When I gave my stepmother a short story to read, she recommended I join a writer’s group. I laughed and said I’d belonged to COUNTLESS writer’s groups! Literally, God knows how many.
She was surprised, I guess that my bumps hadn’t been smoothed out.
It takes courage to share your passions. I saw a lot of talent in writer’s groups. They definitely showed me techniques of riveting attention grabs I hadn’t yet thought of. But every writer comes up against the problem of; how much are you going to let them change you. Usually, if you follow someone’s direction down an uncertain path, you need to be able to trust that person. And I could never quite get there.
I remember when my first serious novel was accepted for publication – “serious” as opposed to my gothic – I was so excited, and immediately shared that info with two of my writer’s groups, thinking they might want me to speak about the effort and the experience. But they showed no interest whatsoever. I couldn’t even get my local newspaper interested!
I contacted my old writing teacher and offered him a copy but he was uninterested, too. He’d moved on.
This was a shock. I couldn’t have pissed off ALL these people – in one of those groups I had been a completely accepting student. I began to think it might be like contacting a home-buying seminar and telling them you’ve bought a house. All they’ll say is, “Good for you.”
Writer’s groups are about relationships – something I suspect I’ve never been good at.
My courage was diminished: somewhat. Luckily the Warrior Ethos tells you that’s exactly the time to make a plan to keep going. Because Being Warrior isn’t about Going Along to Get Along. It’s about finding out what the truth really is, every time. Truth isn’t a fact, it’s a modality Warriors live in. Warrior passion never diminishes. It grows.
#Haiku: Wake Up I’m All Alone
#Haiku: Wake Up I’m All Alone
Spooks need Dupes: Dead need Goodbyes: Sustain Feedback loop: Frustrate Rejection.
Dissonance is created by facts that make each other impossible. They simply can’t both be true. Most people are made so uncomfortable by dissonance they pretend it doesn’t exist. But dissonance is the line that artists – and warriors – learn to walk. When I was little my first dissonant discovery was that highly desired things seemed to melt in my arms – I wanted getting them, but I didn’t want having them. The next dissonance was people saying they loved you but fleeing. I decided this dissonance was connected to the first; people like the idea of something much more than they like its reality. This was my first introduction to the importance of ideas. My warrior self began to emerge when I observed that people made elaborate rationales to retroactively justify their behavior and they wanted me to sign on to these. I thought it was easier to just admit that emotional states are fleeting – the pursuit of knowledge shows us that knowledge itself is amorphous, but discovered that my ideas were unpopular to say the least. In the meantime I wanted to strengthen my shell and explore ecstatic states. Looking at the past and trying to figure out what actually happened – turns out to be the most ecstatic state of all.
As soon as my education was my own to manage, I bollixed it up. My high school’s near total repudiation of Art left me seeking some kind of art school, but which? I was accepted at a School of the Arts in San Diego but depressed by the distance – a visit to my ex-boyfriend in Oregon and a visit to my handsy uncle in Hollywood had not endeared me to the West Coast. I auditioned at glitzy acting schools but had zero game and even less confidence so obviously THAT wasn’t going to work, so I started off modestly by interning at Southwark Theatre School (they gave me office work) and taking classes at the Philadelphia Academy of Dance. I was physically clumsy and slow and this was going to hold me back from any theatre career. I was very well developed in the left brain areas but my right brain appeared to be asleep. Although I was the worst in the class I did get better and I was amazed to be accepted by a prestigious theatre school in New York City. I got an apartment in New York city, signed up for classes at Martha Graham to prop up my confidence, and gave that a try.
When looking for approval, you first notice that the “approvers” aren’t in agreement, keep contradicting themselves and shifting their own goalposts.
This is enough to make a warrior out of anybody.
How to choose your standards? How to design our path and feel confident about it?
As a child, I was a sunflower, looking for nourishment I could turn my face towards. People who dampened and depressed, who structured and suffocated, were to be avoided.
My parents claimed to be interested in physical health (and I wasn’t even completely convinced of that) but mum on the subject of mental health, which seemed to be the purview of adults who’d mastered the wherewithal to “step out of the rat race.”
As an elementary school student, I was certainly in a rat race. And it looked like a long haul. When we moved to Morocco and I was sent to a school where I didn’t speak the language, life got downright dangerous.
