Category: #Poetry

Inspired Pleasure
Diary of a Dancer
```
        12:10 PM- Plush Palace – Wed 19 Oct 77
        Dance night, then dance the next day kind of rough. And 
```
days are bad when the weather’s good – no one comes in. I seem to have
a lot of bills – just turned on the heat – but I’m meeting them. Making some
inroads today on Thomson’s Life of Frost. Randy fired Robin – Yvonne
needs $300 immediately because she just bought a piano. Well good luck
getting it out of this crowd is all I can say. Paz’s “on call” because she left
her husband and moved into the motel across the street. Let’s hope she
shows up. Last time I saw her she was pretty depressed; said she gave
him “the best four years” of her life. I have to get this all down in case I need
it someday. R used to be especially pissed when I got nostalgic for
dancing. But dancing is its own little world.
```
        7:30 PM- Plush Palace – Thu 20 Oct 77
        This aft I was getting ready for work phone rang, I say 
```
hello and Ryder’s tight little voice says: (very meaningfully) Hello.
I turned the radio down (Lakmé) and said casually as I could, “How
are you?”

He said he should enroll in FBI school after all the
trouble he’d had tracking me down.

(It couldn’t have been that hard since Mom and Dad’s
house sitter has been giving my # to all and sundry.) Said he was
punished now for being a non-communicative procrastinator who
should fling himself off the 14th St Bridge. I told him I lived in Beltsville
and danced in Virginia, refused to give further details. I didn’t let him
get away with any of his garbage. He said I’d been in town since Sept 8
without contacting him. I said he’d made it pretty plain he didn’t like what
I had to offer. Then why did I come back? I said, I like it here. Creep!
Like he owns the world!
```
        He said, will you eat with me?  Hmmm.  Something rattling 
```
in Pandora’s box. While I hesitated he said don’t make me disguise myself
as a girl scout cookie salesman (he could get away with it, too.) He said he
hasn’t gone out to dinner since our last night at Alfio’s!!! (I guess the Emmys
don’t count but I said nothing.) Said he’s having to give back his furniture
and sleep on an air mattress because he can’t make the payments. Aww.
This is the idiocy of buying furniture on time, but I still say nothing. So we’re
meeting Babe’s Sun at 3:30. Seems fairly safe… Rushed to library and took
out every true murder book I could find. Just in case.
```
         2 Nov – Plush Palace – 6:05 PM.
        R called this morning to “report in!’  Just to chat about his 
```
day! No more of that, I said. I’m busy. Slam. I don’t chat and I’m not sorry
it’s too late to learn. Actually feeling amazingly happy. Kiki showed me
how to cut off my corn with an exacto knife. All better! Still in Vol I of Life
of Frost. He was a repulsive human being, all right. Nowhere near as fun
as Agatha. Precious equilibrium recovered.
```
        8:30 PM  8 Nov 77
        I gave him the full treatment, poor guy. Red Italian boots, 
```
glittery eyeshadow, tight, tight jeans. Deliberately drove Conn Ave but no
markers from the past reached out their claws. Felt strong and blissful.
I was first there (of course) so could order carafe of wine and think. Thinking,
I’ll just explain to him that my idea of friendship and intimacy requires a
degree of truth telling that appears to freak him out.

He wore his high heels, too. His hair is blonder, longer
and messier than I remembered and it suits him. Off to the Bahamas
next weekend, he says for a “dive”. He wore the pinky ring I gave him
(he says he can’t get it off.) But that holy glow, that shine he used to have
is gone for me. I get it that he doesn’t know the pain he caused –
shallow people can’t. And that’s pitiable, really. He’s not just deaf
in one ear, he’s deaf in his soul.

He has a carefully worked out a “barstool rationale” for
what happened to us; we became lovers before we became friends.
I have no comment. Postponing sex would not have helped – and it
might have made things worse dumping all the responsibility for timing
on me. I think when he saw how easy it was to draw blood he couldn’t
help doing it, and I was a fool and an idiot. I ordered the fruit and
cheese plate but left before it arrived. Realize how much I want all
this to be in the past. No future of any kind exists for us. Not even
in fantasy. The future is what matters. Told him to give my regards
to the folks at the Shalimar. He said he’d give me a buzz.
Bet I can finish Demon by Thanksgiving. Avril coming.
Lucky I have a second bedroom. Furnish it with Kliban posters, a
thrift shop bureau and a mattress on the floor.
```
         12 Nov 77 6:25 PM Plush Palace
        I finally called R. (He’s been leaving me messages.)
```
I said if we were going to have a relationship of any kind – the friendship
that he wanted – we would have to have rules (I got the idea from Nancy
Mitford.) He said he was so glad I called, he’d been having the most awful
day. Took my card out of his rolodex but couldn’t bring himself to destroy it
and put it away in a drawer. What rules he said. I said we’d have to think. No idle calls? No talk about past? He said, “Please forgive me” but of course I can’t. I said
“Forgive me.” He said there’s nothing to forgive,
```
        Dancing suddenly OK? I said we’re done with all 
```
that stuff. Starting over. But I’m very busy working a lot and writing a
lot and he said he’s very busy working a lot. No expectations. We
both said fine and I’m pretty sure he’s as relieved as I am.
We’re going to Looking for Mr. Goodbar Thurs –
I want to see it too. He knows how I love movies. It’s perfect
weather to pick up Avril at the airport and drive to Galesville tomorrow
for brunch with Mom & Dad at the marina. There’s a big white
farmhouse on Old Annapolis Rd I always look at longingly.
```
         Plush Palace 4 PM Wed 15 Dec 1977
        Shaking like a leaf. Ryder called the club saying he 
```
was called early into work tonight – change of plans. Called his work
immediately – “Mr. Arlen’s desk.” Left her a message saying I got his
message but do not call the club. Hope this stymies him till after
Christmas but I know he is going to say we need each other’s workplace

for last minute plan changes.

I say is THIS IS NOT DATING. WE ARE NOT DATING. You can’t be
trusted with my workplace #.

Then I start looking desperately for Jervaze to come in.
He’s supplying me lately with that all-important fantasy vitamin of which
I have been so deficient for so long. Can’t even THINK about R to the
background of Disco Inferno.
```
Sat – 18 Dec 77 9:30 AM
        Very dissatisfied with life and self and, as usual, in 
```
complete confusion as to what to do about it. I suspect I should not be
making any big investment decisions, like buying a house and furnishing
it but I am sick of being such a goddam wanderer. Avril has been
accepted at U of MD – my job is to finish this goddam novel. If I could
finish it maybe March, April and May could be my traveling months.
I thought March skiing could be nice – in Devon’s back yard.

