my door so I can read and eat brownies in peace and quiet. Take 3 aspirin; make a pot of Imperial Gunpowder. I am Insanely Happy. There is a man-made pond about thirty yards away – I could sit here forever just watching the cows come to drink. Who knows what the future holds? At this very moment the Lord of the Manor’s son may spy me through his telescope and say, “Who IS that girl! I like the cut of her jib!”

    Possibly dementia has set in. I promise to start work in JUST ONE MOMENT; first I must arrange clipboard, pens, pencils, Kleenex, script, all effluvia pertaining to my role. Also Master Gwill’s book on Method Acting. And an article on cinema verité stuffed into my mailbox by some kind hand.

    Tomorrow: the City of Brotherly Love. Last year I enjoyed the Annual Meeting very much; wagering with my sister about the storms raging beneath the participants’ mute and painted masks.

    Sun. 29 Oct 67
    Just saw Paul Newman in Hud. Don’t think it proves anything we didn’t know before. PN sexy, certainly, in an undershirt. It must be awfully exhausting to continually play alcoholics! Note: women do NOT want someone to rip their dresses off, unless it’s under laboratory conditions with us running the experiment.

    Beales used to say loneliness was being by yourself and having a plane pass overhead. I LOVE imagining the lives of others when they don’t know you’re looking in – don’t even know you exist. I’m quite a peeper as I drive thru the townhouse sections of Phila. Trying to write a poem about a man I saw wearing a blue turtleneck and standing under a Tiffany lamp. He was doing something with his hands – tearing up letters, I imagined.

    Casey asked me if I wanted to know why didn’t I ring the doorbell? Because that would WRECK it, I said. She said, “You have a lot of inhibitions.” Taking her to my tree this afternoon to see if she can climb it. We’ll see who has inhibitions.

    Casey and I stalk the streets of Phila in matching wool dresses, tights & hair bows. Tea with folks NOT FUN – they don’t like Casey and show it. They would like to believe everything bad about me is caused by Someone Else. (I’m sure Casey’s mother wishes to believe the same.) Homecoming magical, however. Love the pauses, the stares the silences. We did not talk about Dan!

    Mon. 30 Oct 67
    Just couldn’t manage Too Late In the Year – turned my poem into a story. I need to tell a story! I’ve got a first draft. Oddest sense when I’m writing that I’m telling my own future. You’d think I’d make it sparkly and happy like Casey’s stories but no – they end dreadfully – I can’t help myself. It’s Bluebeard’s wife, creeping along the corridor touching all the doorknobs. If she doesn’t open them she won’t really know. But of course, she does know. “Sus-tension.” That is what I’m looking for.

    Halloween 1967 (Tuesday)
    You dear battered, war-scarred, dog-eared book: I love you so! I know I must have delusions of grandeur refusing to destroy any of these books I have written. Containing plenty of things I’m ashamed of! As I look through this particular book it seems far more comprehensible than the fifteen or so volumes that preceded it. Yet I could not possibly destroy these tear-stained annals, much as I would like to. They are as embarrassing as a friend who heard all the confidences of a long dead love affair yet remains certain of her welcome.

    Not only journals but also stories, fantasies and ghastly, ghastly poems – each contain a seed that may someday sprout. Shall I someday sit at my desk, cynically accomplished yet utterly without ideas and chance upon one of these barely sane mementoes?

    Asked Miss Cluny what she thought of Too Late in the Year. She said she read it twice over before going to sleep and “wants to discuss every word with me.” I must have blanched because she said, “Not to cut it up.” So she must have liked it.

    Fifteen bucks for senior pictures! Sounds like highway robbery but I got the parents on the line.
    “Your father sends his love,” chirruped Mother, while I chomped hard on my cigar and said, “Hold the love and send the cash, sweetheart.”

    Aynsley wants to room with Lindles and I want to room with Casey – everyone would be happy but little Hitler – Aka Miss Womrath – is giving us trouble. She thinks it is Very Bad for us Ever to get what we Want.

    Wed. 1 Nov 67
    Here I sit in Senior Play Rehearsal (Under Milkwood) bored to shriek point.
    Served ½ my deten this AM sweeping out the lakehouse & scrubbing canoes. Then ran around the lake (because why not?)

    I am failing to get the measure of Mrs. Ogmore-Pritchard and wish I was a narrator like Toss Sheffield (Second Voice.) Master Gwill says he will work with me third period – ugh. I want to be very Freudian and invent something to account for her super-cleanliness but doubt if he’ll approve. I want to make it the grandfather’s and NOT the mother’s fault the way it usually is.


    Halfway through Nicholas & Alexandra; so replete with echoes of sights seen & persons known I feel like I lived it myself. Nobody knew what was coming but they should have (Fr revolution.) Next will read Grand-Duchess Marie’s Education of a Princess. Translated from the Danish, I assume? Or would it be French at the end of her life?


    Matt Romer just mounted the podium and delivered the most asinine speech about Taking the Play Seriously. That’s not the problem – the problem is stage fright. Half the class can’t get word out.

    Have a disturbance detention – means I have to study downstairs in Collection – a frozen, brilliantly lit chamber littered with desks designed for pygmy mutants. Just as well – have a paper to write on The Great Rehearsal and I haven’t started it yet.

    Here goes Matt with his Irish accent! Let’s just hope there are no Irish (or Welsh) people in the audience.

    Master Gwill is taking Casey & Jack B., me & Matt to see Bonnie & Clyde! After reading Pauline Kael’s in the New Yorker I am so excited! (I like her a lot better than Bosley Crowther who relentlessly seizes the obvious.)

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Delaware River aboard the Gryphon – Thurs 3 Aug 67


    I am in the worst mood ever! IMPOSSIBLE to write on a boat! Difficult to read – out of the question to THINK! Too damn much going on. Sails to put up and take down, dishes to get out and then wash. Our one day of “respite” we had to completely scrub the boat! (Dad said it looked like a “laundry scow” with all our panties flying in the breeze.)

    We finally seem to be into the “charming” part of the voyage but now I am depressed by the backlog of letters that I owe. I’d rather write here. I have enough for 100 pages but doubt I’ll ever get them down. Struggling with War & Peace but its not working. Not easy like Anna Karenina. At 36 feet this boat is too small! (No wonder Morgan the cat jumps in the water.) Damn flies are eating me!

    Hideous heat, humidity and flies. I will reread Sherlock Holmes and Sherrill’s Accidental President – can’t manage intellectual fare.

    Called Genevieve and Kent once. She very perky, Mom very sad; Dad very “hail fellow well met.” We are entering the Chesapeake. By sheerest chance we met up with Paul Carnahan in Brigantine (where his father lives.) He is adorable. He wanted to show off his father’s house (which he designed) Dad used the high-powered telescope while I took a HOT BATH! Bliss! Paul introduced us to his nephew John who seemed very interesting. He’s only 19 and already out of college! He rides a unicycle.

    Later – the awful day has ended as awful days must. I did cry once but only Avril saw me and she promised not to tell. Every day seems to contain so many failures.

    My goodbye with Robin was horrible. He cried! He told me I’d never loved anyone – I didn’t argue. He gave me a picture of us onstage together in Mousetrap but when he was gone I threw it away – it was just too painful. He also gave me a package I unwrapped on the plane – Khalil Gibran’s the Prophet! Awful stuff! The epitome of false philosophy. Some people are so intellectually desperate (but I have the sense NOT to tell them I despise them for it!!!)

    I think I HAVE loved someone but at the moment I can’t remember who! Sounds ridiculous I know but the problem is you keep growing up and then you’re a different person! For example, part of what I needed in love was wanting to feel protected (Shawn). It’s not that I don’t want that anymore, I just see it’s illusory. (I loved him until he was mean to me.) I loved Reed until I saw he was an idiot! I think I may have even loved Beales before I saw his limitations!


    So the problem isn’t that I CAN’T love but that I love TOO MUCH!


    I don’t like this reputation for cruelty I am getting but I can’t figure how to dodge it. Why do I HAVE to fall in with what someone else wants to do? With Robin it is particularly stark BECAUSE I DON’T EVEN LOVE HIM. But in the struggle of wills I AM SUPPOSED TO LOSE and its all I can do to resist! And I thought I was so strong!

    Now I am NOT looking forward to senior year. I can’t go through this again! Fortunately Plumly boys are too cagey to tell you they despise you for kissing them! But the emotional stakes keep going higher and so does MY need for love. I can be generous if the guy can be BUT THEY AREN’T RAISED TO BE GENEROUS! Phil was. Reed was but it may have just been his weakness.


    Received a card from Dan Devereux who’s already graduated offering to introduce me to the Villanova party scene! Wish I didn’t know about his shenanigans with Casey so I sent him a Diplomatic Letter. I think he’s just using me to get back at her.

    Wrote a long letter to Robin saying it was just too explosive a summer and everyone was on edge and overworked. He’s threatening to come see me in Philadelphia! I tried to pretend we get a “semester abroad!” (When desperate you can ONLY lie.) I’d like him to just can it on the love stuff. I said we still have to survive college (although he says he’s going to the Goodman Theatre School.)

    Thanked him for Khalil (who after all tells us to be SEPARATE STRINGS on the same instrument!!!) and moved on to disabuse him of the “glamours” of sailing. How glamorous is it having to fish curler pins out of the bilge pump?

    Said I was looking forward to hearing from John Carnahan who promised to write! Mom said of course he’s not going to contact me because I don’t wear a bra! He isn’t going to get into “that!!” Just when I was starting to like her again!

    Last night we saw Julius Caesar at Cape May Courthouse – excellent!

    121 W. Penn – Phila Pa – Sun Aug 13, 67
    Good cruise – SO glad it’s over. When I am too much around people my thinking clouds and I literally start to babble.

    Remember how my motto used to be Xaipe? Well, mere happiness will no longer do – you certainly don’t find it by looking for it. My new motto comes from the lips of Satan himself (cover your ears Sister Mary Rosycheeks) Non serviam.

    So there. It would look good on a coat of arms. (Crossed goose and dragon RAMPANT!)
    Sitting at my father’s desk – an ugly, cold Victorian secretary under a good shot of me wielding a boathook at Hydra. When Aiken said he didn’t like it I refused to agree with him – he was mean about everything – but he’s right! Still, in 10 short years he’ll be fat and bourgeois and this desk is where the stamps & envelopes are! This tea is no good (it’s the water.)

    Everyone hates Johnson – he is attacked on all sides but landlady told Dad she can’t rent to West Indians because it would “ruin” the neighborhood! She’s not prejudiced – it’s other people. Thank God we are only renting. Let’s get out of here to Pewter Hill as fast as possible! It looks like we will be having Thanksgiving and Christmas in that big, beautiful house. I would invite Aynsley but she’s not sure she can stand to see us in her grandmother’s house.
    Read Milne’s delightful Once On a Time and saw John Mills’ The Family Way. Reading Ceram’s Gods Graves & Scholars and wonder if I’ll ever finish it.

    2:00 AM Tues 15 Aug 67
    Saw Two For the Road – I mark it higher than To Sir With Love. Liked the clothes. Read a review of Zelda Fitzgerald’s Save Me The Waltz that was more of a study of Zelda herself. Saw that twisted logic so characteristic of me, feeling naked nerves barely holding intellect together. I also am a slave to violent reactions springing seemingly from nowhere! She describes herself sitting on the porch and watching her dates “rot”! But she couldn’t leave the porch the way I would have. She was stuck.