Luckily there were books. Agatha Christie in specific, who turned out to be the favored reading of travelers passing through Dar El Baraka, where we had been installed.
Agatha Christie is excellent training in the Art of Being a Warrior. Life in her books is dangerous, but since everyone is lying and pretending to be someone they’re not (“Society”) it’s difficult to tell where the threat is coming from. The Detective uses Clues and a knowledge of Human Nature to figure out The Truth.
This is riveting stuff for an eleven year old. These skills of judgment, analysis, research and truth-telling are essential for the Warrior.
It’s in Conflict that warriors emerge. My uncle insisted people in authority be “respected” and said whether they were worthy of respect was not the point. My parents were never that crass. It was a subtle game with them. My mother referred conflict to my father; we were ”hurting” her by not being the people that she wanted. It was hard to take seriously. But “discipline” quickly transferred to my father and he was a much scarier proposition. He was physically violent – spanking me, breaking down my door, visibly losing his temper and then further enraged over losing his temper. This was a whirlwind I could not ride and it hardened me against him. Some facts he refused to accept, actual truths he rejected with “No.” I understood that my mother was too weak to face things but Dad claimed to be a fearless seeker in life. It made me disrespect him.
It’s a different challenge coming in to oneself in a large family. I’ve never been certain since which part of me is my real self and which part is my sisters. Certainly the push-pull with my 18 month older sister Genevieve had a significant effect on me. You could argue that she forced me to become a warrior, in order to resist her.
Genevieve was a natural leader – she rewarded complicity and punished rebellion. The escapades I adventured on with her – stringing the entire house with yarn like a maze, filling the kitchen with sand – were enormous fun, even though they got us into trouble. But I often wanted to be alone and discovered that if I climbed into the highest branches of the cooper beech I could read peacefully. No one could get at me there.
Reader of Trees
I was the only one who knew your bark
Was better than your bite
I could resist you there
Climbing higher just to
Become myself
Dragging books into branches
Like a jaguar storing prey – fairy tales – The Iliad – Egyptian magic – That was how it started
I most mind the separation from Toss; our “togetherness” is an “affront” to his father’s loss he thinks. But it gives me more time for writing.
Today was the worst day – no, yesterday was pretty bad too. Long ordeal of preparing food and sitting around waiting for somebody to eat it. Awful. Toss keeps trying to take away jobs his poor father really wants to do – everyone wants the man to sit there stunned and feel his loss. Subtle struggle for power between Lew’s brother Avery & Toss. Toss wants to do everything and he’s physically angry with other people’s interference; locking his jaw, snapping his head and waving his fists. This makes ME angry!
Current thinking is its “good” to let your anger out but since anger is infectious this really is a stupid idea. I’m sure Toss is angry because he was raised by a really angry woman. Reminds me of my father’s anger – my mother’s response was to drift away, humming. It’s impossible to love a really angry person – anger is a rejection. Granma doesn’t help – tries to goad people into activities; sorting, cleaning fussing projects; busywork. Really annoying. We contemplatives get short shrift around her.
Sat 12 July 80 – Grover’s Mill A week since Val’s funeral. Toss forced me to buy horrible clothes – I thought since it was all his and his family’s affair I’d give in to his taste – results shockingly bad. Things I never wear: Khaki, stripes, constricting belts: Yuck! So much for his “You have no taste Alysse.” Now we know what he thinks taste is: BEIGE CANVAS. Comfort not only NOT a consideration, It’s an insult – to the universe apparently. Never again. Saw Val in her coffin – touched her rock-hard chest, her frozen face. Nothing more shocking than a dead person – it’s like any object. God!
Finished wedding invites, immediately invaded by terror. Why? Wish the wedding was tomorrow – wish I was pregnant – Is it because now I have to write? Probably. Other people don’t seek out electric jolts. Invaded by hunger which I tried to ignore by biking to Post Office. While riding, I think.
Sun 13 July 80 5:35 Finished sewing pearls on my wedding veil. A peaceful activity. Yesterday Seth (T’s brother) and his fiancé Sue came to dinner. Talk about Lois who is struggling to write a “You deserve it” letter to Sutton. Found pix to show of Sutton & Lois’ courting phase. Even when he’s smiling down at her (1949) he’s holding his body in an attitude of withdrawal. They married 2 months before Toss’ birth! But Lois looks happy.
