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Inspired Pleasure
Diary of a Dancer
```
Monday 8 Jan 78 – 6 PM
        Twenty-four hours ago I was sitting in my red dress over 
```
a glass of port, waiting for Jervaze to arrive. Anxiety level high. Somewhere
– I think from Mom – I got the impression that my needs are so automatically
repellent to any sane individual that they must be hidden. Therefore, I have
to carefully think my way through to any honest approach – and then it isn’t
really honest any more. But I can’t just be impulsive. Prepared myself for disappointment – that he would be late or perhaps not show – because there
is something weird about him. Some deep dark secret perhaps? But he was
right on time.
This time I took him to my nearest neighborhood restaurant

where the waiter put on quite a show with Irish coffee till flaming liquor rolled
down his sleeves! Jervaze came inside my house without hesitation – I
fretting about how to best establish physical contact while he sprawled
comfortably on the couch. I turned off the overhead light and lit candles –
took off my jacket – he rubbed his face against my breasts acting calm,
respectful and not neurotic. Must be my experience with R that makes me
fearful of being “shamed” every second.
Jervaze kissed and kissed my face so long – tears
automatically filled my eyes. But he did not get upset. Got up like a
perfect gentleman “when it was time to leave” and I managed to resist
attacking him. I did one very strange thing that is causing me anxiety now.
We showed each other our class rings – he always wears his. I slid mine
on his little finger and left it there. He wore it home. Uh oh. 11:30 AM Wed 11 Jan 78
Experiencing sharp attacks of fear all day long at “being in a relationship”. What the hell was I doing giving him my ring? See, I agree that everything’s my fault! Story of my life! Currently enjoying two quiet hours
while A is at the gynecologist. It will be great when she gets her own place.
Plenty of private time and space to panic in.
Today I got a phone call from R and a letter from Devon. So,
I was able to line my relationships up, so to speak, contrast and compare.
Even lumped together they are not one full relationship! R’s “gamesmanship”
is down from its zenith, but, owing to my total nonparticipation, also at its most exposed. Lengthy chat about our vacations, and then he spent probably a
half hour telling me his “insurance setup”. Why? So I can tell everyone
where to find the will and the important papers when he runs into a tree on
his next ski trip! I should be worried about him dying apparently!!!
I let him talk, I didn’t cut him off and I asked no questions,
largely because this makes him the craziest and he deserves it. I know he’s
comforting himself now that I still care about his finances if not about him. Devon thanked me for the glamorpic (described me as “so lovely” and said he feels
like he’s talking to me when he writes his letter) and then launched into a long description of his and Gwynne’s relationship.
They have an “understanding” which seems to involve “being
there for each other” without “demands”. “Why won’t he admit he’s gay?” howls
Avril when I read this to her.
But I don’t think sex is even that simple for him. His approach
is much more diffuse – a constantly vibrating choice between “being sexual”
and “not being sexual”. He and I had such good sex, but if it all has to happen
in a sort of coma, if there can’t be any planning or god forbid, discussion
then the hell with it.
As for Jervaze, he showed up for the last three hours of my
first night back at The Plush Palace from the Starlight. He was wearing my ring.
I asked him if my work bothered him. He said, no, he was cool with it, but was
glad I asked.
Whereupon we went back to his place and made love for 3 hours. Whoo-hoo! I’m not kidding! The first test – home design – alas he
failed. His furnishings are truly HORRIFIC Spanish Mediterranean dreck. His
shower curtain consists of festoons of blue chiffon – it is INCONCEIVABLE
that a male could purchase such a thing. Guess I am not asking the right
questions. Old girlfriend? Mom? Sister-in-law? Some woman raised exclusively
on pirate films had a hand in here somewhere.
As to the sex – that test he passed. He’s a prizewinner there. Everything takes forever and that doesn’t seem to bother him in the least. Is
he some kind of reptile, living in a time zone utterly different from us mammals?
It took him 20 minutes to get my pants off working steadily. I got enough
comments about the beauty of my body to satisfy my ego for life.
He went down on me without a flicker – so much for all those
rumors about Southern men – and when he goes down he stays down. On the
other hand – he never did come. Calms fears of premature ejaculation but
raises other ones. His uncircumcised penis stayed stiff for 3 hours. This is a
first for me, and I don’t know whether I like it. I really can’t give myself
permission to come under these circumstances yet clearly I will have to –
I’ll just have to say, “forget you – let’s concentrate on me.” That could work.
But as I say, it would certainly be different. When I left, he gave me his key.

7:45 Pm – Plush Palace – Thurs 12 Jan 78
Called Jervaze and suggested we do something tonight –
he acted enthusiastic. I said, “Should I be calling you? Wouldn’t want to
call too much,” and he said, “Call all the time.” R–induced horrors dropping
away one by one. It’s snowing – I’ll go straight to Jervaze’s. (He’s close to club.)
```
4PM Friday, Jan 13-78
        I think Jervaze may really be an angel; one of Milton’s 
```
sexed up angels who took a wrong turn to our planet by mistake. Some
anxiety is relieved. We never did get to go anywhere – stayed in bed. Bliss.
But if this doesn’t work I will damn well marry Devon whether he likes it or
not – I can’t take much more of this.

I’m at my desk hammering out letters – trying to answer one
from the island realtor. The studio apt has “no cooking facilities”. I don’t care
but the realtor does, she has a house on the pond for $175 “long lease” she
wants me to take. Says it has a Franklin stove and I could “bike to town.” I admit
I’m interested. Jervaze has offered to come to the island with me in March –
I really shudder at the thought of introducing him to my parents, how to tactfully
say, Please don’t ask him about Ideas and only offer him one drink. Last night
I let myself into his apt, took a shower, tried to use his sparkingly hazardous
blow dryer, gave that up, crawled in bed with him. I had lots of Ryder-induced
fears that he wouldn’t be there, in bed with another girl, etc. But no. There he was, nude, gorgeous, asleep – and when he woke up, happy to see me.

5:25 PM Plush Palace – Sat 14 Jan 78
Snakes dropping into paradise one by one. First, although
Jervaze is incredibly easygoing – it is impossible to get him to state a
preference about a movie or a restaurant, for example – (had to drag him to Eastwood’s Every Which Way But Loose) I can tell he is nervous about
introducing me to his brother and sister in law. Should I just suggest we
lie about what I do for a living? I guess that wouldn’t really solve anything.
Sartre is so right. Hell IS other people. Then there’s my mother – the
latest demon fondling my ear. Once a woman has made herself
vulnerable to a man, she’s through. Uncommitted sex brings out
the worst in men, blah blah blah. Because it’s “too perfect” from his
point of view. I am “causing him moral hazard”. Yes, I tell the voice,
and it would be perfect from MY POINT OF VIEW TOO IF YOU WOULD
JUST SHUT UP. WE ONLY STARTED DATING A COUPLE OF WEEKS
AGO. But one can’t shut out THAT voice so easily.   Mystified by Willard Gaylin’s irritating Caring.    He acts like mutual dependence or
interdependence is some “failure” of personal autonomy.

Powder Mill Road – 11 PM Sunday 15 Jan 78
Jervaze “dropped by” this afternoon. Since it’s such a
long way from his place to mine I was astonished. Is it that I can no
longer believe a man will climb mountains for me? Or is it just my
sensitivities to Jervaze’s strangely inchoate “disabilities” warning me
and sending up red flags? We had a nice talk – he seemed faintly down –
then he had to leave because he needs to get up extra early tomorrow.
I was in too good a mood to work on my novel, bought clothes instead.
3 pairs of pants, sweater coat, five pairs undies, one gauchos. All clothes
size 7. Packaged MSS when I came home so as not to feel too unproductive.


Coleridge poem taken by Virginia community college
screed. No money. (Natch.)

