Well it’s happened. That thing I fought so long: I am crying. Next to pain, disbelief is my strongest emotion.
There is no getting around it. I looked in the mirror and I am ugly. Mom offered to trim my hair – I was losing my flip – and I thought she actually would but she cut it so short its not even short length. It just looks stupid. You can still see the scars of the summer’s impetigo all around my mouth. (Mom calls it a “deficiency” disease! Great!)
Can you imagine arriving the first day of school with a deficiency disease and stupid hair? And now my eyelids are swollen and my nose is purple!
Can I rise above this? At least in my dreams I am beautiful.
I’m exhausted from a day of shopping, sitting at my desk in my rabbit slippers in my own little room. Tired of wrestling with Mom over clothes, as usual. Finally got her to buy me a decent pair of heels and some black underpants (for my exotic moods.) I lost on the black party dress even though I promised to take the rose off the shoulder. All she will buy me are horrible Villager, John Meyer and Walter Lanz desecrations that make teenagers look like members of the golf club.
At least she let me buy makeup to cover my impetigo and a powder blue cardigan I really like which will look good once I shrink it. Genevieve caught me in the bathroom trying it on backwards and she said nobody wears cardigans backwards and if you wear your circle pin anywhere but at the collar of your cardigan it means you’re not a virgin. (Also if you wear your kilt pin upside down.) I said everyone in France wears their cardigans backwards and nobody in France is a virgin.
Mom and Dad say I need a “progressive” school because I am creative and Genevieve needs a “snob” school because she is smart. Unfortunately for us both it’s the same school.
Next-door creep Bobby Bloy raked my diaries out of the leaf pile but they were too burned to read hahaha. He will never know whether I wrote about him or not, the little grossness. (He chests his pants.) How he would love to be preserved for posterity.
Fri Sept 11, 64
So many days since I wrote! It shows how exciting my life has been. My only problem is my roommate who seems to come from another planet. But I want to write about everything.
Wed AM I woke up early, washed my hair in beer, put Dep on the ends and set it on orange juice cans. This really seems to work – it held the flip till almost noon. I had to drag the hairdryer out of my trunk where it was mixed up with all the unspeakable hockey things they make you buy. Had my breakfast under the hairdryer in my room because I didn’t want to hear Daddy’s remarks idiot women whose hairdryers melted on their heads, burned their hair off leaving only a scarred patch, welded orange juice cans to their skulls, etc. etc.
Then my sister’s boyfriend Granger showed up. My parents really like Granger but the joke’s on them. They are allowing Granger to drive me and Genevieve to school for reasons I’ll never understand. He drives like a hellion and makes “vroom vroom” noises with his mouth like a little boy. I hope none of the other boys at school are this disgusting. He and Genevieve are perfectly suited for each other however. Neither know the meaning of true maturity.
Plumly is NOT a pretty school but I’d seen it before so it was not a shock. It looks like a prison out of Dickens. Why don’t they just call it “The Workhouse.” (Oh no! Don’t send me there!) However the trees are pretty and at least it has a lake.
My roommate Thekla is an albino. When she is speaking I am just staring at her wondering what its like to have pink eyelashes and not do anything about it. She is very religious and says if I say “Jesus Christ!” one more she will report me; that it’s wrong to use the Lord’s name in vain. How does she know its vain? Aren’t you supposed to call on your savior in times of trouble? I’m in trouble a lot. Also, this is supposed to be a progressive school – my father says “Jesus Christ” all the time and he is very progressive.
I think I am going to lose this one because Thekla is from Nebraska. She is like one of those frontier women who stand in the middle of fire, water and Indians and never get budged or scraped.
I am writing with a flashlight under the covers and Thekla would be threatening to report me if she was awake. Fortunately she snores – it’s very handy for knowing if she is asleep or awake.
My Big Sister came to visit me. These are assigned to you to show you the ropes. Her name is Lauren and she is so cool it hurts. She came in wearing one of our awful gym suits and on her it looked good. She has cut the sleeves off and ripped the bottom into fringe. She says I will get a big brother named Larry Murchenwold and he is a WOLF so I’d better be careful!
Great to go to a little school where everyone knows everyone and you don’t need to waste time on trial and error. She showed me how to write a KOB (these are the notes sent from Girls’ End & Boys End at night.) You have to fold them a certain way or people think you’re queer. Also never use the Senior Stairs. (Boys who do this at boys’ end get their heads SHAVED. At Girls’ End things are more ladylike. They just cut up your underwear when you are out of the room. (Obviously I’m going to need some better underwear.)
My first sight of the freshmen boys was a big disappointment. They are such babies I assumed they must be visiting. Some have feet, which do not touch the floor when they are seated, others were crying for their mommies. The really tall one chests his pants! Lauren says sometimes the senior boys ask younger girls out. Let’s hope so. That never happened at my old school. The very nicest seniors are all taken. There is even one who looks like Jeff Hunter, my favorite movie star. (Genevieve dropped Granger like a hot potato because he has a girlfriend!) So far no sign of my personal Big Bad Wolf. I don’t think he is taking his Big Brother job seriously!
Friday, Sept 18 – 64
I can’t believe another week has gone by! This is amazing – I am actually too busy living to write! This has got to be a first. Friday seems like the only time because we don’t have sports in the afternoon. Lots of people are taking weekends but I’m saving mine up till I have somewhere special to go.
I’ll tell you about my classes.
ENG 1 – Strictly for losers. Miss Wienand is so old we can’t believe she’s still alive and not something that struggled its way out of the Tomb of Ligeia. When we speak to her we have to shout and then her head wobbles and her eyes fill with tears. At first I was shocked but you gradually get hardened. She quotes the Lady of Shalott by the hour. Genevieve says it’s the anesthesia they gave her in the war – now she is crazy. There’s a funny boy in class named Ted – he is not sexy at all but he is hilarious. When he said he preferred Coney Island of the Mind to Keats she got so upset she forgot to give us homework. Reading A Separate Peace. FR II- Not bad – taught by a real Frenchwoman named Ann-Marie Bustas. She wears very high heels and very tight skirts so she can barely walk and she teases her hair high in back with a rattail comb. I am smug because I aced the first test! She says I can read Françoise Sagan if I want to.
ENG Hist – is my favorite class taught by a sexpot named Nichols. His teeth are stained with nicotine and his hands shake but he is very funny about Ethelred the Unready and the Venerable Bede. (Unfortunately he is married.) He never fails to crack us up.
BIBLE – a romp through hell. Zealots 5, Sadducees 0! The teacher is the janitor – he probably works for free so they don’t put him in a home. He wears a hearing aid as big as a toaster and if you want to disrupt class all you have to do is hum. He takes it off his head and tinkers with it for minutes at a time. Gerry Woo is trying to program him by remote control but so far it hasn’t worked. Gerry is another writer (he carries his sci fi novel with him everywhere) unfortunately he spits when he talks and jumps in his seat as if he has bugs in his pants. (He probably does. I hear the hygiene at Boys End is nothing to write home about. Dr Freud to the contrary I am glad I’m not a boy. Sounds hazardous to the health.) So Gerry & I won’t be forming a writing coven anytime soon.
MATH – Over my head from Day 1. I have a Math Deficiency Disease. Need I say more?
SCIENCE – I have always admired Science from afar but here’s my chance to see it up close. I’ve promised myself to work really hard this term and plumb its mysteries. What else?
Oh yes, HOME EC = putrid and ART is for babies. I’m talking finger-painting and cutting things out of magazines. If we are really good Mrs. Kurtz will let us make a potholder to take home to our mommies. Me, who made a pajama coat over and over again from scratch! (Teacher rejected it the first 4 times.)
We are imprisoned in hockey four afternoons a week while a man-woman makes me run so much I’ve developed a heart condition. We are required to take at least one hobby and I’ve signed up for Workshop Theatre but the teacher hasn’t shown yet because he’s busy getting a divorce.
I’m sure my impetigo is no longer contagious but no boys have come close enough to find out. A few drips circle warily and have to be dropped in their tracks before they
spew.
Sat. Sept 19 - 64
The most amazing thing has happened! I am the leader of the freshman girls! There are only nine of us living at Girls End! (The others are day students.) I know I am an unlikely leader type – I am not bragging or being aggressive. I think I am simply les panic stricken than anybody else. They are in hysterics about grades, boys, hair, parents, I say Why worry about it? And they sob gratefully.
They put me in charge of the Freshman Skit for Camp Suppers. Nobody wants to look stupid because there may be Boys paying attention. Har to tell which pair of beady eyes around a campfire belong to a handsome face or an agile brain so we can take no chances. We are putting on GOLDFIGURE –a girl whose incredible physique turns men into statues. What do you think?
Sun. Sept 20 – 64
Life is such a great adventure! I am planning to be so happy my whole life I wake up laughing. Got a letter from Andrea yesterday that made me momentarily nostalgic about The Past. Oh the times we snuck out of the house in the deep of the night wearing our father’s shirts. But one can’t look back one must move forward.
Wed Aug 26 – 64 – Camp Tarantula – Somewhere in Darkest Canada
Shot the rapids yesterday. It was my day for paddling and I sat in the bow. Stu told us “They’re easy. Paddle like mad.” We were in sixth position. It was exhilarating. We took on water and then there was this grinding noise. Look out for that rock! I called too late and then our canoe was sideways. “Get out!” yelled Stu. Suddenly I was in the water, fighting for a hold on the sharp, slippery rocks. Half dragging the canoe and half being dragged by it we managed to get it ashore but our stuff was all gone. Watched Barb & Paul paddle insanely to the V point then lifted out of sight by the furious water. We tried again, again the yelling and confusion, me trying to obey. I think I’m just terrible at this. Horrible grinding crash as we hit another rock. The crash rang in my whole head and assed right through my body. I staggered dazedly out of the sideways canoe, pushed off the rock with all my strength and we were carried to the shore where the others were waiting. We screamed “Keep left!” to every arriving canoe but none of them could hear us. It was a massive disaster. Judy and Wendy were clinging to a rock in the middle of the stream and their canoe was gone. Pam lost her glasses and had blood in her hair. Marilyn was laughing hysterically. I could tell what Jeff was thinking by his face: “That could have been us!” Finally Stu & Paul figured out how to rescue the sobbing girls. (Paul’s sweatshirt doesn’t say “Defiance” for nothing!) “Form a chain!” Stu screamed and stripped off his outer clothing. Steve & Anne rigged a rope to a tree and threw it to Cindy on the other side. Those of us in the chain began a long hard pull trying to pull the girls over. My arms were almost torn out of their sockets. For a cold wet hour we pulled against the force of the current, saved the girls and all but one canoe. Frank tried to rescue our stuff but most of it was gone. Stu gave the girls jackets but everything was wet so it didn’t help.
No one was griping but no one was looking forward to sleeping on the cold wet frozen ground. Nothing will help but build a fire and climb right in it. I thought about my parents and sisters warm and dry wondering what a fine time I’m having at camp. I was glad Julie couldn’t come – I wouldn’t put a mosquito through this torture. Hard to believe there’s actually a world out here. Promised myself never to be so cold again. We tried to entertain ourselves by talking about what we would do to the person who suggested this trip when we got home. I started up a chorus of The Sloop John B – “This is the worst trip I’ve ever been on.”
