“I’m certain you’ll like this one,” said Jane as both women drove in Jane’s Ford Anglia toward Hampstead Heath, “No garden but such a view! It’s a second floor maisonette – two whole floors with a bit of a balcony. Lots of room, considering it’s a London flat. Be honest if you take against it – I’ve got four other possibilities – it’s just that this is the one with the most space.” The yellow stone-faced outside bore a plaque honoring the building – or at least the location – as one of William Blake’s London residences.
“Promising augury for poets,” said Scarlet, resolved to love the place and get this over with. “Of course!” agreed Jane, who clearly had never noticed the plaque before. Possibly a disorganized, half-crazed ancient mystic was not the type her usual clientele yearned to emulate. “So, you write, too?”
“I’ve been a bit absorbed in the baby,” said Scarlet. “But I have hopes.”
The entrance was cramped and unphotogenic– obstructed as it was by dustbins – and the narrow staircase was clearly impossible for prams.
“Furniture comes in through the windows,” said Jane, and when Scarlet commented, “Like Holland” she agreed, “As you say.”
Jane was too agreeable – it was beginning to make Scarlet’s skin crawl. What would Jane would say if a male client asked to squeeze her knockers? “As you say?” Or is that just my cynicism, Scarlet wondered. Have my husband’s predilections ruined my temperament?
After the hard work of stair climbing they stepped into a lovely, light filled flat, large as promised, with a full bathroom on each floor. Scarlet wanted it at once. The kitchen was miniature with the usual unacceptable Stone Age English appliances – but there was a bedroom off it – “Servant quarters” according to Jane – which would do for an au pair. Scarlet fantasized that if you got rid of the huge Victorian bathtub and installed a shower instead the downstairs bath could contain a modern washing machine. Three large reception rooms, and upstairs three big-windowed bedrooms. Off the largest bedroom was a tiny balcony with room only for a pair of chairs but with a glorious view all across London.
“We’ll take it,” said Scarlet and Jane crowed with satisfaction, “I thought you might.” There was nothing to sign and no mention of money.
“We need Margalo to negotiate with the builders,” said Jane, “She’ll tell them what’s what. I’ll give her the green light, shall I?”
“How lovely,” sighed Scarlet. Was this what spending was like for rich people? Minions took care of all details, while your sole obligation was to consult your pleasure. “Shall I drop you at your hotel?” queried Jane.
“No,” said Scarlet. “Montcalm Ladies’ Clothiers.” She couldn’t say, “I have a date.” And after all, wasn’t shopping what ladies were expected to do when they came up from the country? Scarlet needed London clothes for her new London life.
“I can find it,” Jane said confidently.
Two suits, two cocktail dresses, a long black velvet skirt and a brocade gold top were what Montcalm Clothiers’ fashion wizard Stella told Scarlet she would require, and Scarlet quite agreed. Two tweed suits – for town and country – thrown into the bargain. Scarlet sat on a miniature Louis Quinze sofa, accepted a cup of weak China tea (no milk, sugar or lemon) and watched a parade of garments. The dark blue chiffon cocktail dress made her heart beat fast but, “I don’t think I have a waist yet,” she sighed.
“Nonsense,” said Stella brusquely, “Where would any of us be without our corsets?” And she produced a buff and black merry widow complete with stocking suspenders. “Give it a try.” It worked.
Stella said, “We don’t sell proper jewelry here, just a few outfit-finishing costume pieces but nothing better instructs a man what to give for Christmas and birthday when he contemplates the shortcomings of your jewel box.”
So that’s how it’s done, thought Scarlet. Clever girls!
A brooch, a necklace and a wonderful pair of dangly jet earrings were consequently chosen.
Scarlet felt most important. No mention of Margalo here – but merely – “Would you like to open an account? We need a few items of personal information.”
These included references. Scarlet gave Margalo and both the London and Oakhampton bank managers.
“Shall we bill the country or town home?” Stella was good. She was almost as good as Jane but, because she was older and consequently wore a lot more makeup the tension lines around her lips gave her away.
“The town home,” said Scarlet, “We’re not moving into the London flat till February 1st.” Stella’s face relaxed and she purred like a kitten as she took down the address. “Wyvern House” did sound quite chi-chi.
“Shall I send these along to your hotel?”
“Will there be delivery by five?” asked Scarlet and when reassured, gave her address. Mentioning the Cumberland seemed to seal – not queer – the deal.
In 1979 I borrowed a dime And stepped out in my party-dress To make a call. I’d need a cell phone now. A careless man said, “Find your own way home.”