When he failed to respond up to what she considered his romantic potential she began the punishments, the denigration, and when he turned away she acted so amazed! Her power, her charm, her luck – rushed out of her like air from a punctured balloon. What did she expect! “He’s so awful he doesn’t deserve to leave me?” When does THAT ever work? Doesn’t even work with kids! They flee at the first opportunity!
She received all God’s gifts – except…the one everybody wants. It’s more like a curse.
16 July 80 – 11:30 PM Retire with the rum, hot milk & honey I promised myself – this will do more for my headache than aspirin. Been stupid all day. Wrote a few pages on Prisoner – hope it goes better when I get to Labarraz. Villains always interesting.
Tried unsuccessfully to read Straub’s Ghost Story. How can something so coarse-fibred be so praised? Someday we’ll look back on him the way we look back on Ms Humphrey Ward. Clueless in Paradise.
Avril called – Daddy gets a million and a quarter from Corning or $55,000 year for the next 30 years. Says he hopes we won’t mind if he “squanders” it. Inzar kids get a million each. I admit it – I’m jealous. What would I do with it? Philosophy degree from Fordham?
Sat 19 July 80 Housework not finished – unfortunately. We have a guest interrupting my dreaming hours – Galaine – elderly cousin of T’s whom I politely asked to be my matron of honor takes it as an invitation to move in. Fortunately, she sleeps late. Horror stories about how her husband beats her – she used to flee her home to sleep in the church. They’re divorced thank God. Washed Weasel AGAIN – she tangled with a skunk and is stiff and pink from tomato juice.
Toss leaves Monday for 5 days in Kentucky studying with buddy Boone Macafee. In 5 days alone can’t I get 75 pages? We’ll see.
9:15 PM – 21 July 80 Light spatter of rain can’t break the heat – still in the high 90’s though it’s dark outside. Perfect half-moon burns a hole though the cloud cover. Strange gunpowder noises could be thunder or carnival a mile away. Dixie the Labrador very worked up.
Inside myself I grapple. Reading theology is a help. I feel people come into the world not blank but as coded entities. Trying to figure out the code. Reading Rosamond Lehmann – Swan in the Evening & short stories – it sends me into a Woolf frenzy. My psyche knows the vitamin it needs. Can’t write so I address wedding invitations – it’s like a dinner party – the more you can do in advance the better.
9:30 PM – 23 July 80 Excellent days I’ve had. Wise waiting to write till things fall into place inside. Thoroughly enjoyed (and mostly agreed with) Garry Wills’ Bare Ruined Choirs. Shouted & cheered my way thru the sex chapters. He was good, too on the Jesus freaks.
It hit me – here’s my Secaire. It’s my religious novel. I was dumb, I was slow but feel now I’ve got it. Up most of the night reading Greeley’s Making of the Pope 1978 – NOT an edifying story. We are all made in each other’s image.
Housework. Avril’s train 10:30.
The Barnacle Cabin – Shadow Island MAINE – 11:30 AM – Mon 28 July 80 Argument with Avril – can Mom & Dad change? Should we nudge them? She is hostile to the idea: don’t EVEN TRY!!! But last night at dinner I pointed out how Mom interrupts – won’t let us get a word out – she was flabbergasted!! She’d been completely unaware of it – and so’s Mom! And it goes against Mom’s philosophy etc. So, there’s a change we could make if we pointed it out. Genevieve did give me some support. Agreed Plumly made a mockery of religion for the students (which Mom & Dad did NOT want to hear).
Merrill very threatening and formidable – will not allow her schedule with Baby Barney to be interrupted. PERIOD. Whew!
When I asked what time I could come to the Periwinkle Cabin and make coffee she said NEVER.
The Barnacle needs hotplate!
Merrill NOT a good ad for pregnancy – her body looks collapsed like a beanbag chair. I remind myself – this is where all the gins & tons are tending.
Genevieve on the other hand looking particularly gorgeous – very challenging about my desire to go to Fordham; says “It’s CATHOLIC” the way you’d say “It’s fascist.” Wish I could have explained my emotional feeling that mysticism is “beyond all that.”
The Barnacle – midnight July 30-31 – 80 Talked to my sweetie on the phone and he read me some mail. Cindy thanks me for my note but “can’t face” the wedding. What did I say? Can’t remember.