We launched out once more against the surging water – me trying to see through the mist and follow Jeff’s command. We hit another rock! Leaped out mechanically and dragged the canoe to safety. I couldn’t believe it – this is the sort of thing you wake up from. Jeff was patting my back. More screams and crashes. I plugged my ears. “Camp Story Trip 5 – sleep on bed of scented pine needles at night, glide gently on sunny mirrored lakes by day” should be “the perfect trip for children you never want to see again.”
The last rapids I felt increasingly hysterical and I was doing well compared to everybody else. I persuaded Marilyn to take bowman’s position – I’m not cut out for seeing rocks rushing at me. “I’ll tip us” she said honestly. I said, “I don’t care” I just want to lie down in the boat, close my eyes and let death overwhelm me. Every now and then I would shout encouragement in the direction of Marilyn’s lumberjack coat.
It seemed the longest stretch we had yet – and then we hit. Water around my face. I jumped into the water - my bare toes showing through the holes in my tennis shoes. “You did better than me” I told a dazed and sobbing Marilyn. Jeff and I hauled the canoe over the rocks, trying to keep it from being swept away.
Barb and Wendy were right behind us and hit the same rock – Barb was thrown out and carried away by the water. Canoe completely overturned. Shavonne saved Barb and we tackled the canoe. You just have to keep jumping while everyone’s shouting contradictory orders; no time to stand and argue. I was in waist high water when I felt a shock of pain. “My leg!” It was twisted and I was afraid I had broken it. Jeff hauled me out bruised but OK. Good that I have rubber bones. (Shavonne’s a nurse.) All I have to show for it is a small purple cut.
Lunch was the only meal we ate that day – we skipped breakfast to get an early start. If they were honest about these trips fewer would go but more would survive. It was midnight when we reached our campsite and we just wanted to lose consciousness. Eleven of our twenty had lost their sleeping bags so we were all doubled up. Once again I slept with redheaded Paul who at least is safe. (And warm.) I’m not sure this is what the Young Men’s Christian Association had in mind but such is life on a wilderness trek. Probably Sacajawea shared Lewis (or Clark’s) sleeping bag from time to time.
Up at six next morning – skipped breakfast again. Just wanted to get somewhere safe with FOOD. My day for riding thank God. I had to borrow Steve’s extra pants – (I peed in mine but I didn’t tell him that. Wet is wet.) I even had a blanket so I am comfortable writing this. Alsace (a city of 28 people) is only an hour away. Yahoo!
Charlaix, Ontario – Sat Sept 5 – 64 Question of the week: What Can You Do When You’re As Sensitive as Sunburn? How slowly the days pass before school! Each day 24 hrs of experience, a million tiny memories. Someday most likely, I will be an old woman with grandchildren. Probably great-grandchildren – the Aallyns are notes for longevity. Will my face be wrinkled my dresses baggy, my shoes ugly and my mind thick with old-fashioned thoughts? Will I think my life is happy or sad? Will I laugh at the foolishness of youth?
Somehow I think I have the capacity to make myself happy. My future may be great or insignificant. I must say I keep hoping for the former.
I write aboard the Gryphon, docked at Carmine Bay. So far we have not been able to get out of the bay, every time we try we are hit with ten-foot waves, the boat heels over with its portholes in the water and my mother screams to go back. My cousin Jarvis, who seems a good sort, keeps being sick fortunately so far into the sea. Strange considering his mother is a homeopathic doctor who plies him constantly with “nux vomica”. Not working in his case. Glad we came in when we did; otherwise I might have seen my insides float by also.
Unfortunately Genevieve is also aboard; meaning the days are rife with injustices. I want to go swimming but I am on dish detail. Maybe I can swim later. Water balms all wounds.
Soon I will be beyond this, at Plumly School the last word in Preppy Co-Education. Next Wednesday! In the meantime I get to practice shopping and self-control.
Brockton, Ohio – Mon Sept 7 - 64
Diary you are the most recent diary in a long line. Today I took all my diaries out of the linen closet (up high where Mrs. Broadnax never dusts) and put them on the leaf pile! Did away with them. It was with considerable relief that I put away childish things. It seems right to burn diaries in the autumn when there are so many other burnings.
When people on the street sniff the burning pile and say, “What a good smell” I can say “That’s Jeff and Harvey and that English kid who pretended he was the Lost Beatle and all those other small-town idiots I can’t wait to leave behind.”
Tra la for autumn madness, new notebooks and new adventures!
Everything changed. Bookie & I broke up. He likes to make me mad by fooling around with other girls and I won’t take it. He knows how insanely jealous I get. He wants me to forgive him but I won’t. “You don’t need him” says Julie. She keeps telling me how beautiful I am! Haha. But she’s right that I don’t need him.
I am also giving up the pretense that I love my parents. I hear you recoiling in horror, diary but love cannot be forced. I admire them as clever, free-thinking human beings and I am grateful to them but love – no. God I have tried. No more. I take life as it is. I am sorry. They do not love me and I do not love them. They admire me for my talent but that’s all it is. All love died in the hard winter of 60-61. Their favoritism for Avril is insulting and humiliating. I have to bear long lectures about how fragile and sensitive she is. That kid! Please! She is a dreadfully spoiled, crabby, selfish child. Not to mention Mom & Dad fawning all over the French exchange student Jean Michele who pretends he is not interested in girls when he IS.
Sun July 11 – 64 I hate Trish so much. She has always wanted Bookie and now she has him. I can’t believe I was ever with someone who could hurt me so deeply. I’ve sworn off boys. Maybe not Tom. He writes regularly and I love him for it.
Tues. July 14, 64 Well, well, well, times have changed since my agonizing confession of Sun night. Trish’s old boyfriend Rudy came over to see me with Phil and made it plain that he liked me very much so it’s Trish’ turn to cry. I love it! I’m not conceited but I think I could wrap them around my fingers! I asked them if they wanted to join my fan club and they wrestled over who would be president! Did my heart good. Phil agreed to be Social Director if Rudy is president. They say they are my Bodyguards! Neither likes Bookie and say he is a poor idiot. Turns out people need praise to exist just like plants need water! I was feeling worthless before. After they left Phil called, said Rudy is “the wrong guy” for me and invited me to the movies! I accepted! Then Rudy called for Fri and I told him he was too late. He called Phil “a dirty dog.”
Bookie came over with Dan Bliss and set off a cherry bomb on my front steps. I couldn’t conceal my anger!
Waited till Mom and Dad went to bed and gave them twenty minutes. Jean Michele is staying in Genevieve’s room and had his lights on (she is helping Indians in a remote Western outpost which I could never do) so I had to sneak out down the front steps. God! Then I discovered I forgot to wear a bra so I had to go back and get it! God! When I finally stepped outside I expected to see Mom and Dad tapping their feet but I didn’t. I could see Rudy’ white jacket at the end of the driveway. The fuzz caught Phil hiding in the bushes in front of his house so he can’t come!
We walked all over town without stopping for two and a half hours. Just talking! He asked me to go out with him but didn’t give a definite date. He was cool. At five o’clock I said goodnight.
Phil woke me up on the phone wanting to know what we did! Mom listened in on the phone and discovered I sneaked out which was a pretty lowdown trick so now I’m grounded. It only gives the game more flavor! Everyone I know has been caught out at least once! In American teenagers these days the feeling of independence runs high. We have been raised to think highly of justice and freedom. But all the advantages lie with parents. Daddy called Phil and Rudy “nincompoops”. Now I can’t go to the movies with Phil so there is no longer any communication between us. I can’t agree to their idiotic demands. I will learn to wear a disguise. (Avril’s birthday cake was good, though. ) Parents allow me to go to Drama class. My parts are Maggie in Overtones and Mrs. Johns in Thurs Evening. Shipped off a letter to Tom Morris. Nothing on TV but Republican Convention.
Thurs. July 16 – 64 This bit with the parents getting steadily worse. I’ll tell you honestly whose fault it is – theirs. I was over at Julie’s today. Thought my parents were the only ones who were so bestial but Julie has the same difficulties. We formed a club to grouse about it called The Orange Toenail Club. Pooling our knowledge. United we stand divided we fall. This morning I was typing A Game of Chess which I had to turn in soon for Drama Club. Got a phone call so I opened the door to answer it. They thought my radio was too loud so CONFISCATED IT. They didn’t ask or complain, just TOOK. NO common courtesy. I said “the hell with you” raced up the stairs but I couldn’t hold the door against him. He threw me on the bed uttering a few choice phrases. So now all I want is my own phone and a lock on my door. That was two hours ago. Skipped dinner – nothing to eat. Might as well clean my room since I’m stuck in here. No Drama for me.
Fri July 17 – 64 It is the greatest fear of my life that I’m mentally unbalanced. In my dreams I laugh and scream and kill people. Mom and Dad just make fun of me. I can’t make my mind work any more. It’s me outside me, looking at myself. I’m asleep with my eyes open but my brain is dead. My horoscope says I’m a person of unusual mental activity and I’m afraid this is true. Can’t take much more of this. Maybe I’ll go on a hunger strike. LATER I hate them! Not only can’t I see my friends or talk to them, I can’t have a clock in my room! If these are the kinds of parents they are then I can’t go to Plumly too soon. Indian reservation here I come. I’m refusing to leave my room. If they hurt me any more I’ll run away and I don’t even care how childish that sounds. Took a bottle of aspirin from Mom’s room. 15 pills. Won’t kill me and it might put me to sleep. Can’t be up all night like last night. Thinking about suicide makes me feel better. 15 pills and enough water to sink a battleship.
Sat. Aug 15 – 64 I’m in the doghouse again. Caught making out with Joe Kingston. At least tomorrow it’s back to camp for me.
Sun. Aug 16 – 64 Right now we’re in Michigan. Stu and Shavonne are as cool as ever. This bus is pretty jiggly but I’ve managed to make friends. There’s one cool guy. I started my period while I was asleep so I had to change my white shorts. Borrowed a tampon from Shavonne. Cramps and everything. We’re stopping and everyone has gotten out but me. Stu has to change a tire on the canoe trailer and everyone is buying snacks but I’m determined to lose weight and I don’t want to break my ten dollar bill. I’m trying to save up to buy the second Beatle album from my sister.
Just had a root beer and now I feel better. Spending the night at St. Ignace in Clare, Michigan. 10 girls and 8 boys – no one is as outgoing as last time but there is only one fink.
Mon Aug 17, 64 Breakfast in Seault Ste Marie. I have Canadian money and Canadian stamps. I bought postcards and stationery so I can send letters and a plastic bag for my sleeping bag.
Bus broke down! We are somewhere in a godforsaken marsh. We will be eating dinner here in the middle of nowhere and sleeping by the side of the road! Getting to know a really nice boy named Jeff Spiegel. Trying not to compete for him with an ugly scab named Mimi.
Fri. Aug 21 – 64 We have been canoeing for days. I’m sharing a canoe with Jeff and Steve. This idyll could kill those who drink too much of its wine. Jeff told Mimi he likes me more because she wouldn’t stop mauling him. But he told me he’d going steady with someone else and he has no intention of breaking up with her. I said “Fine let’s just be friends. Don’t worry Jeff I’m not madly in love with you.” And so I ended before it began.
Sat Aug 22 – 64 I never ask about her but he tells me everything. She is three years older than him! He says she is very different from me. He is a very complex person. At least he never makes fun of me which is good because my self hatred is especially strong now. He calls me “Spider Lady” because I’m not afraid of spiders (I quite like them actually. Wolf spiders especially. They’re interesting.)