St Theresa cut in on our line – A sixteenth century nun pierced by light Reminded me while kneeling there To cut my anger with the sword of bliss And revel in the sacred music Anchor-less.
I still seek among the faces Grief unstrung, listen to their emptiness Of joy undone Amidst the rage, the blindness and the fear; Recognize magnificence She told me would be there.
Meteoric dust drips ash Into my upturned mouth; I taste stars; What manner of being are you? I only know you’re something That I need. Your
Mirrored endlessness partakes of Nothing human, yet suggests Completion. Your shadow arches Over everything, a lover who Won’t give satisfaction. I’ll take The expert titillation
Of your neglect. Hunger burns so purely in This atmosphere. Without you I might be myself; with you I am nothing. But Deflation is a lover’s privilege.
Just a year ago I was leaving MN, assessing my theatre summer and its value! This was a better theatre experience but I’m not sure I can remain in the theatre if I dislike routine so much. Robin says I’m spoiled and lazy but I like surprises. Constant astonishment would be perfect. Robin says that is film acting but I photograph so horribly I could only play witches. I have a jaw like a boxing glove. I do feel more sure of myself and more determined in my philosophy. I’d consider dancing if every dancer alive weren’t better than me – I am not a “natural dancer” at ALL. But it’s fun!
I learned to respect Catholicism but I see its danger: putting men in charge. They have crazy ideas! Robin for example, thinks I’m a “whore” because I WON’T have sex! I think my moral philosophy is pure and untainted but he says if I like passion without penises I must be a lesbian! (I better not tell him about Fleur. I’ve had my chance! ) Love is NOWHERE in this equation. He grabbed me backstage as I was going on for Act III and said I broke his heart. I told him to write a radio serial – I don’t think his heart ever came out to play. He was very insulted but Jodi and I have discussed this. She agrees his deepest feelings are not involved – this is a volcano of selfishness and anger and I should stay away. She says he wants to talk badly about me to everyone but they will see it for what it is. Jodi moved in a few days ago – I am liking having a roommate better than I thought I would. Looking forward to seeing Mom & Dad and cruising a new area. Play with my thirteen-year-old sister and catch up on my sleep.
Mon 17 July 67 Rehearsal bad this evening. I am gobbling aspirin. Whenever I see Robin talking to someone I know its about me. The orchestra is so pathetic there isn’t a beat to dance to! We get our counts mixed up. Left my black ballet slippers at the dorm and Mr. Johnson wouldn’t let me wear my pink ones – had to wear a pair that didn’t fit. The second act is definitely the worst – they put the summerhouse where I am supposed to be standing! I am literally dancing against a wall. I nearly killed Carrie in the cartwheel and then my bodice started to unlace. The only fun I have is in the cancan. And in the final act I have to waltz with Robin! That means I am wearing my ugliest costume for the meaningless finale.
Miss Whalen delivered an ill-timed lecture. All those considering suicide will go ahead now and do it and the orchestra will be even smaller. Tea and sticky buns with Sister Mary Rosycheeks back at the dorm provide some relief. In a week I’ll be on the boat!
Tues 18 July 67 There is a serious drawback to having a roommate – I never get anything done! Mom and Dad called from Cape Cod I started crying and then we got cut off! I am ashamed of myself – they are never going to know I’m not miserable. I can’t explain about Robin obviously (Mom would take HIS side!!!) I get so homesick when I hear their voices! Avril was telling me about all the “psychedelic” boutiques on the shore.
Thurs 20 July 67 “Is the world a lunatic asylum then? Are we all courteous maniacs discreetly making allowances for everyone else’s derangement?”
This from Muriel Spark’s wonderful The Comforters which I just this moment finished reading. So fabulous. So satisfying. Didn’t understand the title until I read that sentence! Halfway through I doubted I could survive the chaos (or the self-conscious writing. “Joe was feeling tired. “I’m feeling tired, said Joe.” There’s only so much of that you can stand.) The book jacket prints a nice quote from Evelyn Waugh and I will follow that man through thick and thin. It turned out to be worth it. Words blown out of context, motives ignored, manipulations misconstrued while people automatically say the opposite of whatever they really feel. Spark is enchanting. I will get all her other novels to read, but my next project is Waugh’s son Auberon’s Foxglove Saga.
Sat with Chris Cahill during dinner. He is only 14 but painfully smart. No one can stand him but me – he wants to argue about art and/or history at every possible moment. With a male Alysse Aallyn on the loose how can I help but lend a hand. Spark backs me up that we are kinder toward those whose madness we recognize!