    Breathed a sigh of relief over an interested letter from Robin. In very interesting handwriting he informs me I am Never To Be Forgotten. I think he will be much more tolerable as a Literary Friend. Went shopping today and bought two-striped Scottish knit dresses (long sleeved, very clingy). Also beautiful gauze dress – pale orange. Mom doesn’t like it but it was $2! Now really!


    Back from an evening at the Carnahans where Mom and Dad announced they would give me a trip to Europe for graduation present. I think they are afraid I won’t make it otherwise! They also talked about how en route from Vermont they had a layover in Boston and saw Genevieve and Kent. Mom said they are serious about having me visit. Probably go four days next week. It would make a good novel – the sister invited on the honeymoon who refused to leave! Bring everybody to the brink! It may have been done before but not my way.

    We all saw Wait Until Dark (play) with Barbara Bel Geddes. Some good scares. A real sadist would have started carving her up long before this one did.

    Had tea, and talked about it with Avril – who is growing more intelligent daily – she says I can use the library at her school – then snuggled down in bed all warm and cozy. But I like to have a many-sided problem to turn over in my mind while I’m falling asleep so I said, “I’ll just pick up Marek’s book and read for a few minutes” – what a mistake! I immediately became so engrossed sleep was impossible! I wish I could go digging in Egypt or Syria.

    Seems like that’s harder and not as materially rewarding these days. But what do I care about this last? Still, I would fall in love with everything I uncovered and then I’d have to give it up. Love reading about the dark-skinned Champollion deciphering cuneiform! Some of the poetry he translated is as touching as Ecclesiastes.

    “My son, my avenger, I shine with love for you…how sweet is your friendship against my breast…I marvel at you…”
    I am so deeply interested in every human variation that has ever been played – we are so intrinsically similar, so devastatingly different.

    Wouldn’t it be great to keep this diary in Babylonian? Then nobody could read it!

    Aboard The Gryphon – Swan Creek Marina – Rock Hall, MD – Midnight – Sat 19 Aug 67 – written by flashlight
    Swan Creek is the most charming hurricane hole you ever saw. Almost all power boats, but very thoughtful management (they put ice in our refrigerator!) Some drunk guy singing baritone on another boat.

    Wish I knew Morse code – very cute blond boy not far away. And how do you say PS Muffle your oars? Would take all night to figure that out.

    Most awful dream last night. I was at my wedding – the groom combining the worst features of Dan Devereux and Robin! I recognized no attendants or guests – everyone very casually dressed lounging around the pews disrespectfully. I wore my new $2 dress (proof that people dream in colors.) It seemed totally real – never occurred to me it might be a dream. I began to get really frightened thinking, How am I getting out of this? Mom came into the church with a white wedding dress over her arm and held it up against me. She said it was Genevieve’s gown and I can use it. But Genevieve got married in a leather minidress and gladiator sandals.

    I tried just pulling on the dress but my orange gauze showed through so I went to change in an olive-green locker room. I looked out the windows to jump but it was too far down. I saw sightseer busses puling up for the wedding outside! My best man was Fran’s boyfriend John – I liked him but I never knew his last name. Anyway he came in, offered me a cigarette and said, You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. The relief! I woke up at that moment and realized it was all a dream.

    This evening Mom and Dad and I went to see Ulysses – bold movie but SO hard to follow! Still, stream of consciousness works better in film than writing.

    Re-read Prince Caspian for the first time since age 10! He shouldn’t have thrown in all the Christ allusions but I still liked it. Finally finished the Marek book it was so exciting! Now there’s nothing to read but Mom & Dad’s magazine Atlas. Still, looks interesting.

    Mom and I went to Pewter Hill to pick up a key – it is air-conditioned!!! Mom was excited to see a squad car in the park – makes it seem safe – but the officer was snoring away!
    I’m the cockpit where I’m going to try to sleep because Mom and Dad have been shaking the whole boat with their lovemaking. I’m sure they’re trying to keep it down – it just isn’t possible. When I started to feel white-hot I thought about Robin and went right down to refrigeration in no time.

    Tomorrow we go to St Michaels saving 14 miles by going through the Scary Narrows. Dad has consulted charts & books galore. He says not to worry, boat is Unsinkable (knock on Fiberglas.)
    Shaping up to be another sleepless night wondering when the earth will die. Probably soon, judging by pollution in Philly.

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Wed 26 Apr 67


    Dammit, flunked another math quiz. Had to ask what R stood for (radius). If this keeps up will need a tutor. Who ever heard of the radius of a SQUARE? It is wrong that it should have one, but it does. If I fail I have to retake as a senior and that WILL NOT HAPPEN. Will memorize the damn textbook if that’s what it takes. Coming up: Gertrude spouts equations in Hamlet death scene. “To fail or not to fail…”

    Fri 28 Apr 67
    They show Rashomon after dinner and Reed and I got into a stupid argument about it. He blames the whole thing on the poor woman, which is not the filmmaker’s point at all. I really think he is going to force me to break up with him and his beestung mouth.

    Sat 29 Apr 67
    I hate everybody. Miss Wienand had the nerve to tell me I would never be a writer because I have “no feel for literature.” She did not like my Wordless Play. Hideous struggles with CP Snow and Isak Dinesen. Trying to write a poem in French that is a takeoff on Rimbaud – reflections of sweaty men in a wineglass by firelight. The soul heaves! You know the sort of thing. The tap dancing of an amputee.


    Having my mother show up for Parents Day a VERY good thing however. She is so gracious and beautiful I am raised in everyone’s estimation. I sit in the East Room eating 2,000 macaroons while she is making lifelong friends. She did sleep through the lecture on careers! Then she took me & Aynsley to lunch at the Media Inn saying she is thinking of buying Pewter Hill, Aynsley’s grandmother’s beautiful house. That would be lovely. Avril and I would get a whole floor. Unfortunately Auntie Beulah would have to come live with us. I ate prime rib, fondue and Cherries jubilee. I really am a fire-eater.


    Now I have to write a paper about whether Lincoln could have avoided the Civil War. (NO!) Paper doomed unfortunately. Miss Cluny said Lincoln’s letter was the model sympathy letter and I said it was a disgrace to humanity.

    Mon 1 May 67
    Brice came up to me after lunch to break up with me! From Aiken! Due to Differences in Lifestyle & Libido, blah blah blah (the nerve!) He OBVIOUSLY expected me to fall sobbing into his arms, which I refused to do. Said it was a pity Aiken was such an Old Man while still in his twenties! I like my generation! Not One Tear will I shed on or for either of Those Men.


    There is NO PLANET in the stratosphere where this mess of a Cyrano breakup would be OK. I was so annoyed I broke up with Reed! Not very nicely either. I do feel guilty but new horizons, etc.
    New horizons may be Shawn Kobler. He keeps casting me Unfathomable Glances. Getting the distinct impression I represent Bad Girls to him – don’t like that at all. Didn’t know if he would “forgive” me for Reed – fortunately he doesn’t approve of drugs either. He usually doesn’t date – he is too busy running the school. Did invite me to put in an appearance at a dance he will be “working”. That’s not quite good enough for me.


    Reed’s KOBS (he’s still sending them) are poems as-screechy-violin-psycho music; Shawn’s complicated screeds fear “stuffy domesticity” and wonder if the “call of the wild” is dead. I can answer that: No.

    Sun, 11 Jun 67 – Wyriga, MN
    Back for more with the Theatre Nuns! What is it I like so much about the Sisters of St. Hilarious? Is it that fierce battle of Inner vs. Outer? Must be. The students on the other hand, give me the creeps. Long skirts, weirdly puffed hair and old fashioned makeup makes me feel they’ve stepped out of the pages of Little House on the Prairie. In fact we are putting on Giraudoux’s Madwoman of Chaillot – too modern for them if anything. They are worried whether the audience will “get” it. How can they miss it?


    I hate finding out I’m such a snob but I might as well be honest.


    Picked up at the airport by Dr. Magnus and driven to the just completed dorms –smells like the mortar is still drying – where the other students claim to “adore” my “accent”. Didn’t know I had one but presumably they can’t hear their own nasal twang. Fortunately I have my own room – the senior I was supposed to room with – Josephine – has taken an apt! Yay! Now I can stay up all night if I want to.


    First class is Ballet (!!!) where I am forced to admit I am starting from rock bottom. Imitating a leaf in Miss Pleverer’s modern dance class when I was six has apparently not helped me at all. (She was another Misbegotten Wretch Mom wanted to support.) The only direction I have to go is Up.
    After that, Voice. Stress makes me screech – we are trying to lower my high whine.


    After that, casting for our play – I got cast as The Spanish Dancer because the director (with whom all the girls are in love) did not see me in Ballet. He selected me to lead the mazurka! Uh oh! Here’s hoping I pick it up.


    There’s a very good actor named Robin (didn’t get his last name) blond hair, long nose, tall and thin, poor posture but a terrific actor. He can imitate anyone – he is electric onstage! He’s also charming and funny and seems to like me.


    I’m trying out for one of the leads in The Mousetrap. I wouldn’t have the nerve if the others weren’t so hopeless.


    Tried calling home – was feeling homesick which Mom cured by lecturing me. The office chose that moment to cut us off. When I finally got her back I discovered she thought I hung up on her. I don’t think she really believes that I didn’t. Wish we were closer but she is going through a Bad Period. She is very angry that Genevieve wants to leave Radcliffe and go to Boston College with the rest of the rabble. She thinks she’s doing it for “some boy” but even if she were I don’t see why that invalidates her dislike of Radcliffe. It is a snooty, stupid place.


    I think she’s really upset because every time we talk about Africa, I cry! It’s automatic at this point and she thinks I’m doing it just to make her feel bad. “Mom, you took me to a war.” Neither Mom nor Dad want to know what we REALLY think which is especially awkward since all our friends praise them for their Honesty and Involvement in our lives! Our job now seems to be to tell them over and over again, You’ve Been Perfect but they raised us to be honest, analyze Problems and Problem-Solve. But only for the Benighted , apparently, which by definition our parents can’t be.


    For example, they are furious at Merrill’s husband for joining the Air Force. But if he JOINS as opposed to being drafted, he gets to take Merrill with him to Meteorology School in Athens, Greece! This sounds better to them than the jungles of Vietnam and I concur! (Wish I was there.) I HAVE to defend my sisters. Cried fiercely in my room afterwards – a girl came to be nice but I was old and proud.


    Slept till one PM Sunday. So great not having a roommate. Napoleon says “a man needs six hours of sleep, a woman seven and a fool eight”. A theatre student needs nine! I keep missing meals so bought lemonade and cottage cheese with pineapple and just got full on that. The lemonade I keep in my room, and there’s a kitchen with a fridge down the hall for my cottage cheese. LOVE that stuff!


    Rehearsals lasted till ten pm! My part is insignificant so I sit in the audience reading. Finished Genet’s The Maids (love it!!) starting Deathwatch. Almost completed Markham’s Napoleon and Dostoevsky’s The Idiot but left them in my room. Love Prince Myshkin and Jacques Louis David.
    Robin offered me a ride to the Black Hawk – the local night club. My high hopes were dashed. Sleazy dive with a juke box. Made me even MORE homesick. Missing Shawn.


    Tues 13 June 67
    Finished The Idiot, then speed-read The Blight on the Ivy by “The Gordons”. I was hoping to sound well informed on student suicide rates in my next argument. But what a terrible book! Authors condescending to their readers fall between three stools: lurid Sat. Eve Post article, useful survey or Ma Gordon’s Common Sense Advice. No opportunity for moralizing missed. They told me to read their other book entitled The Split Level Trap. No thank you! I saw the movie (No Down Payment.)