Sun Aug 23 64 Cold and wet. We are all miserable with our canned spam and peaches. Everything I own is soaked – I had to share a sleeping bag with Paul Cook. (Plastic bag didn’t work. The one for my diary is better.) Fortunately he is very nice.
I get terribly depressed sometimes. I fantasize about hot food and mattresses. Above all I miss reading and privacy. If we ever reach Alsace I’m going to 1) buy chocolate 2) call my parents I’m going to ask them to take me out to dinner at the Brockton Inn where I can have snowflake rolls with lots of butter.
It will be nice to hear their voices again. I guess they made their point that life in their prison house beats life in the wilderness. Too bad they don’t understand me. Stu keeps his movie camera dry and he is still taking his famous movies of us singing “The Cruel War is Raging and Johnny has to Fight”.
MON Aug 24 -64 Sun! I fished from the canoe and caught 3 nineteen inch pike! We’re eating them for breakfast (the others caught only one.) Strange to be at a campsite when it is still light. Jeff puts his arms around me a lot for a friend but he is an enjoyable person to be with. Chili for dinner! Yum!
So much to write don’t know where I should start! Quebec is a beautiful city built by dreamers. From the grassy fortress of the citadel to the boardwalks of the wharf I have fallen in love wit it. I loved London, Florence, Paris and Rome and now I have to add Quebec! You could be fooled into thinking that it was a prosperous French seaport.
Not just the money and signs are different, the people are different as well. We drove all night to get here and when I awoke from my uncomfortable position on the floor we were parked on the Green Plains of Abraham!
A troop was sent to buy breakfast while the rest of us walked around. I stood on a bluff overlooking the harbor and then sat meditatively on a bench. How beautiful life is, what a precious thing to have! How can people look forward to eternal life when this is so good? Seems greedy to ask for more!
After breakfast, put on my blue gingham sundress and off to the Chateau Frontenac to use the john. “You can’t miss it!’ said Stu, putting me in the lead because my garbled French has him fooled. He underestimated me. I clung to the belief that since Chateau Frontenac is old, big and made of stone, any old big stone building would do. I led my faithful few to a storehouse, a club and the Quebec Institute of Dramatic Art before we wound up at the Quebec Parliament where we wandered up and down the halls.
After all that fun, Andrea and I were on our own, working on more creative ways of getting lost. A street artist did my portrait for $2. He made me too pretty but flattery will get you everywhere. I’ll give it to Mom in a last-ditch effort to give her some illusions about me. I ruled the sailors and hoods and old men who came after us Unacceptable! Poor Andrea in mourning for her brothers will take anybody but I won’t let her. She wanted a midshipman, I wanted a French beatnik. We found two charming French beatniks (short-ish- my height) who walked us to our bus. Learned a new French word: “ravigoter” to freshen. Two beatniks gave us two kisses each! Singing on the bus: Up in the Air, Junior Birdman, Up on the Air, Upside Down! And Down in the Sea, Junior Frogman! Made camp WAY outside Quebec and we were tortured all night by malevolent mosquitoes. Next morning I was so sleepy I didn’t think I could stand up. Fortunately I can sleep at the laundromat. I sent so many postcards!
July 4, 64 – Stratford Ontario
Happy Independence Day! The trip just began and tonight’s the last night! I will pitch it to make it really great!
Arrived in Stratford too late to get the mail. Drat. Cruised around town, listened to some bagpipers, then pitched tent on the edge of town.
Dinner was delicious: tuna fish salad (in honor of the Catholics) and doughnut balls (Bisquick blobs in boiling Crisco) for dessert: delicious! After that, we were all getting ready for the play Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme which I had seen twice and loved in the original French. In English I should understand so much more. Wearing my figure-flattering sailor suit and white wood heeled sandals.
Unfortunately my hair is dead after all this camping. It isn’t doing anything. Stratford is a lovely town and the theatre a splendid combination of old and new. Front balcony seats! The play was very good. At intermission Debbie came over and said two of the ushers were asking about me! I gave my address to the handsome one Dell Rynehardt. They walked us back to the bus Dell holding my hand. I would have let him kiss me but he didn’t try.
We performed our song, the Trailblazer Anthem and Stu talked about how much the trip meant to him until the tears were hot in my head! I apologized for not doing more for the group and he was very understanding. Afterwards Andrea, Vicky and I slept in the same sleeping bag!!! Later –
Saw the Falls! They were so beautiful but I did think they’d be taller. Too bad we won’t be seeing them by night – must be even more breathtaking than by day. Beginning to think tenderly of home, especially the sunlight striking that gray rug in the hallway. SusiAnna (he’s a boy) always hogs the brightest sunlight on the dining room floor. Plants everywhere, green and rich, the wood carved king with his tired kind face. Maybe there will be a letter from Mark!
Last but not least my room with its green walls and twin pink-covered beds. Furry white flokati rug. Ending this on a happy note. Isn’t that the way all good things should end?
TRAILBLAZER ANTHEM Oh we set out from Toledo on a bright and sunny day And our parents were there to wave us on our way! Gettysburg was our first stop where we made a movie flop As we rolled along the bumpy Eastern Roads! Bruises and hives, seven campers lost their lives as we rolled along the bumpy Eastern Roads! CHORUS: We’re still moving thank God, still moving Hallelujah! And the bus hasn’t conked out on us yet! Valley Forge was just a hop where We were picked up by the cops And the New York Fair made us spend our money there! Hanover we found was a Dartmouth kind of town As we rolled along the bumpy Eastern Roads! Peanut butter, jam, bug repelling spam oh we rolled along the bumpy Eastern roads! We flew to old Percé which is on the great Gaspé Where we realized French boys just love to fraternize “Bonjour, good day, ou est le cabinet?” As we rolled along the bumpy Eastern roads! Garçons of all kinds, Stu & Shavonne lost their minds As we rolled along the bumpy Eastern roads! We went out to the Boardwalk to see what we could find And each girl there had sailors on her mind The last two of our hauls were Stratford and the Falls as we rolled along the bumpy Eastern Roads! Rollers and combs, without money from our homes As we rolled along the bumpy Eastern roads! Oh, our sleeping bags were nests for nasty insect pests And the mess on our bus was very picturesque Though the trailer broke down once We’ll remember this for months As we rolled along the bumpy roads toward home! Impetigo and fleas, we had Band-Aids on our knees As we rolled along the bumpy roads toward home!
Mon July 6 – 64 Dear Diary, I‘m sure you’re tired of my lovelife, but I’m not. The Trailblazer bus roared into Brockton at 5:30 PM on a hot Sunday afternoon. Passed familiar figures – Haze & Bookie!!! I cried but he didn’t see me. Forgot about Tom & Dell, it’s all Bookie Bookie Bookie! Forced to go to the Pendragon house because my parents are out of town so I called Bookie from there. Bookie rushed over and kissed me. He doesn’t like taking off his mirrored shades but he will remove them for me. Julie & I agreed to meet Bookie & phil at the college snack bar. I care so deeply for him!
You have to forgive my writing – it’s hard to write on a jiggling bus! I snuck out one more time before I left. Andrea and Chase threw candy at my window – Bookie was easier to rouse because he sleeps on his porch. Andrea’s parents were already gone so she opened their liquor cabinet and Chase got drunk. (He is a problem. He steals things from cars. I think this is why he was kicked out of Eastern. ) Bookie and I didn’t have anything – we just wanted to slow dance. We kissed! He promised he will write! Andrea and Chase were making out like mad but Bookie walked me home.
4:30 AM! Up at quarter to seven – too late to have breakfast – off to Toledo! We are getting to know everyone on the Trailblazers bus. I am working on a Trailblazers song to the tune of “Oh It Was Sad When the Great Ship Went Down”.
Stu & Shavonne are the leaders. They are nice – especially Stu. He wanted a few kids who could speak French and Andrea volunteered me! Let’s hope I can understand enough to manage.
I slept all morning; we stopped at 1 to each lunch (tinned food) in a motel parking lot. Maybe I can lose some poundage. Looked at a map and selected a park to stay in, (Gettysburg) in Pennsylvania. We slept in sleeping bags on the ground! It was hard as cement. I slept in my cute pink nightshirt. Walking around the park all day looking at monuments. Every now and then you get a whiff of history. Names like “Valley of Death” and “Bloody Run.” Stu posed us dying over a fence for a picture!
Left Gettysburg driving too fast, the trailer broke free and we had to go to town to get a part. We need to travel tonight to get to the World’s Fair on Saturday.
Fri Jun 19 – 64
I’ve decided to work on a third person account of my life. (Everybody wonders why I am writing all the time.) Look at myself from the outside in. Obviously I have to change all the names – for me, chose the name Melantha Clenn. The title is “Dark Flower” which is what Melantha means. Whew! That was enough work for one day! My poor brain is exhausted!
Last night we reached Valley Forge very late and decided to sleep there. There was nowhere to camp but thought it would not be too much to sleep by the side of the road. We no sooner had out sleeping bags out then up comes a fuzz car! (Stu referred to him later as Officer Remedial.) No amount of pleading would work; he ordered us to “follow” him. I guess he thought he was on Dragnet or something. We weren’t even told where we were going! Straight to the Valley Forge Police Station! Shavonne and Stu were led inside and the rest of us just sat there arguing about whether our camp counselors would be arrested for contributing to the delinquency of minors!
But when they came out they said we would be allowed to sleep on some rocks behind the fire station!
I do miss Bookie but for some reason think mostly of Mark! I’ll send him a postcard from Gettysburg: North Carolina memorial is a good one.
Sun Jun 21 – 64 – YMCA Camp in Poughkeepsie, New York
Can’t believe we’ve been on this trip four days only! For such a motley crew of sixteen girls and two counselors we are very compatible. Two of the girls are childish which I actually don’t like.
Shavonne is a sweet person. She is plain though with a very bad figure. She is certainly not distracting Stu from thinking about his girlfriend who he says we will all meet! Shavonne is reading The Agony and the Ecstasy, says its very good and will lend it to me when she’s finished. (It’s a big fat book and she seems to read onl8 4 pages at a time! She was impressed that I’ve seen the Sistine Chapel.)
Michelangelo says: “the promises of this world are phantoms and to have faith in oneself and become something of worth and value is the best and safest course”.
Stu is broadminded – I think Daddy would approve. But he does have fits of anger and bursts of gloom. He’s a Catholic and says we should all get a chance to attend mass! I found the sermon interesting and the hymns beautiful but the Latin is annoying. Andrea and I left early because we had signed up for horseback riding at eleven thirty and when we returned for lunch Stu was furious! Said we were rude! We offered to be waitresses to get back into his good graces. Andrea and I have a room to ourselves in the South Barn. Boys in the North Barn!
The World’s Fair is no Disneyland but it was interesting. Andrea and I pretended to be French! I got an ID bracelet with a big A on it. (I got another for Avril’s birthday.) I love it and I never take it off. Andrea and I saw Peter and Gordon who were performing – all the girls screamed and we screamed right along with them. I hadn’t heard of them before but I like their Willow song. Also the Eggheads and the Esquires. We were separated from the performers by a pool and a lot of kids jumped in! Andrea and I danced instead while 3 men filmed us with movie cameras! The only performer whose autograph we got was Danny Taylor. He was very nice, says he’s been doing this since he was 13.