DEEPER INTO COLERIDGE

“Music is beneath me” wrote
the fat man, angering his wife by stealing
her broom for walking
scattering the straw. He loved to
pack a nightcap and declaim upon the moors.
“I would have married a servant girl
could I but be sure of her affection.”
But be sure!
Some men are never fated to be sure.
Amidst politicking, pregnancies and
penny-pinching, he found the time
to fall in love with the Wrong Woman.
No wonder he took opium to distract him
from the faceless fiend that follows after
most of us but specially him
who knew so well to court it.
In his mildewed study he sits alone
clutching his bad heart and writing
“Ours is not a logical age”
January 7, 2023
Inspired Pleasure
Diary of a Dancer
```
Mon 27th Dec 77 11:00 AM
        See Dracula on Broadway – pure pleasure with some 
```
honest scares. Frank Langella very sexy. At Italian dinner Mom and
Dad push island hard, but I know the old people would never leave me
alone. They’d be worse than R. Still, there’s something magical about
being protected from the real world by the ferry – places you can’t get
to easily are wonderful just for that reason.
Mom and Dad say further I can’t be serious about my
writing or I’d have a job in publishing or magazines! I’m so rocked back
on my heels its hard to argue. It sounds so sane. But why won’t it result,
really, in another “hostage taking” of my soul, which, so, so regrettably,
appears to be so damn fragile? Becoming one’s self is life’s greatest
challenge – and so far it does seem necessary to abjure group (gang? Team?) endeavors. Writing doesn’t satisfy unless it comes out of the wild side of
me – my secret side. There’s always the temptation to rip open the spider
and get the silk out faster. Dad rolls his eyes – it’s the old “I’m an artist so
I can do what I want” argument again. How to tell him yes, he’s right. Yes,
I’m taking advantage of my education, my family, my “privileges”; it’s who
they made me. No going back to some invented Dust Bowl life of drudgery
just so THEY can “feel superior & good”. They insist they don’t WANT to
“feel good!” It’s about what’s “right!” My turn to roll my eyes.
```
Detroit, 11:05 PM, Thursday 29 Dec 77
        At the adorably, impossibly 20’s Tudoresque manse my sister 
```
Merrill is restoring – it’s lovely here. Merrill and her husband say dancing is
“sex work” and “sex work” is “OK” if its “regulated so “sex workers aren’t
exploited.” I get annoyed that nobody can tell the difference between dancing
and prostitution! Lots of things cause “erotic titillation” – breathing for
example. Still, I find I’m inclining toward taking a two-month break in March
and going to the island to write. Is this family management? But one of
the reasons I like dancing is because you can “pick it up and put it down.”
Well, we’ll see.
```
Thurs night 29 Dec 77 9:30 PM
            I find as I distance from Ryder I remember some good things 
```
and that makes me happy. He was so unique. It was fun knowing him,
watching him perform impromptu magic for street children and restaurant
patrons. More extraordinary really than poor old Jervaze who in spite of his
glamorous looks drinks way too much and hates his job. Also R knew me as
a “not dancer” which J doesn’t – maybe that persona obscures who I really
am. I remember the excitement of watching Ryder make his television show – unexpectedly sweaty physical labor in choosing camera angles and shots,
timing, music, close-ups – building the tape as the excitement was happening
– more in common with sports than some couch potato activity like editing.
Greek Town for dinner after the Renaissance Center, so the
night ended in a wild bouzouki. Day occupied with antiquing – especially fun
since I am reading Rumer Godden’s China Court, which is basically a love
song to things. It made me worry that there are not enough details in
Demon – what should I add? Perhaps buy a Vogue to see.
```
            Dreamed about Devon last night.  Wonder; what 
```
he’s up to. Maybe I’m being psychic again. Getting some peace of mind
about him as well. Merrill’s daughter comes to read over my shoulder,
then when I move to hide the diary says, “Don’t worry, I can’t read cursive. “
```
    Plush Palace – Tuesday, January 3, 1978 – 9:25 PM
            Back at work. Can’t concentrate on The Murder of Sir 
```
Edmund Godfrey, which is the book I brought because I keep thinking
Jervaze will drop by. Dead silence from him – no call on Christmas. I sent
him one card but of course I only got back yesterday. I can’t bear to take all
the initiative. Oddly (especially after my dream about him) had a card waiting
from Devon. Maybe I AM psychic. Evidently he regrets that love-letter –
encourages me to “hang loose”. Quotes from Sister Goldenhair. In other
words, don’t try to get him to plan to meet skiing, that’s just way more
planning than he can handle. Kind of a pathetic specimen.
```
Plush Palace – 10:05 pm Thurs 5 Jan 1978
        Jervaze came in Tues after my 10:00 set – with lots of little 
```
presents for me, perfume, bears, cards, pins – in a Christmas stocking. He
wore a gold-banded black cowboy hat covered with snow and a shiny black
down parka, his platinum hair swinging around his face – like a visit from an
angel. Or possibly a Chippendale dancer. He is too pretty; mine eyes dazzle.
He stayed till I got off at 1 then walked me to my car – one kiss – asked me
out very formally for Saturday night. I gave him directions to my place and
he wrote them in a book – tipped his hat, climbed into his Shelby and vanished,
leaving me wondering, is he gay? Is he even real? I continue to struggle
reading The Young Romantics – artists in 1840’s Paris.

PLACES I HAVE NEVER LIVED

From which house came my teenage lover?
I should recognize the one – where
As a sick moth haunts the moon he
Marked me in my blood.
He’s the one who died.
Women are more flexible
Turning shit to gold like
Earthworms; men are brittle
Sharp and angry, fall so
Easy out of tune. I sharpen
Ears these winter days
For all the sounds I never heard;
Screen doors slamming –
Secrets, arson,
Stolen kisses
Mustered music, borrowed
Penchant; Mayhem – trenchant
Terror – sentient.
```
        Avril and I found a perfect black sequin tube top while
```
we were out promenading yesterday – I’m going to wear it with my
black silk trouser suit. She thinks she found herself the perfect
apartment too – a studio in a skyscraper with a great kitchen, huge closets,
only $216 month utilities included, says she is going to look for another
week before she decides. Financial fount M & D don’t want her living with
me because I am a “harmful influence.” We saw Armon in a bit part on
TV last night – there weren’t any credits, but I knew it was him.
Listening out of one ear to gossip – Gina says the bartender
at the Starlight is bisexual and that Tony the bagman is her male lover.
She is big, he is little, I can’t imagine them together. He is called the “bagman”
because he runs between the clubs in a Lincoln filled with bags of money.
Gina also says that she is a priest in a mail order religion and that her
breasts are real and her ex-husband raped her nine-year-old daughter.
I can tell for a fact those hard breasts are fake so it does make it tough
to believe anything she says.
Last night went out with Erika to see the new Bunuel
(in spite of her claims to revere him she failed to notice he used different
actors for the same part) and to eat at Chateau Gesundheit. Depressing
conversation about how terrible men are – says her ex-husband is a cross
between a psychopath and a momma’s boy – she naturally assumed
because of R that this would be my favorite subject. She also says all exotic
dancers and showgirls were molested as children and as a result are lesbians who hate men. Asking or inviting? All I can say is that all little girls have unpleasant memories of Adult Men but this is just a chip on her breeze. A breeze I think
I better stay out of in future, perhaps. I also get tired of hearing the Marxist
slant on Life. Love doesn’t exist, people do everything for “self-interest”, etc.
etc. If that is true they are doing a piss-poor job of it. I think people live for
fantasy and some people’s fantasies are very, very cheap.
Hoping drinks with Maeve will be more fun.
```
        Midnight - 6 Jan- 78
        Crazy with love.  Jervaze and I had one of those unforgettable 
```
dates last night – Took him to my favorite restaurant in Ellicott City – Coco Lane
and we talked for hours. He loves dogs – wants to raise Grand Pyrenees. His
favorite cats are English blues. Wanted to be a vet except he always hated
school, so that’s how he got into working with his hands and he thinks there’s
no way back now. He loves WC Fields and horror movies.
The thing I love about him most (apart from his astonishing
beauty) is his natural courtesy, his dignity (he is very polite to anyone in a
service position – the exact opposite of R who acted as if being exigent
was the same thing as being discriminating. Status.) He has such an aura of gentleness and calm, just like those big dogs he loves so much. His isolation,
I like too – he’s the only male I’ve met in quite awhile who doesn’t travel in a
pack. He has a brother in the same job locally – that’s why he came up from
Alabama – but he plainly thinks suburban Virginia is the “fast lane” and I don’t
disabuse him.
He eats seafood by preference and wants to live on the water.
He probably drinks too much and could be an incipient alcoholic. My parents
would be totally, totally appalled but of course it doesn’t take much to appall them. Alas, he hasn’t finished my book – claims he’s “working on it”. I am
waiting for him to outright say he doesn’t understand it – maybe when he
knows me better.
When he kissed me goodnight he only kissed me – a relief
at the time, since it was one less worry. Now of course I wish I had some clearer indication from him that he finds me even attractive. Is he polite or am I resistible? Don’t want to be resistible – we’ll have to change that.
```
 Sat -1 pm 7 Jan- 78
        I’m at the Starlight – our club owner owns this one too – it’s huge.  
```
How I hate this stage. It isn’t a true stage but a runway winding through the
audience, which means you must keep walking all the time – and they try to
fill it by having several girls up at once. One can’t build any audience hypnosis – people pay less attention and have more business meetings – and tips
really take a nosedive. The bartender is a grizzled old lesbian who stares
right up my crotch – supposedly to see if my stocking seams are straight
(they aren’t. Fortunately she doesn’t offer to do them for me – but she still
watches.) Four of the other girls tried to get me to let them smoke dope in
the dressing room – I told them no. They’ll have to go out back with the alley
cats.
Thank God Glee – who has a lot of class – backed me up. So
the two of us had the dressing room to ourselves, which made a pleasant
change from watching the others trying to disguise the scars from their breast operations. Book I brought – The Pleasure of Ruins – does not go with this atmosphere in spite of its title.
R called me here – says he found me thru Randy who
was impressed because Ryder’s on TV! I flatly told him he is scaring the life
of out me with this behavior.
```
         But he seems to know just how far to push things, amazingly 
```
we had a wonderful talk! Gentleman Jim lets us talk in his office: very respectful
of our “privacy”. He obviously thinks we are dating. Wonder if he will tip
R to the fact that I have a “honey on the side” at the Plush Palace? Jesus!
I told R I am sick of his “psychotic twin brother” (good idea for a novel,
actually) and he really laughed – admitted he has “a Jekyll-Hyde” thing
going on. (It’s actually worse than that – it’s really Hyde and Mr. Nastier
Hyde – but didn’t say that. Keep conversation light.) He promised to stop
calling me at work.
January 5, 2023
Inspired Pleasure
Diary of a Dancer
```
 9:30 AM – 22 Dec 77
        Very dissatisfied with my life right now – trying to avoid
```
making out of sheer boredom some kind of major financial mistake –
like buying a house and filling it with furniture. Now that Avril has been
accepted as a “permanent student” at U of MD don’t see why we shouldn’t
share a berth somewhere. One of our dancers is a student there and she
says student housing is very expensive. Why couldn’t I rent out rooms?
But then what would happen to the three months of traveling I was promising
myself ? Wanted to spend March skiing in the White Mountains.
I need something more solid than Romance, that’s for sure.
Jervaze cancelled our last date so now I’m freaking. It is vital that he makes
the next move but my feminist soul revolts. Four months of celibacy appears
to be my limit.