    Really didn’t understand Deathwatch. Trying to read Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey – to my surprise, I haven’t read her before but I enjoy it.

    12:50 AM Fri 16 June 67
    Trying to keep away from Robin or I think The Inevitable will happen. Three months without love can’t be borne! He keeps following me around and joking with me. He elbowed into being my partner in ballet! He lifts me up with a smooth flat hand, right beneath my rib cage. He may look spindly and sick but he is strong and lightning sensitive. He always catches me in the “trust falls”.
    During rehearsal I was writing to Shawn and Robin came and sat by me and said, Is that a letter to your boyfriend? I told him it was and nobody writes long letters the way I do! Robin said HE DOES! We can write each other after we leave – or starting now of I want! Uh oh. Dangerous to ask me what I want! Shawn didn’t ask me for my address – I’m putting it on the envelope but I might hear nothing. Feeling very down right now and not seeing a single lovable quality in myself. I am one of those insecure people needing constant reassurance – like a spaniel. Do I have patience for The Endless Games?
    I prefer erotic dreams…

    Thurs 22 June 67
    I am in the smoker listening to Barbra Streisand who always brings my emotionalism to the surface. Lost the part of Mollie in the Mousetrap – my own fault. Robin is so good – (he is Giles) perfect accent and everything – I just can’t manage it. Said I’d learn it – overconfident as usual. Now I’m just a stagehand. Robin is worried he will be stereotyped in villain roles because he does them so well! (It’s that thin, sinister face.)


    I got stuck with Julie Haydon after the preview performance. She talked endlessly about how bad she’d been and it didn’t matter how many times I said she was fine – it didn’t register. Robin was dragged into a passing car to go to the party, I’m stuck Helping the Star Take off her Makeup. I wanted to talk about George Jean Nathan and New York City in the 20’s – (she says their anniversary’s in a few days) but she wanted to talk about her wrinkles. And when I said the part needed wrinkles that was NOT the right thing to say. She did tell me about her wedding aboard a Caribbean cruise liner and their conversion to Catholicism. Finally a car arrived for her from the hotel and I walked back to the dorm by myself. Pathetic!


    When I got to the dorm I was told it’s Illegal for girls to walk alone after dark! Great! Then my purse broke and my stuff went everywhere. Fortunately the nuns are very kind – they really control the atmosphere of this place and work hard to seem human and not just institutions. I feel most sorry for them having to wear such cloddy shoes. Oh, well, they’re not out to satisfy my aesthetic tastes!
    Up till 2:30 AM reading Byron.

    Dressed in my blue and white polka dot voile culotte dress with the white collar and cuffs to perform for the NDEA reception. My drama piece is Shelley’s Letter to Maria Gisborne, which kept the teachers mesmerized while nuns played violins & harps.


    Robin said, “You look cool and pretty.” He looked good, too in a green madras coat. Of course he wanted to now why I wasn’t at the party! He said Jodi is making a huge play for him but he doesn’t like her. Says the party was depressing – the director yelled at everyone. Says we better hope the reviewer from the Minn Star doesn’t come – don’t get false hope – our all-nun preview house will laugh at anything.


    After dinner we walked out on the golf course under the stars. He said, “You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met.”


    I was genuinely surprised. “Me?”
    “You don’t like it here, do you?”


    I said all my failures are bringing out my stubbornness then HE was surprised. He didn’t think I felt like a failure but I’m so BAD at EVERYTHING! He said he would “help” me, which doesn’t make me feel better. I’m used to being good at things! He was also surprised that I don’t consider myself beautiful. But really! My face is all misshapen and lumpy! He said I had “a good face for makeup” and I could tell he meant it as a compliment instead of “cover yourself up” which most girls would think.


    He wanted to hear all about my friends and family – said I obviously came from money, has a chip on his shoulder as a “poor boy”.

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Thurs 16 Feb 67

    RoachFace didn’t like my story. “I” for INCOMPLETE. Guess the whole Modern trend in literature has passed her by completely. She says she can’t “figure out what’s going on.” Ask Mrs. Dalloway! Read it aloud to Casey who said, “It does make you want to know more.” I call that a success! Anyway I can afford an incomplete since I run Junior English.


    Working on an appropriate revenge. How about an incredibly ugly old lady with an empty love life and a non-existent sex life who falls hopelessly in love with 16 yr old pupil? Death in English Class. Unsubtle, ye thinks? “I’ve never seen a mind so tangled, a girl so strangled” as the Stones would say.


    I may give her a pass. I’m in a very good mood, listening to the Stones and writing pornography. Even the discovery that Brice is “against” my relationship with Aiken can’t harm me! He wrote me a long KOB last night – “You’re everything a man could want – beautiful & clever” but goes downhill from there! “I am in love with both of you, trying to solve problems by bringing my “forbidden territories” together I’ve created Frankenstein.”


    No he hasn’t! Leave us alone! Imagine his “conscience” acting up at THIS point! I have to find out how much of this he’s said to Aiken. If I were Aiken I would drop him like a hot potato but do I want that? If Brice withdraws support does our house of cards fall down?


    This is all Aiken’s fault for allowing an intermediary like something out of Cyrano de Bergerac. It devalues him.


    Took my own trip to Princeton yesterday to see Hamlet. Unfortunately a box lunch and a bus ride brings out the four year old in teenage boys. All the girls sat in the back watching transfixed while they bounced and screamed and threw chicken bones! This is why they have single sex schools, to preserve enough Healthy Mystery so we can Mate, already! We feel like sane people sentenced to the looney bin!


    Should I tell this to Bloy the Boy Next Door? He was so envious of the whole Boys’ End, Girls’ End thing – when I told him The Legend of the Girl Who Sent Herself in a KOB I thought he’d die. The truth is so discouraging I would turn to Fleur the HalfBack if I didn’t have Aiken! (Alas Fleur is more of a FullBack these days.)


    But I don’t have Aiken and that’s the point. In the arras scene I suddenly realized he’s Not My Type. Very Polonius (with a hint of Bolonius.) He’s just too staid. Do I want to be lectured lifelong on Southeast Asian Politics? Like marrying Daddy!


    You also should never marry someone till you find out what they expect. I get the distinct impression that although I wouldn’t have to do housework for Aiken he would expect other Old Fashioned Disgusting Chores. You now like tending his Requirements. I can tell by the way he asks me to hook the cufflinks on his French cuffs he thinks he’s the racehorse and I’m the groom. Non merci! I’ve got races of my own to run!


    But he has SUCH A NICE BOD! I wish I was seeing him this weekend. Damn. I’m too poor to go into Philly on my own – things are so bad I had to sell my alarm clock to afford ice cream.
    And we have to leave – there have been blackouts and Power Outages lately. Looks like Scarface down in the PowerHouse is revenging for his minimum wage.


    That will teach the headmaster to hire ex-cons.

    Tues 21 Feb 67
    I’m in the throes of some Fatal Disease. I’ve got bumps on my thighs, sores in my mouth and a headache running all the way down my lower back. Miss Cluny says “gargle with salt water!” My collapse is a defense mechanism against a pernicious environment. Failed a math test – 31 out of 61! Parabolas not my strong point! Now trying to create a map of Portuguese holdings in the sixteenth century but just can’t find Ormuz. Why do we need to know this stuff? Get me out of here! I’m MUCH more interested in anatomy and the human psyche – and the anatomy OF the human psyche – but they never let you study that stuff here. Our “health” text says picking pimples causes brain damage.


    Still struggling with Simmons’ Chekhov. Not nearly as exciting as Pushkin. Hemorrhoids, pets and love affairs all treated exactly the same. He so feared happiness. I like his letters though. Next I’m trying da Vinci.


    Roach Face daring us to read Moby Dick but the book stone dead beneath her pudgy fingers.
    In French we are plagued by Miserables. Taught by a Miserable, studied by Miserables. All French to me!


    Stukey FINALLY paid me the $2 he owes me so I am slowly getting together cash plotting a jailbreak. Last night after Die Fliedermaus rehearsal I planted myself in front of Brice and said I was going on a meal per to see Aiken OFF MY OWN BAT. He was nice about it gave me $5 and the phone no. He is a fickle guy. Maybe I could sell him his letters back.


    After setting my hair and donning my day-glo nightshirt I commandeered The Senior Phone Booth, sitting on floor instead of seat for Utmost Privacy. Dialed he number trembling with eagerness to hear his voice. Would he even be in?


    HE ANSWERED RIGHT AWAY! “Hello?”


    I didn’t even recognize his voice, it was so impersonal! The next few seconds fraught with drama! I mean, I knew it was me but he didn’t! Gives one an appreciation of the difference just a few seconds can make.


    “Hi. It’s Alysse.”


    “A-leeeeeeeessssss…” drawling in the familiar way! Yes, he has a special voice he uses only with me! So exciting!


    “I could come visit you for lunch on Saturday. Brice says you might be writing a paper though.”


    “I think I’ll be done by then,” he says. “I’d love to see you.” Then he gave me complex directions how to get to his place by subway which I had to memorize stupidly having no pen!!!


    “Your time is up” droned a nerdy voice.


    “Give me your number and I’ll call you back,” he said. So I did. Then I screamed, “Lindles! Get me a PEN!”


    He called right back and we had a lovely chat. Our first. Maybe he’s my type after all.

    Sun 26 Feb 67
    Wearing tights, purple corduroy miniskirt, wide belt and boots I found his apt without trouble. I was bouncing with excitement but he left a note saying he went to borrow a car – “Make myself at home in the vestibule!” So I did, borrowing somebody’s Inquirer to read. A luscious blond exited. We eyed each other. Then I tried to figure out who he was from the nameplates. Cooper Fowler? Fowler Cooper? Great name!


    After only a few minutes Aiken came bounding up and gave me a kiss — on the forehead. He was wearing a blue sweater and some khaki pants – eyes blazing out like sapphires. I just sucked him in, gulping like a guppy. He opened his mailbox – one letter. Said it was a check of his that bounced!


    I told him I could stay then fearful I’d outstay my welcome but he seemed thrilled and offered to drive me back! We went to a smoky place next door where he always has lunch and I ordered the most appalling beef stew – worse eve that the school’s! Muffins, salad, coffee. We talked about Russian writers – I extracted a promise from him to read Gogol. He was very sneery about my acting aspirations – just like my father. They seem to think it’s all outer presentation with no inner work involved and I just can’t explain my attraction. I believe the word “exhibitionist” – horribly – was used. Brice, who worships the theatre, wouldn’t do that. I talked him into the 5:30 show of Blow Up, which I’ve been dying to see.


    Then back to his apt where he put on some Cannonball Adderly. I must say it’s just awful, awful stuff. At least I coaxed him to turn it down, then I made things very easy for him by sitting on his lap. In moments we were making out furiously. Dizzying heights! I’m not so crazy about the “grinding” though. (You know what I mean!)


    Then we got into a “shadow” conversation about whether it was better to be “partially” frustrated or “thoroughly” frustrated. Felt he was asking me something else – unspecified. Like I know what I’m doing! I love just being touched – like a concentration camp victim.


    At a certain point we had to stop or we’d be late to the movie. I could tell he was grumpy. But he was so much fun in the movie line, pulling me inside of his coat, touching and grabbing me. Ate it up!