I am in danger of making an idiot of myself over Phil
Jervaze – “Adonis” as I privately call him . He seems very attracted
but is not making the first move. I’ll have to bring him along somehow.
Going tomorrow to Renaissance Music at the National Shrine. Should
I wear my rhinestones or can I restrain myself? Avril says I’m doing a
good job taking her mind off of Dipstick, (my name for Mason). Bought
her $80 worth of clothes – she can pay me back when I need help with
the January rent.
```
        The Plush Palace 20 Dec 1977 – 4 PM                         Avril called to say that Ryder called again – trying to find out my 
```
holiday plans from her. Says he might have to work. I am surprised to
be shaking so much. I am very unhappy about this level of communication.
I was actually hoping not to have to deal with him till after Christmas.
Would prefer not to give him an opportunity to go into his act. I’ve learned
if I call his work I get his secretary. Left the message I will be “out of town”.
Favor, Alysse., The trouble is, telling a game-player you don’t play games
is all part of the game to them! There is absolutely nothing I can do to step
out of this thing except bore him to death. We will see each other fewer
and fewer times, the emotional content will be constantly plummeting,
and meanwhile, the chicks on the side he has summoned up for contrast and amusement will be clamoring for center stage. Let them have it.

And I have my own magic pill in reserve – Jervaze.
That anyone can drift through life so far unironically with shoulder
length platinum hair, platinum mustache and a white cowboy hat, drive
a 72 Shelby and work for the Pentagon titillates my Yankee soul. But
that’s what’s so much fun about the fine commonwealth of Virginia.
It’s full of these people. Uh oh. I hear the rhythm of Disco Inferno,
audience’s current favorite. Dust myself with body glitter and I’m up.
January 3, 2023
Inspired Pleasure
Diary of a Dancer
```
        2:30 PM Dunkin Donuts, Eelsboro, Maine Fri. 26 Aug 77
        Here I am again: have I changed? I like myself better, 
```
I think I can say that. Thurs night was a big success. Devon came in with
an IMMENSE bottle of white wine – he either needs it for himself or he’s
trying to turn me into an alcoholic (with my full cooperation.) The clam
and noodle thing I invented was quite good but he wasn’t ready to eat till
nine and we didn’t get to bed till midnight where he revealed a sexually
savage side to his nature that has been previously unseen. So maybe
he was nerving himself. (I loved it). We finished the housecleaning and
were off to the airport by 11.
Fairly silent in the car, though he was tender. When I
mentioned he might come down to DC he said he didn’t think there was
much of a possibility – so now I’m worrying that I’ve been pushed onto
Bad Girl Island while he pines for Pure Young Innocent Eng girl with who
he would NEVER do those enjoyably awful things. (She’s 21!!!! He knew
her 24 hrs!!!) I shouldn’t be silly. I really can’t ever “lose” him. I think he
loves me and everything else is just scar tissue. Devastating airport
goodbye – he asked me to “write soon”. I’m probably lucky he loves me
as much as he does. I was looking damn good if I do so say so myself in
backless red halter top and tight, tight jeans. I do want him to remember
me as beautiful.

11:30 AM Sat 27 Aug 77
M & D are on Ryder’s side!!! And they HATE him! In other
words, they will line up with anybody rather than me. They say of course R
“behaves badly” if I am having an “affair” (don’t you love the archaic term?)
with Devon! I say he doesn’t even know about Devon, plus we weren’t
exclusive BY HIS CHOICE plus we were BROKEN UP. All still seems to be
my fault. Incredibly, they think I am not SUFFERING ENOUGH. Here are
people who have lectured me all my life to find any excuse for other
people’s bad behavior – life has surely injured them somehow. They
didn’t have Advantages! According to them I am the only human being
alive who doesn’t get an excuse – I should just “be different”. How,
asks mom, can I meet “suitable young men” while dancing? Suitable
young men! (They like Marc Kramer who’s a complete horndog and a
political troglodyte. But at least he can afford me!) Am I living in a
Trollope novel? I am so annoyed I don’t want to accept their hospitality
but I really don’t want to rent a room in the House of the Damned aka
Burnside Inn. which doesn’t take dogs – who wept to see me again like
children – then immediately got over it.

Dad’s a very restless retiree I must say but don’t ask me
what to advise. I’m too ignorant. My advice to everyone is “write”; like
naturalists say “Be alone in nature” and religious people say “Find God.”
Reading Vol I. V. Woolf’s diary (so different from A Writer’s Diary) and
hitting the gin. Mom thinks I’m taking “bad” advice from messed up writers – “modeling” myself on failures and suicides – (Dad calls them “degenerates”)
– because it’s “cool”. That’s why I need the gin. I need the gin the first
minute I wake up. Must try not to be such a limp limpet. Told Mom if R
calls at night not to come get me.
```
        Sun 9:30 AM 28 Aug 77
        Mom washing windows.  God - I think I am supposed to 
```
offer help but I Refuse. I need to get the hell out of here. Mom says I
can’t add my laundry to hers but have to go to the laundromat in town.
So the Battle is On. I’ll just go around smelling bad so there. Mom and
Dad are sailing down the Inland Waterway but not till Oct. Have a horrible
feeling I’m not out of the woods on this Ryder thing. Maybe I can get
established in Wash without him knowing. If I go back to him I will despise
myself. Keep D as my lucky talisman.

9:45 PM
Drunk, fat and exhausted. Parents had cocktail party
inviting Island Poet. (Published in The New Yorker.) Tried to give her
the rundown on my summer but it sounds a complete waste – “Wrote
half of a no-good book, got my other book rejected”. Of course my summer
doesn’t sound like anything with the sex & love left out!!! Am I trapped
at the end of a cul de sac? No; there is something there. I just can’t
find it yet.

Dad said he’s sure my life provides a lot of stories, but
maybe what I need is a PhD in Eng Lit! Mom’s reaction to that is rigid
disapproval. (He’ll never make that mistake again.) To explore the
boundaries of one’s soul is Selfish. One Lives to Serve (or to Claim one
is Serving. So, if you’re too stupid to know you’re selfish its win-win for
the small-minded!) Tried to read The Clocks but its Agatha Christie’s
worst. Absolutely meaningless. Poor Virginia Woolf going through a
very bad, painful period. Obviously sick, recording only weather & food.
Now theorists act like she was “mental” not liking to look at herself but
Vita Sackville-West felt the same way. Couldn’t look in a mirror,
wouldn’t buy evening dresses or go to parties! (And she was on the
sexual prowl, unlike poor VW.) I think their era was actually worse
about beauty than we are – they gave it a “magic” “classical” quality so
it was very much restricted. We see more beauty – and in weird places.
Otherwise how explain Leslie Caron? Jeanne Moreau? Charlotte Rampling?
Hardly classic beauties but wonderfully, rightfully worshipped as
goddesses. I see hope for all of us.
```
        8:00 AM Mon 29 Aug 77
        It’s real Agatha Christie weather – fog so dense you
```
can’t see the water. Nevertheless the ferry’s running – Mom took
Dad down. I’m feeling successful, sober and sane. I’m doing exactly
what I want and will find my own way. I’m determined to be happy and
not develop some kind of “rejection phobia.” Not knock out the props of
my own happiness. Accept the fact that my pride has been hardest hit.