Last night’s preview VERY successful – the nuns loved it. They are as sentimental as whores (according to Giraudoux!! ) Sister Mary Rosycheeks said the cancan girls have such cute bottoms! Our dancing was certainly the high point! Must get over to the theatre now in fact – it’s only ten to seven but I need ages making up.
1:50 AM Fri 21 July 67 Fierce rainstorm this afternoon – Jodi and I were DRENCHED! Had to dry my hair under the bathroom blower.
Too much to eat! Jodi & I celebrating opening night with clove tea & orange peel (Alysse’s special recipe) chocolate cookies, apple and the rest of the orange. Who needs the dining hall? I’d better stay up while the tea takes its course – I hate being wakened in the middle of the night three feet off the bed on my bladder. Jodi looks so sweet over there – sleeping clutching her Kleenex box!
Finished part I of Foxglove. Auberon’s nowhere near as biting as his father – but he is witty and entertaining. He’s certainly a lot more organized than Muriel! He’s also not a fatalist but maybe he’s too young (cover portrait handsome young man.) Hmmm. Don’t think I could ever marry a novelist. How would you ever know who was plagiarizing who?
Opening night audience was packed. At first NOTHING could amuse them but by the beginning of the second act they were thawed and started applauding EVERYTHING!! Loved the cancan! Such a letdown when it’s over! I’m ecstatic when I’m dancing – sweat didn’t ruin my makeup – not a curl out of place – lost no feathers – not even an earring! Did not forget Sasha’s gloves or tights! Triumph! I am learning. (It was the first time I was EVER in the Green Room on time.)
Some of these costume changes are TOO MUCH – once again Carrie forgot to double knot my bodice and it started to unravel!
Called the travel agent – booked a flight for Wed. Get out of here 9:30 AM making only one change at Minneapolis. Get into Kennedy 3:30 PM their time. Then a train to Montauk. I wish Mom would meet me – I’d like to talk to her and it would do her good to get away. I’m sure she is afraid to talk honestly about Genevieve, but she’ll never feel better if she doesn’t. Her impulse is always to pretend it isn’t happening – I remember her stepping over dead drunk men in the street and being goosed by parking lot attendants in Morocco. All with regal hauteur. I bought her a green paisley cigarette case as a mark of a new Tolerance to let her know I love her – she knows I hate her smoking. At some point we have to step past all the frozen tears and kisses.
Before the second act curtain when Robin and I were frozen in our places, him touching my bare back he begged me to go to the Black Hawk with him after the play. I said No. I said, ‘:Do you hate me Robin” and he said no but I can see he does.
After the play I ran up the iron stairs to the dressing room, smeared cold cream on my face & eyelashes, put on my dress without a bra and rushed out before anyone could speak to me. Sweet, seven page letter from Genevieve July 15 –
“This is a shamefully overdue letter and I apologize but all sorts of phenomena are happening in my life – I’m sorry I haven’t included you sooner..” Then she sprung her big surprise – she’s marrying Kent Winokur! Said she loves him because he’s like Daddy! Hmmm… Said she’s probably get married next weekend and I could come visit them! I wrote back saying I thought marriage was a hell of a contract and nineteen’s awfully young but I know she won’t listen to me! Enclosed penny candy as a wedding present!
I do disapprove. It’s not Mom and Dad – I don’t think she can help feeling trapped because she WILL be trapped! I wouldn’t give up the excitement of independence so easily, that wild exhilaration. You never want to think you’ve missed the action. And what if she wants to be alone? I want to know that somewhere there is a single bed I can always return to. On the other hand, I haven’t met anyone who makes me want to give that up. I suppose it’s possible he exists. Sings Barbra:
“I want to find my true love like all the lovesongs say I want to do what I want, I want to get my way. Wild dreams grow wise when sweet childhood flies Time waved her hand and the breeze Blew sand from my eyes…”
But I may be making a mistake thinking what revolts me revolts her. Maybe she is the wife type. I better go to bed – Jodi and I have to clean the paint room tomorrow and I will look like Living Death. Is there no rest for the wicked?
Sun 23 July 67 Rudely awakened at 10:30 AM by Mater and Pater calling from Connecticut. Gave them my flight info.
The day went blissfully, lazily. Robin came over insisting I help him with his NDEA lines, so I did. We hugged. He begged me to come for a drive. I was infused with physical longing but refused. Thank God I was strong enough! He claimed the pink ribbon from my hair. I wouldn’t let him have it unless he would give me his shirt on the spot. He wouldn’t so I refused to let him have the ribbon.