Sitting in the bay window drinking a third cup of coffee and
watching a calico cat stalk the yard. Avril and I have been living rather high
lately, buying clothes for Christmas. Last night saw the movie Telefon
-very exciting but with an unbelievable ending – then watched Baryshnikov’s
delightful Nutcracker on TV. Avril says she’s finally starting to forget old
What’s His Face.

I’m trying to get her interested in the religious and meditation
books that have been such a help to me. She’s not that kind of a reader, alas.
No word from R. My latest “daymare” is that he will just
show up at the club. Should I talk to Randy? A says Ryder’s asked her
about it. I made her promise to say “We don’t think you should have
that information” even if he already knows. I try comforting myself
with my knowledge of his vanity – he wouldn’t want other men to see
Randy throw him out as an “unsuccessful suitor”.

(Angry exes show
up at club routinely and aren’t allowed in no matter how they behave
or how much money they have. They get On The Bad List.) Let’s hope
the sensitivity of his ”face” protects both of us. But he probably would
send a stooge – it is just like him – to spy out the land. Fortunately
I look good and this classy place has the Shalimar beat so no disgrace.
Jervaze and I are trying to keep people at the club from knowing that we
date. But it’s impossible to really disguise favorites what with the tripping,
drinks, flowers and etc even if we aren’t allowed to sit with the customers.
Stooge could probably figure it out. Maybe R would “give up” at the sight
of him. Search me.

I’m at the stage with Jervaze where I hunger for some
symbol of his caring, that he’s broken through the surface status and
glamour of “dating a dancer” and has some deeper regard for me as a
unique human being. He buys copies of my book whenever he finds
them, but of course that’s status and glamour too, even though it’s just
a paperback. I have forbidden him to tell anyone at the club about my
book – he finds that a little weird, but I don’t see how being “a dancing
author” could do me any good. The thing I most love about this job is
that you don’t have to talk. Gave him a book of my poems for his birthday:

a declaration of erotic war.

23 Dec 77 12:15PM
So in love I’m crazed. I’m at that stage where you can’t
honestly tell if the other person is even interested, you’re in such a
delirium. Jealousy of all the other dancers because he looks at them.
Jervaze says he liked my poems, his favorite being Nocturne.

NOCTURNE

Reveal

Yourself to me

To my inner palate

An artist’s palette

Moth-winged hands

Fluttering

Crescent thighs surging

Urging

Union undivided

Prickly venus flytrap hairs that guard

Your anis scented anus

Fleshy mandibles

Trembling sheaves

Snouting for your smoky-salted dinner

Double-snouted cock stiffening

My mango halves

O I will baste you when its time

Angelspit,

Lovespawn

Dipin my styx of roe your

Musky caviar

Sensate wanderer you

Suck

Ubus –

I dreamed you

Open me.
```
        I thought that might do the trick. I possess wiles 
```
unknown to other babes. He mentioned that his brother’s going back
to Alabama so he might be alone for Christmas – I invited him to New
York City but I could tell from his expression he’ll never do it. He thinks
Virginia is the north – calls the New Jersey Turnpike “undriveable” –
a lawless war zone. (If he could hear what we say about the South!)

We exchanged presents – he gave me a bottle of Irish Mist and
another one of my books (he keeps buying them for me) and I gave
him a very small glamour shot in an antique frame – so he can do
anything with it – hide it if he wants. Keep it in his car. He said he liked
it but in the bar light he really couldn’t see. The we went to breakfast –
had a wonderful conversation about ghosts and WC Fields. He believes
in one but not the other. I was hoping he would kiss me – regretted the
first time when “rocked out” on beer, he leaned forward to kiss me but
I pulled away.

But last night would have been completely unmanageable
– under yellowing lights and the stares of strangers (me in my stage
makeup) or out in the pouring rain. So we said goodbye, hopped in our
cars. We may not see each other for three weeks! I’ve got his address
(on his business card) so I can at least send him a card from NY.
Got to get up and face the day. Avril back from her final exam in ½ hour
– then off to Landover Mall to see Saturday Night Fever.
```
 24 Dec 77 - midnight – Plush Palace
        The Big Day. Go home, sleep, wake up, do laundry, take 
```
dogs for shots, buy snow tires. In a haze of infatuation – J was in for 5
hours tonight watching me dance with a sense of unmistakable pride.
He asked for my phone number so he could call me on Christmas Day –
I gave him all of them.

New York City Dec 25 77 – Fri night.
Life is so interesting, Wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Lovely intimate family talks – just what family should be doing for perspective
on past and future. In two days Avril and I drive out to Michigan to see
Merrill – 11 hours – tonight’s dinner in the Village then an early night.
Heard of a studio apt on the island – winterized – going for $200/month.
Of course I will have enough royalties for that…or won’t I? Harcourt royalty
dept uncooperative, editor Lauren very cagey. But won’t the island kill
my already comatose sex life? This is the longest time I’ve been away
from dancing and I miss it. It’s a great substitute for sex but not a complete
one alas. Physical activity vital to my peace of mind.
```
        96th St off the Park- New York City – Dec 77
```
This apt is triggering horrible flashbacks to how sick I was
at the beginning of last summer. Scary that a man could do this to me.
Don’t ever want to get that sick again. Makes me sorry this diary exists
– my trusty friend – because now misery has an actual corporeal reality.
Burn these sickening wails before I die. The Victorians always did.

Well I’m raring to get back. Not only do I miss the dancing,
I miss the bar. Ah, the nightlife. Always a party atmosphere but I could
feel superior for not drinking (or getting high). I like our status and
protections – I like getting paid for exercising, being admired and having
fun. This pleasure just cannot be shared – Mom’s face crimps closed – and
I am lost in the unredeemable beastliness and ugliness she feels certain
it must be. The fact that I am a feminist and consider myself spiritually in
tune with the universe also is incomprehensible to her. (Wives can get into
big spiritual trouble too, but I am too tactful to bring that up.)

Unfortunately
there is no way to defend myself except by attacking back – her “safe”, closed,

restricted world of handmaiden to Dad, feeding and burnishing
him like a racehorse, talking him “up” as if she were his sports coach, does
not seem to me more inherently saintly.

But to Mom self-loss is what “sainthood” is – you totally
do not regard yourself in your care for someone else. The fact that you
are puffing them up like a grampus, encouraging them to be completely
selfish, is I guess too shockingly cruel to mention. So I’m stuck in Patient
Griselda mode with undeserved imprecations heaped on my innocent head.
I wonder if it would be too nasty to talk about how I am sacrificing myself for
those poor lonely men who need to look upon a perfect feminine ideal while
they swill beer? Guess I better not.

Mom is fond of saying that love doesn’t work unless
you open your heart to the other but you can’t do it without marriage!
I say Jervaze and I are “courting” which is a very different thing. I don’t
think I will ever open my heart again. I think perhaps it opens by itself,
naturally. One might as well tear a flower open and complain about
the quality of the bloom.

Interesting being here with Brett and Genevieve and
watching someone else’s marriage from the outside. Does not look
too enviable. Reading “Eclipse of the Hero in Victorian Fiction.” He’s
in eclipse everywhere else, too, I may add.
January 4, 2023
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

8:30 AM Thurs Sept 15 1977
        Up early spending the last of my money on necessaries – hardware, lampshades, contact paper.

Fri 16 September 1977
        My books arrived at Larry’s!  I spent the morning sending&nbsp;them out. Then drove to the Landover Mall, bought two g-strings and pasties and off to the Plush Palace. Steve was there – (Randy the bouncer just hired) thrilled to see me. 
        Wanted to know where I’d been but I turned that easily away.Vacay! Who wouldn’t!  Told me to come to work Saturday night and they’d give me my schedule. So that’s settled. I don’t like trying to live without money. Took the landlord my paint color selection – he buys the paint and I do the work. Probably will take me the next week. Every now and then am attacked by that claustrophobic feeling of restlessness and purposelessness but I am able to keep it at philosophical bay. Working at my poem index made me feel strong and soothed.