He had a good day on his exams – felt excited and competent. But he feels utterly unprepared for tomorrow’s New Jersey exam.
Finished Jean Love’s Virginia Woolf – Sources of Madness & Art which I adored – can’t wait for the next volume. Especially interesting to read it “in the bosom of family” so to speak. Jean Love points out family members’ development is complementary to all others’ (family members’) development. Mom & Dad less insulting this time – they must be starting to think this wedding might really come off.
T. still angry. Slamming doors and accusing me of “nagging.” I thought, boy will my children be lucky having me for a mother if this is the way some people are raised! Will he ever get over it? Time will tell – four months till the wedding.
I remember when I stopped trying to fix my relationship with Bruce it immediately became broken forever. What I don’t understand is WANTING to be miserable. Seems like a phase T has to go through.
7:05 PM – T came home whistling, walked upstairs, said, Forgive me. I hugged him and hugged him and tore his clothes off!!! Novel up to 240 p. Writing to the point of dementia.
6 pm Fri 2 May 80 Getting exciting! Two weeks! In this weather the city really presses in. Have started taking my walks in the eve. On draft 3 of that idiot blood novel. Too, too depressing. I need to cheer it up somehow but how? Literally do not know how to be literarily cheerful. A bad sign. Should I write a love story? But love is fraught with problems! Think I need to put it away, take another look this summer. Figure out how to saturate it with Colette luminosity. Send mystery to Lavallee for ideas.
Last night I had to call the police about Booger kids throwing bottles at the house next door. God the last 6 mos has been difficult. I wanted to live here but I couldn’t. It’s more than the rights of wife vs live-in lover. T. can’t handle any mention that this house is less than ideal. But at least it’s been a good investment. I think he will be as glad as I am to leave.
Sun 4 May 80 3:30 PM Now I am REALLY depressed. Tried to read An American Romance wanting to see what The New Yorker considers a good love story. Ghastly. Bad style. Literally unreadable. The sex scenes were at least interesting (he calls cunnilingus a “duty dance” with the hostess. Sounds like fun, right?) Starting to think alienation comes from Puritanism. Refusing to allow oneself to feel.
Think I need to stop “Fitzgeralding” my novel (he always restricted his own choices out of second-guess self-hatred & panic.) The way people see themselves can save them or destroy them. God, I love Toss! He had excellent interview with Judge Ackerman who might take him for a clerk! $20,000 year. Reading Carole Klein’s Aline – Tom Wolfe would have published nothing without her. Feeling actually encouraged by Wolfe’s depression. Maybe a stage you have to go through.
Wed 7 May 80 Definitely a fish out of water at T’s compatriots’ “goodbye parties.” Guess I have the reputation of “dragging him away”. Rushed out to buy typewriter ribbon and who should I run into at the office supply store but T and 3 of his workmates who invited me to lunch.
I find T’s work persona a bit of a strain. Felt I’d been dragged into the smoking room of a men’s club. He described my novel to them as “about incest.” Ho ho ho! Hysterical! And T wonders at my “rivers of blood.”
I guess we haven’t grown together enough yet. Just hope we can fit into our new skin.
I’m absolutely sick to death of this novel and very doubtful that this is the way to write but EVERYBODY says it is! Vomit it out and then lap it back up SLOWLY! Ugh. All these rejections really play havoc with your sense of accomplishment. Looking at Plath’s suicide in a new light. Taking my vitamins religiously. Doctor says I don’t have mono. I think I must be in some kind of mourning. Feel like my parents deliberately raised me to have no survival skills.
6:45 PM – Just finished writing the damn book. Did feel some pleasure at the end. 302 p.
Mon 12 May 80 – Clouded over day Just finished reading My Cousin Rachel – a man kills a woman out of overwhelming jealousy. Similar plot to Rebecca – poor old Daphne must have been in some kind of deep distress. Kind of reminded me of Jane Eyre: “psychic wish fulfillment.” Of course the gang likes that.
What is the literary tradition of WOMEN tortured by jealousy? Hags & harridans. Prostitution is an interesting theme. Imagine having a “cash value” for everything. We’re going to have a real storm today.
Fortunately Lois made graduation easy (not competitive with me as per usual) although when Sutton (T’s father) was here a certain threatening iciness warns us not to have TOO good a time. On Sunday we made love all afternoon till she finally called us down.