PHANTOMS

The ghost awaits his chance
Inside us all
Revenge de-bodies –
Anticipates the dark
Impatience ill-concealed
Grasps our foot
Beneath the turning of the stair
Reveals a face as blank as
Nightmare whose
Icy, seaweed coils entwine mistrust
Around our throats
Suppress our breath
While we dead live.
```
        4:20 PM Letter from the Folger Shakespeare Library 
```
inviting me to read Oct 13! Even Mom was impressed. 20 mins pays
$50! I’ve hit the big time! Wish I’d known this when Island Poet was
asking me why I don’t just kill myself and get it over with. M & D can’t
argue with me going back to DC now (they tell me Berthe Slaughter’s
condo is for sale on the cutest little road. Right on the waterfront. I say
I would rather have the art gallery next to the Atlantic Grocery $5000,
no bath or kitchen. In case they’re buyin’. They aren’t, in spite of the
fact that they are very flush with money right now. Got their $$ back
from
NY State bankruptcy but Dad always in a panic that we’ll figure out
how rich he is.)

9:00 PM Called Shoulders. He said dogs will be all right
for a couple of days but he’s being evicted at the end of Sept! Too bad,
such a nice house. (And in Chevy Chase!) So I’m spared kennel
fees for 2 days at least. R must be back at work (if he still has a job).
Reading old NY Times Book Reviews in front of a roaring fire.
Dishwashing break – I said I’d do them. Pick up Agatha Christie afterwards
– the preferred reading for “shock cases”. (She was a shock case herself.
Absent in the Spring is very fine).
```
          Island 10 PM Monday night, 5 Sept 77
            In bed in the Barnacle drinking coffee, eating bread 
```
with honey. Delicious solitude. Can’t go to the Main House because
Genevieve’s friends from Boston are there – they no sooner arrived for
this Fantasy vacation than they decided they need a divorce. Fortunately,
they are quiet about it. The one thing they can’t deal with is their dog –
tomorrow I have to drive him to the ferry. Oh well. I’ve been enraptured
by this delicious solitude – beachcombing is very healing. I guess I am
just a solitary sort – don’t really care for people at all, I fear. Last night
a bad dream about Ryder – treating me cruelly and me, paralyzed. In
the daytime – in my conscious mode – I remember everything good
about him, his lips mouth and fingers – his constant air of playfulness.
The way we fit perfectly together like interlocking puzzle pieces made
it nice that he was short – my mirror opposite, only male. My lost twin.
But nature abhors a balance, apparently.
Must remind myself how he had to try to turn it to his
advantage, throwing the whole system off and spinning my world into
frozen space. Now he doesn’t know where I am (although he might
suspect.) No phone in this building thank God.
Tomorrow goodbye Maine – back to DC to house-hunt.
M & D have been good about not dragging me to things – enjoyed the
Smythes sculpture show – parties not so much. Parties seem like
“consensus building events” where I’m fated to be perennially on the
outs. Ford Madox Ford made some kind of statement about how
people have to achieve a level of “ordinariness” to be “successful” –
I can’t remember the exact quote. Plus I lack the patience to look it up.
R felt I despised him intellectually, which of course, I did.
I don’t think of myself as stratified, but he is and when you’re with a
stratified person, you become so. Sometimes I am in mourning for the
part of me that died. I wish I could get my letters back – but they were
only love-letters. Must seem now like the ravings of an insane person.
Well, there’s no reason to see him again. I think the casual relationship
is beyond me. I hope in the future I’ll be careful of men going mach
one across the sexual barrier. I’ve got to stop looking at sex as a vitamin
requiring periodic intravenous doses.
```
Chevy Chase, MD - 10:15 PM Thurs 8 Sept.
        At Shoulder’s house. Not a bad drive down – (washing the 
```
dogs right before the ferry (I had to – they stank) put some time
pressure on me – but I made the ferry anyway. Larry – Shoulders –
looks different – has a moustache. Talks about needing a roommate –
does he mean me? He doesn’t know where yet and I don’t want to live
with him. His constant string of ignorant pickups would eventually get
me down. He doesn’t mention Ryder and I don’t look up his TV show.
Promising stuff in the classifieds – a garden apt in Landover, a townhouse
in Dale City, sharing a house in Kensington. Took the dogs on the old
walk – they remembered the route. Huge construction at my old house.
L’Escargot closed.

CURATRIX

Cold lonely core I was
Before you found me
Freed me from
Ambition’s boundary.
Now I’m a single facet on your stone
Most myself when I’m alone. But
Memories like stones I’m free to choose
And in life’s river,
Eventually, lose.
```
5 PM Sept 9
        Kensington House hopeless. You have to join some
```
kind of food co-op that’s like a cult religion and there’s a huge emphasis
on kitchen and cooking duties. They all eat together. Seems like
the worst of college and boarding school to me. I’m now sitting in a
real estate office which is really a garage waiting for a guy who’s already
an hour late. He’ll be here in 10 mins they say, then he’s going away for
2 weeks so I hope he will want to close the deal tonight, It’s described
as an old apartment, high ceilings, fireplace. $210 a month. So I’m just
praying the neighborhood’s not too bad.
7:00 PM
Bleak. Too bleak. Tried to imagine myself doing my
exercises on that floor, standing in that kitchen waiting for water to
boil, etc. Couldn’t manage. Feeling very stressed. Do I even want to
live in this city? It’s just that I know I can easily make a living if the
book doesn’t take off. Went to the library and loaded up on Agatha
Christies to help handle the strain. It works. Maybe I need to get a
shag haircut and spend the winter in Spain. Now why don’t I do that,
other than the obvious reason I can’t afford it and have missed my
dogs as much as I want to. Another guy says he has half of a house
I might want. With a fenced in yard.
```
8:15 AM Wed 14 September – Powder Mill Road
        Drinking coffee in my own kitchen from the mug that 
```
was my present to myself last morning on the island. The guy is
selling this house as a rental property and was amazingly cavalier –
needed a tenant – didn’t look up my refs or demand cosigner.
Absolutely cool when I described myself as a ”writer” so “dancer”
remains beneath the radar. (Dad would say that proves I know
dancing’s “bad”! I refuse to be unsafe just to convince my own father
I’m respect-worthy.) Yesterday very full day. Got up at 8 and moved
the dogs to their fenced in yard. Fetched the truck, loaded and
unloaded with Larry The Shoulders’ help – bookcases, boxes, mattress,
desk, sofa – had truck back by 3. A thousand robins on the weed-grown
lawn. I wonder how long I will be looking at this peaceful green view.
January 1, 2023
Inspired Pleasure
Diary of a Dancer

1:45 PM Tues 2 Aug 77
No damn mail for THREE DAYS. No stock certificate,
nothing from my agent. And I made sure she had my right address.
I think diets brew self-hatred. Reading about Simenon and
having trouble with sentences like “50 of his novels date from this period.”
Shouldn’t read about this guy.
Starting to dream about Dupont Circle.
10PM
Just back from a long bike trip down interesting country
road. Felt I was visiting my future self. Glimpsing dark houses,
lighted bow windows, Canada geese as tame as ducks.
Alice Crimmins – did she do it? Rorech’s theory pure
hogwash. I think there are people who can “talk themselves into”
feeling innocent. I’ve met lots of amnesiacs.
Plan to buy silk shirts (in Washington) and read all the newspapers.
Emerge from my cocoon. Read Graham Greene section of Dangerous
Edge.
```
    7 PM Wed Aug 3 77
        Sitting out on deck well pleased with self. Stock cert arrived
```
today. Called Chevy Chase Bank and Trust got girl who didn’t know anything
but relayed instructions shouted at her by someone else. Signed stock,
climbed in Volvo, sent the whole thing off certified mail. Money should be in
by 10th. Surely Inzar can’t drop below 9. I can manage on $900.
Long bike ride had me puffing like a grampus; feeling
extra hungry so had a bowl of plain grits. Orwell’s letters. Kipling
too boring. Never been able to stand anything he’s written. Reading
trashy gothic The Room Beneath The Stairs makes me think I can
do something with my old The Bride and the Wolves.
Conditioned my hair (oleocap.) Looks good in spite of sun
& chlorine and it’s nice & long.
Maybe R’s been fired. He’s a coward and that would shut
him up. Shouldn’t even think about it. I’m a nail biter looking for a
nail to bite. There’s a lot to be said for the joys of starting over.
Stomach shrinking & all that.