PREPPY

Corseted with verbs
French teacher sweeps
Cherry blossoms from the tennis court
As she would like to french
The cherries, squelch them soundly
Beneath her soccer-spiking shoes

While the headmistress
Cello-breasted
Polishes graffiti carved upon her coffin
In Chaucerian High English,
And the girls –
Nun-white, nun-blue

Soar above the hockey fields like
Foul-mouthed angels, anticipated ecstasy locked
In narrow hope chests ripening on
Amphetamines
Free Love
Bad dreams.

        Called Chloe to see if I can get on the radio – she was excited to hear from me, but unfortunately gave Erika my number. Erika called – I was nervous that she wanted me to rewrite her manuscripts, but she just invited me to breakfast.&nbsp; After that she has another appointment so she can’t swallow up my day. Letter from Avril saying she is coming end of Oct.

10:15 PM Sat 17 Sept 77 – The Plush Palace, Alexandria Virginia
Ego lift. Nothing’s changed. I’m still the best dancer in the place. Four dancers on and I know two of them. The gossip, the Costume exchange, the curling irons, the dope in the dressing room – it’s all coming back to me. They’ve introduced some weird rules, like customers get to play the music, but it’s still a fun and relaxed place to be. Steve the floor manager says I can have all the work I want so I might be able to put money away.

Sun 18 Sept 77
Opal comes to over to say “hi” but really to complain about her incipient divorce. Not the best company. Not the best climate for me either – I found myself sobbing over Ryder (fortunately was alone by then). Why does it seem a lost paradise? So I can still get into that sort of mood.
Nice phone call with Mom and dad, not too pressured. They are coming to a boatyard in Annapolis to look at a boat – will see me then. One of the best things about this house is the month-to month lease. Feel I can leave any time but if I behave well they won’t kick me out. Gorgeous location but forty-five minute highway commute to The Plush Palace. Still wish I could live in Virginia.

Wed AM 20 Sept 77
Sent out a ton of poems. Replied to a woman who wants pieces for an anthology. Got a beautiful love-letter from Devon! His usual length – both sides of one page. Talked about how much fun we had in August, dressing up and going out and “afterwards…!” Made me smile. I said to hell with money and called Avril because I wanted to share – Mason is not there during the day. She is in a bad place. Providential I called. He has taken to staying out at night without explanation – she is frantic. Thank God she is coming here. I told Randy since I’m your best dancer, how about a raise. He gave me one! Only flaw to this house – they need to fix hot water. I had to heat water to wash my hair. Bought 2 more costumes bringing my total up to six – the bare minimum I’d say.
Plush Palace – 11:20 AM Sun 24 Sept – wrote a fourteen page letter to Avril tonight. There’s a very pretty blond here who looks just like R – they could be mistaken for each other – but it’s not him.
9:40 PM – walls dry so I could hang paintings. What a difference. Reading Redinger’s bio of George Eliot, The Emergent Self. Like it very much. Turns out I love driving to work – 5Pm is rush hour on the Beltway – everyone’s coming home but I’m going out for the night! Makes me feel weirdly close to all those people. And apparently they feel close to me – though they could just be reacting to my bumper sticker (Colette was a Nudie Dancer). They don’t seem to get the literary reference.

Mon 3 Oct 1977
I hear only from my sister Merrill who declares my book a “brilliant satire”. She wants to know why I work? Shouldn’t I tour with book? Sigh. Give me the money and leave me alone I say.
Spent the AM phoning around trying to find my book in all the stores. Only found it one place. Dropped note to publisher.

Out for Courvoisier with Erika who lectured me on my book. I ended up defending the Victorians saying everyone now thinks “honesty and openness” are going to save them but we don’t know enough about ourselves for real honesty and our lives are still based on “smothered panic” as far as I can see. (See Janet Case’s strictures to V. Woolf. ) Well off to my double life. When I pull into the Plush Palace parking lot I have such a good feeling. Everything coming together. Down the old runway.

Bought the most wonderful gold stripper shoes that tie with ribbons and have clear Lucite six-inch heels. I finally have enough costumes to feel really professional – every set should be good. Randy always compliments me. I am slowly phasing my hair from red to blonde – seems to help with the tips. I can live on fruit and cream of wheat – only buy groceries with tip money. Little man down front muttering “fuck me-fuck me-fuck me” over and over but not loud enough to be evicted. Randy said I am the best dancer in Washington area.

Sat 8 Oct 1977
Giving a dinner party. Bought 8 old-fashioned glasses for 50 cents apiece, five floor pillows, peacock chairs and a glass dining table. Now I’m looking for silk eiderdown (for my bed) in some violent color. Bought beautiful rose-lilac fabric for curtains. Randy gave me another raise without my even asking for one. I love my body again! After the long estrangement caused by Ryder…he deliberately tried to undermine my faith in my body. He would prefer bad sex with a slave as long as he can be boss. Wait – isn’t that the marriage he just got out of? Guess we all repeat ourselves.

7:30 PM Tues 11 Oct 77
I’m too fucking fragile. All my problems come from pretending I’m not. I look forward to old age when presumably throbbing metabolism, soaring hormones and plunging brain waves will have smoothed out. How to describe this scrambled day? I’ve been vibrating like a cilia ever since I got up this morning. Made dentist, gyno appts, shots for dogs, dog licenses, took angel puppies on an hour’s walk. Divorce lawyer on the 26th: “John Love”: seems appropriate. Clear the decks for writing.
My area of Beltsville very rural. Poetry in all directions. Reading Mildred Savage’s A Great Fall and getting lots of ideas. Vac cleaner to repair shop they say they can fix for under $15. I hate errands, a disgusting dribble of irreplaceable time. Rewarded myself by getting Sleeping Murder at the library. Already know Dr Kennedy is the murderer.

2PM Wed 12 Oct 77 – Plush Palace
Some men seem to interpret the fact that I’m a dancer as some sort of personal challenge to them. You can feel the spike of hostility. “You’re making me think about sex again!” Is it fear of rejection? Any aura of professionalism bothers them also. I always curtsy especially low to the hostile tables – they can never figure out whether I am mocking them or not AND THEY THINK I PROBABLY AM! I save them a lot of money by getting them thrown out early. One guy asked me how long it would take to get in bed with me. His erection was so obvious I almost asked, “And what is your little friend drinking?” but instead I said, “5 years.” He showed up next night, saying, “Day one of the five year plan!” I like those guys much better.
Final R conclusion: What a JERK! Jerk’s absolutely the right word - in instinctual reflex – no brain activity involved. Will I ever find a gorgeous man (blond, please) whose soul connected to his brain?

9:20 PM Thurs 13 Oct 77
Shopping Loehmann’s yesterday with Maeve. 3 sweaters, silk jumpsuit with jacket & scarf, lime-colored silk jersey blouse, socks, boots, shoes, gloves - $140 cash. Nice. Saw a wonderful fake fur coat I’d like to come back for. It has a priceless air of Ken Russell camp. Buy it with my Folger money – Shakespeare would understand.
Maeve bought nothing. Couldn’t find one thing she liked, reading labels with the expression of Queen Victoria viewing a slum. And the free-for all dressing rooms full of naked people just astonished her. (Stuff I see every day.)

She wants to know exactly why Wealthier People rejected this clothing at its first price? They must know something we don’t. (Wondrous rhinestone earrings to dance in, too. M. expressed pious horror. ) People like this amaze me. Why is your own taste of little importance? Then went out to dinner at a Middle Eastern restaurant – my choice – heavenly lamb shish kebab and a belly dancer! I loved it but Maeve had to rush out before dessert. But as it seems I can never be with ANYONE – even lovers – longer than 3 hrs it was just as well.

Folger morning started badly, hair looked mangy, face requires immediate skin graft. Dog hair even on NEW clothing (How is this possible?) Running an hour behind schedule (compulsively early me). May Miller gave me worst intro I ever hope to have, misquoted my poems and said I was a grad of the U of Minn. I thought I would sob with emotion 52 times during reading. My “woodcunt” poem did not go down well (even though it is definitely my most Shakespearean).