Mon. Jun 22 - 64
Thinking strange powerful thoughts. I guess it is another mood coming. How can I think of Bookie and death in the same thought? Probably because I feel bad about Mark. I didn’t say the things he wanted and I didn’t want him to say the things I thought I wanted! Bookie is outgoing and clever but less scary somehow. Do I like being the one who cares more? I don’t think I want to be in this boat alone! I hate myself for complicating my life!
Now, meeting so many new people I am having to worry whether people like me. Andrea called me “ugly” several times yesterday. She was trying to hit a tender spot but I think she was really feeling the opposite! So there goes that relationship!
I would rather not be hideous.
Dark Flower coming along pretty well.
Mystic Seaport, CT – Tues June 23 – 64
Awful night! Laura stole my diary and read it! Made me so mad! And that’s not all. We were sitting around the camp fire singing songs and I saw Laura and Andrea planning something in the woods. Said they are sneaking out to meet four boys and did I want to come! I was all for it! Laura, Chris, Andrea and that awful Julie who keeps tagging along.
Unfortunately the minute I saw the boys I wanted to leave! They looked like hoods to me, but I couldn’t talk anyone else into leaving. Andrea started making out with a complete stranger immediately! I talked to an ugly lug named Ralph, but when I told him about Bookie he kept his hands off. Then who should appear but Stu! He knew all about it!
I told him nothing happened and he was very sweet. Said he gives me credit for a lot of common sense, says I am one of “the most intelligent fourteen year olds he’s ever met! Others not so much. This AM when I woke up my eyelids were swollen: gnats bit them almost shut!
Really liked Mystic Seaport. We toured the beautifully restored ships. Here’s a picture of the Charles Morgan. Bought ships-in-a-bottle for all family members and sent postcards to everyone.
Stu staged another of his “movies”. I was a barmaid!
Mass & N. H – Fr. Jun 26 – 64
Having a ball! We are in Hanover NH at Dartmouth College. What a pity its not co-ed or I would go there. We went to Boston and rode the MTA – saw a lot of Harvard! Met Stu’s girlfriend who is a waitress at an ice cream store! They just stare at each other adoringly. Luckily she gave us free ice cream because now I have exactly seven cents to my name. Writing home desperately for money. I owe Vicky 5¢, Sally 10¢ and Chris 5¢.
Stu goes to Dartmouth and he was eager to show it off. Not having seen boys for DAYS Andrea and I were principally interested in finding one or two or FOUR THOUSAND.
It didn’t take long! The few girls we’ve seen are nothing much so the Trailblazers bus is getting a lot of attention! At Hopkins Hall we picked up seven eligible males, all of them cute who promised to visit our campsite and say hi. Stu is not too sure about this. A particularly cute boy named Tom Morris said, “We can’t help it if we sleepwalk, can we?”
I was Head Cook that night and while stirring the ravioli was not too surprised to see the bushes rustling. When we sat down to eat they jumped out to say hi! Stu made them go away. They kept loitering around making it hard to go to the bathroom.
When I climbed into my sleeping bag Morris scared me to death jumping out from behind a tree! We talked for hours, promising to write each other. We have a lot in common (He is 5’11’!) but I don’t see how we can be more than friends.
Percé on the Gaspé – June 28 – 64
I seem to be in an awfully good mood right now! Probably because we’re on the move, singing our latest camp song to the tune of 500 Miles, “If you miss the bus we’re on, You will know where we have gone
You will see the garçons trailing on behind…”
Who would guess an all-girl trip would be so much fun!
Poor Alain! He is a French boy from Montreal that I met here. He is cool. MARK, BOOKIE, MORRIS and now ALAIN. I’ve “got” them except I haven’t got any of them! It’s either sheer starvation or crowd control? You can see I really do have problems! The question is: which of them do I want? The $64,000 question!
A great summer is ahead! I’m excited – home life’s been getting pretty tough. Can’t say whether that’s my fault or not. I have many ideas on the subject – you will probably be forced to hear them later. Mom tells me I am too independent; that I am constantly trying to be an island unto myself.
Camp Stark is a YMCA camp. They call it Camp Tarantula because of the Amenities (more like Eumenides. Greek.) This camp attempts to Instill Christian Character. I don’t know how much Christian Character I already have – it all seems to be ebbing away. At the end of the summer I may have even less. But it sounds like a lovely place to go. Shastain, MI meets my requirement of Not Being In Ohio. We heard about it through the Imries. My mouth started to water when I heard at Horsemanship Division you work with your own horse! Do you impart Christian Character to them or do they impart Horse Character to you? I can but wonder; unfortunately I first have to go through Freshman Division. I was on the waiting list – it was only a week ago that I was told I was in if want an all-girl Trailblazer trip back East! !! My friend Andrea is going, too! She is fun but thinks boys were made to be taken advantage of. Her trip to camp is not for a good reason – her two brothers were killed in a motorcycle accident (drunk driver.) Now it’s just her and her parents and apparently they need to be alone.
What with buying and packing and marking my days are just filled up!!!
Thurs. Jun 11 – 64
I knew sooner or later I’d have to acquaint you with family problems. Poor diary. My reputation around here is Slovenly Loaf who has never done a day’s work in her life. Most of the time I creep around the walls trying not to be seen but yesterday I swept the porch and washed twenty-eight screens – I call that hard work for a summer day when all my friends are at the pool. But I don’t get any thanks, it’s all “Poor you.” So why try? Today I’m supposed to clean the house! I hope they don’t come in here to check on me!
Maybe mother can’t understand me but I understand her. And I forgive her. I will permit myself only to see the kindness that is there. Remind me to read this when I become angry and tearful. Daddy’s in the hospital with an infected kidney but it’s not serious.
John Bookover invited me to the dance tonight! I don’t know why since he thinks Mary Ann Murphy likes him (she denies it.) It certainly is great to be a girl! The town dances are at the Fisher Food Pkg Lot! “Dancing in the Streets” blasts from a truck and all the teenagers come! I’m finding Mark a lot easier to forget than I thought. John is very skinny but he is willing to dance fast which is rare. All the boys want to dance as slow as possibly. A dance would look like a wake if it was up to them.
Sun. Jun 14 - 64
Bookie (everyone calls John Bookie) invited me & Andrea out at night to join him & Chase. Andrea and I wore jeans and our father’s white shirts. Andrea told Genevieve which I knew was a mistake (she is very righteous) and we only got as far as the garage. “Tell your friends goodnight” said Mom through her teeth. Alysse the juvenile delinquent! Oh well! I don’t like foursies anyway. (Double dates.) Date to play tennis instead. Bookie definitely doesn’t care for me as much as I care for him.
Thurs. Jun 18 – 64
You have to forgive my writing – it’s hard to write on a jiggling bus! I snuck out one more time before I left. Andrea and Chase threw candy at my window – Bookie was easier to rouse because he sleeps on his porch. Andrea’s parents were already gone so she opened their liquor cabinet and Chase got drunk. (He is a problem. He steals things from cars. I think this is why he was kicked out of Eastern. ) Bookie and I didn’t have anything – we just wanted to slow dance. We kissed! He promised he will write! Andrea and Chase were making out like mad but Bookie walked me home. 4:30 AM!
Up at quarter to seven – too late to have breakfast – off to Toledo! We are getting to know everyone on the Trailblazers bus. I am working on a Trailblazers song to the tune of “Oh It Was Sad When the Great Ship Went Down”.
Stu & Shavonne are the leaders. They are nice – especially Stu. He wanted a few kids who could speak French and Andrea volunteered me! Let’s hope I can understand enough to manage.
I slept all morning; we stopped at 1 to each lunch (tinned food) in a motel parking lot. Maybe I can lose some poundage. Looked at a map and selected a park to stay in, (Gettysburg) in Pennsylvania. We slept in sleeping bags on the ground! It was hard as cement. I slept in my cute pink nightshirt. Walking around the park all day looking at monuments. Every now and then you get a whiff of history. Names like “Valley of Death” and “Bloody Run.” Stu posed us dying over a fence for a picture!
Left Gettysburg driving too fast, the trailer broke free and we had to go to town to get a part. We need to travel tonight to get to the World’s Fair on Saturday.
Fri Jun 19 – 64
I’ve decided to work on a third person account of my life. (Everybody wonders why I am writing all the time.) Look at myself from the outside in. Obviously I have to change all the names – for me, chose the name Melantha Clenn. The title is “Dark Flower” which is what Melantha means. Whew! That was enough work for one day! My poor brain is exhausted!
Last night we reached Valley Forge very late and decided to sleep there. There was nowhere to camp but thought it would not be too much to sleep by the side of the road. We no sooner had out sleeping bags out then up comes a fuzz car! (Stu referred to him later as Officer Remedial.) No amount of pleading would work; he ordered us to “follow” him. I guess he thought he was on Dragnet or something. We weren’t even told where we were going! Straight to the Valley Forge Police Station! Shavonne and Stu were led inside and the rest of us just sat there arguing about whether our camp counselors would be arrested for contributing to the delinquency of minors!
But when they came out they said we would be allowed to sleep on some rocks behind the fire station!
I do miss Bookie but for some reason think mostly of Mark! I’ll send him a postcard from Gettysburg: North Carolina memorial is a good one.
Sun Jun 21 – 64 – YMCA Camp in Poughkeepsie, New York
Can’t believe we’ve been on this trip four days only! For such a motley crew of sixteen girls and two counselors we are very compatible. Two of the girls are childish which I actually don’t like.
Shavonne is a sweet person. She is plain though with a very bad figure. She is certainly not distracting Stu from thinking about his girlfriend who he says we will all meet! Shavonne is reading The Agony and the Ecstasy, says its very good and will lend it to me when she’s finished. (It’s a big fat book and she seems to read only 4 pages at a time! She was impressed that I’ve seen the Sistine Chapel.)
Michelangelo says: “the promises of this world are phantoms and to have faith in oneself and become something of worth and value is the best and safest course”.
Stu is broadminded – I think Daddy would approve. But he does have fits of anger and bursts of gloom. He’s a Catholic and says we should all get a chance to attend mass! I found the sermon interesting and the hymns beautiful but the Latin is annoying. Andrea and I left early because we had signed up for horseback riding at eleven thirty and when we returned for lunch Stu was furious! Said we were rude! We offered to be waitresses to get back into his good graces. Andrea and I have a room to ourselves in the South Barn. Boys in the North Barn!
The World’s Fair is no Disneyland but it was interesting. Andrea and I pretended to be French! I got an ID bracelet with a big A on it. (I got another for Avril’s birthday.) I love it and I never take it off. Andrea and I saw Peter and Gordon who were performing – all the girls screamed and we screamed right along with them. I hadn’t heard of them before but I like their Willow song. Also the Eggheads and the Esquires. We were separated from the performers by a pool and a lot of kids jumped in! Andrea and I danced instead while 3 men filmed us with movie cameras! The only performer whose autograph we got was Danny Taylor. He was very nice, says he’s been doing this since he was 13.
Ferry Sat 26 Aug 78
Made the ferry with nine cars to spare.
Plush Palace Thurs 31 Aug 78
Three sets down. Tonight I’m asking Eddy for only
three days – it’s hard to be constantly here – like living in a soap opera. No writing – been sending out query letters. Rod called – had the nerve to lecture me on publishing, “If you want to play in their league, you have to wear their uniform.” Deeply annoying – makes me want to bite him. I refuse to wear anyone’s “uniform”. Back to the unspeakable Constance Heaven book that is the only thing I brought.