10:30 AM – Poolside – Thurs 4 Aug 77
Watching the kiddie swimming lessons while reading
Hog Tied in Babylon (That’s what it SHOULD be
called. Overpraised Hollywood reminiscences. It’s
like reading a “talk show”.) Had to return a Michael
Innes unread it was so ghastly. Critical look at body in
the mirror this AM. Losing my hips makes my waist disappear.
Hmm. Legs OK. Open swim!

5PM Boring, annoying mail. Threatening letter from
Motor Vehicle Admin. They are upset because name on license and
name on registry not the same. Blame my marriage when I used to be
Vill-Aallyn. Sort it out when I get down there. Nothing from R so I refuse
to write to him ever again. Two weeks since he phoned me. (He should
be used to this – he and his wife used to get into the long competitive sulking matches.)

10:26 PM
Lousy bike ride. I was so hungry and it seemed such
hard work. Maigret & The Loner senile yapping.

ANOREXIC

i long to be myself
without interference from
the likes of you; a
spindle of bone encased in lurex
or some pure substance;
an angel, a flame, a shadow of clear
fire; you have weighed me down
for years, encumbering me
with blood and collagen, depriving me
of my god-given right to become a sundial
on which is writ:
“it’s later than you think”

1PM Fr. 5 Aug 77
Woke up feeling so lousy made myself soup. Swimming
and coffee did make me feel better. Read Margaret Millar’s
Listening Walls – first half superb. Ruthless abuse of detective conventions – she misleads us left and right. The character of the Author
that is built up is that of a viciously uncaring person. Orwell’s
war years dull.

8PM Sat 6 Aug 77
Be careful what you want in case you get it. D and I are
suddenly in the midst of a very satisfying love affair. He called 5:30
yesterday – wish it had been earlier because I was in a psychic tailspin.
Immediately tidied the place up, anointed my body, put on my black silk
jumpsuit exploding with roses (last worn on date with R.) He came in
wearing tight jeans and a linen safari jacket – we had a very silly time
over wine. Christ he can look beautiful when he wants to. Out to a
restaurant – I ordered a “flaming volcano” and they had it! More silliness.
D. said, “Going out with you is an experience.” He couldn’t compliment
me enough on my general gorgeousness (heh heh heh.)
We saw The Deep which was just what we both wanted –
titillating glossy glop. D. kept initiating PDA’s (which he never used to
be able to do. Wow has this guy grown up! He used to act like the
Amherst PDA Police were everywhere! He suggested we go to bed!
No loitering on couch! Sexually he has all the time in the world and
he’s all out for my pleasure – his orgasm of no importance. He’s particularly
good with my ass and I LOVE that. (He treats every sphincter like
another pair of lips – I’m in a threesome with myself!) I always felt like
he was “holding back” – not any more.
Tendernesses and confidences growing. Nice to be loved!
He goes on and on about the beauty & sensuality of my body; my sexuality
“like a storm!”

Sun 12:30 PM Deck 7 Aug 77
Sitting over coffee, grits (to which Mrs. McManus has now
addicted me) and Dorothy Eden. (The Sleeping Bride – very good!)
Praying like mad for writing money. I could afford to get a divorce!
Lucky things worked out the way they did – keeps me from obsessing
over R.
Bike ride! It’s a form of prayer.
6Pm Hammering away – great scene – getting the good stuff
– typewriter ribbon gave out! Come on! At 6 PM!! It’s like having your
horse shot out from under you. I was going to spend the evening writing
Goddamit.
Starting to worry about R coming back from the Finger Lakes – he
knows where I am – would he show up here? Aack! No! Impossible.
He can’t be alone. Wouldn’t drive that distance without a captive ear.
Reading Jane Aiken’s study of Jane Austen. Don’t feel
a moment’s anxiety about D.
```
        Mon 8 Aug 77
        3 PM On deck loving the rising wind, reading The Scalpel 
```
of Scotland Yard (Spilsbury). A perfect day. Trapped here for a few
hours till the man shows up to fix trash masher – but at least I got my
“naked exercises” out of the way. Today’s a scorcher – using air-conditioning
for the first time. Cheated on my diet – ate a whole can of tuna.
Packed in water, fortunately. Body screaming for peaches and
almonds. Gutted the Pevensey library. They are running out of
books for me.

12:45 PM Tues Aug 9 – 77
Coming out of my coma to write agent a note.
After 3 months of not being “pushy” surely SOMETHING should
be happening. I decide I am suffering from a disease that should
be called “Dickensitis” marked by severe self consciousness and
complicated by “Plath syndrome” (brutal social induction flashbacks).
Freezes me in my path.
Loving Solzhenitsyn’s article on Shakespeare & Tolstoy.
But do I love Devon? Before all of this I would have said yes, very
casually but sometimes the better you get to know someone the less
you can love them. He was at pains to explain his theology – but it
doesn’t seem to involve God – it’s all interpersonal relations – which I
have to say I think is just weird! He wants to be “of service” to people
and he’s aware – but suspicious about – the “mysticism” athletes get into.
I hate to say this but it reminds me of my mother. Any “be wary of people
who have an inner life and try your best to get rid of yours” philosophy
is a major turnoff for me. When we talk about “self-perfection” and
“self-cultivation” we are talking about VERY different things.
I casually told him the more I get to know him the less
I know him – and he was very pleased! (Relieved.) He didn’t say why
but I know he doesn’t want to be “easy”. I didn’t tell him he’s still held
fast in Sleeping Beauty’s overgrown castle, in my opinion. Don’t think
I can get him out of there. I always try to plan my strategy if he tried
taking the relationship up a notch. But he can’t suggest we live together
while he’s a divinity student. Think I can relax about it and just enjoy his
magnificent body.
Take, eat. Old wounds between us are entirely healed.
If D is stuck in SB’s castle, where is R? He is unborn, a baby
dreaming in the womb. “When I grow up I’m going to have lots and
LOTS of girlfriends but they will all be PERFECTLY RESPECTABLE
and SEXUALLY DYNAMIC when I say so!”
I regret most working so hard to make him “certain” of
me, to make sure he knew exactly what I was thinking and feeling.
I put my cards not only face-up on the table, I handed them to the guy!
Not many people would be mature enough to handle that. Never
discuss what I am feeling with D – haven’t mentioned R after our
preliminary intros “what have you been up to”. I’m not sure he even
knows how I make money in Washington.