Damn. Then I could have strangled Erika Gelbfisz (at the after party) who is so scornful and cynical about everything you can’t even have an ordinary conversation with her. I felt like throwing my wine in her face saying, “Suppose you actually succeed in making us all feel rotten, what then? Fighting in the streets?” Nothing’s worth anything in her opinion, so why is she alive exactly? This is what gets my hostility going but because I am at a party I DON’T WANT TO GET INTO IT. So I just growl and stew. I don’t care for Cocktail Party Standing Around – my right boot was trying to extinguish my left toe, a toe already threatened with extermination from dancing. This is real Italian leather so SHOULD ultimately fit my feet – I can see each boot slowly outlining my toes – if I don’t come down with gangrene first. Will try Wet Washcloth Stuffing tonight. (Still, I looked ravishing, my dear, in a blue gaucho three-piece suit and my red, red, high-heeled boots.) Poet Usher Glayne seemed impressed with me – but he’s an old man.
To bed with my main squeeze, Agatha Christie. Thank God for that woman. She has pulled me single handedly through the last three months.
I was just drifting off when Marc Kramer called. We talked ½ hr. He bought a sailboat and a BMW and wanted to be sure to let me know. I like the sailboat and the car but the desire to “impress” me diminishes him in my eyes. Sad to say. He’s presently at risk of being filed under “has no conversation”. Well, he did talk about work. They wanted to fire him from The Washington Project, then admitted he had been right all along. He’d love to have dinner sometime, “see how I live”. Uh oh. Can I keep this relationship out of the sexual? I don’t want to go to bed, even experimentally with someone Lacking the Necessary Spark. Could they make up for it by enthusiasm or step-by-step instructions? I hesitate. Is it ever possible to just date? It was AWFUL with Keith. Marc, however, has a gift of humor. And my parents like him. “No expectations?” I finally say. And he promises.
4:20 PM Fri Oct 14 – 77
Blessed book! The joy, the solidity, the security this diary has afforded me all my life can’t be measured. Bizarre letter from my dentist thanking me for referring “Mr. Arlen” to them! Apparently he is stalking me. Now I have to wear makeup to the dentist! Hope I don’t run into Ryder while wacked out on Novocain. Usual day of quotidian pursuits, washing lingerie & hair, filing, letters. Avril writes that Mason is moving in with a friend! He thinks it will be “better” for her. Bet the “friend” is female! Sure sounds like death knell to me – he dragged her all the way out there, ran busily through her money & lost his spark. Still other’s relationships are always so much clearer! Now we can be glad she’s not going to school – she needs to get out NOW.

Plush Palace – Mon – 11:40 PM 17 Oct 77
4 Dancers on tonight but Cindy and Linda walked out, ticked about my raise (I didn’t tell them.) So more dancing (and $$). Plus coffee machine broken and we need to order out so I treated myself to 2 Krispy Kremes. Ah, the simple joys. Five-year plan guy is back. His fave play? “Love is Alive” – unfortunately.
The most gorgeous autumn weather tonight driving here – my heart soared. ONE MORE SET! Then fling on fake fur “Shakespearean” coat, jump into El Diablo, off into the night. Bar deserted, tips unspeakable. Asked if I could cash a check with Randy he just handed me a $20 bill, so there’s gas. Kiki says she’s getting married, worked the whole evening on her guest list for Big Event in Fredericksburg. Reading Hardwick’s Seduction & Betrayal and appreciating it although something’s “off” about her. Why won’t the ventriloquist put down the dummy and just talk? And she’s just flat wrong about Woolf and Plath.
I brood about letting R. know where I work. Brave or stupid? Stupid, I think. Better class him with “dead end relationships”. I have plenty of people I’d never want to see again – Bruce and Kyro springs to mind. Other people I feel good about like Toss Sheffield. He’d be fun to see again. Could he handle my dancing? He had a fun “hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy” attitude in general towards effort & enterprise.

I can’t sleep
Because you’re gone
My muscles wake
My mind goes spinning on
And where your fingers
Plied and pruned my face
Night air is cold and
Caustic in its place
And where we turned and woke
In complex rhyme, I’m left
To face the music frayed by time
A waltz which once we won
A losing battle choreographed for one.
None to explore or
Appreciate my line though now at last
It’s incontestably mine.

January 2, 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
```
        Sat. 13 Aug 77
        7 good pages writing, then bad letter from R. asking 
```
is our “living together” a ”condition” of “my return”? Where the hell did
he get that? He just wants something to react against. He can’t imagine
a relationship that isn’t controlled by implied threats. He believes in
working and suffering so much then – let him work and suffer. What
would annoy him most? If I don’t respond! Ha ha! Let the panic begin!
Need to become more private – simply to protect myself. For all I know
he’s relishing the torture he goes through.

Devon and I had a glorious date – splendid dinner (steak!)
then made love all over the floor. He played with my body until he got it
roaring and pulsating like an express train. The way he handled me,
gripped me, held me, crushed me even – made me ask about his other
girlfriends. He said no, he never gets as much “touch” as he wants. I said,
“Except with me”. He said, “Except with you.” Over dinner he said
matter-of-factly that we are so alike loving me has always felt “narcissistic”
to him. I bet! Happy, happy, happy… Picked up The Edwardians but
I can’t get into it. Keep seeing Devon’s body plying me, bending me…
I know somewhere out there lies perfect happiness, waiting to astonish me.
```
        2PM Sun 14 Aug 77
        Sitting on the deck even though it’s just about to rain, 
```
back from long bike ride watching family barbecues. Will I ever have
children? I feel so exactly balanced between R and D like a ball in the air
– but could fall at any moment. Finished The Edwardians – made me
long to read Trollope. Vita Sackville-West’s work is like a death wish.
Maybe Pevensey Library can rise to some Trollope. Downy woodpecker
2 ft away.

Finished The Dark Island! An outrageous howl of
self-pity! Mom & Dad called all worried about Avril. She & Mason had to
borrow money after selling $4500 worth of stock in June! Dad wants to
deal financially with Mason instead of his own daughter! I was cool and
stayed out of it. I don’t even want to imagine what they say to the others
about me. I sent Avril a letter that said I would buy her a round trip plane
ticket any time she wanted – even for just a short visit. Talk about work
and suffering! I’m sure she feels stuck in every way with this guy. Down
to a dinner of bouillon & smoked oysters.
```
        Tues 16 Aug 77
        D’s & my relationship “plateaus.”  Each of us may have 
```
given all we can spare. At least there’s no Mutual Punishment. Woman
tried to get me into conversation at mailboxes – she’s an accountant
whose boyfriend works on missiles. God they both sounded like the
dullest people imaginable. Tried not to blanche.

6:00 PM Couldn’t resist $10 phone call to Avril. She’s
hanging in there but doesn’t like Calif so far. She’s not going to school
because Mason thinks he ought to be able to pay for it! So, so sick after
using her money to live on. She’s looking for some clerk job. Still thinks
this guy might be The One, even though sex is once a week and she’s
not satisfied. After that I called Devon who should be back from
psychomotor class but he wasn’t in.

Midnight – Could get psychotic about D not returning
my call – however I refuse. Let the poor man live. He lacks time for an
ACTUAL other girl (although I know there are plenty of letters & phone
calls with girls he cultivates.)
```
        10AM – Wed 17 Aug 77
        Devon woke me up in the middle of the night, wondering
```
if I was “psychic”. He’d had a horrible day – had to take a “pregnant
friend” to the clinic for abortion (not his kid.) This is a new one. Can’t
imagine him lying about something so bizarre – I didn’t ask for details –
just told him it was a “sudden impulse” (true). Called the bank – my
money was in but only $987 (it’s never as much as you expect.) From
shit comes flowers, as they say. Called Marc Kramer and left message
whether I can hitch a ride to Maine with him (he goes almost every weekend).
Finished Life of Waugh. Cramps.
```
        Sat 20 Aug 77 
        Poor Devon!  He brought pizza and a very good brandy 
```
(too good – drinking it woke me up in the middle of the night) suggested
a movie. I said I wanted to Talk. Told him all about my week; everything,
novel, phone call with Avril, breaking up (mentally) with R because I “realized
there’s another way”. Felt it was time to share. He asked if it had anything
to do with him I said it did but he shouldn’t panic – it’s a good thing. He
asked did I want to know about other girls? I said yes. Would I be jealous?

Maybe – but it wouldn’t impact on him. He talked about his friend who had
the abortion – she’s ready to take him on but his feelings for her are “clinical”.
(Uh oh. She’s in trouble. He could be lying to me about Who’s the Daddy
or lying to himself, most like.) She’s 2 yrs older than him.

Then there’s a girl he met on the train – they’re just friends
so far so he doesn’t know her well – but he’s curious. Then there’s the
English girl – he definitely wants to bring her over but neither of them
can afford it so far. He seems to have a sex/romance dichotomy going so
I’m not jealous exactly – it would be like being jealous of someone’s fantasies. However, it doesn’t make me respect him more. And he instinctively
knows that – he can’t be the daring demon lover or swaggering ski coach
with me when I know too much about him. Fortunately, I suggested we
bring the mattress up to the deck – we had a big, hilarious struggle through
the house but it was worth it. Wonderful making love in the fresh night.
He can’t believe girls like giving blow jobs – I said, do you mean you
don’t like going down on me? He said, no, no, no I LOVE it you are
like a flower. I said see? Depends on the person. Gave him the full
treatment making him yelp like a coyote.