Thurs 8:30 PM 7 Sept 78
Day spent in the mundane, pricing wicker at Pier 1 with
Avril. Lots I wanted but can’t afford. Bought mugs and plant.
7:47 PM Plush Palace – Sat 9 Sept 78 Dinner with Rod. He is handsome, rational, helpful, kind and forgiving. Unfortunately, he’s also some unknown Third Sex, a complete zygote. If he’s gay he’ll be the last to know. After three glasses of wine I found the nerve to say he must have noticed we have no sex life. He talked sententiously about how we’re both cautious, both been burned before, give it time, etc – it sounded good, but I knew it wasn’t true. Something’s wrong with him. The last months of his marriage he slept sexlessly in same bed with his wife – at the very end her boyfriend even joined them! (Nobody did anything.) Strange and unhealthy.
We went to watch his friend, Zachary play guitar in a coffee- house at Tyson’s Corners. Now there’s a guy with a noticeably sparking electrical overload. I was turned on to him and he was turned on to me but of course nobody did anything.
Rod was absolutely serene, probably didn’t even notice. But would he even mind? I can’t mention it because Zachary is basically a sewer rat. It is not a sign of emotional health to even consider counting coup with this guy. Pity Rod’s so perfect. Waitresses gaze at us adoringly. Mom and Dad would love him. Wakened this AM by postman thumping on door with package – turned out to be twenty copies of Flatiron with my Resurrectionist poem spread – I’m going to send every one of them out. Makes such a perfect gift and peace offering I may order 20 more. Reading Nathanel West’s horrific Miss Lonelyhearts.
Plush Palace 6:10 PM Wed 13 Sept 78
Mon Avril and I went to the play Mrs. Cheyney – it was
excellent – then to the Apple Tree after to dance but the volume of turkeys pitched up way too high. We made a wonderful evening anyway – picked up effortlessly right where we left off – complete with psychic communication like imperfectly sundered Siamese twins. Then off to Rod’s in my black satin suit – he had a bottle of champagne to celebrate Farrar, Straus & Giroux wanting to see my novel (I know better than to celebrate a thing like that.)
2:25 PM Thurs 14 Sept 78
Wonderful letter from Devon affirming and reaffirming
his love. Very healing. Asked to keep the photo I sent him of us when I was seventeen. Described me as “majestic, mature.” Ooooo. Reading Gore Vidal’s Edgar Box stories.
Difficult letter from Mom. She doesn’t seem to realize she can’t “win”. Her will cannot prevail. If she keeps insisting we will only become more alienated. Good diet day – eggs, grapefruit, almonds. No booze. Lots of water.
Powder Mill Road 20 Sept 78 2:00 PM
Avril and I met for drinks and steaks, then to White Flint Mall
to see Rituals. Hal Holbrook surprisingly good. Trying to read The World of Somerset Maugham in bed – fell asleep at 11 – didn’t wake till nine! Finished letter to Genevieve answering hers in which she lectured me on wearing “tight pants”.
Groomed dogs, dishes, vacuuming. Sent Flatiron around – wrote letter to D. Re-read Mimsey. I think it’s a little gem but can’t be pried out of its’ setting without destruction. Maybe I should send it around anyway, even though it’s so short. Also found old MS of Secrets – not bad. But the real eye opener was my writing teacher’s horrible editing – suggested I change “opaque” to “grey green” – “pressed her eye against the window” instead of “applied her eye”, which is what I had. Ugh and shiver. Counted up bills. Tight. I hate hand-to-mouthing. So will sell stock. Zachary told Rod he is attracted to me. I don’t know where that will go – it surprised me. He is ballsy. See them both at tonight’s party.
Tues 26 Sept 78
Strange party. Lots of people. Zachary was there,
visibly lusting. Rod seemed perfectly comfortable about Zachary and me. He is the weirdest ever. Repressed gay? Asexual? Pod person? Put his arms around us both. Z very effusive – he is “onstage” all the time. I stopped myself from saying, “Show everybody your appendectomy scar.” Let him reveal himself. What do I care? He produced dope but no one got high. Rod told me I should allow Z to satisfy me – use upstairs bedroom. (Probably wired for sound.) I was not happy with that – made him follow me home instead. Good sex, but he hung around till 1. It’s true he made me breakfast – a delicious omelet. But it’s always a mistake to bring them home. When Rod called, Z was still here. That was uncomfortable for me – Rod said relax about it. Stock at 16 so really can’t sell. Told Marc to watch it for a week but I will be needing the money. Must unplug phone and work.
Quarter to 7 – Worked on childhood stuff till tension got too much. Plugged phone back in, dinner, read NY Review of Books. Exercised dogs. Went to library – got bio Hart Crane – a nice big one – bought huge desk calendar for planning.
Plush Palace 27 Sept Wed 78 Sitting in dressing room all suited up, breasts taped up into vertical position – might as well scribble. Good diet – yogurt, plums, apples, eggs, tuna. Wrote. Scared I’ll arrive at p. 100 and be “finished” – pushed thought away. Avril called upset – el Diablo died and she missed an exam. I went to pick her up. She has date tonight with Mystery Man. I am reading about Hart Crane’s relationship with his parents. Too familiar for comfort. 11:45 PM Interesting night. My lighter schedule helps me have more fun with the other dancers – I don’t feel so invaded by them. Avril phoned about date. Fifty-fifty, she rated it. That’s not very good. Letter from Devon inviting me up for Oct. I was amazed – made reservations for Concord Inn. Went to see Claudia Weill’s Girlfriends with A. We liked it – seemed extra poignant since Opal had to “drop” us rapacious females on her remarriage.
Then to Warehouse to hear Z sing. Surprise – he was tense to see me! His throat closed up. Finally sheer professionalism carried him through – everyone seemed impressed. He never looked straight at me but I could tell he was watching me out of the corner of his eye – he flinched at my slightest movement. Flattering? Or scary? I don’t know. I’m trying to feel flattered – why assume responsibility for everything? Shoulders and Peter P showed up with girlfriends – hello – big surprise – all exchange new phone numbers. Everyone friendly. Avril charmed by Shoulders all over again – said she didn’t think that girlfriend looked serious.
Z descended from stage – I could tell he was having a battle – should he be “aloof” like a “real performer” or effusive with me? My unwillingness to seem needy saved us both – I was cool. He asked privately if he could “stop by” I said yes. Could have kicked myself later. Shadonna called – asked me to do a double. I forced myself to say no.
Fri Oct 6 – 1:35 PM
Who should come into the club but Rick Marl – he
said he had just seen Ryder and Ryder told him things between us were “still the same”!!! I haven’t spoken to R in weeks! Told Rick that. Rick then showed a desire to “move in” on me – I didn’t squash it. Told him “call me.” Starting to think the time for “instant honesty” in relationships is passed. It’s way too dangerous. Make them earn the right for a tour of my insides. A and I saw Steve Martin last night at College Park. He skewers the Ryders of this world pretty brilliantly I thought. Specially loved the skit where he feels “responsible” for his girlfriend’s death. He shot her when she became annoying.
Fight with Zachary over sex – he thinks – I “take too long to satisfy.” I was so annoyed I left at 3 in the morning to go to A’s place. When I came back he was gone – left a note – “in your absence your odds improve” in his odd little precise architect’s handwriting. Bastard. He obviously doesn’t mean my odds of being satisfied. He thinks he’s such hot stuff. He’s performing at The Mistral this weekend.
10:35 PM Tues night 10 Oct 78
Stock sold. There’s six months rent. Or I could go to
England (I don’t give up easily.) Instead I do a little fun winterizing – new electric blanket and bathroom rug. I’m enmeshed in an ego problem with Zachary – this is the “hedonism” Dad is always worried about. I only want to see him once a week for sex but my ego demands he fall in love with me. He has invited me Home to Meet the Parents so perhaps I’ve succeeded. Very handsome unkempt hunk at the club invited me to see him race his motorcycle in Fredericksburg. This is a tempting piece of Americana I don’t think I can refuse. He’s just a gorgeous mud puppy.
Spent $17 at the post office sending copies of To Drown In Air around. Seemed like a lot to me. It’s not just men I’m jumping between. Reading both Russell Kirk’s unctuous book on Eliot and Ross MacDonald. Much prefer the latter: I’ll return to him now.
Sat 4 PM 14 Oct 78
How did I get myself into a situation with men calling all
the time? It is supposed to be a girl’s fondest dream – in fact it is hell. I am unplugging the phone for long stretches and not telling them either or they might be tempted to come over. As Zachary did yesterday – we ended up sixty-nining on sofa – I admit it was his best sex yet.
Mon 11 PM 16 Oct 78
Avril and I drove to Fredericksburg for the unkempt
hunk’s race – gorgeous weather – spectators everywhere and I had a hard time finding a place to park – then a guy in a blue and yellow racing outfit and helmet appeared and banged on the hood of my car. I thought it was someone telling me I couldn’t park there but it was Buck and I hadn’t recognized him. So handsome!
The race was just about to start – he had a party of five or six people to cheer him on. I didn’t quite get the names – we had to rush out onto the course. Buck got a good start but his bike went wrong twice – once he did a spectacular flip and it came down right on top of him. Brady, his friend, said, “that happens all the time.” Buck was unhurt but had to leave the race. He seemed relaxed about failure – opened a cooler – gave us all roast beef sandwiches he had made himself and beer. (I hate beer.) was busily finding out that Brady’s “unattached”. He’s a big shy handsome lunk too. Buck put his arms around me and gave me a big hug – told me now I have to come watch a better race. Ah, the fantasy – the mystery of Buck – who is he and what is he – taking fire in me. Big, strong, unthreatened, unthreatening male, bursting with muscles and apparently emotionally undamaged by life. Why not horses, farm, children with such a one as this? Could I get so lucky?
I cooked dinner for Avril – liver, onions, mushrooms, rice. Plenty of bourbon. Still need to go to bed early. Colored and conditioned my hair and wrote letters.
Powder Mill Road Wed – 18 Oct 78
No poetry - Too much going on – I’m longing for my
hermit days. I think: I ought to be able to date. I ought to be able to have a little sex, a little love, a little affection – but what a can of worms! Instantly it spins out of control! I thought Buck might show up at the club – and indeed he did – after obviously making a special effort with his appearance. Tight leather jacket, blond hair all puffed out, face glowing. It was just like a date – only with me dancing onstage. He stayed 2 and 1/2 hrs – I gave him my standard lecture about not wasting his life hanging out there – come in say hi and leave. One beer. Before I finished he said, What are you doing Fri night? I said, “going out with you.” When I got home Rick called – spying for Ryder I have no doubt. But I had to tell him I am booked solid through the 30th. Truth to God.
Powder Mill Rd Thurs 19 Oct 78
Still balancing thank God. Had lunch with dancer
Yvonne – she said she still wakes up having screaming nightmares about Warren (he was killed in a car accident. Faced smashed in by a coke bottle he was drinking at the time. He bled to death.) At least I don’t have those worries. I sleep like a baby. Worked on costumes. Waiting for Avril to go with me to Interiors. Reread my stuff. Think there’s a great deal to be said for the short, short novel. Maybe encapsulate them into short stories? But no money there. I remain unappreciated because of refusal to hook up with some “movement”. Drown rejected. Started dividing the novel into geographical locations – Hooks Lane, Paradise Road. Would make good short stories. 11:30 PM Awful, awful night. Dancing badly, shoes broke. Rushed out and bought another pair in my break. Pasties fell off – carpet tape of inferior quality or possibly I sweat too much.