8:45 AM Wed 10 Aug 77
Like the alcoholics say, one day at a time! Exercises,
diet, sunbathe, bike ride, swim, etc. Doing a good job at that – horrible
job at writing – because I don’t hear from agent. Confidence completely
collapsed. Sitting on the deck feeding Ms. McManus’ Caesar salad
croutons to a squirrel. He really likes them. Reading Berckmann’s
A Thing That Happens To You. Finished Thalberg’s bio – ho hum.
No swimming – maybe bike ride in the rain (just a misting).
```
        3:30 PM 11 Aug 77 - Thurs
        Depressing letter from Chloe – she wants my help 
```
with her MSS. I agree with Henry James – all I can do is My Thing
My Way. But I have to seem really approachable if I want radio
work. Conundrum. Catatonia. Devon called. Do I want to get laid?
I think so! Reading about grave robbers produces a poem;

RESURRECTIONIST

Unearth me, lover
I’m a jewel now
Melted
In that crevice you once loved so
Well; it’s an ingot now,
a socket
For our mingled liquid
Essence
Suck it up with
Dust-lathered lips
Strip
The flesh as you once did
The clothes; I’m burning
Cinder-hot –
Let me astound you with
My time-perfected skill
December 30, 2022
Inspired Pleasure

Diary of a Dancer

12:50 AM Plush Palace – exhausted and bathed in sweat.
Man tried to crawl onstage with me. He was in the mood to dance!
Every dancer (except me and I guess him) is using Darla’s overdose
death (suicide or accident? I say why not murder?) as an excuse to
not dance. I like dancing. Passes the time faster and the tips are
better. Steve managing tonight – he looks just like Dylan Thomas.
I keep expecting a Welsh accent when he warns the old men with
their balls hanging out. Great tales from new dancer Charmian –
she has toured the entire country. Just dancing. (She has the body
of a seven year old. Plasters pasties on her completely flat chest. )
There’s a townhouse in New City I like the sound of but nobody
EVER answers that phone. Tomorrow dinner with poor A and that
awful Mason whom I loathe and despise. Couldn’t get through Babs
Deals’ The Walls Came Tumbling Down – and Crystal Mouse was
so good. Fortunately I have Steven Marcus’ The Other Victorians
which is excellent. Pornotopia, indeed! Should have $1000 in savings
by the 24th June.

3PM Wed 25 May 77
Weighed myself – I shouldn’t have. Lost two pounds but I
can gain it back through thought alone. Reading Gore Vidal’s essays –
like them better than his novels – unsettling man. A says Dad’s taken
hotel rooms for everybody in NYC. New City townhouse a terrible
shock – NOT to be thought of. R. called to invite me to the Emmys
June 4. He had the nerve to say I’ll “always come back” to him. So
I have to be careful not to, even when at night I howl like an animal.
I can’t trust him to “take care” of me.

7:45 PM Thurs May 26
Who knew the worst was yet to come? I was talking to
A at Broadcast Agency and a call came in and it was Ryder. “Hello
Broadcast Agency”. I said, “You’re on the wrong line.” He said, “Your
private line is busy and I’ve got to talk to you. Need to come clean
and beg your forgiveness.” Uh oh.
Yup. He invited another girl to the Emmys BEFORE me
(that’s his story) she said she couldn’t afford to come, he invited me,
then she contacted him to say she managed to get a plane ticket.
So he’s disinviting me! I disconnected him immediately. He’ll be
lucky if I ever speak to him again. I ought to be glad it happened –
I was dithering. Needed a decision maker.
I said to Charmian this evening, “Are you happy? I’m
taking a poll.” She said, “Well, I feel all right. All that bothers me
are asshole men.”
So true! I think the pain is over if I decide it is. Struggling not
to be feel ashamed of ever loving that man. Distance is required.
Distance & discipline. Dancing makes me feel better. I kicked
really high. Audience enjoyed it.

3:10 AM
Home dreading he would be here – if so I was prepared
to scream the place down. He wasn’t. Just a note – saying I was
“right to get rid” of him. Calling himself a worthless shit! He said
he’s “sinned” ever since he met me by refusing to admit how much
I mean to him. The problem is it doesn’t matter. We are the wrong
people for each other.

8:30 PM Fri. Plush Palace May 27 1977
The only place I can sleep is work, dozing off between
sets. Not even masturbation knocks me out. Tempting to make
Mon my last day but I should last out the week – I need the cash.
Still have so much packing to do. Keith in my office the last day of
Broadcast Agency work – I told him about the Emmys – he said it
didn’t sound like a deathblow. Men! I had considered inviting
him to the wedding – this decided me against it.
3 weeks alone in NYC house-sitting for Genevieve
while she’s on her honeymoon. Parents will take dogs. The Blessing
is an awful book. Nancy Mitford not cut out to be a novelist; she’s
really not interested in motivation. Only wants a forum for her retro opinions.

4:30 PM Sat 28 May 77 – Plush Palace
A girl left early so Laverne and I are splitting her sets.
Courtly Jim of the hush puppy body and the Elvis Presley hair
realizes he has to pay us more to keep someone onstage. Good tips –
holidays make people feel richer. Only 3 days left.

7:30 PM Sun 29 May 77
Packed for six straight hours, ate yogurt and chicken,
walked dogs now I’m lying on mattress more exhausted than
I’ve ever been. Shoulders has agreed to store my furniture –
we don’t need a van since his house is right across the street.
Told him he can use whatever pieces he wants. Jim will be in
to pay me Fri so I don’t need to trust the mails. Called phone,
gas, water, elec people. Don’t think I like EM Forster
(where Angels Fear To Tread) – Henry James without the
Henry James. Edwardian didacticism makes me miss James’s
scrupulous objectivity. Why did he write this book? Because
he’s “The Literary Type”. Compare with Woolf’s Unwritten Novel.
Stagger about forcing myself to gulp Yuban. So enjoying throwing
things away.

Wed. 1 June 77 – 8:30 PM Plush Palace
$770 to take off with – not bad I think. Ryder tells me
I am “fleeing.” Damn straight. Mom asked me what was going on –
I said I proposed to Ryder and he turned me down. She was
squeaking on the other end of the phone like a gerbil but I couldn’t
help it. It’s almost true – I didn’t take her advice but showed him
my true self! Too bad!
Reading Forster’s Longest Journey. Still feeling another story
trying to get through. Pretty sick of the glory that wasn’t Greece.
Everyone in book sanctimonious prig.

12:30PM
Forster so foul I reread this diary. Deeply shaming.
Maybe Forster is right: whatever you do, don’t write about what is
actually going on – nobody may ever recover.
Opal took me out to lunch at Apple Tree – painless. Crab
quiche and 2 Brandy Alexanders. An elegant poem unspools in my
head about the difference between hummingbirds and hawks.
Will I go round in circles? Or will I fly high like a bird up in the sky?

Like me the hummingbird
Transcribes inner space
Half wingtip pinwheel
Leaving outer reaches
To the ragged hawk that flies alone
The hawk is:
I am what shall be

December 26, 2022
Inspired Pleasure
Diary of a Dancer

10PM Mon 16 May 77
Finally got a reaction from agent to Secaire. I was
physically sick when I opened it but she was full of praise. I could
teach Poe, Verlaine and Mallarme a thing or two! She’s sending it
to Harcourt but telling them it’s “too fine for a paperback”. Says it’s
also readable, which is a thing more “precious than rubies”. I was
really afraid of what she would say after our literary discussions
and her poetry sneers.

