Alysse Aallyn

Tag: Memoir

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Delaware River aboard the Gryphon – Thurs 3 Aug 67


    I am in the worst mood ever! IMPOSSIBLE to write on a boat! Difficult to read – out of the question to THINK! Too damn much going on. Sails to put up and take down, dishes to get out and then wash. Our one day of “respite” we had to completely scrub the boat! (Dad said it looked like a “laundry scow” with all our panties flying in the breeze.)

    We finally seem to be into the “charming” part of the voyage but now I am depressed by the backlog of letters that I owe. I’d rather write here. I have enough for 100 pages but doubt I’ll ever get them down. Struggling with War & Peace but its not working. Not easy like Anna Karenina. At 36 feet this boat is too small! (No wonder Morgan the cat jumps in the water.) Damn flies are eating me!

    Hideous heat, humidity and flies. I will reread Sherlock Holmes and Sherrill’s Accidental President – can’t manage intellectual fare.

    Called Genevieve and Kent once. She very perky, Mom very sad; Dad very “hail fellow well met.” We are entering the Chesapeake. By sheerest chance we met up with Paul Carnahan in Brigantine (where his father lives.) He is adorable. He wanted to show off his father’s house (which he designed) Dad used the high-powered telescope while I took a HOT BATH! Bliss! Paul introduced us to his nephew John who seemed very interesting. He’s only 19 and already out of college! He rides a unicycle.

    Later – the awful day has ended as awful days must. I did cry once but only Avril saw me and she promised not to tell. Every day seems to contain so many failures.

    My goodbye with Robin was horrible. He cried! He told me I’d never loved anyone – I didn’t argue. He gave me a picture of us onstage together in Mousetrap but when he was gone I threw it away – it was just too painful. He also gave me a package I unwrapped on the plane – Khalil Gibran’s the Prophet! Awful stuff! The epitome of false philosophy. Some people are so intellectually desperate (but I have the sense NOT to tell them I despise them for it!!!)

    I think I HAVE loved someone but at the moment I can’t remember who! Sounds ridiculous I know but the problem is you keep growing up and then you’re a different person! For example, part of what I needed in love was wanting to feel protected (Shawn). It’s not that I don’t want that anymore, I just see it’s illusory. (I loved him until he was mean to me.) I loved Reed until I saw he was an idiot! I think I may have even loved Beales before I saw his limitations!


    So the problem isn’t that I CAN’T love but that I love TOO MUCH!


    I don’t like this reputation for cruelty I am getting but I can’t figure how to dodge it. Why do I HAVE to fall in with what someone else wants to do? With Robin it is particularly stark BECAUSE I DON’T EVEN LOVE HIM. But in the struggle of wills I AM SUPPOSED TO LOSE and its all I can do to resist! And I thought I was so strong!

    Now I am NOT looking forward to senior year. I can’t go through this again! Fortunately Plumly boys are too cagey to tell you they despise you for kissing them! But the emotional stakes keep going higher and so does MY need for love. I can be generous if the guy can be BUT THEY AREN’T RAISED TO BE GENEROUS! Phil was. Reed was but it may have just been his weakness.


    Received a card from Dan Devereux who’s already graduated offering to introduce me to the Villanova party scene! Wish I didn’t know about his shenanigans with Casey so I sent him a Diplomatic Letter. I think he’s just using me to get back at her.

    Wrote a long letter to Robin saying it was just too explosive a summer and everyone was on edge and overworked. He’s threatening to come see me in Philadelphia! I tried to pretend we get a “semester abroad!” (When desperate you can ONLY lie.) I’d like him to just can it on the love stuff. I said we still have to survive college (although he says he’s going to the Goodman Theatre School.)

    Thanked him for Khalil (who after all tells us to be SEPARATE STRINGS on the same instrument!!!) and moved on to disabuse him of the “glamours” of sailing. How glamorous is it having to fish curler pins out of the bilge pump?