Cold in the AM like Maine – hard to get out of bed but he
was worried someone would see us so we had to push mattress through
sliding doors to dining room floor at 6 AM. Layers of secret lives! He is
SO DIFFERENT from the way he seems but aren’t we all! Drove to the
Idyllwild Mkt for breakfast – got lost as least six times but who cares it’s
a glorious day – bought peaches, blueberries and mocha java beans.
Then we went swimming – stopping after at the mailbox. Rejection of
Secaire from HBJ! What a blow and in front of Devon of all people!
Worst of all was editor’s comment – I had fallen between 2 stools – “straight”
and “gothic.” Ugh. Lowers my opinion of myself in my own eyes.
Fortunately, I didn’t cry.

Devon did his best to comfort me. He compares it to
skiing which is 4,000 failures to one success. Said it’s ridiculous to
consider myself a failure. I thanked him said he really cheered me up –
he said it made him look forward to ministry!!! (He can’t wait to get his
hands on some “troubled young women”.) He’s going to a 3 day
retreat at Peterborough. Period coming on. It doesn’t faze D. Reading
Harold Nicolson’s diaries which are quite a treat. I was afraid he would
be all Churchillian.
```
        2;30 PM Mon 22 Aug 77
        Can’t write, so ready to return to Maine.  So desperate I 
```
watched TV (Rhoda: Apotheosis of the Career Girl). Feeling crushed
about Secaire and Demon is not far behind. When your mind is divided
it’s hard to go on. I always feel genre works actually have the potential
for highest dramatic quality – mystery, discovery, transformation, revelation
– telling the complete truth about everything but I just don’t know how to
convey that. Also, I’m kind of worried that Devon will see my departure as
“because” we punctured the fantasy with honesty ; ie I’m “punishing” him
(that’s what Ryder would think, plus he would howl “I deserve it” then behave
even worse) and of course it sort of is true . “New data” does affect
everything. But I miss the dogs & worry about them. Dad has yet to figure
out their gender (calls them both “boy”).

Went clothes shopping got GOREGOUS skinny jeans!
Look so good. Called D but had to leave an awkward message
with Random Guy (ugh I hate that.) Thank God for diaries! Best therapy
possible. So much cheaper than a shrink. Diagnosis? Sheer greed. I
always want everything.

9:45 AM Wed 24 Aug 77
Great conversation with D. He feels exactly the same way
I do (kind of unsettling) wants to continue with me but doesn’t want anyone
to find out about me, etc. I.e. ambivalent. We just want everything we can
get as pleasantly as possible. Said he’d take me to the airport Fri – I asked
if it was possible he could spend Thu night – he said he’s make it possible.
Should be ecstasy. I’m very up for it.
Tonight call M & D ugh. They always try to make me feel
like a flake. I tell them life’s like sailing – since you don’t know what
the waves or weather are going to be like its only sensible to make
adjustments accordingly. (My father taught me that.) Pack and clean.
Yuck. 7:20 PM Dull evening. Ceaseless rain & cream of wheat for dinner.
On the other hand feel great – happy and serene. Have to note that so
this book is NOT a constant wail of desperation & entitlement. Gross
reading about Borden case. But it piques the poetry nerve.

LIZZIE BORDEN: “Not I But the Moon”

Not I but the moon
Decrees each loss of blood
You confided slyly, Besom-Breast!
I’ll crochet a horsehair head for you and
Lacework- stitch your flesh, my darling
You and Scrimshaw Pate – He
Who Must Know Better.
Hot wax outlines a new broom’s sweep in
Sacred dust: chorus of shoe-buttons popping like
Potato-eyes. Oh, I shall dine on you
My darlings, rolling you in
Pig viands, I dredge your souls in
Righteous lard. I am the sanctified enemy
Of the paper cut people:
My hymn shall rock
The laughing house.
December 31, 2022
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

Tues. 26 July 77 9:40 AM
Sitting on stonewall in full sunlight in my black bikini
waiting for pool to open. Swim and sunbathe till ll:30 when mail comes.
After 7 I can return – that way I miss the crowds.
Exercise, coffee, 3 glasses water. The Regime.
I’m down to $4. Embarrassing to be taken out last night
by Devon & his roommates. (We saw Star Wars. Childish, but they
were into it.) Sent letter to Mom & D asking for stock certificates. They
won’t like it.

Dinner should have been nice but barbecue very messy.
Wore my tightest jeans and my pink French “Trés chic” t-shirt. Devon
surprised me by talking on and on about how beautiful I am. Started
to get stoked – in fact I was horny as hell. I would have taken the three
of them on if I could have avoided the interpersonal madness that would
result. They all have beautifully athletic bodies. But I’m starting to get a
feeling that if I just sit in my deer blind a bit longer Devon will come to me.
Every now and then I get an “R – flash”, like some synaptic
slipup. What will I think of this years from now? Mirror images ache, then fade.
Cold Comfort Farm exactly 100 pages too long (but I
think most books are). Take a long hot Jean Nate bubble bath and read The Thornbirds.
```
2:30 PM Wed July 27 – 77
        Masturbation is the better part of valor. Don’t make 
```
decisions ruled by sex. Husband my wattage (joke). Too bad sex is
such a fast way to get to know someone.

First draft of Demon so far bony and spare. Neatly
boxed “components” = “write your own novel”. Trying to exterminate
“dead” patches. Wish I had done this with The Mass at St. Secaire –
but in those days I was in the “throw in everything you think of and
take it out later” school. I like constructing this awkward armature
better. Lean and mean superior to flagellate and winnow.
Will I let R see this new body, this new confidence?

He will hang on for dear life and I don’t want that. I want to go back
to dancing but R prefers I have neither security NOR money.) Think
I’ll look for a sublet – easier to impress a private owner than a
credit union. I’m not afraid of living alone. Painstaking cultivation
of intense privacy in the midst of a crowd has always been my forte.

Mom and Dad called – acting all worried. Apologizing
for giving R my number. I put on a good show of being completely
”over” him but I can see they don’t want me moving back to Washington
and prefer Mrs. McManus’ ski chalet option. (My cynical side tells me
it’s just cheaper.) I act like I have connections to the literary life in DC
and they don’t know any better.

Thornbirds is teaching me the great unpleasantness of
what publishers define as “a good read”. Contrary to my belief the
Victorian period has not ended. Forced to skip the war, potted history
and scenery descriptions just to keep going.
7:30 PM Finished Thornbirds. Neither Dane’s death nor
Justine’s love affair rang true for me. Uh oh. Danger signs. My taste
thoroughly out of kilter with the market.

Couldn’t swim – 3,000 spectators at some sort of race
in the pool. So went to library – checked out twelve books – bio, history
murder mysteries. Alec Waugh, Somerset Maugham, Vyvyan Holland,
High Walpole. Evelyn Waugh, of course. At this very moment R is
doing his very last show of 7:30 Live. Will they have a party or wake?
Probably go out drinking at the Shalimar, try to pick up dancers he can
hector and assault. Time for me to go walking and see how the
other (99%) live.

HOT PROWL

Don’t wake up.
I surveil by night
Your chiseled torso
Slackened with exhaustion.
Touching things that once
You touched,
Listening to your apnea –
I turn away before you turn.
Making peace with all my choices.
It’s worth everything;
Winning in divorce my
Hard-won superpower:
Invisibility
```
2:45 PM Thurs 28 July 77
        Loving myself today. I am very tan.  Hair strawberry 
```
blond and my stretchmarks look like silk moiré. Any sense of inadequacy
must be pounced upon and shored up – work like a beaver at his dam.
No worries, few fears. Daddy sent $ which I deposit in my acct. Since
I can’t cash a check anywhere I eat what’s here; pickled beets and plain
grits. Gallons of water to even it all out. Shake the old body out after 26
years.

Decide two people create love – I refuse to do it alone.
Reading Ford Madox Ford and grooving on his Violet versus Elsie
problems. Schadenfreude. Years later poor Elsie says, “I should have
ignored everybody and divorced him.” Alas, Ford is a self-centered fool.
Not simpatico character. However the period is a favorite with me. Mail
hideously dull. Nothing from Harcourt. Will my “Westerns” editor have the
nerve to turn down an author they’ve got 105,000 copies of? Yes. They’re
all a bunch of weenies, frankly. Bike ride.