So elated! Hit the library today and hit it hard – Nancy
Mitford’s novels, Hilaire Belloc’s Letters, life of Brontë. Delicious
dreaming.
```
    5:35 Pm Broadcast Agency – 17 May 77 
    Enjoyed Helen Bevington’s The House was Quiet and 
```
the World Was Calm. In my bloodthirsty way would have preferred
a better description of her husband’s death. Must make do with
cuckoos and thrushes and loblolly pines.
```
    Bored to tears with this stupid job but you can’t say 
```
it’s “hard”. I’m the last happy dodo in a world of dinosaurs – all this
equipment about to be ripped out. In 5 mins I get to disconnect
phone, walk to Church St (parking’s free in Mafia territory). Drive
to Arlington. Fish sandwich for dinner, read about Unquiet Haworth
while wearing G-string & stockings. (So appropriate.) Expanding
my house hunt to Rt 450. (Towards Annapolis; might need Dad to
co-sign.) Obviously I can handle 45 min commute. (Don’t like rain,
however.) Aware El Diablo is nothing but a hunk of junk. Future of
American literature is fragile on some of these May nights.
```
    Broadcast Agency Thurs May 19, 77
    Only $134 in my saving acct and $7 in checking, curse that 
```
clutch. Crisis brewing with R. He is jealous and suspicious that I am out
so much in the evening. He’s the one who wants to be non-exclusive
so let him sweat. I have too many negative emotions about him – that
he’s a coward, for example. Which would make him angrier – if I was
dancing or screwing some other guy? (Which I have no desire to do and
he should know me by now.) I think he sees my privacy and aloneness
as infidelity. While he’s doubtless experimenting with “goofy chicks”
who’ve “never been touched”; I’m only “unfaithful” with Shelley & Brontë.
But that’s STILL too much for him.) After all this time if he still doesn’t
realize I’m the best, the hell with him.
```
    Worry about the dangers of scars. They can seem to heal, 
```
but sometimes they re-shape the life beneath. All I know, is, contempt
is the ultimate relationship killer. To love is to be happy with! Boy scout
methods won’t work with me, the sabre-toothed tiger. Our relationship
may already be fatally spoiled by resentment and revenge.
```
    Last night audience bored and hostile, but who cares? 
```
Bouncers won’t let them show it! We are goddesses to be revered and
if they won’t worship at the shrine they’re out. Compared to the Shalimar,
Palace is sheer joy. We are never hassled. God forbid if they try to
touch us! They are bounced on their heads in the parking lot.
If I have plain grits when I wake up at 9:30 or 10 (also coffee and
orange juice) I can last till 4. Hunger peaks at 5. Salad, then rush
to work – when I get there I’m not hungry anymore. Would like to cut
the burger habit.
Need to sew my G-strings but Merribeth can see me
through the glass and she won’t leave. Reading Robt Fish as an
antidote for poor Charlotte Brontë’s pain.
```
    1:00 AM Plush Palace – 20 May 77
    Four dancers tonight. Less work, more intellect. (!) Fred, 
```
the cook, insists I try his potato pancakes and they are DAMN good.
Can’t say no. Long wailing phone call from Maeve this afternoon. Why
is it we can see other’s relationships so clearly? “Dump him”, I always
say. Am I telling myself something? R & I make date tomorrow night.
Now wearing black velvet, smoky eyeshadow, black stockings and
glitter I look in the mirror and am astonished by my own beauty. Take
that, Ryder, you poor bastard. Eight mins and I’m up – One more
dance and home. Front table of impressionable navy cadets eminently
shockable.
```
    11:30 AM – Sun 22 May 77
    It’s all over, baby blue.  Getting up my strength for our date
```
tonight by sunbathing in back yard – literally cooking in coconut oil.
R. complained on Fri he called me “all night long” and I wasn’t home.
Aww. Could have told him I was writing but lying just postpones the
inevitable (because next time he’ll come over.) So told him I would
explain on our date. A poem came suddenly :In the Butterfly Pavilion.

This evening you said you wished
I was more conventional.
I bowed my head. I did not speak.
Outside the animals leaned together,
Breathing lightly; waiting
For my answer.
Cats-tongue ferns
Swelled up like swords, pushed out a stink
Occluding fields of vision while
The rabbit-bloodied lawn curled away.
Phlox flamed
Sows littered in the cyclamen
Dwarf stars broke free as
Frazzled molten ore raced across a sky
Darkening to night.
Summoning my power
My hands stay folded in my sleeves.
Nighttime is my kingdom.
.

Exhaustion from the violent motions of the pendulum.
I made dinner, but he refused to eat. He said, “I think
I know what you’re going to tell me. “
I said, “I bet you don’t.”
“It’s another man.”
“No. I’m dancing again. I’m living here alone. I need the
money.” (I should have said “it nourishes me UNLIKE
SOME PEOPLE” but I’m a coward too.)
He said very dismissively, ”Well, if that’s all you think you can
do.”
He who read my novel! Bastard! He said, “Well, the ball’s
in my court.” So I guess, that means “Game on!” (Was it ever
off?) And he left! Put his dinner carefully away in the freezer
(I’m not made of money) and took the dogs on an hour’s walk.
Now I lie here again in Paradise – baking, basting, trying to recall
every detail of the last time we had sex. Because that’s all I’ll ever
get from him.
11:30 PM
Session this aft with Chloe at Pacifica and a young PBS guy
named John about writing a radio play for kids. I threw out some ideas.
Then out for dinner with Chloe who complained that her husband has a
mental illness given to him by the Army – he only wants to fuck never
kiss. He fantasizes about “swinging” with another couple. I stolidly
drink red wine and eat bad doughy pizza. She says he’s always on
the verge of suicide, but she would never leave him. Play around,
OK, but never leave.
And I think that I have problems. I reject “victim” AND “slut”. The
poet alone in her lofty palace. Feels like an abscess has been lanced.
Heard about a great apt in Takoma Pk that’s OK for dogs.
```
    Broadcast Agency – 4:20 PM – Mon 23 May 77
    Present tenant says do not mention dogs so I am out of 
```
love with Perfect Apt. Would rather have a house. Lots of calls today.
I seem to be getting fat – but I look so good – much too good for 128.
How I hate to starve but it’s the only way. Need to be a fine-honed
racing machine.
Considering entering Courtney in the Saxton fellowship.
Can I get a readable copy? Lack of sex keeping me awake at night.
Now I know why people take drugs. Devon writes to say he’ll be in
Maine on the island but not at Genevieve’s wedding for “financial
reasons”. I plan to do my best to seduce him. Reading Mitford’s
Wigs on the Green – not as funny as it is sad. Pastiche, really –
Wodehouse is better. But I feel that way about E Waugh’s humor
too – that it is basically tragic – “this is all we can expect”. R. called
this AM as I was rushing to get ready – I said I was surprised to hear
from him, he said he “knew I was upset”. We could have had a little
argument about who’s more upset but I said what have you been up to?
Horseback riding out in Sperryville. (Doubtless not alone. What would
be the point of that? He is such a pain.)
Asked me when I was moving, when going to wedding.
He couldn’t be hinting for an invite – if I show up with him my family
will have me institutionalized for sure. They never could figure out
what I was doing with this hysterical little man.
We’ve said our fond goodbyes. If the ball is in his court,
it died there. Need to buy a dress for wedding. Macy’s? My mother
criticizes me for:

1) Making money
2) Caring about making money
3) Needing money AND
4) Buying inexpensive clothes. AND fake jewelry. A lady
never – etc.