    Blow Up is as magnetic and gorgeous as I’d heard. I fell in love with Jesus-eyed David Hemmings. Aiken too was stunned. He seemed to admire it — said it was like an extended dream. I loved especially that the mystery wasn’t solved but Aiken argued we were supposed to see something in the blowup and the resolution wasn’t good. I said we aren’t supposed to solve the mystery and he said very rudely “Where did you read that?” as if I can’t come up with my own ideas. I couldn’t remember whether I’d read it or not but at least I could say I’d seen L’Avventura and I know that mystery isn’t solvable. I prefer making up my own solutions but Aiken says that’s “unfinished” art.


    There was one horribly embarrassing scene where David Hemmings plays with two teenagers who are all elbows, hair and knees. I winced but Aiken made no remark. At least I’m not child/skinny and when we got back to his apartment I proved it by taking off my top like Vanessa Redgrave. He complimented my “amazingly pale areolas” – palest he had ever seen! He touched my breast and an electric shock went through him! In moments we were making out passionately. He took off his shirt so we were skin to skin. Best feeling in the world! After a few moments he rolled over, took my face in his hands and said, “I have to finish.”


    I said, “It would be my first time.”


    He said, “Did you think I meant intercourse?”


    “Didn’t you?”


    “No,” he said. “God, I thought girls talked about these things on dorm!”


    He mistook Plumly for a “finishing school?” He’d be better off with the girls from Wilton who wear eye makeup like raccoons and play hockey like them, too. I said, “We talk about nothing else but we don’t know what we’re talking about!”


    Then followed the most excruciating fifteen minutes of my life. He wanted “me” to “finish him!” Eeeew! I mean, I did it with Trey but he was doing me at the same time! I don’t even know how to ask for what I want! I just bubbled purposelessly like a landed trout! He got up and made himself a drink – offered me one but I don’t like vodka.


    “Don’t you have anything else?”


    (Very annoyed) “No”.


    So I guess he didn’t get to “finish”. Very, very hairy blue balls presumably! I’m frustrated too but that doesn’t seem to count – he assumes whatever I get is what I want and it’s true I’ve learned to roll with the punches (hem hem.)


    I don’t even LIKE the word “finish” – it seems so unnecessarily terminal and I can’t quite picture it. Trey and I, after all, were rolling around nude in a bed – but this would presumably be me giving Aiken a hand job! Would I need a washcloth? Sounds so prostitutional! Inner visions of a fire hydrant coming loose and spraying everything in sight! Would we both need a shower after? Two showers? Am I frigid for not wanting to do this?


    I did discover he WEARS SOCK GARTERS and this is the first real turnoff I’ve had with him. They look like slingshots! What baldness and fatness couldn’t do, sock garters have achieved. Ugh. There must be times he DOESN’T wear them! Surely they’re an artifact of some sort like collar studs.
    He could read revulsion on my face. For a good actress, I’m a bad actress. I said, “Are you mad at me?”


    He said, “Don’t say silly things” and bolted the rest of the vodka! Incipient alcoholism? I was sort of in a state of shock on the way back to school. I finally said, “Maybe this is post-coital tristesse.” I was joking but he said, “Without the coitus part.” Kissed me goodbye very affectionately. Should I stop being a virgin with a guy who wears sock garters? Can’t decide.


    Fortunately I have Pushkin to come home to! “I was in love with you it seemed…I lost the kingdom of my dreams.”

    Sun Mar 5 – 67
    Incomprehensible greeting card from Aiken covered with Japanese writing. But at east it says inside, “je pense à toi” which I can understand.


    Showdown with Reed Hambro Friday. I had just come back from performing detention in the Costume Room (I was sorting bats from fairies – I’ll have to go back to do peasants vs. nobility.) He dragged me into the Trunk Room to ask me, “Would you be disillusioned if I took wyamine!”
    It’s that inhaler drug they’re all taking. Reportedly keeps you high for three days.
    I said, “I don’t like the word “disillusioned”. Mad is what I’d be.”


    “Well I took it after lunch.”


    I felt manipulated! I said, “Have a nice oblivion!”


    He said, “What if I have a bad trip?” All puppy eyes.


    I said Bon Voyage! And left him there in the trunk room. At dinner refused to sit with him till his roommate Brent came over, all mad at me for being one of those Dylanesque blonds put on earth to ruin Man’s Good Time. The usual druggy spiel. “He thinks rabbits are devouring his insides! He thinks his skin is alive!”


    “It is alive!” But I sat next to him and ate a few pretzels and tried to pretend I didn’t think he’s a dope. (I even let him put his arm around me). But for a good actress I’m a bad actress. I haven’t seen him since.


    Sat. I called Aiken. He had such a bad hangover he could hardly speak. He said Brice was passed out cold on the floor. (“Finished” each other?)


    He said he’s “trying” to have me “up for the weekend.” I said my parents rented a townhouse on Penn St and when they get back from Europe I can take weekends there. He sounded unenthusiastic. He promised to call me. I said “I’d better give you a time – I’m hard to get ahold of”.


    “But very nice to get ahold of.”


    Aww. Am I forgiven? (Particularly if I’ve got Brice doing the “wetwork”.)


    “It’s best at night.”


    “Particularly at night.” When his garters are off…


    “After ten?”


    “Wed after ten.”


    Got this note in my box from Reed to ponder as I sucked down milk & crackers: “How to say I am sorry when you seem so sure I am not. I never pretended it would be a substitute for you…” (Like that’s what gets me. Jealousy!) Quite a double-edged sword it’s been this weekend for more than a few people. The disadvantage of your current frame of mind is I can’t put on paper how I feel. Would you reconsider Prom?”


    I would. Because otherwise no date. I even apologized for hurting his feelings! I’m so sorry the rabbits ate up his insides! If nobody can produce that “special feeling” in you I guess you can always produce it in someone else. His eyes really lit up. Soon we were hugging and kissing. He is so different from Aiken! But at least I feel safe which is very emboldening – he is just going to pet me FOREVER. Soon I was huffing and puffing like a steam engine!
    Isn’t life peculiar? The next voice you hear…

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Mon. 23 Jan 67


    Matt had to leave the dance early – his leg bothered him – I got a message to go up to faculty play rehearsal and who should be there but Aiken Billings! He is so big and old and handsome! I fell into his arms! He thinks he’s too fat but I like every little bit. I am concerned about letting a man of that size lie on top of you! You’d have to do it standing up!


    I hung on his every word and every breath. He asked what my perfume was, I answered “Silk of Intimate.” Put it over my whole body! He says it’s the best he ever smelled. We sat on the balcony watching the faculty practice their play – I told him all of their little quirks & weaknesses, really made him laugh. Brice has a big part but he is not very good – he knew we were laughing at him. He has to kiss Miss Pampiono the Spanish teacher and Mr. Ensleigh the director made him do it again and again! All the student crewmembers shot me envious looks (prestige!)


    Aiken spent the night in Brice’s room and I sat next to him at breakfast. They had my favorite (last night’s dinner rolls covered with white icing) but I couldn’t eat because of the maleness Aiken exuded from every pore. I thought I would faint just looking at his big thighs. What must he look like naked? The Lincoln Memorial or something! Brice’s date turned out to be Miss Pampiono – she has a nice figure but pop-eyes and is very quiet. Brice tried to draw her out about the red light districts of Madrid but she refused to be drawn. I went upstairs to put on my short orange dress with the patterned white stockings.


    We spent a LONG time at the market buying the steaks – half a cow per person – Aiken is fussy about food. He showed me how he prepares them – rubbing them with mustard and basil and banging them with forks. He seemed to think I might want to take over but I told him I hate cooking and would rather explore his apt. It’s on St. Mark’s place with a lot of bay windows and high ceilings.


    Over dinner he confessed his desire to conduct the Boston Pops but somewhere in life he took a wrong turn and is now getting a PhD in political science. We started with vichyssoise and then the steaks with peas, mushrooms, salad and eight or nine glasses of Almaden. I’ve been drinking that stuff since I was 8 – it doesn’t affect me. Miss Pampiono insisted on doing the dishes so we let her.
    Aiken insisted on playing Ella Fitzgerald who is just awful. I must get him a Paul Revere & the Raiders album – something you can dance to. Miss Pampiono and Brice danced and Aiken extended a limp hand to me but I said I was too bloated and he gratefully told me all about Exeter.
    Miss Pampiono and Brice went to make out on Aiken’s bed – right in front of me! I can’t believe it! I could blackmail her big time. But I’m glad she did it because she certainly can’t say anything about me.


    I sat on Brice’s lap in the window and he did give me one devastating kiss. He told me to grow out my bangs! What is this thing men have for redesigning women’s hair I can’t imagine. I told him I’d think about it. Pulled back all my hair from my face but he said I looked like a “bomb victim”. He smokes filterless cigarettes and calls the others “tampax tips”.
    I warned him the music was undanceable but he picked me up and whirled me around and around! No boy at school could do that, believe me. (Maybe Crow.)


    Finally he threw me down on the couch and got on top of me! He was hard in a minute! I was starting to get a little worried – my First Time with the Spanish teacher moaning and sobbing to the speech coach across the room? Aiken kept telling me I had beautiful eyes while I subtly tried to disentangle my legs. The sweat was pouring off him. Finally he lit a cigarette all shaky-handed. I was relieved and ordered coffee. I had a feeling Brice was trying to take off Miss Pampiono’s dress across the room and she was trying to keep it on. Aiken said he’s been afraid to kiss me – I said “Did you think I didn’t know how?” he said, No, the age thing – and how he was dying to meet my Father!!! A bedraggled Miss Pampiono accepted a cup of coffee. Brice stood up and made a long speech from Thornton Wilder: “There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love. The only survival, the only meaning.”


    So I put my hand over my heart and chimed in, “To thine own self be true.”
    End of date. Forty-five minutes to get back to school!


    Sun AM Brice met me at breakfast and said Aiken “likes” me and feels the Age Thing can be conquered. When I’m eighty-five he’ll be ninety-four! Pink cloud.


    Meal per with Aynsley fascinating and I am going to write a short story about it. Pewter Hill is gorgeous – old stone house in a big snowy park – and the grandmother has some elderly relative dying upstairs – moaning weirdly throughout lunch!! There was a nurse in a dress who looked like a man. Ghost story?


    Tues 24 Jan 67
    Sofy came up to me today and said, “I don’t want to take the wind out of your sails but you’ve been acting like a SNOT ever since you snared that Big, Handsome Older Man!”
    I’m in too good a mood to care. What she really means is I’ve Taken Myself Out of the Running and it makes the others gnash their teeth.


    Made a Serious Inventory of my Face. I may not be conventionally beautiful but I’m not conventionally ugly either. A dimple in your chin many hearts will you win. So there.
    Tried hard to write a poem about my emotions using thesaurus but the more I worked on it the more seemed I was smoothing a bedspread over an unmade bed. Have to admit I’m flying blind as a poet. Damn. Maybe Reed will write one for me. I get out my thesaurus.


    A-limp along the battlements they come
    Tenants of Byzantium
    The pimply priest, the queasy horde
    The Queen’s son
    Anoint the holy sores
    The king’s ache; the king’s men
    The bones assemble and attend
    Re-joint the shills; once shrill
    Now shillingless.
    The ague becomes the age.
    Squires of skulls webbed tightly in
    Mummydom.
    Incorporeal now
    In reticulum.

    I think I’m pretty lucky to have Aiken.  He’s very sensitive which you’d never know looking at his big luggly face. My favorite vision: Aiken puffing on a cigarette, eyes closed, intoning a passage from fave author Thomas Wolfe. Aaaah…I should avoid falling in love since there’s no guarantee he’ll join me there.
One thing’s for certain – he’s destroyed my datelife for a while.  How can any of these spindly kindergartners compare to him? 
Well, I have wasted all my study hall drinking Gunpowder and writing sideways.  Time to do something constructive like Letters to Family and Setting Hair.