12:15 PM Oct 23
Sitting by phone feeling illogical joy. Wonderful date
with Buck – restaurant with lots of wood and Tiffany lamps – just a pleasant, free-flowing conversation. No sex at the end – hug and kiss in doorway. “May I call you?’ I told him yes – invited him to be my date Nov 5 at Shadonna’s wedding. He said he would.
Fri 27 Oct 78
Concord, Mass – the grave of Nathan Bond.
Seems a good place to write – sitting on a gravestone in the sunlight. So, what was last night like? I arrive to the theology college and another student goes up to get Devon – I overhear him say “There’s a very good looking girl here to see you and I mean very good looking.” He came down looking so different with a new silky beard – exclaimed over and over again about my gorgeousness. We went up to his room and were making out on his narrow plank of a bed when the radio played Ambrosia – How much I Feel. Too much for me! Started to cry and lost a lens!
Now Devon thinks I’m a psycho – which I am. Luckily (for him) and sadly for me psychos are his specialty. Wish he wasn’t so unctuous about it. When he attacked me with those eyes I had to get myself a drink – broke out in shivers and hives – thought I was must black out. He was talking in general ways about what he wants out of life – he seems to be expressing fear he can’t find someone better than me. I did my best to get him back to specifics – even saying a woman can’t propose to a man (Well she could, but if she proposed to this man she’s never hold him.)
Obviously, he loves me. That question answered. But there are more. But as much as I deserve? Seems like not. He’s incapable of making the kind of statement I need him to make. He wants to get a clinical psychology degree and he hinted that I wouldn’t be such a disaster as wife to a psychologist. (Flattering?)
I told him he has a fear of “emotional success” and he agreed. He astonished me by making passionate love to me – I didn’t have to do a thing (other than wear my short pink gauze peasant blouse and the denim gauchos that show my bellybutton) – he couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough. Very satisfying – wasn’t an inch of my body he didn’t kiss – including my heels. I told him my heels had never been kissed before – so he kissed them again – also sought out all the other unkissed places. I do feel satisfied for at least a century. We went out to a Greek restaurant for dinner, then to see The Deer Hunter. Powerful movie. Crazy, just like life. Christopher Walken lovely.
Drove to Concord in pouring rain. Inn is no Night at the Plaza – more like Early Hardy Boys. Read Violet Clay before falling asleep. Dinner tonight with my cousin Tory – pumping him about Hill School experiences to use in Paradise Road. Buy some wine for tonight and celebrate my own existence.
G’s place – NYC – Central Park West – 30 Oct 78
Why do I do this to myself – visit Genevieve?
I just realized the mirror in her hall is a fat mirror. I did eat a lot of junk food on this trip but I don’t believe I look this bad. On top of that, Genevieve’s life is a fat mirror to my life – that’s the truth. We just saw Chabrol’s Violette – we both have a pash for him – but agreed this is not his best – plus the only Chabrol we know of with absolutely no romantic elements. It’s probably something I will end up thinking about a lot – and rewriting in my head – so maybe it’s Ok after all. Wrote a poem for Devon – Practice Cuts.
Practice Cuts
The dead gush cruelly after dying; High time to change & Get religion Have yogic visions See god or be a nun That would be a self worth knowing. Time is gunning for me I can feel arthritic fingers Scrabbling at my dreams Playing the old tunes but scratchier, less sensitive. I’m a body in search of a car wreck A crime scene consubstantial; The old deus ex machina Disaster; Blood is so good At erasing uncertainty Bringing back A taste for life. Reduce me, silence To the essential bones Of my non essential self Fortify some other ego Mine is tired; Peel from my eyes the thickened skin of grief Unstop my ears from the dust of My own consequence Free my feet from the sharpened judging splinters For life passes from my like a fever in which I cry out and cry out and yet No sound is made Time to head on out Like the tide & Cauterize the woof-warp of a pattern So plain that even I can see it. Teach me not to envy The gulls their mirrored flight unmeasured like my own Reduce me to unbending bones of my Essential self the dark sister; she The soul I was before I became me.
Can’t turn it into a presentable poem – however,
it did make me feel better writing it. I guess I don’t like being Devon’s flirtation with damnation. Writing really is the best revenge.
Plush Palace – Thurs 2 Nov 78 8:30 PM
GiGi’s last night onstage. She is very down. Charlie
is making her quit because “no wife of mine blah-blah-blah.” Eddy says she’ll be back: can’t find these perks in any other job. I am dancing well. Apparently, no one but me realizes how fat I’ve gotten.
Both a good and a bad day today. Worked hard on Gift and Drown – sending out query letters – took pkgs to post office only to be told a MS has to be bound to go mss rate. I made them look it up in the manual so I won’t have to go through this again.
They treated me like this must be personal – I’m trying to “catch” them in mistakes – forgetting I’m the customer entitled to service who doesn’t want to pay extra for no reason at all. And the book spells out what services I get – in case they forget. Apology letter from Tory: his girlfriend “out of line” to be so jealous during our paella dinner. She did seem strange but since she’s an artist I didn’t question. I respond with a short note saying I think my questions were just too personal for her ears so I really cannot blame her. Reading Edmund Wilson’s life like watching a slow- motion car wreck – horrible man.
3PM Sat 4 Nov 78
Trouble bouncing back from the most recent
rejection of Gift. Wouldn’t be so bad if I felt they actually read it. My agent compares me to Mallarmé – trouble is, no one likes Mallarmé. My bank has charged me $24 for being $1.70 short on a check. They did the same thing to Avril – since she has a $6,000 savings account, she figures she’s paying them to lend out her money at 18% interest. And whoever you talk to turns out to be a computer. Buck and I are having a very interesting relationship. I can hardly believe it’s happening. There’s no bickering over unmet needs – it’s very restful. Sex could be a potentially explosive problem area – can’t tell yet – so far so good – I think he’s a learner claiming a lot more experience than he’s got. There are definitely problems associated with having sex with a person who is obsessed with speed.
My period started today and it seems cruel to task a beginner with this issue. At least Buck goes down nobly like Jacques Cousteau. But he’s not much of a talker. The most amusing aspect is how we’ve settled down socially – we have a lot of fun around other people. I am contemplating writing a story called The Official Girlfriend which will treat this from a sociological perspective. Tomorrow we are meeting his parents at a restaurant – I hope its dark in there because they are bound to think I am too old for him. Naturally we are keeping my job a deep dark secret – I have to be a “hostess” which really blows. A week from tomorrow he has another race – we’ll take a picnic. I love these outings.
Plus Avril’s really getting along with Buck’s buddy Brady – definite prospects of a dating foursome. Unfortunately, Brady left his wife like two minutes ago and is not what you’d call “fully detached” as yet. Fortunately: no kids.
Sun 11:15 PM Buck amazed me by confessing that every time before he sees me he is “sick to his stomach” with worry that he won’t come up to my expectations. I am a “high status date” and all his friends are waiting for him to stumble. But then when we’re together he says he just relaxes and we have a great time. I was really touched by this. It is nice that in the car mechanic’s world dating an exotic dancer is high status. I prefer that to being the Shameful Secret which I assume I was in Rod’s world.
Next week I’m supposedly seeing Zachary twice – haven’t told Buck – why am I doing this? Insurance? I think I don’t like Zachary. Am I competitive – is it just thrilling to see him come off the stage and touch me intimately? (Everyone’s jealous – the men as much as the women. Rod wants Zachary more than he wants me I think.) But actually I don’t like Zachary. The trouble with canceling is then it would be just Buck and me. Me and Buck. Going steady.
12:30 PM Mon 6 Nov 78
Bizarrely warm day. Had a wonderful time yesterday
at Shadonna’s wedding. Buck wore a marvelous blue suit with blue suede patches. It was indescribable – sort of like country singer performance-wear, and with his wispy moustaches and his motorcycle boots I’m telling you he was a sight to behold. I wore my “slit to there” diamanté rainbow dress and we danced for hours. Nobody paid us any attention. We didn’t stand out at all, that’s what I’m telling you.
Plush Palace – Tues – 9:35 PM 7 Nov 78
Avril said to me this afternoon, “My life is completely
out of control and I don’t care.” She has to drive Brady to his in-laws to pick up his clothes today because his wife took the car. There’s bound to be a glorious, satisfying, soap opera scene with a lot of screaming and object throwing – just like there was the time she helped him extract his clothes from his wife’s apartment. On top of this Brady is apparently extremely jealous – in spite of the fact that he’s technically married and she isn’t. She is seriously thinking of inviting him to Thanksgiving because he won’t believe that she’s not secretly meeting a beau – or six! However, he showers her with love, attention and sexual worship so she says it’s worth every minute of it.
Went out last night with Zachary – we had a sandwich and drink at Booeymonger’s and saw Animal House. He was driving his mother’s car. He is assembling a band called Prairie Dust and he’s in some kind of power struggle with the lead singer who is female. He needs to be the prettiest person in any band. He says Rod – playing Daddy Big Bucks – foisted her on him. Because Rod works in radio and is paying for the tape mix he has Zachary right where he wants him. (She is a fantastic singer.) Rod might just find his mojo after all. Following the movie, I finally met the parents – now that there’s no point in it. Got along like a house on fire with his Dad because I knew all the obscure Giraudoux plays he had framed posters of on his wall. I quoted: “And the sewers will be fragrant with jasmine…” which was my line in Madwoman of Chaillot. I could tell I was a considerable cut above the street people and space chicks Zachary usually drags home.
They must be worried as hell that he’s gay – his room is full of what can only be described as pinup pictures of himself. Little do they know it’s worse than that – he’s into anything that would be into him. Bestiality would be frankly appraised on its merits. “Is it a good looking chicken?”) House full of unbelievably beautiful, unbelievably uncomfortable furniture – striped satin Empire sofas – stained glass windows – wrought iron candelabras – that sort of thing. His mother very wary – fiercely Catholic – thin with a long blonde pony-tail and a long horsey face – but actually quite intelligent and attractive.
Zachary’s room is full of crosses and Gonzaga pennants – I should have realized this boy has all the earmarks of being terminally mauled by priests. Parents frantic: when will he get a “real” job. College was such an unpleasant experience all shudder when it’s mentioned and no one’s willing to discuss it. I’m betting drugs were involved.
Of course Zachary wanted to have sex in his narrow twin bed – right beneath the picture of “The Holy Father” (he doesn’t even have a lock on the door!) and I have to admit I found the Chabrolesque aspects of the situation arousing. He seemed to lose track of the fact that it was me – but his orgasms were more explosive than ever. So there I am again; “The Official Girlfriend.”
Could I put an ad in the paper – some kind of specialized escort service? “Impress your friends – terrify your parents!” Buck doesn’t know about Zachary and since I don’t care who else Z does he must realize I’ve got a back burner – but the truth of it is that between the two of them they’re barely one boyfriend. One is charming, affectionate, trustworthy and dumb as ditchwater; the other is upper class, complicated, interesting, artistic, totally untrustworthy (and most likely a male whore.) It’s a damn shame it has to get like this. I just don’t know how good at “keeping secrets” I can be. Need to go home and get some sleep. If have to get down to Funkytown one more time tonight I won’t be answerable for the consequences.