You figure it out. Finished Farber’s essays – very bad book.
He seems to regard the female orgasm as some kind of personal insult –
“Now I’ve got this to contend with!” We’re not doing it to annoy you.
Hopelessness on the subject of sex a grave inadequacy in a philosopher
I would say. Merribeth sent me to the bank today – I was thrilled to get
outside – when I came back Keith called down to say he was having
lunch at the Hyatt Regency and had seen me walking and wanted to say
hi! Nothing to say after that. I thought of inviting him to the Palace
but what would be the point? Everyone would think he’s my boyfriend
and it’s a tips killer.
December 24, 2022
Inspired Pleasure
Diary of a Dancer
```
10:30AM Sun 20 Feb 77
    R and I went on ski weekend to Massanutten.  
```
Didn’t work. Never felt so far from him, and he realized it.
Opal & Garrett over for dinner last night – their relationship is
boring when I’m alone and don’t have R doing all the work for me.
Drank too much out of sheer boredom and because I was
depressed over R, then I get depressed over being depressed
and drink more. Clearly he’s worthless and I must be too if I can
get depressed over him. No good work on novel. Filing, cleaning,
paying bills takes up all my time and my room still looks like a filthy hole.
Hermiting seems only option (cheaper, too). Must learn to roll
with the punches.
Fantasizing about Devon because 24th is his birthday. Bad sign.
```
    1:00PM 21 Feb 77
    Dizzy from dieting. Not dancing very bad for my body.
```
Current weight 122. (Opal says I have the perfect body. Glad
someone appreciates it.) Ryder suggested jogging – bad mistake.
Instantly attacked by colds & flu. Instead of eating go to library on
my lunch hr to take out books. Went to see The Sentinel somewhere
in the burbs with Avril and Mason, who drove like a crazy person
(“I’m not afraid of death!”) Never again. Ghastly flick. Mason moving in
– his money is good. Another secret to be kept from landlord. A guy
at work (Keith Dalrymple) is courting me. He looks all right, though
he has receding hairline. Kind of old. Asked to read my novel. I gave
him my poems instead. He needs to hit the ground running.
```
    Tues. 22 Feb 77
    Mason trying to talk A into moving to Calif with him. Uh oh. 
```
Maeve also wants to move out because I’m critical of her
“dating” her married boss (they have sex in the supply closet).
She believes his tiredest lines. “Drop him – he’s outrageous
and destructive,” I say. I’m one to talk. Will use her room for
my study. Try to live without roommates. Sent Devon a long
grey silk scarf for his birthday.
```
    3:40 PM Wed 23 Feb 77
    Keith Dalrymple amazingly told me he loves my 
```
poems. Wow. Having good literary taste definitely works with me!
Having a drink with him tonight. Had to struggle to keep myself
from hurling cash at a gorgeous $50 suit in going-out-of-business
dress shop on Dupont Circle. Slogging through Mrs Dalloway –
it’s her best book. But all this blind struggle not my thing. Require
some consciousness. I guess we were reptiles in those days just
turning amphibious.
```
    Thurs. 24 Feb 77
    Can’t seem to write poetry anymore. Cocktail bar buffet 
```
with Keith (A calls him a “dim bulb”. We are very critical of each
other’s honeys.) He’s a Woolf novel – smooth glossy surface,
violence and trauma beneath. He is intelligent – quoted Frost –
38 yrs old – divorced (was married 15 years!!!) I sat swilling
Scotch and giving him the hairy eyeball – do I have the strength
for this? He blanched when I ordered escargots chablisienne.
Wouldn’t even kiss him. I demand exceptionality and refuse to
settle for less. Whatever else you can say about Ryder, he’s
definitely one of a kind. I am in a unique position compared to
other women writers. Given the chance to rise above sexual
strictures. Bought an exquisite pair of very high-heeled boots.
I tower over Ryder – in more ways than one. Heheheh.
Fri. 25 Feb 77
I fuss, I fume. I shriek and scream. I circle my
desk warily. Cannot get into this awful novel. Stare hard at
the clutching sisters in the Victorian photo for inspiration.
None comes. Instead slapped together a first poetry collection
– In the Vein.
5:20 PM Sun 27 Feb 77
Ryder will be here any minute. Driving straight
through from Pittsburgh because he “misses me so much.”
Flank steak marinating, turnips, parsnips & parsley, tomatoes
& sour cream – everything ready but wine. Too lazy to drive
to the Tick Tock. Day of ecstasy sorting books in new study.
Sections are: crime writing, Victorians, Great Novels, the Occult,
Women Writers, Cinema, Politics, Science, Children, History &
Murder Mysteries. (Move those downstairs.) Hating Orlando.
Why did Bowen write Afterword if she didn’t like the book?
```
    Mon 28 Feb 77 – Broadcast Agency
    Bad sex. Sore.  Feel like I’ve been run over. Something’s 
```
up with him. Mauled me again in the middle of the night. Guilt?
Surprise visit from landlord – heard about “violations” from
Montgomery County. Ha ha. Obviously only two people living here –
(nothing visible of Mason’s.) Landlord calmed. Says he wants to
sell the place. Would we allow to be shown? I said sure. Everybody
happy. Sorry to lose such a beautiful house but it is too expensive
for one person anyway.
```
    Thurs. 3 Mar 77
    Long talk with Avril about Mason. He is a racist.  
```
She says how is it possible to feel superior to and inferior to someone
at the same time? Human condition, I say. Spring wind makes
me long to shed my clothes! Poor Ryder! It’ll be halter tops
and hot pants the minute temp hits 65. Finally got a V. Woolf poem –

VIRGINIA WOOLF:
The Membraned Sieve

O bliss to be red admiral afeast
Upon a rotten apple in the grass; she dreamed that guiltily
Woke to Leonard bringing milk
Nessa dancing bear-like on the lawn, woke
To pain; cylindrical as seasons
Burning white and burning blue like friends.
The words fell fast, the blood fell faster;
Split the membraned sieve.
She raced the whitecaps out to sea
Parting the waves with her mother’s hand.
```
   Keith and I still talk but he has made no moves. Relief.
```
December 20, 2022
Inspired Pleasure
Diary of a Dancer
```
    Fri 23 July 76 - Tyler St, Chevy Chase, Maryland 
    R and I have seen each other every day since Fri – 
```
I think he’s in love. I could fall if I let myself but something holds me back.
I like our relationship now – he drops by the house after work
and we’re both in jeans. I think tonight’s the night for sex –
first time – I’m nervous but since I love his body I expect
to be all right.
Adore these slow working mornings. I get up
with A (depending on when her first run is – she’s now
working courier) to have time to set my hair before leaving
at 10. Beautiful walks up Tyler St. Early AM at the Shalimar
such a pleasure – sitting at the bar with my diary balanced
on my hipbones, watching the barmaids get ready, feeling
like a character out of Toulouse Lautrec.
Yesterday we met our across the street neighbors –
one of them is a gorgeous guy named Larry getting a degree
in Hospital Administration. Among ourselves we call him
“Shoulders” because he has such a gorgeous pair. To see
them dimpled with sweat on his way back from a run is to be
in heaven. Invited Larry and roommates Garrett and Opal to
dinner tomorrow night – if they can come.