    Wed Jan 25 – 67
    Brice says he will be seeing Aiken at a mixer for Southeast Asia students do I want to send him “my regards”. I said sure. “I’d rather send him me.”


    So what’s he doing at a Southeast Asia mixer? Connected to his degree or that Storm Center in his pants? Dark thoughts. Collapsing air castles.


    Sun Jan 29 – 67
    Really unsatisfactory Philly weekend with Aynsley and her visiting Claudia. Saw Fellini’s 81/2 and 10:30 PM Summer. Claudia’s boyfriend is a very unprepossessing vegetarian who plays the guitar. Feel Claudia – Swarthmore grad – has just “given up”. The second movie at least had one good sex scene. They transposed pictures over it but you could tell what was going on. Pretty serious eyestrain however. Afterwards the boyfriend wanted to play all Dylan’s songs about what bums women are so I conscientiously objected by going to bed.


    Mon 30 Jan 67
    Wrote a great story for RoachFace’s class entitled Run With the Fox. It’s too good for her. A girl is fleeing but you don’t find out who she is or why – just her physical reactions till she gets safe. This is a test RoachBottom is bound to fail. (Whereby failing ME.) Still I can’t resist – I like best the stories that make you a detective in someone else’s life. Maybe she’ll like it. She gave me an A on “Tree of Angels” about peasants who execute a priest for chopping down a tree they pray to. It was offbeat but it did have a ”we-them” thing she could feel smug about.


    Tues 31 Jan 67
    Just finished Eliz Gray Vining’s Take Heed of Loving Me. Much preferred Wife to Milton by Robt Graves. It’s a better book. But now I have plenty of evidence on what bad news it is to marry a genius. They’re selfish and they keep peculiar hours. Who will put up with MY selfishness and MY peculiar hours?


    Starting to get impatient with Aiken for using Brice as a go-between. Too Shakespearean! Brice’s natural oiliness coats everything he touches. Aiken hasn’t called me once so for all I know Brice is making everything up. According to him A wants to invite me to a movie. I try to play it cool but it’s hard with no one to practice on.


    Why not this weekend? Oh Aiken’s going to Princeton. Where he will presumably drink and fool around while I pine in this benighted teenybopper school.


    Thurs 2 Feb 67
    Hair smells like smoke, as if it is haunted! Unbelievably sex-starved tonight. Hanging out the window singing a dear little children’s rhyme: Here comes the candle to light you to bed AND HERE COMES THE CHOPPER TO CHOP OFF YOUR HEAD!”. Childhood such a time of innocence. Aynsley makes me close the window. See how I am constrained by the coldblooded conventionality of others.


    Brice called me BEFORE BREAKFAST to say Aiken had to rush down to S. Carolina where his father had a heart attack! Apparently his father is REALLY OLD – had Aiken when he was 70!


    4 Feb 67
    Asked Brice flat out why he likes me so much. He said because I am “deliciously cynical”. I was very surprised! I am raw and red and tender on the inside (like a good steak.) HE is the “cynical” one! (Hypocritical too.) He really likes me because I badmouth his Place of Employment. I am Well Informed simply because I read so much.


    Today felt like spring. Couldn’t resist playing around with Reed Hambro even though he’s so young. He keeps sending the most interesting KOBS. I wanted to see what he was made of so decoyed him into a classroom after dinner but I couldn’t even get my arms around him because HE WOULDN’T STOP TALKING. I am willing to go nine-tenths of the way but at that point I subside before the Law of My Ancestors.


    When I came upstairs Aynsley asked if I’d been making out. “Because your mouth is all smashed.” From sheer desire!


    If I get too focused on Reed there is always the danger Brice will find out and tell Aiken. The magazines are all for Honesty saying that its healthier. It may be healthier but privacy is yummier.
    Worked out mathematically:


    Either I will see Aiken or I won’t. Either he will encourage me or he won’t. Either I will get hot with Reed or I won’t.

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Wed 4 Jan 67


    Back at school the horror continues. I refuse to write my New Year’s resolutions or I’ll have to keep them. A rotten vacation. Genevieve complains about Radcliffe where you have to take deportment class and march around with a book on your head! She says it’s not what she was expecting at all. Harvard won’t even let them use the library. Beales DID ask her out and she said yes because she couldn’t figure out what else to do but then a cool Harvard guy asked her so she told Beales she was sick. And who should she run into on the date but Beales – who looked at her with “disgust and horror.” She returned the look of horror at least.


    New Years’ alone babysitting at the Carnahans. They are teetotalers – nothing to drink at all – not even cooking sherry. Did find a bar of cooking chocolate which I tried mixing with sugar – disastrous results. Spent all night reading Kristin Lavransdatter. Really interesting! Six kids are definitely out for me, however.


    New speech coach offered to drive me to school and parents said yes! (Anything to get out of taking me themselves.) Wore extremely tight jeans, scratchy ski sweater hair in pigtails to be as unapproachable as possible. He took me out to dinner at the General Greene Inn! (Because he’s faculty he can give me an excuse for Vespers.) I had to get a dress out of my suitcase and change at a gas station! Let down my hair and wore the glittery hoop earrings my mother hates so much.


    Over clams & wine he told me to call him Brice and explained how he lost his virginity to a stewardess in the back seat of a car at the age of 14. (Not sure I believe him.) He spent the vacation getting drunk on bourbon and looking for a Rich Woman to Marry! That lets me off the hook! He ordered coffee and poured his cream over the spoon in the coolest way.


    I said I’m looking for a Rich Man and he said he’s got the perfect one, his friend Aiken. Actually met me at the school and compliments all over (I don’t remember him.) That I was so alive!


    Unfortunately he started inveighing against Today’s Mores and I began to see why our school hired him. He’s just as confused as anyone. Tells dirty jokes out of one side of his mouth and talks about Freedom VS License out of the other side.


    Told him if Aiken can get me out of school I would be willing to date him. Older mean are three times harder to resist. And presumably they’re not all stupid about V.D. & pregnancy. Aiken Billings looking better and better.


    Fri. 6 Jan 67
    Why remain a virgin? Why why why? The mags say to avoid Emotional Hurt & pregnancy. Aynsley insists if you use tampons you’re not a virgin anyway. Headmaster showed us a drink/drugs/sex/cigs movie and wanted our Honest Opinion what we thought of it. No takers. We still have to live in this place. These moves are invariably loathsome “case histories”. Should it be shown to sophs for “health class?” Sure, we say.
    Yes, Virginia, sex can be bad. So can fire, penicillin & coca cola.


    I think I am held back by Fear of the Unknown. Irrevocable steps make me nervous on principle.
    Mom and Dad say they are moving to Philadelphia! Better for me. They are renting a townhouse on Penn St to throw their furniture into until they find something permanent.


    Tues. 10 Jan 67
    Whenever I clean up my inner fog and become a functioning human being something happens to bushwhack me. I’m a brooding hermit and a mad spirit. Faculty thinks I’m just peculiar. Little do they know I’m the only one who tells them the Absolute Truth (I’ve often taken the heat for Teacher’s Pet Janet Hill.) She keeps a jug of sangria underneath her bed!


    “Janet’s room always smells so nice” warbles Miss Wienand. Aynsley’s and my room has bureaus on top of one another the moment you open the door so you can’t see what we’re doing behind it. We are “inhospitable” to Required Room Check and Random Police Powers. Imagine! Be careful Miss Wienand that one of those bureaus doesn’t fall on you and CRUSH YOU DEATH!


    “So I’ll continue to continue to pretend; That life will never end, and the flowers never bend with the rainfall.” Simon & Garfunkel


    Wed 11 Jan 67
    Finished Daisy Miller & Turn of the Screw – Rasputin the Holy Devil next followed by Chekhov. Thank God for literature is all I can say. I will worship Henry James until I die. His dialog is stuffy – his genius is revealed in his plots. Brice signed me out again and took me to the car wash where he carefully detailed his car so we could “chat”. Aynsley says the rumor mill is going into overdrive; are we having an Affair? Much as I like the IDEA of consorting with a faculty member I have to say Brice is not my type. There is something mysteriously slimy about him like he’s not quite coalesced. Alas, my handwriting degenerates LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE!


    Thurs 19 Jan 67
    A useless hour trying to paint a picture to Simon & Garfunckel’s Cloudy. We were supposed to paint to a piece of music but maybe I consider this song TOO perfect. I’ll have to choose something that doesn’t stir me so much – such as the Beach Boys’ Wendy. What I really want to do is finish up Chekhov (he’s not as funny as he thinks he is – apparently he laughed at sad things) so I can read A Raw Youth. Then I have to delve into Fitzgerald for Miss Lissome but feel slightly repelled.


    Writing a story (for fun) about a Danish boy who visits a famous neurosurgeon. So far so good except Aynsley keeps bugging me – her latest boyfriend wants her to dye her hair. (She’s been a blonde for YEARS) because it “isn’t natural.” I said once you start that stuff he will get the wrong idea about who’s in charge. But I’m afraid he really IS in charge because she cares more about him than he cares about her. She is so afraid of loneliness. I have conquered my fear of loneliness, mostly through books.


    Have been hanging out a lot with Casey these days. She is flat chested and stubby legged but a very pretty redhead. She is honest about planning to go to Pine Manor, marry a rich man and live in a house with white pillars where she can have affairs. You’ve got to admire a girl who knows what she wants! And here’s the craziest thing – she keeps a diary! Always has! I, a star in my own diary, am not used to being a bit player in someone else’s!
    Miss Womrath raked me over the coals today over my short skirt. Told her I am just a reflection of my times. Like F. Scott Fitzgerald.

    Fri. 20 Jan 66
    Writing in math class. Around me open mouthed concentration as fingers scribble bits of wisdom dropping from The Mighty Throne. They seem unawakened to me.
    John Van Dusen asked me out for Fri night. I said yes because he’s handsome, blond and very gentle. Unfortunately he’s also so fragile he makes me feel like a female gorilla. Why don’t these boys eat more? Is it wrestling? I could give them some pointers. Alas he has a broken leg so NO DANCING. Well, no one can say I didn’t do my part for The Disabled.
    Brice invited me to Aiken’s Phila apt this weekend for steaks & “messing around”. Double date. That settles the seduction question I feel pretty sure because who would want witnesses? Skating tonight – not much fun if you’re not going with anyone – just cold.


    11 PM
    Matt Romer (who calls love a “psychological maneuver”) asked me out for Sat but I had to tell him I’m going on a meal per with Aynsley and her grandmother. Too bad! Told him to try again! Although he’s only a sophomore he’s very intelligent. Word is out that I have a thing for penseurs.

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Wed Aug 25 – 65


    M & D up sailing at six, we girls slept like hogs till 9. Loafed in the sack discussing M’s wedding.

    “I want a small wedding.”
    “You’ll never get it under 50 people,” I said.
    “You can all be bridesmaids! Gayle is maid of honor.”
    “I hope our dresses are full-length!” (me)
    “Avril will be flower girl,” suggests Genevieve.
    Now Merrill is threatening to get married BEFORE the actual ceremony because otherwise she’ll be too nervous! Yeah! She might fall in love with SOMEBODY ELSE and then what I think but don’t say.