8:45 PM Finished article for the McManus mag about
Shadowe – “Island in Common” – 750 words – sent it off with letter.
Mission accomplished. Thinking of substituting a night ride for my walk.
Trigger fewer yearnings.
Ford’s moved to the US and I’m at the end of my tether with him. Tried
reading Jane Novak’s Razor Edge of Balance on V. Woolf – she’s no threat
– Lingo Academico virtually impenetrable.
Loved reading Fowles on the Fr Lt’s Woman – even though
he has a “tin ear” about the Victorians – their “failure” to depict “a man and
woman in bed together” ! (How about My Secret Life!!!) He’s the real thing
all right even though he launched 1st draft without any research. (It shows.)
I’m going to stop freaking out about how little I know London.
Full of joy & life & strength & immortality & pep. Now thinking
fondly of DC. Resist the impulse to call myself a turkey for even MENTIONING
living together to R. (I said in my phone message I had to have a house for dogs.)
I can see him crying over his beer at the strip club. Insisting his wussdom is independence. I feel and look mighty thin – but refuse the temptation to weigh
myself. Size seven is good enough. Took my walk looking indulgently at
couples with children thinking, “This too is within my reach.”
Mail full of dull rejections NO interest or acceptances. But
the UNITY MITFORD I’d ordered came which I’m reading now. Must write about sisters someday. It’s a trip.
11:12 AM Sat 30 Jul 77
Going out tonight with Devon to see Annie Hall, that laff riot
he hasn’t seen. This is one of the things I love about life – it’s so fucking
unpredictable! Give these guys space to stew they will eventually DO
something. We had a nice phone conversation. I can tell he has
“traumatized” himself by “luring” me here. I tell him hardly, I’m writing
8 p. a day (of course it will all have to be thrown out) getting a tan and
reading piles of books. (All true.) Too cold & overcast today for pool
though and now its raining.
Starting to get a feeling D and I will end up in bed.
It’s inevitable. How I crave that tight young flesh…Bet you $5. Will
wear my faded cerise linen jumpsuit, high heels and Nefertiti necklace.
Stoking! Bike ride combined with cold shower doesn’t work.
```
4:15 PM Sun 31 July 77 Deck
        D found Annie Hall so painful it took awhile for him 
```
to speak. I was surprised but patient. I couldn’t have dreamed up a
movie more likely to focus all our reservations. The scene where
Annie tells Alvy she misses him made me think of R – the separate
fragile uniqueness of each human soul – and I could tell Devon was
“feeling” his memories too.
We sneaked a pizza (a whole pizza) into the theatre
so we could come right back here for wine and coffee and more wine –
took three hours to get to the point of making love.
In a fairly daring move D opened the buttons of my
jumpsuit and stroked my stomach pulling down first one shoulder and
then another to play with my breasts. Lovely feeling our bodies surge
together. He’s good with his hands and has the most sensitive nipples
of any man I’ve been with. At last I suggested we go to bed – the couch
was really too uncomfortable. D went down on me – his body is the
most gorgeous since the history of time – mountains, valleys, crevasses
– it’s like rock climbing making love to this man. He insisted on coming
outside me which startled me somewhat, but after asking about my
“protection” (IUD) fortunately abandoned this technique the second time.
(When he comes he makes a little crying noise).

He looks at me in a funny way like he wants to say
something but he doesn’t say it. I tried to tell him I’ve learned so much
from our 5 year friendship – he seemed unable to take it in. He obviously
fears the future and his memory is so bad – after the terrors of his
childhood he thinks the whole past is all bad news. It’s like he’s afraid
to remember ANYTHING. That would be the worst thing for a writer.
You dare not fear the past. Rhythms can’t evolve from longing alone.
We woke up, grapenuts & coffee, went swimming, sat on
deck, watched tennis on TV. Every time I changed clothes he said
“the sight of you naked turns me on” and we made love again.
Tomorrow is the first of August – whole new beginning.
Try to see myself at 33, with a lawn and a bra and a trash compactor.
Freedom is key. No mail. Reading Geo Woodcock’s critical study of Orwell.

6:45 PM Dark as night and pouring rain. Obsessing
about D’s body – can’t get it out of my mind and our 22 hours together.
Welcome obsessions; R’s slate cleared. Did I use him? Is he “Brand X?”
Thinking of all the things I wish I’d said to Devon. He’s so intellectual
yet so impermeable. Strange delicate kisses – as impossible to get
inside his mouth as his mind. Loud thunder, lightning.
D. Eden’s Deadly Travelers supposed to be fun but falls
apart totally at the end. Disappointed by thoroughness of
Gavin Lambert’s Conan Doyle study – he said everything –
nothing left for me to do. (The Dangerous Edge.)
Disenchanted with suspense mode. Maybe Demon should
just be a series of short, sharp scenes. I don’t like intrusively
officious writers – sacrificing character to story “You can’t let
your characters get away from you”. Not only can you – you
must. See where they run.

Just finished scene between Fawn and Deere’s cast-off “maitresse
en titre”. Needing a scene between Jewel and Fawn, Fawn and Del. Let them
accumulate like raindrops.

Dinner rice, chicken broth, onions. Coffee. Shouldn’t read true
crime in bed. (Shiver.) But I will. 2 months since I’ve seen R.
10PM Black Dahlia almost did me in, too! That poor girl!
The writing style in Infamous Murders is the most infamous thing
about it. Wm. Roughhead I adore. Soothe my insomnia with art books.

PLAYING HIDE & SEEK IN THE MUSEUM OF MODERN ART

hide & seek. It’s
my game but
you started it.
you be a cop and
I’ll be a museum – a
swollen storehouse
where even the walls are open
to more than one interpretation.
that’s me in dark glasses
waiting
round the corner for
the whick of teeth on bended elbow
the fateful kiss
where the blood lies gathered. So
lies rally; scars; a wound,
a bruise – a cut – a fever
a thing to call my own.
“You imagined it, lady”
there’s no one here.
powder burn
without the bullet.
December 29, 2022
Inspired Pleasure
The Diary of a Dancer
```
    1 July 77
    Today I should start my new novel – always the worst 
```
part. Lauren called to APOLOGIZE for our dinner. I said nothing
to apologize for I had a wonderful time. She said she had an
“off” night and they are upping my print run from 100,000 to
110,000.. So I guess I’m “on” again in case I write another Eng
gothic historical paperback they like (don’t hold your breath).
Threw aside Berckman’s Crown Estate suddenly can’t stand
other people’s writing.

Very disllusioning dinner with Chuck Kornowitz. My
piece de resistance crab manicotti in Newburg sauce turned out
exquisitely but he only cared about the booze. When I mentioned
The Great American novel he said it’s been written and offered to
send it to me. He edited it! He only laughed at one thing I said –
he called Athenaeum a “very, very small publishing house” and I
said, “More of a hut, really”. He obviously thought I was going to
have sex with him so that he would read my book. I turned him
down but offered to make up a bed for him on sofa (he really seemed
incapacitated by drink but he blamed it on jetlag.) He insisted on
leaving, looking very cranky. Did wonder aloud who the hell I think
I am? What’s a little sex between “friends” (or supplicants & donors?)

Letter from Devon (I needed it) cheered me up extraordinarily.
Just in the nick of time. I’m a loner, he’s a loner too – do two loners
make a party? Having a hard time feeling beautiful when I am not
dancing and 50 situps a day and one filthy bike ride are no substitute.
But this seminarian writes a mean letter. Loved my novel. Looks
forward to servicing – er surveying Boston in my company. Four
hours on novel produces 8 bad pages. It’s a start. Ms. MacManus
foisting her probate lawyer nephew Henry on me. He came over
to invite me to the beach (and help me walk the dogs.) He’s a pale,
pale Ryder (he’d have to be Peter Frampton to arouse me at
this stage) and I feared he’d get sunstroke but I said yes. Saw
Jabberwocky – very Monty Python.

Wrote a long wailing, complaining letter to Avril. Try to
read Women & Madness but it’s too poorly written and repels
every attempt. Norah Lofts White Hell of Pity – very depressing.
You’re pretty much asking for it if you pick up a book with that title.

11:00 AM Sun 3 July 77
Had to walk Genevieve’s dogs all the way to Columbus
& Ninth to find NY Times. Henry cancelled – I didn’t know why till
Ms MacManus told me he found out I wasn’t Jewish! Now she tells
me! (She’s not Jewish either.) Reading First Person Singular –
actually some helpful dating advice. Is it too crass to count on
having sex with Devon July 20? (That’s as long a wait as I think
I can stand.)
```
    12:45 PM Mon 4 July 77
    Almost strangled the dogs today. Sam rolled in horseshit 
```
in the park. Had to wash them both. Then they bothered me so much
during my exercises I had to lock them up. They howled. Penance
all around. Ms. McManus invited me to see New York, New York
. We enjoyed Unsung Cole last night – and she is going to Martha’s
Vineyard so won’t be around to make me her new chew toy.

11:25 PM Wish I could read the future. New York,
New York none too reassuring about male/female relationships.
Reading Leonard Woolf’s depressing Downhill All the Way.
His mind so different from Virginia’s you could call it “antithetical”.
Tomorrow’s excitement – double feature of Shame and The
Passion of Anna.
```
    12:25 AM 9 July 77 
    Ryder’s divorce final. His relationship with me?  Still in 
```
“separation” phase. Trying to hate him but it’s not working. Pity
the petty man who revels in bondage. Feeling sorry for all his
future lovers is the best I can do. He would respect me more if I
was less sexually excitable, and that’s the ugly truth. Totally
resigned that Harcourt will reject Secaire. Went to Patti Smith
concert with Brett’s brother. Kind of fun the way she barks out
her poetry; a little too butch for me. He is an incipient pedophile
remarking on every thirteen-year old he saw (or possibly he was
just trying to annoy me.)
```
    11:45 PM Sun 10 July 77
    Loved Rhoda Lerman’s The Girl That He Marries
```
– never were reviews so misleading!
```
    July 14, 1977
    Power out in the whole city! Living by candles. No 
```
elevator doesn’t affect us readers. Doorman up and down the
stairs with flashlights looking for old people. Dogs poop on
balcony. I seize any excuse not to write.
```
    9 PM Fri 22 July 1977 – Mrs. McManus’ condo 
```
Pevensey Old Farms
New deal: all I have to do for luxe pad is write an
article for Mrs. McManus’ real estate mag. I think rich people
are masters of bait and switch but of course I say yes.
Contemplate novel about homicidal house-sitter called Other
People’s Houses but I see from Books In Print it’s been taken.