    Said I was looking forward to hearing from John Carnahan who promised to write! Mom said of course he’s not going to contact me because I don’t wear a bra! He isn’t going to get into “that!!” Just when I was starting to like her again!

    Last night we saw Julius Caesar at Cape May Courthouse – excellent!

    121 W. Penn – Phila Pa – Sun Aug 13, 67
    Good cruise – SO glad it’s over. When I am too much around people my thinking clouds and I literally start to babble.

    Remember how my motto used to be Xaipe? Well, mere happiness will no longer do – you certainly don’t find it by looking for it. My new motto comes from the lips of Satan himself (cover your ears Sister Mary Rosycheeks) Non serviam.

    So there. It would look good on a coat of arms. (Crossed goose and dragon RAMPANT!)
    Sitting at my father’s desk – an ugly, cold Victorian secretary under a good shot of me wielding a boathook at Hydra. When Aiken said he didn’t like it I refused to agree with him – he was mean about everything – but he’s right! Still, in 10 short years he’ll be fat and bourgeois and this desk is where the stamps & envelopes are! This tea is no good (it’s the water.)

    Everyone hates Johnson – he is attacked on all sides but landlady told Dad she can’t rent to West Indians because it would “ruin” the neighborhood! She’s not prejudiced – it’s other people. Thank God we are only renting. Let’s get out of here to Pewter Hill as fast as possible! It looks like we will be having Thanksgiving and Christmas in that big, beautiful house. I would invite Aynsley but she’s not sure she can stand to see us in her grandmother’s house.
    Read Milne’s delightful Once On a Time and saw John Mills’ The Family Way. Reading Ceram’s Gods Graves & Scholars and wonder if I’ll ever finish it.

    2:00 AM Tues 15 Aug 67
    Saw Two For the Road – I mark it higher than To Sir With Love. Liked the clothes. Read a review of Zelda Fitzgerald’s Save Me The Waltz that was more of a study of Zelda herself. Saw that twisted logic so characteristic of me, feeling naked nerves barely holding intellect together. I also am a slave to violent reactions springing seemingly from nowhere! She describes herself sitting on the porch and watching her dates “rot”! But she couldn’t leave the porch the way I would have. She was stuck.

    Breathed a sigh of relief over an interested letter from Robin. In very interesting handwriting he informs me I am Never To Be Forgotten. I think he will be much more tolerable as a Literary Friend. Went shopping today and bought two-striped Scottish knit dresses (long sleeved, very clingy). Also beautiful gauze dress – pale orange. Mom doesn’t like it but it was $2! Now really!


    Back from an evening at the Carnahans where Mom and Dad announced they would give me a trip to Europe for graduation present. I think they are afraid I won’t make it otherwise! They also talked about how en route from Vermont they had a layover in Boston and saw Genevieve and Kent. Mom said they are serious about having me visit. Probably go four days next week. It would make a good novel – the sister invited on the honeymoon who refused to leave! Bring everybody to the brink! It may have been done before but not my way.

    We all saw Wait Until Dark (play) with Barbara Bel Geddes. Some good scares. A real sadist would have started carving her up long before this one did.

    Had tea, and talked about it with Avril – who is growing more intelligent daily – she says I can use the library at her school – then snuggled down in bed all warm and cozy. But I like to have a many-sided problem to turn over in my mind while I’m falling asleep so I said, “I’ll just pick up Marek’s book and read for a few minutes” – what a mistake! I immediately became so engrossed sleep was impossible! I wish I could go digging in Egypt or Syria.

    Seems like that’s harder and not as materially rewarding these days. But what do I care about this last? Still, I would fall in love with everything I uncovered and then I’d have to give it up. Love reading about the dark-skinned Champollion deciphering cuneiform! Some of the poetry he translated is as touching as Ecclesiastes.