Today I got an acceptance as a writing fellow at Guilders College! Doesn’t sound like much money but status, mentoring, help. Maybe. T. has faith in society: I sadly haven’t. Plumly exemplifies our experiences: he was praised and cossetted (teachers turned a blind eye finding him off bounds) my skirts were measured and I was forced to kneel. One needs courage even to believe in one’s own experiences. Still, it means I can’t go to Princeton Theological Seminary which I had been thinking of. Easier to spend than earn that’s for sure. What a joy is the intellect! I am a late starter but I have been distracted.
Have to spend all tomorrow cleaning & packing. A whole new life beckons! Unfortunately Toss is vague about time which making planning difficult. I like planning every minute of every day to make sure of having “psychic refreshment” time. He doesn’t think he deserves psychic refreshment. My job is to convince him everyone does. Tonight a goodbye dinner at T’s editor’s house; I’ve been there before. His wife has a sign on the wall:
“Happiness is where you find it Not where you seek it.”
Wonderful weekend in Horse Cave, Kentucky with our soon-to-be wedding officiant, T’s OTHER gay friend/Baptist minister. Came home to hear T’s grandmother Louise (whose house we will be living in) had a stroke in her nursing home. They are looking for blood in spinal tap but it seems her speech is returning. (She is 88 and very frail.) Hope this doesn’t cast a pall over our cork-popping evening with friends. A cup of leek & spinach soup then walk to library.
20 Feb 80 Feeling crazy – in potentially the worst distress of my life. T says he can’t leave before Ap 15 – Granma changing the date of her party – I get the creepy notion T doesn’t care how I feel as long as I get my housework done and shut up about everything. Last night – after 2 nights of dinner parties – he invited people over – I said I’d be upstairs. Couldn’t see anyone. He suggested I was “manic depressive” which I consider insulting. He said he can’t work worrying about what if I’m “committing suicide.” That I’m “undermining” him by leaving him alone with guests.
He said he will do all the cooking for tonight’s party and I can “do all the drinking”. I said No thanks. After guests left our worst fight so far. He asked me threateningly if I REALLY want to know what he thought of my novel. I said yes. He said my novel is terrible – for emphasis he shook a floor lamp at me and he set it down so hard, it broke!
Said the Erin part doesn’t work and I should read National Lampoon’s clever “takeoff” on a school girls’ diary where she discovers she has a penis – they captured “girlish chatter” perfectly in a way I could learn from. I stare at him ASTOUNDED.
I’ve got to get out of here before I become a basket case. As long as he insists my misery and fears are imaginary we are far, far apart. I shouldn’t have come here – should have stayed working in DC saving money till the wedding (and his MOVE.) But we were so I love and he didn’t want me to dance!
8PM Thu 21 Feb Last night we had it out – every last bit and he SAW. I worked hard all day rewriting the passages he objected to – I agree it’s too bumpy coming out of “nowhere” but taking National Lampoon’s advice on “schoolgirls” is OUT OF THE QUESTION.
I tried to get him to understand how INSULTING he is being – that he wouldn’t accept this behavior from me. First, he denied he’d said the things he’d said, then he denied being hostile and angry – all while shaking a chair over my head! It’s like he’s possessed! He says I make him “want to smash something”.
I asked him if I’m this crazy awful person that he says then how can he love me? NO NO he insisted – you’re wonderful! Finally he got tender and said, “You need a love-letter, don’t you?” And I answered, more than I need a broken chair!
He said what if things get worse this summer. I said they WON’T. You will have graduated and passed the bar! You’ll have the support of me and your family! EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE. We both fell together, relieved.
Fri 22 Feb 80 6:45 PM Dinner ready for T – he’s late as usual so I have a moment to reflect. Up to p. 200 – one scene to go.
Last night he asked about “the relentless floods of blood” in my work. I tackled his comment that I’m “suicidal”. First, he denied saying it – then eyes full of tears –admitted and apologized. He gets “so upset”. He reported an incident with a Reed college psychiatrist – it was an intervention – he was accused of being the college’s heartless heartbreaker and said he was so surprised. I said But I have the marks on my heart to prove it.
He admits he’s jealous of my writing because I can “write anything I want.” Tough to defend against that! I DO write anything I want and I expect to make it my life goal! But I absolutely accept that people don’t have to like it.