    Reached Long Point, Canada by lunch. Half mile to shore, G and I certain we could swim it so we plunged in, Avril trailing us in the dinghy. It was gorgeous, water clear but green, not blue like Mediterranean. Bottom pure pale sand. Not actually tired when I reached shore but proud – boat looked so far away! Glorious sand beach, big light house. G found a dead seagull that hadn’t been dead very long so we got a good look at this magnificent bird. Close up they are so beautiful. No clue what killed it – did not look sick. We gave it a nice burial (it was so heavy I was surprised it could fly.) I recited Millay – I never miss a chance to be poetical, just part of Alysse’s Beachside Morgue Service. Avril cried.  Byron’s my favorite (strange since 19th cent makes me want to scream) but couldn’t recall any of his stuff. 1Jane Austen my favorite hist period. )  Could I have used his quote about Napoleon? What must be the madness of thy memory? I particularly love Don Juan. Also I like Keats. Frost is good but with him you don’t have to think. 

Back at the boat we had lunch and set sail for Berwell. Long, lazy afternoon.. I’ve finished all my books – heavy into spy literature – also poisoned chocolates case which I didn’t like as much as I thought I would. I thought it was Mrs Bendix all along. Also Anya Seton’s Katherine. “Eve of Destruction” playing on the radio. Great. I need several hours alone with the author of this song in order to straighten him out. I refuse to believe politics is anything but temporary madness.

    Thurs Aug 26 – 65
    Harshly awakened by pots, kettles & cans falling to the floor. Boat rocking wildly and me, in the lower starboard bunk, got entangled in my sleeping bag and almost thrown into the bilge. Then my roll-in bed slammed into the wall as far as it would go with me in it! Knives flying – I was in fear for my life!

    “This ketchup bottle almost hit my FACE” said Merrill. I rescued diary from floor and tried to lock it in books cupboard while books fell on my head. I heard the sound of the motor as M & D tried to straighten the boat. Avril was actually thrown out on the floor under a cascade of bottles. If you really thought about it you’d get seasick. Put on a lumberjack shirt – no time for  bra and climbed above to see Port Stanley heaving into view. Fat white gulls sitting on the black coal. Port Stanley itself looks like it was erected overnight for a Hitchcock film and will be pulled down next day. We had a lot of trouble docking. A cheerful idiot in a yachting cap kept offering directions that turned out to be wrong. Once docked a customs officer came aboard and stamped around. We were still cleaning up.  Dad said we looked like “a laundry scow.” The customs man kept  a cigarette in his mouth while the ash grew long and longer. Had to ask us the date. After he left we put up the awning and ate lunch, then went ashore looking very conspicuous. The natives seem harmless.  I bought 2 books – Nicholas Blake & Phyllis Whitney.

Mom found a good bakery so we are all in the cockpit munching cookies. Tough t-bone steaks for dinner with plenty of onions, then cards.

    News: that Johnson again. Married men no longer exempt.

    Wed. Sept 1, 65 2:40 AM
    Lie awake wondering why I want to be an actress. My reasons are all wrong. I simply want to be Somebody Else. Wouk’s Morningstar currently driving me up a tree. I refute his assumption that if you’re young, talented, beautiful you’re bound to make it. I have hit upon a Plan of Action. Genevieve thinks I should go to a WORK CAMP next summer. I need to find some non-exploitative training so I can enter RADA age 18. First goal: save $100 out of my allowance. (That’ll be hell. Out of $30/month!)

    Next summer I will be sixteen and can WORK so maybe I should do that. Genevieve says you can just go into the Inn and get a job. THEN THERE’S THAT MINNESOTA PROG I WAS TOO young for, Maybe should go there. I don’t want to be so parasitical. Genevieve says London will be s expensive as Wellesley! People advise me to try writing short stories but I’m not there yet – still learning – and I don’t want to rush things. 3:40 AM! I surprise myself sometimes.

    Thurs. June 9 – 66
    Yahoo! Summer is officially here and I am FREE! Mom & Dad aren’t coming till tomorrow night so I have noting to do but take walks, pack, and try to avoid Blair who is becoming a little much for me. He moves with such incredible slowness and he has to have all my ideas exhaustively explained to him. He likes to read Ezra Pound’s poetry out loud while I lie under a tree with my eyes shut. Since this is the only thing we share I’m afraid to tell him I just don’t like Ezra Pound. I don’t think he can stomach Millay. Oh dear. While he talks my inner music plays Let’s Get Lost on a Country Road by the Kit Kats and We Gotta Get Out of This Place by the Animals. Speaks to our condition as they say. Merrill’s wedding June 16 – we have nightmarishly ugly bridesmaid dresses to wear – Mom had them made by some disabled woman she took pity on. We are the ones deserving of pity for having to wear the damn things.

    Mon Jun 27 – 66
    Here I am at the University of Minnesota! I’ve hit the big time! I would not be writing at all but we are in the basement because of a tornado warning. Ah, the joys of the Midwest. Just us theatre students and a bunch of nuns who wear funny underwear and caps with strings. You wouldn’t think there would be an order of theatre nuns would you! Well there are! They are called the Franciscans and I must say they are making the idea of the convent look attractive. (Not the clothes though. But there is talk of fixing those.) They even have a swimming pool which Chassie my roommate and I sneak into – naked – in the middle of the night.

    A fat one named Sister Glory is praying out loud. They told us to bring “something valuable on our way down so of course I brought you!  Next time I will bring a blanket and pillows (the floor is very hard.)  Writing hard too because whatever I put down is played back in my brain very discouragingly.

I am studying Acting One, Fencing, Makeup and Fencing.  I love theatre people! (even uns.)But we don’t spend nearly as much time on those as on building theatre sets – obviously we are Slave Labor. This is even worse because the slaves didn’t pay to work. So far the only thing I’ve learned is how to mix “dope” to stiffen unbleached muslin into walls.  This will take me far in life.

As usual my intellectual life is alive.  Reading The Carpetbaggers in which sex warps into hate (Beales!) Turgenev’s Hunting Sketches (adore!) and The Prince, which is sort of a drag. I am Mrs. Smith in The Bald Soprano.  The director asked us when our periods are due before casting. (He is very superstitious.)

    Fri. July 22 – 66
    The fact that I am still a virgin’s not my fault. I am sitting in the coach of a New York Central Train headed (eventually) for Philadelphia – because there is an airline strike. I am headed to Charlaix to meet up with family aboard The Gryphon. It will be a long, laborious journey, which is good because I have had a monumental hangover (my first!) for three days. I am eating liverwurst & onions to keep away the sailors (it’s working.)

    I was dating this fantastic college student named Trey (Très très)!  I was too absorbed even to write about him!  He has the most glorious bod – how I wish I had a picture – and is very tan. Runs around Minneapolis St Paul in a little loincloth & flip-flops. He’s covered all over with a glittery platinum fuzz.  Alas he was just as interested in my roommate Georgy as he was in me but she was not interested in him. (Thank God.) He’s six feet six and has to wear coke bottle glasses but since I can’t really see as far as his face that doesn’t matter. He took me to see The Skin of Our Teeth at the Guthrie – fabulous.

(A sailor sits beside me. He grins. I grin. Blast of onionated liver.  He departs.)

    Trey gave a going away party for me at his house (parents away.) It’s a teensy little garage way out in the suburbs I’m surprised humans can fit in there. But it has a big back yard. I wore a bikini , sundress & sunglasses and brought my Village Fugs album – they loved it. Trey opened up the booze cabinet and started mixing whiskey sours while 4,000 of his closest friends trooped past scrutinizing and then ignoring me.


    Finally I announced I had to be going. (Early train!) He told me he would drive me. I said he didn’t have to – I could get some actor to do it – he said – “I want to” gazing deeply into my eyes. That gave us more time (all night!) together. Unfortunately. I was handling the whiskey sours, it was the Purple Jesus that did me in. Jesus! Never again! Nothing purple EVER! Trey went out cruising around for supplies leaving me alone with Leechy Friend who mixed me this awful drink and I was too drunk to turn it down. I threw up all over Leechy Friend who kept patting me and saying “Don’t worry, this happens all the time.” (Around HIM!) Trey came home and was quite upset by my condition. He got me a sleeping bag and put me to bed in his parent’ room.
    Later on I hear this noise like someone coming to bed with me.


    “Trey?”
    “No.”


    It was the Leechy Friend! I tried to escape from him but got stuck in the crevice between the twin beds and was still too drunk to escape! I yelled “Trey!” and didn’t my hero appear to rescue me! Minus his loincloth. I begged him to stay. He knew I was a virgin but he said, “There’s a lot of other things we can do” and there were. I had several “seizures” and I think he did too. If I had any criticism it would be that his penis is a little skinny- and ribbed – like a dog penis. But still! A night to remember! Life is no fun if there’s no one to play it with!

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Drama Camp – Bellfort LI Fri July 30 – 65


    After 4 days I am horribly homesick. The classes are wonderful, I am sure I will learn a lot, why am I so lonely? This is costing Mom & Dad a lot of money. You have to buy your own lightbulbs here and the teachers are alcoholic & temperamental – someone missed a diamond ring and all our quarters were searched (not found, either.) There’s nothing wrong with the kids – they aren’t the glamor girls I feared I’d get so what’s missing. None has the requirement of individuality I desire in a person. Maybe they’re pretending. Maybe they see our job here as pretending. Is acting imitation? Alysse doesn’t like that! The classes are good but the food is terrible and they give you so little you’re constantly starving. But at least there’s swimming. Should I rave about the place or lie to M & D? I’d betray myself when I see them again – burst out crying I love them so much. It was Thanksgiving before it hit me how much I love them. I love mom more than Dad if I’m confessing. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder to the point of hysteria?” It could be worse. I love everybody and I’ll write them every day. I’ll read Lord of the Flies, Le Morte D’Arthur – can’t wait to get started.

    Sun Aug 8, 65
    That went horribly. Was it a dream? Sadly, not. It went on and is still going on. Camp got better in some ways, worse in others. Found a good friend in Edie Jacoby. Danni Wisefield invited me to a beach party Wed night! This sounded exciting and it WAS. Guitars, beers, fires, BOYS! We built a sandcastle & sang! I met a boy named Rob (Victor Robinson Larsen) who goes to Oberlin College! (Class of 68.) Very nice person to talk to (never touched me.) He brought a book of poetry we read around the fire! They walked us back. The truth is I never thought about getting caught, I certainly didn’t think about getting EXPELLED. So shaming. I think I am a person who TRIES to be good. Mom and Dad didn’t even come to get me – sent a friend who brought me back to her Southampton estate. I feel cheated. I FELT cheated. It’s common knowledge that you rebel against those distrusted.

    Danni denied everything, I couldn’t. I did cry because I hate to be cross-examined. Mr. Pomeranz offered me a dirty choice. If I would say it was Danni’s idea and I didn’t know what I was getting into – but I couldn’t. I had to call home – only Genevieve was there. “A boy – AGAIN?” She asked. The worst injustice! She means sneaking out with Julie last summer. My parents never called back. Finally I put on my red boots & red corduroy dress and went to borrow a dime for a phone call.  “Your parents have been trying to reach you” says Mr. Sheldon. Pity no one bothered to tell me! Calling wasn’t a good idea – they were stern, I cried. Made myself feel better after by making up jokes: The Mr. Pomeranz windup doll- steals your money & expels you. I got a going away party – hamburgers & ringdings. Rob and his MOTHER showed up – tried to put in a good word to no avail! Sweet, though. I was happy to leave. At the last minute they offered to let me stay. I said No. 