10:45 AM Sat 29 May 78
Woke up this morning muttering about betrayal and
failure. Seems my life separates into two phases: pre and post ex-husband Bruce. Pre-Bruce I was such an innocent – I think “goober” is the descriptive expression. Schools should not let these pathetic characters out – but we were so eager to roam free. There is no savagery to which people will not descend to protect their egos. On top of all this, we have to battle M & D who, of all people, SHOULD be in our corner. They’re pissed we’re not more successfully infantilized. Determine NOT to do this to my kids. Reading Hodgson’s Carnacki The Ghost Hunter (1900) heartbreakingly dull. And it could have been so good – a combination of Gerard Manley Hopkins and Sherlock Holmes is just what the doctor ordered.
3 PM Tues 30 May 78
Struggled through 2 bad pages on Demon that will
have to be rewritten, then finished Sylvia Townsend Warner’s tragic At the Stroke of Midnight. This beautiful short story almost finished me. Yesterday Italian food made me & Avril logy – we tried going dancing. Horrible place, bad band. (Tramps). Predatory males (who spoke bad English) very difficult to get rid of. Saw Greek Tycoon instead – worse even than we’d been led to believe. Came home and read two bad detective stories by “good” writers. Guilt-inducing cash from M & D – makes me feel inadequate but I need it. Means I can buy new vac clnr AND summer dresses. Call Peter like a dutiful child – this whole affair is tinged with doom. Thank God he is “busy” with his Secret Married Woman (who turns out to Someone Big in the Democratic Committee)! His parents and my parents should just date each other. Dogs need walking and I need to check on vandalism at abandoned house.
2 PM Sat June 2 – 78
Trouble opening latest letter from Devon – I had
the weirdest premonition it would a marriage proposal! It was indeed very loving – he has hit a summit of boredom and restlessness for which I am doubtless not the cure. Praised my novel for its “mystical sense of altered consciousness.” Wow. I like that better than “brilliant satire”. A & I went to Dillards concert at Cellar Door – they are so charming. Reminiscences of seeing Bruce play there. First act was Scarlet Ribera and Black Rose Band – liked her even better. Some attractive men, but casual sex seems to raise more problems than it solves. A & I agree that after the “healing” comes the “strengthening” period. Coltsville Community College asks me to teach seminar on gothic novel – of course I said yes. Poor misbegotten bastards. But at least I like watching the birds stuffing themselves at my feeder.
Plush Palace Mon 5 June 78
Perfect day – interesting stirrings inside – feel I am on
the edge of some sort of breakthrough. Yesterday fresh sweet corn and turkey salad at A’s, then we watched B Stanwyck’s Double Indemnity on TV. Classic Chandler. “Aren’t you going 75 in a 30 mph zone?” After that I dressed up in my satin 3-piece suit to see Helmut Berger at the Kennedy Center. (Sigh). What a honey that man is. Then sent Bruce a letter with the Unwelcome News that I am “estopped” from filing for divorce in the state of Maryland because he made me sign a “no contest” paper and then dropped his suit! Paralysis!
I know he was hoping to get out of this without paying (his last girlfriend proffered enough cash to get us this far then predictably abandoned him as soon as his True Colors became apparent.) Maybe I can establish residence in Virginia and start all over again. Had an eye appt in Bethesda so went to that library where I’ve never been and got a TON of interesting books. Treasuring Patricia Beers’ Reader, I Married Him.
Plush Palace Mon 12 June 78 – 7:00 PM
Horrible experience last night at the Garland Dinner
Theatre – we were seated with some couple where the male was obviously severely mentally ill –she fed him 1,000 pills throughout dinner to keep him from exploding. We could have “complained” and demanded to be seated elsewhere but it just seemed so cruel. Avril & I used every bit of our mother’s otherwise completely pernicious training and tried to act as if nothing was happening.
I’m trying to muster up the discipline to unplug my phone till six – I’m getting too involved in A’s job hunt. She told me to Butt Out. She’s right – I should just write. What the hell am I thinking being somebody’s “mother”? We have too much of a mother already – for both of us. Martin Green’s Children of the Sun a survey rather than the illumination I’d hoped for. Now I need a real Brian Howard bio.
Fri – Day One – 16 June 78
Phone awoke me at one am – no one there. Got back
to sleep by sketching out plot for novel where woman hires P I to find out who on list of names has been sending hang-up calls. Major Names of a Lifetime. Yesterday excellent day – haven’t known such joy since April. Sunbathing reading Ada Leverson & Her Circle – delicious. (Unfortunately she was a bit of an idiot.) Cleaned entire house yesterday so when I got back from dancing it was immaculate. (The dogs – who had been outside in the yard – messed it up again immediately.) Read Jane Rule’s excellent Lesbian Images at work. She’s dumb about Colette and Bowen but I agree with her that loneliness and bad experiences are the enemy, not homosexuality. But I don’t think I’m up for a lesbian experience – women too emotionally demanding. They do too much work (men do too little). Hideously unsatisfactory choice – like having to choose between a ton of salt or none. Better to go without. Peter called to say we “ought to get together”.
Seemed very halfhearted to me. Bet he wants to tell his mother he’d made an effort. I doubt we can surmount this fundamental lack of attraction (we both prefer blondes) but Mom thinks just the opposite. Marry people you’re NOT attracted to so you won’t be “swept away” by “hormones” and you can make “reasoned decisions”! Is that pitiable or what? Avril says she’s LYING because EVERYBODY lies about sex. Suggested Mom handed Dad her wet underpants on their very first date. (At the ballet? I don’t see it.) Mom has also said the worse you are at sex the more likely you are to get a proposal. Does this make sense to you? Ryder’s marriage (under these exact principles) lasted 2 yrs and he wanted to be anywhere but home.
Plush Palace – 22 June 78 – 3 PM
Second double this week. I hate them but I need
$80 for typewriter, $300 to pay back A, $100 to quiet the utilities people, $200 Burnside Inn and at least $200 “Mad Money”. You know, in case I go mad. It could happen, especially the way things are going. Need extra cash for Vacation, which I approach as if it were a Sacrament. Secaire gets written NEVER under this regime. Oh well. There’s always poetry.
SYLVIA PLATH: The Festering Weight
I know you deceived me With the bald-headed lady My true kin; My mother renounced Your swollen giblets in my name. See? I bleed tulips. It’s happened twice before; I seed the earth With children, little miracles. I give them their inheritance – a Carriage full of baby dung Flung Down the coal hole To remind me of you. Pearly maggots bee–like Suck my lip to Scent the fault that clings to me: Heredity. This enemy’s face shifts cleverly; First male, then jew, then blurred and unfamiliar, genitalia like narcissi. I reserve the right to reject This choiceless life. See? My body’s scarred by Your refusals. The blackbird sings out Blackly.
Yesterday cleaned house, walked dogs, cooked fish
stew. Avril & I read family letters, then went out to see A Different Story. Both liked it enormously.
9:30 AM – 22 Dec 77
Very dissatisfied with my life right now – trying to avoid
making out of sheer boredom some kind of major financial mistake – like buying a house and filling it with furniture. Now that Avril has been accepted as a “permanent student” at U of MD don’t see why we shouldn’t share a berth somewhere. One of our dancers is a student there and she says student housing is very expensive. Why couldn’t I rent out rooms? But then what would happen to the three months of traveling I was promising myself ? Wanted to spend March skiing in the White Mountains. I need something more solid than Romance, that’s for sure. Jervaze cancelled our last date so now I’m freaking. It is vital that he makes the next move but my feminist soul revolts. Four months of celibacy appears to be my limit.
Sitting in the bay window drinking a third cup of coffee and watching a calico cat stalk the yard. Avril and I have been living rather high lately, buying clothes for Christmas. Last night saw the movie Telefon -very exciting but with an unbelievable ending – then watched Baryshnikov’s delightful Nutcracker on TV. Avril says she’s finally starting to forget old What’s His Face.
I’m trying to get her interested in the religious and meditation books that have been such a help to me. She’s not that kind of a reader, alas. No word from R. My latest “daymare” is that he will just show up at the club. Should I talk to Randy? A says Ryder’s asked her about it. I made her promise to say “We don’t think you should have that information” even if he already knows. I try comforting myself with my knowledge of his vanity – he wouldn’t want other men to see Randy throw him out as an “unsuccessful suitor”.
(Angry exes show up at club routinely and aren’t allowed in no matter how they behave or how much money they have. They get On The Bad List.) Let’s hope the sensitivity of his ”face” protects both of us. But he probably would send a stooge – it is just like him – to spy out the land. Fortunately I look good and this classy place has the Shalimar beat so no disgrace. Jervaze and I are trying to keep people at the club from knowing that we date. But it’s impossible to really disguise favorites what with the tripping, drinks, flowers and etc even if we aren’t allowed to sit with the customers. Stooge could probably figure it out. Maybe R would “give up” at the sight of him. Search me.
I’m at the stage with Jervaze where I hunger for some symbol of his caring, that he’s broken through the surface status and glamour of “dating a dancer” and has some deeper regard for me as a unique human being. He buys copies of my book whenever he finds them, but of course that’s status and glamour too, even though it’s just a paperback. I have forbidden him to tell anyone at the club about my book – he finds that a little weird, but I don’t see how being “a dancing author” could do me any good. The thing I most love about this job is that you don’t have to talk. Gave him a book of my poems for his birthday:
a declaration of erotic war.
23 Dec 77 12:15PM So in love I’m crazed. I’m at that stage where you can’t honestly tell if the other person is even interested, you’re in such a delirium. Jealousy of all the other dancers because he looks at them. Jervaze says he liked my poems, his favorite being Nocturne.
NOCTURNE
Reveal
Yourself to me
To my inner palate
An artist’s palette
Moth-winged hands
Fluttering
Crescent thighs surging
Urging
Union undivided
Prickly venus flytrap hairs that guard
Your anis scented anus
Fleshy mandibles
Trembling sheaves
Snouting for your smoky-salted dinner
Double-snouted cock stiffening
My mango halves
O I will baste you when its time
Angelspit,
Lovespawn
Dipin my styx of roe your
Musky caviar
Sensate wanderer you
Suck
Ubus –
I dreamed you
Open me.
I thought that might do the trick. I possess wiles
unknown to other babes. He mentioned that his brother’s going back to Alabama so he might be alone for Christmas – I invited him to New York City but I could tell from his expression he’ll never do it. He thinks Virginia is the north – calls the New Jersey Turnpike “undriveable” – a lawless war zone. (If he could hear what we say about the South!)
We exchanged presents – he gave me a bottle of Irish Mist and another one of my books (he keeps buying them for me) and I gave him a very small glamour shot in an antique frame – so he can do anything with it – hide it if he wants. Keep it in his car. He said he liked it but in the bar light he really couldn’t see. The we went to breakfast – had a wonderful conversation about ghosts and WC Fields. He believes in one but not the other. I was hoping he would kiss me – regretted the first time when “rocked out” on beer, he leaned forward to kiss me but I pulled away.
But last night would have been completely unmanageable – under yellowing lights and the stares of strangers (me in my stage makeup) or out in the pouring rain. So we said goodbye, hopped in our cars. We may not see each other for three weeks! I’ve got his address (on his business card) so I can at least send him a card from NY. Got to get up and face the day. Avril back from her final exam in ½ hour – then off to Landover Mall to see Saturday Night Fever.