Parents offered to buy my car for a grand and give to Genevieve. But they would keep it in Mom’s name because insurance in Maine is cheaper! I can’t criticize a gift horse’s choppers.
Found Monica Dickens’ autobiography at library today – could hardly believe my luck. Reminds me of A. Christie’s however – seems bit muted. Most difficult thing of all is telling the truth about oneself. No doubt all the best story is left out.
12:50 PM Sun – 24 Feb 80 Toss sighing and groaning over my book like a martyr. Sounds like he hates it. I finished writing it yesterday in 4 glorious hours. Toss NOW angry because I won’t answer the phone when I’m working. We’re suffering from “Doll’s House Syndrome” – anything he wants to do is for US – anything I want to do is just selfishness.
He’s 21 p from the end. He says I “sneer” at his suggestions but I told him I’ve incorporated a lot of them.
T. says it’s “corrupt”. Uh oh. He means the teacher scene. I reminded him of the Professor Emeritus at Plumly who wanted to talk eagerly with the boys about how to get erections, what they looked like and how long they could stay up. “Corrupt”? Toss thought he was adorable!
Better prepare myself for the tirade. He says he’s the marketing expert and I won’t get published if I “dismiss” his ideas and he might be right. He yells, I cry and we’re both wounded.
My 29th birthday, enough to depress anyone. Awakened by call from – of all people, MY FIRT HUSBAND BRUCE. Says he’s married & happy. Good job with Charlotte Observer. Describes himself as “a nostalgia buff.” Does not want to lose touch, wonders what “our biographers” will make of our relationship. I feel as if it all happened to someone else. Friendly but keeping him at arm’s length – he always wants something.
Crazy card from Devon saying “I love you madly”! Guess we all want what we can’t have. Also, good letter from Maureen. Blackberry accepts poem My Grandmother’s Ghost! T. teases that the $9 I made is “putting him through law school” (it’s cost him $10 so far. Scholarship.)
I wish our families would JUST GO AWAY and leave us ALONE. Phone call from Avril – she’s definitely leaving D.C.so I put up our house for sale with the realtor who found it for us. Avril’s life still up in the air. Toss lecturing very unsympathetically about what she “should” do – I bit his head off. I don’t dismiss his mother’s problems with smug pronouncements! He apologized, asked if he should fly Avril out here – generous but we really can’t afford it. Mom and Dad are renting her a place in Augusta (Maine capital) which has LOTS of jobs.
We’ll get through this. I’m making applesauce from dying apples. T’s friend had a paper that needed typing – managed to get it done in time. Itchy vagina/anus from reckless wild sex acting up. Made a delicious dinner – pork chops with my applesauce, green salad & sweet potatoes. Lie flat with yogurt in vagina reading Queen Victoria & Her Daughters. Not bad.
Toss’s Granma called about family engagement party in March – now T has been on phone with his Mom the past 2 hours.
Heard Toss yelling and cursing at his mother – then he comes up to tell me we have to “head off” Granma’s engagement party because his Mom doesn’t want to go to any party Granma throws. And she expects T to show “solidarity” with her by being unpleasant, stupid and cruel like she is. I try to explain to him that if she doesn’t want to go she doesn’t have to! She can throw her own party!
Something is wrong with Rebecca West whose prognostications I can’t read – something distasteful. I just can’t put my finger on it.
5:30 PM Fri 11 Jan 80 Difficult, inconclusive day. Thank God for my mysticism – so necessary for an artist. I can just disappear into myself. Writing away to NJ Catholic colleges looking for a study of the mystics I can take this summer. My parents declare themselves appalled. “Mysticism doesn’t exist”. I’m making everything up, as usual. 8 pages on novel. It is scaring me to death. Why can’t I relax? Be playful? Is it because of my mother’s anger over the father’s death? She really can’t forgive me for “killing” him! I’m so panic stricken over the ending I’ve decided NOT to make an outline.
Toss got weird postcard from ex-girlfriend. Couldn’t even tell whether she’d received his card or what it meant. Standing outside of my own jealousy, I could see the game is to pretend not caring. Trying to accept his old relationships as a precursor to our love. He is filled with compassion for me over Devon’s weirdness.