Thurs 22 July 76 – 9:25 PM
God I’m in love. I love his fragile, tense blond body –
love holding it. Love looking at his Lorenzo diMedici face.
Those blond Italians! He wouldn’t like to hear me say it –
he has a black belt in karate and thinks he’s so tough – but
he probably only outweighs me by 20 lbs. Made love all afternoon –
he is very skilful – obsessed with my pleasure. Says he doesn’t
care if he ever comes – wants to see what gives a woman pleasure.
We fit together exactly – interlocking puzzle pieces even
upside down. I can feel his feet with my feet – his knees
with my knees – it’s like having a mirror body – only with a
hard chest and penis. After the first time the relief of the orgasm
was so great I wept. I fell asleep with him inside me. Wrote
a poem about him but don’t know if I want to show him. If I
learned anything from Bruce it’s that people misrepresent.
He could be shockable and its early days yet. Today I want
to buy a bookcase.
Love equals, unfortunately, anxiety attacks – could
he possibly love me as much as I love him? Yesterday walking
in the park I expressed fear about him going straight from one
serious relationship right into another – but he says he refuses to
limit the experience. Which of course was exactly the right answer.
The worst part is his trouble with my job.
He says he knows he can’t ask me to quit because
he can’t support me – I pointed out he wants me to go on the Divers
World expedition, and then to Cozumel, and I want to take him to Maine,
all of which would be impossible if I had a regular job. He says he
can deal with it only by avoiding the Shalimar – OK by me as long as
I see him outside. He came in today – I got rid of him after a half hour,
before my set.

11:05 AM – Shalimar Tues 27 July 76
Feel like throwing out all my diaries. Driveling gush broken
up by gushing drivel. But I go right ahead and produce some more.
Randy throwing ice and cases of beer, Bobbi cleaning trays, Carmen
checking paper towels and me writing. Perfect.
We were lying in bed – me and Ryder – I have to lie on his
right side because he only has one good ear – and he told me a long
purposeless allegory about bullfighting. Can’t tell which of us is the
supposed to be the matador. I’m the only one with a poetic license
in this relationship.) He said I should just write, and he’s going
to see to it. I said fine by me. I love this job but not as much
as writing, love and freedom. Then he said, I love you.
```
9:45 AM Wed July 28 76
        Anniversary of Toss Sheffield relieving me of 
```
my impacted virginity (as I relieved him of his.) R came yesterday at 2 –
left at 3 – came back at 5. Another watershed in our relationship – Fears.
He’s afraid to lose the hearing in his good ear. He speaks sign
language but doesn’t want to live in a world without sound. I made
him promise to go the doctor. He agreed to make an appointment no
later than Weds.
Reading Christina Stead’s wonderful Dark Places of
the Heart. Considered inviting Ryder to live with us – rejected
the idea. I need too much alone time. So important to establish
amour proper. I am so impoverished from setting up the house
(though I’ve made enough in tips to pay my taxi ride home tonight)
I am barely going to make the rent. Need a windfall.
Sweaty and smelly. I think I’ve boogie –oogie-oogied
till I just can’t boogie no more.

Club Shalimar– 30 July 76
Cookout at Ryder’s parents – I met his folks – two
roly-poly people who are nothing like him – one sister who is
a lot younger.
We had glorious talks on our way there and back –
about having our own space – (we agreed he needs to live alone);
our hopes and dreams (he used to write music, wants to do that
again someday – I told him I have an agent shopping a novel around)
first impressions (I discovered he was in the bar when I auditioned!
Horrors!) He said what intrigues him most about me is that he
can’t figure me out – still can’t – everything about me is a surprise.
I guess I could say the same about him.
Wonderful abandoned sex – just crazy stuff – I came and
came. He told me he spent last night at his old house – he and
his wife had to have a “meeting”. I was jealous until he told me
that his wife is sexually dead – and always has been. He didn’t
understand it when they married, assuming it was something you
get over. I suggested she was probably molested as a child –
he didn’t want to believe it. He thinks some people are sexually
just asexual. I thought – but didn’t say – there’s a self-protective
concept. He doesn’t want to think she is turned off of him but in
my experience – such as it is – chemistry is a completely
mysterious yet crucial factor women have a tendency to discount
it when choosing a life partner. So they end up married to the
“perfect” person, except they’re not sexually stirred.
2:00 AM. He tucked me in – kissed me – left – then
I was wakened with his hands all over me. When he got to his
car he realized our clock had stopped and he didn’t have time
to go home before work. So he snuck back in the sliding door.
We had sex again, and the whole night became a snake
eating its own tail. This morning got a wonderful poem:
Love, the Magician.

The Magician is a Capricorn
Bleeding cock’s milk from nipples
Pale like mine but
Maler.
Illusion, he says is memory
Of things that should have been.
Doves and rabbits he entices
From sacred groves between my legs
Placed by ruse, and freed by art.
When he dies, passion turns his eyes
To quarters.
He hears the world but faintly
Through his one good ear.
The other turns to me,
Safecracker’s daughter.
Trust the magician, voices tell me
He knows when to drop the dice.
December 14, 2022
In the Butterfly Pavilion

A Poem

IN THE BUTTERFLY PAVILION

This evening you said you wished

I was more conventional.

I bowed my head. I did not speak.

Outside the animals leaned together,

Breathing lightly; waiting

For my answer.

Cats-tongue ferns

Swelled up like swords, pushed out a stink

Occluding fields of vision while

The rabbit-bloodied lawn curled away.

Phlox flamed

Sows littered in the cyclamen

Dwarf stars broke free as

Frazzled molten ore raced across a sky

Darkening to night.

Summoning my power

My hands stay folded in my sleeves.

Nighttime is my kingdom.

December 11, 2022
#Haiku: Translation

What could you become?

#Haiku: Translation

What the caterpillar calls

“the end”

Universe calls

“a butterfly.”

December 10, 2022
Dream of Freud’s Wolfman

The window opens of its own accord.

He’s catapulted forward; waked.

Outside, the walnut tree is hung with wolves

Each to its branch; they watch him

Blankly. Stillness has its

Consequence. They are fat

As lambs ready for castration; round

As dogs; white as mother’s underdrawers.

Such tails! Thick tails

Perked and listening!

Blue snow rumples up the bedclothes; stiffens

Into plaster. This sky leads nowhere.

The child’s eyes are frozen like the window

They do not close; this tree

Is butchered at the crown; it will

Not grow.

The wind that frosts the room is welcome

Stirring like a scream and like a scream

It alters what it sees.

The wolves levitate.

What they know the child

Must discover.

November 27, 2022