Here’s the note he gave me: “If what you want is not to be together, if that will make it easier, I’ll try. Believe me, I’ve always tried to do everything your way.” Jesus I’ll be glad to get out of this place!
Tues 25 July 67 4:30 AM Looks like I won’t be getting to bed tonight either! Didn’t get underway with my packing till 3;15 because I was saying goodbye to everyone in the smoker.
Performance went great – ballet especially! Last applause rang in our ears. Black velvet curtains swung together and the major domo enfolded the cancan dancer in his arms. It’s a wrap! Strike! (Means something different in the theatre.)
Felt so nostalgic taking off my satin & feathers!
After strike cancan dancer eluded the majordomo, went back to the dorm to say goodbye to Jodie and meet her folks. Farm folk! I am so ashamed of my snobbishness! Robin insisted on a Last Walk. I’d actually believe he just had rotten luck to fall in love with me – if he hadn’t SAID he wants me because he can’t HAVE me! Sick! We sat on the stone steps and I stared into his crooked face (he is so much handsomer onstage!) He still doesn’t understand why I wouldn’t kiss him. What’s it matter to me?
It mattered.
He will NEVER understand but he insisted we correspond. He also demanded to drive me to the airport. Uh oh. What if he kidnaps me? My frugality will be the death of me!
Swimming last night in the Lourdes pool – skinny dip! Just me & Jodi playing “Loch Ness monster!” Nice nuns caught us and showed us the door. All the cancan girls met in the smoker and munched cherries.
Raced up to the fourth floor sundeck to watch the sun come up over the bluffs. Wake bring in huge breakfast – hot chocolate, mushroom omelet and doughnuts!
Picked up my tickets from the travel agent – they are incredibly cheap – I don’t understand it at all. Three hours sleep in the afternoon. Parents called from Block Island where they are stranded by rough winds so Mom can’t come. I wasn’t depending on her so unsurprised. No point going to bed now! Second sunrise in a row! Shared with Joan Peska who suffers from an abscessed tooth.
This summer’s been worth it. 1) take bath 2) clean room 3) finish packing 4) iron dress 5) ? My tea is cold. I can sleep on the plane.
So much has happened! I covet every moment! Screwtape Letters remind me every day is a gift and warn me against reverting to self-pity. CS Lewis amusing & cultured. Unfortunately his God demands belief and I do not believe in a jealous God. Jealousy’s a sin! Also don’t care for “forcing” prayer. Is it a tribute? I pray to my inner resources every day!
Finished Quennell’s Byron – Years of Fame and started Miss Bigland’s Lord Byron; sheer plagiarism!
Reading Waugh’s Men at Arms instead. He is a genius! I think we would look like his stumbling, bumbling characters if we could view ourselves objectively. The weird part is Waugh LIKES the army! I guess he makes fun of everybody.
The Madwoman of Chaillot is a failure because everyone knows going in that rag pickers with daisies are Good and Presidents in tall black hats are bad. But we don’t live life like that!
Spent half an hour putting on my gypsy makeup. Jodi very worried that I don’t do it the same way every night! Looking forward to Tiplady’s party – having someone interesting to talk to makes everything worthwhile.
Tues. 27 June 67 Everyone got drunk on beer at Tiplady’s party. I hate beer! I guess I should be glad there weren’t whisky sours or Purple Jesuses. I cold-shouldered Robin and he grabbed me and kissed me in front of everybody! Told him I forgive him. I’m the forgiving type. We danced and sat around. He stroked my thigh beneath the table.
Horrible letter from Shawn – a more prosaic and fatherly epistle cannot be imagined. Why do all boys flunk writing? If they knew the power it confers! Maybe Robin will do better.
Shawn is a Victorian – working hard to separate girls into “types”. (He’s the “Victorian type!”) This is the boy who bit my breast! I ran right up to dorm after and refused to talk to him until he apologized over and over. Obviously to his way of thinking it’s somehow subtly my fault! His bad letter had the good result of keeping me from missing him so much. I let Robin stroke my belly, even though if he was Shawn it would have given him “dangerous ideas”.
Got a coveted part of Dodo in The Merry Widow – a Maxim’s dancer! I didn’t even want to try out I was so convinced of my own inferiority but Mr. Johnson made me! Abject humility! Mr. Dolan was very polite about my reading – he is the best of the professional actors here. (He completely saved the last play.)