We discussed our children and their allowances as we walked the dogs! Very sweet letter from Beales saying he remembered me more fondly than he remembered himself! Cheered up by a book called Womanpriest.
Sat 12 Jan 80 – 3:30 PM Worked on poetry, (horrible metric problems) read the 12 pages I struggled through on Summer Before Spring – no good. Throws me into a deep depression. I need to expunge all “flowery” writing-class writing. Hemingway the perfect model. Beginning to feel this bombed out cavity of a house is cursed and no project can be completed here. And Toss badmouths my lovely, finished 5 bedroom 3 bath gas piped house in Safe Queens Chapel! But he refuses to move to D.C.
Bad scene with T when I told him I’d already spent the money he gave me. He doesn’t think $35 necessary for groceries! What’s OK is astronomical long distance phone bills with his family. But I cook and shop! We aspire to high food standards! He would do everything differently – why can’t I learn? I am afraid the real problem is males have their temper tantrums encouraged while little girls’ are relentlessly quashed.
Accused Toss of caring a lot more about my housework than my writing. He was surprised when I said he doesn’t respect my intellect! He said why not find mentor who DOES appreciate me. Hmm. Here?
Plowing into Tudor Women. Webb is critical of Harriet Martineau’s “gossip” – he seems to see it as exclusively female. But Pope, Rogers and Jonson said the most awful things about EVERYBODY.
Poor Dixie having trouble walking – now the dog needs x-rays!
11:50 PM – Wed 16 Jan 80 Just finished Bertrand Russell’s autobiography – a bizarre document! His description of dinner with the Stanleys (each member of the family adhering to a different religion) sizes up Victorianism perfectly.
Got a letter from Guilders College (Brooklyn, NY) saying they would consider me for teaching fellowship in creative writing program is they could see a sample of my writing. Better that than my academic record!
1:30 AM Sat Jan 19 – 80 On p 54 of novel!!! T read first 47 p – cried during G’s death!
5:30 Mon 21 Jan 80 Fight with T when he suggested I see gynecologist over “my” fungus – like I came up with it all by myself! I’m not the one who’s been using Jock Itch spray for FOREVER. I went upstairs and typed – he came up yelling angrily that “the silent treatment” was “cheap and unfair.” I’m not allowed to think privately, apparently. Toss doesn’t seem to know how he insults people. No wonder, I guess, with a mother like that. For example, he says if we move to NJ how does he know I won’t “take a whim” to live somewhere else? Cried myself to sleep. I thought I’d be happy just living with Toss and writing but I’m not. Worried sick about money and his passion for this disintegrating housewife.
24 Jan 80 Problems. T. burst out last night, “I don’t believe in joint checking accounts.” Uh oh, since I have no money. I have to ask him for everything and we go over the receipts. My definition of marriage is total partnership. He also acts like his taste is God ordained; i.e. “Pink doesn’t look good with black” instead of “I don’t like pink with black.” I made notes of things I wanted to argue about (here’s the list: made on a copy of Tom Montag’s Letters Home:
Our Relationship 1) my powerlessness – ugly flashbacks of childhood 2) timing of the wedding 3) ignoring my needs 4) my collusion with him – helping him ignore my needs 5) this endlessly protracted limbo 6) my humiliation at housecleaning (he bought “me” a vacuum cleaner!) 7) tears are “an illegal weapon” ie my pain not “allowed” 8) his anguish: “I’m doing my best!” my guilt 9) his criticism of me – criticizer becomes “parent” 10) bad comments on my “job” compared to his “job” 11) living in Princeton in April?
Try to make them comments about SITUATION not Toss himself but he refers to them as my “list of non-negotiable demands.” No. Negotiation necessary, I insist. His overstatements quite exhausting.
Are my points even worth making? I wonder.
Last night T said lovingly, “I think we’re over our problem.” He told me he was afraid he’d be too upset to study. Wish I could agree!
Finished Aimee Liu’s devastating Solitaire. (Bad ending though.) But you have to forgive her for throwing her parents a sop at the end. They’re still alive!
Reading about parent/child battles has lots of relevance to my ongoing struggle with Toss. Finish the poem collection tonight It’s Later Than You Think.
Maybe I should discuss my current theory of development of love relationships?
Being in love is “humiliating”, because “NO WAY OUT”. Reminiscent of parent/ child relationships, etc.
Alysse Aallyn 