24 Dec 77 - midnight – Plush Palace
The Big Day. Go home, sleep, wake up, do laundry, take
dogs for shots, buy snow tires. In a haze of infatuation – J was in for 5 hours tonight watching me dance with a sense of unmistakable pride. He asked for my phone number so he could call me on Christmas Day – I gave him all of them.
New York City Dec 25 77 – Fri night. Life is so interesting, Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Lovely intimate family talks – just what family should be doing for perspective on past and future. In two days Avril and I drive out to Michigan to see Merrill – 11 hours – tonight’s dinner in the Village then an early night. Heard of a studio apt on the island – winterized – going for $200/month. Of course I will have enough royalties for that…or won’t I? Harcourt royalty dept uncooperative, editor Lauren very cagey. But won’t the island kill my already comatose sex life? This is the longest time I’ve been away from dancing and I miss it. It’s a great substitute for sex but not a complete one alas. Physical activity vital to my peace of mind.
96th St off the Park- New York City – Dec 77
This apt is triggering horrible flashbacks to how sick I was at the beginning of last summer. Scary that a man could do this to me. Don’t ever want to get that sick again. Makes me sorry this diary exists – my trusty friend – because now misery has an actual corporeal reality. Burn these sickening wails before I die. The Victorians always did.
Well I’m raring to get back. Not only do I miss the dancing, I miss the bar. Ah, the nightlife. Always a party atmosphere but I could feel superior for not drinking (or getting high). I like our status and protections – I like getting paid for exercising, being admired and having fun. This pleasure just cannot be shared – Mom’s face crimps closed – and I am lost in the unredeemable beastliness and ugliness she feels certain it must be. The fact that I am a feminist and consider myself spiritually in tune with the universe also is incomprehensible to her. (Wives can get into big spiritual trouble too, but I am too tactful to bring that up.)
Unfortunately there is no way to defend myself except by attacking back – her “safe”, closed,
restricted world of handmaiden to Dad, feeding and burnishing him like a racehorse, talking him “up” as if she were his sports coach, does not seem to me more inherently saintly.
But to Mom self-loss is what “sainthood” is – you totally do not regard yourself in your care for someone else. The fact that you are puffing them up like a grampus, encouraging them to be completely selfish, is I guess too shockingly cruel to mention. So I’m stuck in Patient Griselda mode with undeserved imprecations heaped on my innocent head. I wonder if it would be too nasty to talk about how I am sacrificing myself for those poor lonely men who need to look upon a perfect feminine ideal while they swill beer? Guess I better not.
Mom is fond of saying that love doesn’t work unless you open your heart to the other but you can’t do it without marriage! I say Jervaze and I are “courting” which is a very different thing. I don’t think I will ever open my heart again. I think perhaps it opens by itself, naturally. One might as well tear a flower open and complain about the quality of the bloom.
Interesting being here with Brett and Genevieve and watching someone else’s marriage from the outside. Does not look too enviable. Reading “Eclipse of the Hero in Victorian Fiction.” He’s in eclipse everywhere else, too, I may add.
Sat. 13 Aug 77
7 good pages writing, then bad letter from R. asking
is our “living together” a ”condition” of “my return”? Where the hell did he get that? He just wants something to react against. He can’t imagine a relationship that isn’t controlled by implied threats. He believes in working and suffering so much then – let him work and suffer. What would annoy him most? If I don’t respond! Ha ha! Let the panic begin! Need to become more private – simply to protect myself. For all I know he’s relishing the torture he goes through.
Devon and I had a glorious date – splendid dinner (steak!) then made love all over the floor. He played with my body until he got it roaring and pulsating like an express train. The way he handled me, gripped me, held me, crushed me even – made me ask about his other girlfriends. He said no, he never gets as much “touch” as he wants. I said, “Except with me”. He said, “Except with you.” Over dinner he said matter-of-factly that we are so alike loving me has always felt “narcissistic” to him. I bet! Happy, happy, happy… Picked up The Edwardians but I can’t get into it. Keep seeing Devon’s body plying me, bending me… I know somewhere out there lies perfect happiness, waiting to astonish me.
2PM Sun 14 Aug 77
Sitting on the deck even though it’s just about to rain,
back from long bike ride watching family barbecues. Will I ever have children? I feel so exactly balanced between R and D like a ball in the air – but could fall at any moment. Finished The Edwardians – made me long to read Trollope. Vita Sackville-West’s work is like a death wish. Maybe Pevensey Library can rise to some Trollope. Downy woodpecker 2 ft away.
Finished The Dark Island! An outrageous howl of self-pity! Mom & Dad called all worried about Avril. She & Mason had to borrow money after selling $4500 worth of stock in June! Dad wants to deal financially with Mason instead of his own daughter! I was cool and stayed out of it. I don’t even want to imagine what they say to the others about me. I sent Avril a letter that said I would buy her a round trip plane ticket any time she wanted – even for just a short visit. Talk about work and suffering! I’m sure she feels stuck in every way with this guy. Down to a dinner of bouillon & smoked oysters.
Tues 16 Aug 77
D’s & my relationship “plateaus.” Each of us may have
given all we can spare. At least there’s no Mutual Punishment. Woman tried to get me into conversation at mailboxes – she’s an accountant whose boyfriend works on missiles. God they both sounded like the dullest people imaginable. Tried not to blanche.
6:00 PM Couldn’t resist $10 phone call to Avril. She’s hanging in there but doesn’t like Calif so far. She’s not going to school because Mason thinks he ought to be able to pay for it! So, so sick after using her money to live on. She’s looking for some clerk job. Still thinks this guy might be The One, even though sex is once a week and she’s not satisfied. After that I called Devon who should be back from psychomotor class but he wasn’t in.
Midnight – Could get psychotic about D not returning my call – however I refuse. Let the poor man live. He lacks time for an ACTUAL other girl (although I know there are plenty of letters & phone calls with girls he cultivates.)
10AM – Wed 17 Aug 77
Devon woke me up in the middle of the night, wondering
if I was “psychic”. He’d had a horrible day – had to take a “pregnant friend” to the clinic for abortion (not his kid.) This is a new one. Can’t imagine him lying about something so bizarre – I didn’t ask for details – just told him it was a “sudden impulse” (true). Called the bank – my money was in but only $987 (it’s never as much as you expect.) From shit comes flowers, as they say. Called Marc Kramer and left message whether I can hitch a ride to Maine with him (he goes almost every weekend). Finished Life of Waugh. Cramps.
Sat 20 Aug 77
Poor Devon! He brought pizza and a very good brandy
(too good – drinking it woke me up in the middle of the night) suggested a movie. I said I wanted to Talk. Told him all about my week; everything, novel, phone call with Avril, breaking up (mentally) with R because I “realized there’s another way”. Felt it was time to share. He asked if it had anything to do with him I said it did but he shouldn’t panic – it’s a good thing. He asked did I want to know about other girls? I said yes. Would I be jealous?
Maybe – but it wouldn’t impact on him. He talked about his friend who had the abortion – she’s ready to take him on but his feelings for her are “clinical”. (Uh oh. She’s in trouble. He could be lying to me about Who’s the Daddy or lying to himself, most like.) She’s 2 yrs older than him.
Then there’s a girl he met on the train – they’re just friends so far so he doesn’t know her well – but he’s curious. Then there’s the English girl – he definitely wants to bring her over but neither of them can afford it so far. He seems to have a sex/romance dichotomy going so I’m not jealous exactly – it would be like being jealous of someone’s fantasies. However, it doesn’t make me respect him more. And he instinctively knows that – he can’t be the daring demon lover or swaggering ski coach with me when I know too much about him. Fortunately, I suggested we bring the mattress up to the deck – we had a big, hilarious struggle through the house but it was worth it. Wonderful making love in the fresh night. He can’t believe girls like giving blow jobs – I said, do you mean you don’t like going down on me? He said, no, no, no I LOVE it you are like a flower. I said see? Depends on the person. Gave him the full treatment making him yelp like a coyote.
Cold in the AM like Maine – hard to get out of bed but he was worried someone would see us so we had to push mattress through sliding doors to dining room floor at 6 AM. Layers of secret lives! He is SO DIFFERENT from the way he seems but aren’t we all! Drove to the Idyllwild Mkt for breakfast – got lost as least six times but who cares it’s a glorious day – bought peaches, blueberries and mocha java beans. Then we went swimming – stopping after at the mailbox. Rejection of Secaire from HBJ! What a blow and in front of Devon of all people! Worst of all was editor’s comment – I had fallen between 2 stools – “straight” and “gothic.” Ugh. Lowers my opinion of myself in my own eyes. Fortunately, I didn’t cry.
Devon did his best to comfort me. He compares it to skiing which is 4,000 failures to one success. Said it’s ridiculous to consider myself a failure. I thanked him said he really cheered me up – he said it made him look forward to ministry!!! (He can’t wait to get his hands on some “troubled young women”.) He’s going to a 3 day retreat at Peterborough. Period coming on. It doesn’t faze D. Reading Harold Nicolson’s diaries which are quite a treat. I was afraid he would be all Churchillian.
2;30 PM Mon 22 Aug 77
Can’t write, so ready to return to Maine. So desperate I
watched TV (Rhoda: Apotheosis of the Career Girl). Feeling crushed about Secaire and Demon is not far behind. When your mind is divided it’s hard to go on. I always feel genre works actually have the potential for highest dramatic quality – mystery, discovery, transformation, revelation – telling the complete truth about everything but I just don’t know how to convey that. Also, I’m kind of worried that Devon will see my departure as “because” we punctured the fantasy with honesty ; ie I’m “punishing” him (that’s what Ryder would think, plus he would howl “I deserve it” then behave even worse) and of course it sort of is true . “New data” does affect everything. But I miss the dogs & worry about them. Dad has yet to figure out their gender (calls them both “boy”).
Went clothes shopping got GOREGOUS skinny jeans! Look so good. Called D but had to leave an awkward message with Random Guy (ugh I hate that.) Thank God for diaries! Best therapy possible. So much cheaper than a shrink. Diagnosis? Sheer greed. I always want everything.
9:45 AM Wed 24 Aug 77 Great conversation with D. He feels exactly the same way I do (kind of unsettling) wants to continue with me but doesn’t want anyone to find out about me, etc. I.e. ambivalent. We just want everything we can get as pleasantly as possible. Said he’d take me to the airport Fri – I asked if it was possible he could spend Thu night – he said he’s make it possible. Should be ecstasy. I’m very up for it. Tonight call M & D ugh. They always try to make me feel like a flake. I tell them life’s like sailing – since you don’t know what the waves or weather are going to be like its only sensible to make adjustments accordingly. (My father taught me that.) Pack and clean. Yuck. 7:20 PM Dull evening. Ceaseless rain & cream of wheat for dinner. On the other hand feel great – happy and serene. Have to note that so this book is NOT a constant wail of desperation & entitlement. Gross reading about Borden case. But it piques the poetry nerve.
LIZZIE BORDEN: “Not I But the Moon”
Not I but the moon Decrees each loss of blood You confided slyly, Besom-Breast! I’ll crochet a horsehair head for you and Lacework- stitch your flesh, my darling You and Scrimshaw Pate – He Who Must Know Better. Hot wax outlines a new broom’s sweep in Sacred dust: chorus of shoe-buttons popping like Potato-eyes. Oh, I shall dine on you My darlings, rolling you in Pig viands, I dredge your souls in Righteous lard. I am the sanctified enemy Of the paper cut people: My hymn shall rock The laughing house.
Alysse Aallyn 