Alas the play is hopelessly insipid. But we do get a lot of fun costume changes. (I run right up to the audience, throw my skirts over my head and show them my backside! This will be especially fun with a theatre full of nuns!)
We have been working so hard I am a living bruise. Back to the dorm to boil myself pink, enjoying Gladys Schmitt’s very well-written Rembrandt. It’s full of trivia but LIFE is trivia. She’s latched onto a great theme – birthright sold for a mess of pottage. Of course if you need pottage, what are you going to do?
Solitude is as refreshing as a meal. Starting to feel bad for Casey – she doesn’t know what she’s getting into. I must be a trial to live with.
Wed Jun 28 67 The girls here are a really good bunch. I am sorry I was such a snob. Outward differences really are skin deep. Shows how prejudice can be defensive.
I am happy, struggling to achieve the balance between solitude and group endeavor. Carrie Benoit, Jeannie Morrison and Kathy Knoop are all the dancing girls – we have such fun together. We have to lace each other into ridiculous children’s tutus that barely cover our backs!
Thurs. June 29 – 67 Today was the sorest I’ve ever been. I am cross-eyed with exhaustion and half way through the ballet I was shot. I can’t believe they picked me for this! They must be crazy! The worst part is doing it over and over. I can see all sorts of shortcuts but I am not allowed to take them (I’m already faking a split beneath my skirt.) Ballet is a punishing discipline. I think it may have been made up originally as a punishment. Sleep without dinner (two oranges and iced tea) my jeans are HANGING on me. Mr. Johnson says the soreness goes away and leaves fine muscle. I hope so. I think I’ve just about stretched myself out.
Robin invited me out but I didn’t want to be alone with him so we went to the Black Hawk. Fran and John sat with us – I think they have the ideal relationship (they live together but it’s a secret.) Fran’s a dancer now that poor Jeannie threw her knee out. Occupational hazard of cancan dancers! Feeling indestructible (fingers crossed.) Think I am finally growing up – I hate it when Casey or Aynsley say they wish they were children again! UGH! To be my own mistress at last is all of my dream. Letter from Casey that she 69’d with Dan! Shudder. I can’t visualize it – what do you do with your knees? Letter I longed for from Mom I didn’t get.
Tues 4 July 67 Coldest July fourth in history! No tan possible under these conditions. Last year I had to rub my body with ice cubes and 4711 to get the fever down, now I lie beneath 2 blankets and a spread, swilling tea. Sooner or later all this tannic acid is going to catch up with me. On the other hand Mr. Nichols says tea’s the reason the Brits conquered the world – their insides had turned to leather and they could tolerate anything.
First day we’ve had off! Washed my hair, did my laundry, finished Waugh’s Men At Arms. His Catholic confusion really starting to show. He hates everybody for not following the rules, on the other hand they think they ARE following “the rules”. Constantly changing the rules is not helping. Also finished The Killing of Sister George, which reminded me of A Thousand Clowns. Preferred George for technical reasons, Clowns as a play. Study of the individual floundering in a cage a lot more interesting than the cage myself, if you get my meaning.
Reading Sean O’Faolain’s tales with occasional snacks of Shelley and Baudelaire, when I get bored which happens often because he’s no Chekhov or Henry James. The Darling and Europe still stand alone. Luckily Baudelaire comes with the original French. Would you translate:
“Des costumes qui sont pour les yeux une ivresse Des femmes don’t les dent et les ongles son teints Et des jongleurs savants qui le serpent caresse”
As
“we have seen wonder-striking robes and dresses women whose nails and teeth the betel stains and jugglers whom the rearing snake caresses” sacrificing beauty for rhyme?
Makes me wonder what’s really going on when I read Yevtushenko.
My feelings for Robin are a wild seesaw through indifference, unaffected affection and outright rudeness. Had it out with him on our walk. I hate this “game” – can I get my hand up her thigh? Will she let me touch both breasts? It pushes us apart.
He said “Do you realize after three weeks we may never meet again?”
I said, “If we stand long enough in Piccadilly Circus they say we’re bound to see each other.” He was very huffy: “I’m not going to Piccadilly Circus!”
He called me a “prick teaser” so I called him a bastard. There’s even less in it for me than there was with Aiken! I refuse to walk with him any more, will only see him at The Black Hawk.
My diet of One Meal a Day (can’t be bothered to leave my room) plus constant dancing has exposed all my ribs. I’d like to be even more emaciated but have no will power (two ice creams for dinner!)
Frannie’s having a party tonight and Robin WON’T be there! A welcome change.
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!
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.
Alysse Aallyn 