This place is  rathole. Couldn’t talk honestly with Daddy because Mr. Pomeranz was there but he figured it out. The Hortons arrived in the middle of my going away party! I remembered Bill but had never met Leonie, a solid, freckled figure. They were very kind. They put up with all my emotions and rushing about. Mr. Pomeranz wouldn’t give me my plane ticket, refused to believe who the Hortons were, finally we got out of there. Isn’t it funny how things work out?

    Thurs. night Aug 12 – 65
    The Hortons house is a huge white estate on the water! Dripping with ivy & windows in unexpected places. Pretty much my dream house! I have a wing to myself! The bed is big but as hard as a rock. On the bedside table Eng short stories by Christopher Isherwood so they expect you to be wakeful. When I was twelve I had a crush on Christopher Isherwood! Children really are awfully strange. First I was at acting school, now I’m at a country estate for an Indefinite Stay. Sounds like the plot of a Passionflower Hotel book! Had a horrible nightmare about Mr Pomeranz.

    Woke late and helped Lee Horton fix lunch. She likes silent meals – she reads! Fine with me! Then we drove to the train station and picked up the cook, Georgia Clark, tall thin black woman who said, “I want some coffee as’ll do me some damage.” Apparently no one makes coffee strong enough for her. 

That night Leonie and I went to Prescott Horton’s house in St. James for dinner before the Smithtown Pageant. He’s Bill’s older brother. He looks like Commander Whitehead. I wore my Greek dress. He’s an official for Smithtown so we had to go – it’s a travelling co performing the Pageant. I sat there with an asinine smile on my face. Worst performance I have ever seen – pure canned corn. Called home after. Mom has not forgiven me yet. On Wed we went to Bellfort to see The King & I! The dancers were fabulous! Too bad I have no talent. Saw everyone during intermission! They were surprised! 

Thurs a beach day. Mr. Horton was late (he’s a lawyer in Manhattan) we didn’t have dinner till ten! Tomorrow I go. Hope there’s no yelling – I feel guilty enough.

    Fri. 13th Aug 65
    On the plane. Something wrong with landing gear, pilot circling while they figure. We may have to return to Kennedy. Almost hoping we crash; I don’t want to die but if I was a little mutilated my parents would go easier on me.


    This AM drove with Mr. Horton & Georgia into Manhattan; I slept most of the way. Left Georgia at bus station, then was delivered to Mr. H’s secretary at his office. She took me to the UN right across the street. Pretty cool but I hate guided tours! Hate being one of the masses. After that I was given a typewriter & office stationery to write letters until cab time. Now trying to think of Famous Last Words in case we crash (it IS Fri 13.)

    OBITUARY
    OUR whole community is sorrowing sorrowing SORROWING to hear of the death of Miss Alysse Aallyn, budding actress and writer, dearly, dearly DEARLY beloved of the entire Clark family (currently vacationing in Italy) nipped in the bud by a p
    L
    A
    N
    E
    Cra…..

    7:15 PM
    You’re not going to believe this. We DID have to land and have been waiting here ever since to find out why they gave us a broken plane. Luckily I bought duMaurier’s Parasites it is very good. Called home – only Clarice there of all people. They’re serving dinner – nice of them! I better eat it. Unfortunately the food is all sterilized, just like airplane food. I am so scared I am breaking out.

    Sun. Aug 22 -65
    Still alive. Very jumpy plane ride – a stewardess buckled in next to me and when she got scared I got scared!

    Whole family there to meet me! No reproaches – even hard looks except from Genevieve. After M & D have gone into a huddle they are Done – no more influencing them. It  was a mistake to write those glowing letters! I told them they read our mail but I was not believed. I am set for Plumly school which will straighten me out (G not too thrilled since she had it to herself. She is clucking away disgustedly.) Definitely Wellesley material (where she wants to go.)

Frankly it’s horrible being home. I should have stayed at camp. Why can’t I learn to fake it? My old friends seem cliquey and narrow minded. I go to library, run errands for Mom, read, write, sleep, keep to the house like  a hermit. I read in G’s diary about how she read my diary!  I said, ‘I forgive you.” Then we both burst into helpless laughter. 

Merrill called to say she’s coming home instead of meeting us on the cruise. Looking smaller, she arrived with Ted Damian in tow. He looks stupid to me. Merrill seemed a little sarcastic towards him. After he left, she said they broke up! Her eyes were shining, she seemed relieved and happy! She said she’s IN LOVE and ENGAGED  to a guy SHE MET A WEEK AGO! HIS NAME IS JULIAN Holt (she calls him Julio.) I decided this girl doesn’t know what true love is. But then, I don’t either so there you go. He wants to be a foreign correspondent and has given her an engagement ring which is more than Ted ever did.

Had to cram the station wagon with provisions and drive Merrill, Mom, Mouse & me to Mentor on the lake Ohio where Dad & Jay took the boat. Passed through Brunswick where the police checked every car in advance of the big KuKluxKlan rally. This plus Vietnam makes me want to cry or be ill. He’s a corn-mouthed, barbecue-eating ASS!  He’ll incinerate the world if he gets a chance.

Lovely cruising days (even without the sun.) First night at Ashtabula, next Conneaut. They were dirty & insignificant but now we are at Presque Ile which is glorious.

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Thurs. Jun 10 – 65 On a plane somewhere over Cleveland.


    New diary, new paths on my journey. Stepped into a dark green taxi leaving five crying friends behind. Leaving behind the Age of Dreams and entering the Age of Doing. I’m not saying I haven’t got a past – I have – quite a past – but the future still holds all the excitement. In 45 mins I’ll be saying hello to mommy and whoever else she brings to greet me at the Cleveland International Grubport. This is a very jiggly plane and this writing could go wrong at any moment so think I’ll go back to my James Bond.

    Somewhere in Lake Erie between Toledo & Vermilion – Fri. Jun 18 – 65
    Just completed a week of inactivity – a century in Plumly time. I only needed the first three days, by Wed night I HAD A FIT OF THE WOLLIES. I’m either hysterically joyous or wretchedly depressed – which is the real me? Sobbed myself to sleep in sheer frustration. Daddy asked me if I wanted to go on the Mills Race so I said yes. He’s trying to make up for the time he got angry & said I didn’t care a goddam about anything. I’m taking the boat to Toledo (won’t be in the race). Dad dragged me out of bed after 5 hrs sleep 8:45. Ragged madras shorts & pink shirt & yellow beach bag, rubber bands in my hair, crammed into the Monza with crew member & his family. We were so packed in crew member kept shifting my knee. (Bill Capitan.)

    Stocky, amiable, running to fat (his face looks like a pudding) he is a prof of photog at the college. His wife plain, cheerful, cajoling 2 children. They were talking about last Wed’s race – Dad won! Dad said if he’d fallen in Dad would have kept going so it was a good thing he didn’t fall in. We stopped to lay in supplies of beer & vermouth. Goodbye to wife & kids, out towards channel by 10 Am. Me at helm (boat fought like spoiled child) and I fought back. Sails up, I was relieved (Bill’s no good as helmsman either.) 

Dad said between the two of us we were wandering all over the damn lake. We had lunch at 12:30 – to amuse myself I cleaned the galley even the medieval cubbyholes. Got to improve my pater’s opinion of me!  Read all afternoon –finished Flight of the Falcon started Payne’ s Gold of Troy. Falcon isn’t so good- I don’t like its overall feel. Gold more interesting though written in the passive style. Break for pretzels & coffee.

 Dad whispered “Bill thinks you’re the sweetest girl.” Aww. Dad then said, “Except when you’re being obstreperous.” We were outside the firing range at 4 had to stop & tether to the Fine Feather (beautiful yawl- very good looking boy on board) to let them finish and let us through.  We were a flotilla. Our wind failed, we had to motor though the range. (8 knots/hr!)  I took the helm for 2 hrs that was easier.  Water cool and smooth as glass. Bill excited about the herons, Dad playing w/chart & slide rule. 

The Toledo LightHouse is a Byzantine castle – I hope to build my own someday. It’s 20 to 9 – we’ll be in by 9:30. We fly four flags – Vermilion Boat Club, Great Lakes, Italy & France (Dad gave his Greek one to the Lagoon Boat Club.)

    Thurs. June 24 – 65
    Dinner at yacht club. Buffet, and the meat was terrible! Dad said it was “highway robbery” but they were having a party, celebrating start of the Mills. Dad promised I can race someday.

    Back at the boat Don Lennartson showed up with the hood jenny (the one Dad sent to be repaired.) He’s the one taking me home – we left at midnight. Don & I exchanged civilized pleasantries, then fell silent. We stopped at a gas station and I did make him laugh. He thought I was a drama major and he was too. He suggested books by Lawrence Durrell I ought to read, then we had a good long talk. I arrived home happy & sleepy. Mom awake – chatted with her & the hamsters then went to bed. Waked in the AM by Avril and Genevieve – we are driving into Cleveland – hooray!  We played the radio and were very sisterly. Mom forgot to give G the map so we got lost. We went to Mus of Art – I was sorry we would eat there because I hate the food. Poor sandwich, bad jello. We met Mom & her head start program at the museum. I love the Egyptian room – we feel the same about cats. Also the Modiglianis. Mom met us at 2:30 and took us shopping – I begged off to sleep in the car. Avril got lots of beautiful clothes and I was madly jealous. Went to a bookstore after that and I got a history of the silent screen. More shopping – I coaxed an orange dress out of Mumlet. Sirloin steaks with onion rings at Clark’s then thundered merrily home.

Sun was Father’s Day. Everyone forgot except me. G and I drove up with Mrs Capitain to bring boat back from Toledo with Daddy. She is a very bad driver. It was agony.  We were very late. Dad, G, Don & I shoved off.  Solid breeze made getting out of the channel a nightmare. Dad told a Satchelpuss story that made us all laugh. Poor Don got seasick, I felt wonderful.

    Tues. July 6 – 65
    Lovely weekend on boat with Clarice (Genevieve’s friend) Mom, Dad, and Genevieve. Dinner at the Twine House (shishkabob.) Parfait for dessert! Poor Clarice is so fat Dad thinks she should be hospitalized. Men are always that way about fat. She’s lovely – makes a point of being sure I’m “in” instead of trying to get rid of me (like G). I don’t want to be like G, I enjoy being different. This is the reason for Your existence, diary. I’m the “wondergirl” as G says.

    None of this fat problem can be Clarice’s fault, she is a really confident person. It’s no act. My matchstick confidence is always going CRASH!  I only feel “good” when I’m really done up. G. is writing in her diary too! Us diary keepers must stick together. “How long have you had one?”

    “Quite awhile.”
    “I didn’t know!”
    “I don’t advertise it like you do.”
    It’s probably about Me! Mine’s about her!

    Sun. July 11 – 65
    The stage is always stagey but movies are personal. They are at the same time a thought, a dream, or something happening outside your window. Hollywood doesn’t give people credit for their intelligence. The thrill of thought is a lot more potent than identification with some sex-goddess. Should I graduate from Plumly and storm RADA? I can only hope I have the talent.