Lying here making new breakthroughs in the art of
writing sideways; disinfecting my ear from swimming. Wanted
to write about Monica Dickens’ Man Overboard or N Ephron’s
Crazy Salad or at the very least make a New Plan for My Novel
but find I can’t. Was very “good” today – swam, bicycled, some
writing. Allowed to eat anything here luckily her food is not too
outrageous – hamburger and zucchini salad. Marinated artichoke
hearts.

Refuse to shred my nerves further by hating myself.
My body’s not perfect but I do feel on the home stretch to self-control.
Give me six weeks and I’ll be flying. Emotionally, I’m a mess.
Devon brought up marriage and I am smotheringly certain that I
can’t live up to either of our expectations or be parson’s wife.
Be fun to try – but that’s not the point. I fear the idiot side of me
that just keeps coming out. Can’t seem self-assured, playfully
grave instead sexually voracious and maniacally ridiculous.
Anyway Intuition told me he would call tonight between
8-10 as soon as he could be reasonably sure the Oldsters are out
of the way (he is visiting his parents who have “lights out” – i.e.
are blitzed – by nine pm). However Experience says if I expect the
call, he won’t call. (Learned this from Ryder).

He called at 8:30. I cracked too many jokes – conversation
painfully bizarre. He seemed calm and unfreaked. He got a new
job that gives him more “room” (he’s a waiter- he’s sick of teaching
people) asked when he could “show up” and suggested tomorrow.
Moving a lot faster than I expected from my memories of
Shy Boy. Do I want to have my fantasies played fast and loose with
in this way? (Am I over Ryder?) Do I want to get over him? Or
are mismatches of Time & Desire my Fate?

I am certainly NOT turning down D’s offer to see what
there can be for us. Companion? Lover? Second self? Brother?
Alas he is too blindingly handsome for me to be rational.
If he comes tomorrow there won’t be time for more than
necking (has to get to new job by 4.)

Forget “July 20”, entered on my calendar as S Day.
I WILL NOT MAKE LOVE TO A SCHEDULE. We have to have
a night alone to make things happen. I can be patient – can he?
Well, I can be honest. Best anyone can do.

10:45 PM Back from a walk, reliving my years as teenage
prowler. And peeper. These walks are very informational as I spy
couples hanging plants & merrimekkos, having fights and pouring wine.
Macramé is de rigueur. Try to imagine Devon & me in similar situations.
Maybe he won’t be a parson forever.

Celebrate my freedom from R. Nice to know I can go to parties
without fearing R’s paranoia & restrictions mixed with his exhibitionism
& flamboyance. Freeing me maybe to be those things. Fantasize
pleasurably about long drives with D – my hand on his thigh – separate
but equal thoughts unfolding with the journey. My emotions a difficult
horse to ride.

11:50 PM
Interrupted by phone call from R. (got this # from my
parents.) Offered to send me money. What is wrong with him?
He said, “You were right the way you always are. When are you
coming back to me?” Loves me, misses me, wants me back. He’s
been sick – Emmys a complete bust – his TV show cancelled – 2
directors actually fired (25 people in total.) Today’s the first day he’s
been back to work, amazed not to get a pink slip. He’s taking a two
week unpaid leave to go to the Finger Lakes and find his soul. If
they fire him so what. He refuses to take out of town job.
He really worked me over – gave me a bird’s eye
view of what life with him would be like. For example, said, “his
place is my place.” If he means “move in” he knows I’ll say no
because his skyscraper doesn’t take dogs. He asked, “When
do you come down to get your furniture?” I don’t like him having
all this information. Thank God for D. Six weeks to decide
whether I even want to return to Washington. I write a poem for Devon.

Angel Clothes

You are like a ripe peach
Swollen in the summer of your life
And as the peach surrounds its stone
Your skeleton enwombs your soul
But thinly.
I often see it shining
Through the hollows in your cheeks.
I need your body
Need to know its shadows
Sound its pleasures
But as the stone
Though small at first
Must grow; feed off the dying peach
So your spirit must transhume your flesh
Disgorge it in
A thousand peaches a thousand summers a
Thousand eternities more beautiful than
You or i
```
7PM – Sat 23 July 77
        D and I went for a long walk today, had a great 
```
talk. He told me all about his passionate relationship with English
girl – asking “Do you really want to know?” I did – I managed to
be very hands off. Said he’d written her “lyrical love-letters” and
she is saving money to come to US at Christmas.
Bit of a downer to find other people have split
minds like me. I told him a little about R and more about my
husband. I had to hope he wouldn’t see it “retaliation” for what he’d
told me. (R would have.) Fantasies can be ugly if they prevent you
from experiencing reality.

We hugged – he left – I know he thinks I’m too
“intense”. I was stupid enough to read him my peach poem. On
the other hand, if a guy can’t handle my poetry where am I? R only
likes poems he knows are about him.
Wrote a whiny letter to Avril (who usually can handle
whiny letters). Good today – bike, swimming, walk with D. Long letter
to Mom and Dad.

Reading Stella Gibbons’ Cold Comfort Farm –
can’t stay grumpy – laughing too hard. Settling into my spaceship –
my own body – first day of the rest of my life. Listening to wonderfully
crazy modern opera on the radio.

Sun 24 July 77
Reading E. Ogilvie’s Theme for Reason. How can
people still write novels interspersed with long nature descriptions – the pert chickadees and the blue moiré sea. I think it’s immoral for a writer of
any talent to inflict this stuff on an overstuffed world. Shape now the
key (used to be all about time-wasting.) I pledge to concentrate on
making each day a triumph.
The First Word
The First Page.
The First Day.

4PM
Wrote 4 pages of A Demon Roused. Horribly
dissatisfied. Patricia Highsmith on the suspense novel no damn
help at all. Everything I’ve ever written pure dunder written by a
dunderhead. Restrained myself from calling R.
Face facts. Left DC June 4. This coming
month has to be gotten through. Feel I suffered my “breakdown”
last spring was a crisis of identity. Attacked by the writing thing
(no money, no approval, no relationships) attacked by the relationship
thing (R too critical, wanting to “change” me.) Starving myself. Long
mad midnight walks rampaging thru Chevy Chase with dogs. The
ENDLESS Devon situation only explicable when seen in this light.
(He’s TOO good looking – it’s like a fantasy.)

Now about my book. New beginning ALL wrong and
I couldn’t figure out why. The characters seem alive.
1) First Person Difficult. My husband always said
2) omniscient narrator no longer possible, making
3) me want to do it. However, I have to admit you
4) need to be somebody – an extra character and that’s a
5) bigger pain in the neck.
2) Scene Problematic. I’ve GOT to get out of England.
It’s artificial. How about if I don’t say where it is? Will the specificity
cops come after me?
3) Format (Suspense novel) rough because I have to be
the one who knows what’s going on and I want to write my first draft in a
narcoleptic state. Means I have to be happy making a huge ness with a million
false starts and then write the thing ALL OVER when I know what’s going on.
But I feel time running out on me. Goddam it.
I should be happy to explore. Why all this pressure? Two novels
unaccepted, why write a fourth? Am I deliberately trying to drive myself to the
brink of insanity? Also I HATE Sunday because the pool is packed, no stores
are open, and there’s no mail.
Devon and his roommates Blair & Brian drop by and I
struggle to appear sane. Hard for me.

6PM
Called R. to yell at him. He wasn’t there – thank GOD.
Maybe I just want to punish him. He certainly deserves it.
```
         1:30 PM Mon 25 July 77
        Dark night of the soul finally over. Very athletic today – 
```
feel deliciously tired. Decide I should go back to Washington no
matter what. My choices are my choices. My happiness can’t be
dependent on how people treat me. I plan to use my time to become
powerful – to be the person I’m supposed to be. In the drugstore line
I was reading up on the showbiz personalities – nobody interesting
before 30 and I have a few years yet.

Forget about weight – just follow & learn to love
“virtuous routine”. (I’m a size seven – that’s pretty good.) Today it
POURED rain – night baseball Devon wanted to attend out of the
question. He suggested we switch to a movie when he called this am.

Still feel stilted with him unfortunately.
Theme for Reason’s sole interest is that it was
written by a lesbian. Still, she isn’t very forthcoming. “Marriage of
convenience?” Really?

Assault on library. Planning to ransack the place.
Leafed through Helen Hayes (poor woman); enjoying Thurber’s
My World and Welcome To It .
December 28, 2022

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for last minute plan changes.