    1 am Fri July 23, 65
    Can’t sleep. Tried exercising, counting things, pretending, even acting! Acting like I’m sleeping! “Alysse, my Girl,” I said to Me, “What you need is a Good Think.” So here I am. We have guests, so I’m in a sleeping bag on the floor. I’m reduced to a flashlight. It was an evening of Unexpected Phone Calls. Nightie…root beer…TV. RING! I jump up, knock over a table.
    “Hello?”
    ‘Nyello. Nye have a collect call for Anyone from Miss Merrill Aallyn. Will you accept?”
    “Sure thing!” I say, “Hi, Muff!”
    “Get everyone on the line!” demands Merrill.
    “I’m the only one here,” I apologize.
    “But I sent a LETTER that I would call TONITE!”
    “Well…” Bzzz. Cut off. Sure enough – RING!
    “H’lo?”
    “DID YOU HANG UP?”
    “NO. DID YOU?” (Hard to hear. We were having a storm.)
    “Let’s have some female gossip. You know Ted?”
    “Yeeesss…” (her latest guy.)
    “Well, you have to promise not to tell anyone BUT TED AND I ARE GETTING MARRIED!!”
    I screech jubilantly. Bzzz.
    I wait impatiently. RI-
    “Merrill, I’m so excited!”
    “YOU DO THAT ONCE MORE…”
    “Look, it isn’t me! I swear! When? Where? This is fabulous! My own sister!”
    “Sssh. I thought you didn’t LIKE Ted.”
    I DID say that. “Well, if he wants to marry you he can’t be all bad,” I say guiltily.
    “Promise you won’t tell. Mom & Dad don’t like him either.”
    “Married!” I couldn’t get over it. “Wow!”
    “Next year,” says Merrill glumly.
    “Well, don’t get married in June like everyone else does. When will you tell them?”
    “I’ll tell them SOMETIME.” Now SHE sounded guilty! “I won’t let you be a bridesmaid if you tell anybody!”
    “OK, Ok.”
    “Ted’s parents keep sending us these articles on premarital sex. They’re giving us ideas.”
    “So, have you premaritally sexed him yet?” I was WILD!
    “Yes. Once.”
    This was something! Merrill not a virgin? I felt separated by the gulf of human experience making her so changed. “What was it like?”
    “It was a lot of work. He had a towel with a bulls’ eye and I had to lie down on the target. There’s too much pressure! You want to get it over with.”
    I was scared to ask if she loved him – she HAS to say yes! Talk about pressure! But who could love Ted?
    “Did it hurt?”
    “I have to hang up now.”
    “Oh Merrill, it’s wonderful to hear from you, I’m so glad to hear about you & Ted! I’ll write a lot, I promise!”
    Poor girl! I romantically resolved to be her champion. RING!
    “HELLO?”
    “Hi. Is Genevieve there?”
    “Nope. Sailing.”
    “Is this Avril?”
    “Nope. Alysse. Who’s this?”
    “Bill Laughlin. You’re the one I REALLY wanted to see! Want to drive out and get a Coke?”
    “Are you serious!” I foresee a great future in the Diplomatic Corps.
    “Sure! What’s the matter? Going steady?”
    “Yeah, with Billy Stephens. I babysit for him.”
    “How old is he?”
    “About six.”
    “He won’t mind one coke.”
    “Genevieve might not like it.”
    “Genevieve’s just a kid! You’re the one I want!” (Amazing how good this feels.)
    “I need to get ready.”
    “Are you in your nightgown?”
    “Yeah, but I can change.”
    “Don’t bother. I’ll be right over.”
    This guy was hilarious! CLICK.
    Anyway, I put on a dress. I wrote a note – “Bill Laughlin taking me out to pump me about Genevieve. Be right back.”

    That ought to cover it! Bill at the door. We drove a gold Mustang with black leather. Gorgeous car. (He said it was his brother’s.) Went to the Dairy Queen, got small cokes & talked. It was a good conversation. I liked the way he tried to match my moods, serious to joking all at once. I said I’d been wanting this sign Youth Haven and he offered to get it for me but it was too high up. I showed him the mogul on the way to Kretchmar’s – he gunned it and we soared over it. Great fun. He never mentioned Genevieve at all!  Until in the driveway he said, “Do you think Jenny will go out with me Fri?”

    I said, “Sure, why not?”
    “Well. We had words.”
    “A fight?” This was exciting!
    “Something like that. Sort of “you can forget about Friday.”
    “Uhoh. She’s not a big mind-changer. But you should ask.”
    And don’t mention ME!
    “If she won’t, will you? I’ve already got the tickets.” Tactless.
    “I’m already going with Avril. Better ask Genevieve. Really.”
    No matter how second-hand I obviously was, I was flattered! Thank you, G’Bye, slam! He’s good looking and fun, I would definitely date him if Genevieve doesn’t want him.
    “Of course I’ll go,” she said condescendingly.

    LAKE ERIE AGAIN – Sunday July 25-1965
    One more day till drama camp! Sometimes I get so excited I want to jump up in the air screaming EEEEEEE! Reading DuMaurier’s Glassblowers I just learned something I already half-knew – “There is no such thing as time.” It’s what you want to do with it! A beautiful truth. The tree we climb may be cut down but the past is never gone. I can be any age I have ever been before.

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Friday, May 28 1965


    I’m in a paper-wasting mood. I feel like joining some of the great paper-wasters of all time, such as the authors of The Spy, The Deerslayer and the Old Curiosity Shop got nothing on me as I natter on endlessly and speculate about my life. That’s all this school really teaches you – the Art of Hedging. Teachers love it. When what you really want to do is just give way to violent gusts of passionate hatred. My goal as a writer is to slowly seduce my readers into a hypnotic state from which they only gradually awaken wondering what time it is with numbed sensibilities and no memory of what has transpired. Heh heh.

    Saturday, May 29, 1965
    Diagnosis: summer sickness. The patient must get up, put on a gypsy dress, minimum of makeup and sit calmly in a bus for one hour. Then the patient boards a plane, cracks a book and rides to her destination, which is ANYWHERE NOT HERE. That’s if the patient is not too sick to make it through finals. If only I hadn’t used up my meal pers I could go into King of Prussia for shopping and make whoopee. But sometimes its fun to do something illegal. I could get someone to check me off at lunch. Of course I’m already in trouble for shiking into other people’s rooms at night. And then there’s the Hitchhiking Episode –which apparently I’m never going to be able to forget. The only people, apparently, who stop for hitchhikers are:


    1.Maniacs
    2.Little old ladies who want to give you a lecture and then drive recklessly
    3.Perverts – who travel in packs
    4.Escaped convicts who just stole this car and can’t figure out how to work the damned thing.


    All the escaped convicts I’ve ever known were deeply courteous people, but I guess I just have the inner light a little more than SOME people I could mention.

    Friday, June 4, 1965
    Beales invited me to Casper the Grasper’s (his real name is Bad Karl) for tea. He’s the elderly pornographer who has apparently fastened on our school for some reason it wouldn’t take a fortuneteller to figure out and either throws or goes to all the parties. When I was in the Shakespeare play I was standing right on the edge of the stage, emoting away, and then I saw him in the front row staring at me through binoculars. I mean, the man was looking down my pores. I forgot every line in that one moment. Debacle. However he has a fabulous house and apparently it’s a great honor to be invited there. So of course I’m curious.

    For a person who wants to be an actress and a writer I’m not very observant. I’m always in such a fog I’m the last person in the world to know what’s going on. Guess who turned out to be also going - sans date, of course. Rich!  And I could tell by the way he was looking at me that he still has feelings for me. Can a girl and a boy just be friends? Now I’ve got Beales and Krissy’s got Crow and Rich’s got nobody, which is no one’s fault but his own. 

Many lonely midnight violin solos at Boy’s End.  So I have to admit – I hate to admit – I tortured him a bit. The tormented must torture back. Beales was not pleased. But the sense of power does go to your head.  Actually I’m tempted to break up with Beales just because of this awful book he gave me.  He said it was the best book he ever read, and it turned out to be a real stinker – the meaning of which, apparently, is that nothing has any meaning. The girl treats the guy horribly and he gets back at her through some sci fi device that freezes her. I’m sorry I now know anything about the inside of Beales’ head.  It’s a horrible place. I’ll just stick with his lips, thank you.

So I should probably write about Casper’s. Casper has a wife but they have separate rooms. (I know because I snooped.)  So do Beales’ parents, I was shocked to discover. Maybe this is more common than I knew. (His parents worry Plumly is too liberal. If they only knew. What they really mean is its co-ed, which is undeniable, and there’s dating, which is a fact, and that whenever we get the chance we all pounce on each other like randy bunnies.  Which does happen occasionally.  But the teachers and the kitchen staff are the dangerous ones if you stay away from them you’re Ok. ) Beales says “everyone knows”  the way to kill sex is to get married. (This from a guy who was carded when he tried to order a crème de menthe parfait.) I’m not taking sex advice from a virgin who is afraid of trees and an incredibly bad canoeist. My father embarrassed his children horribly all across Europe by refusing to take single bedded rooms for him and Mom.  If they didn’t have a double, no matter if it was almost midnight, we had to look for another place.  But you see I’m having trouble describing Bad Karl’s place. What kind of a writer always talks about herself?

Ok. It smells bad.  That’s number one. You can’t put your finger on it. Whenever my mom smells something like that she says its drains, so that might be it. Casper can’t see and his wife can’t hear and they probably can’t smell, either. When one sense goes, the others can’t be far behind. The house is full of dusty books and bizarre engravings.  Bad Karl’s favorite kind of books are called Belles Lettres - the only category I’ve never heard of.  I’m sure the wall of books swivels around revealing a dank staircase going down down down if you press on it just right but the smell was too bad to remain in the house long. We spent most of our time in the rose-garden – they have beautiful roses – apparently Mrs. Grasper is a rosarian, which I thought, was either a religion or a men’s club. It may be that what’s bad news for drains is good news for roses.  The food was fabulous – Napoleons have always been my favorite – and although they had boring tea they had flavored coffees too. Conversation was a bit difficult – Beales mentioned his paper on euthanasia and we got a 20-minute discourse on their trip to China in the 1920’s so I think Mrs. Grasper thought he said Youth in Asia.  If it hadn’t been a blazingly hot, sunny afternoon they would have forced us to watch a slideshow. I got to listen to a description of Bad Casper’s alopecia, which – trust me – is not a plant. Then at the end each girl (there were three of us there and five guys) got to cut a rose.  

Of course we didn’t know that Casper was going to pin it on us. Here he comes at me,

    quivering hands holding a large pin and his eyes fixed on my bosom and Beales doing not one thing to protect me. Even Rich got into the act trying to hold my dress away from my skin so I wouldn’t get “pricked”. I’m telling you it was dangerous. And of course I chose a hugely overblown flower on its last gasp that was dead by nightfall. Like my respect for Beales, who tries to claim that Casper, who holds “sexuality seminars” at his house for senior boys is anything other than a dirty old man. And I mean dirty in all senses of the word. He’s given up ever changing his pants, for example. Prof. Grasper’s favorite word is “juice”. You wouldn’t want to catch whatever he’s got.

    It’s a good thing I’m going to camp. Preston has written me a letter wanting me to go to Valley Forge with him. Looks like I’ll have to discipline him somehow – if possible.

    Monday, June 7, 1965
    I was in the Tower (toilet) studying and I overheard quite an episode. Miss Lissome was talking to this girl who apparently slashed herself with a razor over another girl. Miss Lissome was very understanding – a little too understanding, if you ask me. This is probably why Beales’ parents think the school is too liberal, because they hide stuff like this. I kept completely quiet and they didn’t know I was there. Apparently they don’t think she needed stitches, but I never got to see her because she went home next day. That’s one way to get out of exams. So far I got a 95 in Bible, (I’m an expert on the Zealots if I do say so myself) a 98 in English (Steinbeck, Steinbeck, Steinbeck – the only A in the class) and I’m fourth from the bottom in Math (sigh). Krissy and I were in Girls’ Doubles and I came in second! Right now “Baby the Rain must Fall” is playing on the radio and I’m getting ready for the freshman-sophomore class party. Gotta go!