    “My son, my avenger, I shine with love for you…how sweet is your friendship against my breast…I marvel at you…”
    I am so deeply interested in every human variation that has ever been played – we are so intrinsically similar, so devastatingly different.

    Wouldn’t it be great to keep this diary in Babylonian? Then nobody could read it!

    Aboard The Gryphon – Swan Creek Marina – Rock Hall, MD – Midnight – Sat 19 Aug 67 – written by flashlight
    Swan Creek is the most charming hurricane hole you ever saw. Almost all power boats, but very thoughtful management (they put ice in our refrigerator!) Some drunk guy singing baritone on another boat.

    Wish I knew Morse code – very cute blond boy not far away. And how do you say PS Muffle your oars? Would take all night to figure that out.

    Most awful dream last night. I was at my wedding – the groom combining the worst features of Dan Devereux and Robin! I recognized no attendants or guests – everyone very casually dressed lounging around the pews disrespectfully. I wore my new $2 dress (proof that people dream in colors.) It seemed totally real – never occurred to me it might be a dream. I began to get really frightened thinking, How am I getting out of this? Mom came into the church with a white wedding dress over her arm and held it up against me. She said it was Genevieve’s gown and I can use it. But Genevieve got married in a leather minidress and gladiator sandals.

    I tried just pulling on the dress but my orange gauze showed through so I went to change in an olive-green locker room. I looked out the windows to jump but it was too far down. I saw sightseer busses puling up for the wedding outside! My best man was Fran’s boyfriend John – I liked him but I never knew his last name. Anyway he came in, offered me a cigarette and said, You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. The relief! I woke up at that moment and realized it was all a dream.

    This evening Mom and Dad and I went to see Ulysses – bold movie but SO hard to follow! Still, stream of consciousness works better in film than writing.

    Re-read Prince Caspian for the first time since age 10! He shouldn’t have thrown in all the Christ allusions but I still liked it. Finally finished the Marek book it was so exciting! Now there’s nothing to read but Mom & Dad’s magazine Atlas. Still, looks interesting.

    Mom and I went to Pewter Hill to pick up a key – it is air-conditioned!!! Mom was excited to see a squad car in the park – makes it seem safe – but the officer was snoring away!
    I’m the cockpit where I’m going to try to sleep because Mom and Dad have been shaking the whole boat with their lovemaking. I’m sure they’re trying to keep it down – it just isn’t possible. When I started to feel white-hot I thought about Robin and went right down to refrigeration in no time.

    Tomorrow we go to St Michaels saving 14 miles by going through the Scary Narrows. Dad has consulted charts & books galore. He says not to worry, boat is Unsinkable (knock on Fiberglas.)
    Shaping up to be another sleepless night wondering when the earth will die. Probably soon, judging by pollution in Philly.

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Sun 16 July 67


    Just a year ago I was leaving MN, assessing my theatre summer and its value! This was a better theatre experience but I’m not sure I can remain in the theatre if I dislike routine so much. Robin says I’m spoiled and lazy but I like surprises. Constant astonishment would be perfect. Robin says that is film acting but I photograph so horribly I could only play witches. I have a jaw like a boxing glove. I do feel more sure of myself and more determined in my philosophy. I’d consider dancing if every dancer alive weren’t better than me – I am not a “natural dancer” at ALL. But it’s fun!


    I learned to respect Catholicism but I see its danger: putting men in charge. They have crazy ideas! Robin for example, thinks I’m a “whore” because I WON’T have sex! I think my moral philosophy is pure and untainted but he says if I like passion without penises I must be a lesbian! (I better not tell him about Fleur. I’ve had my chance! ) Love is NOWHERE in this equation. He grabbed me backstage as I was going on for Act III and said I broke his heart. I told him to write a radio serial – I don’t think his heart ever came out to play. He was very insulted but Jodi and I have discussed this. She agrees his deepest feelings are not involved – this is a volcano of selfishness and anger and I should stay away. She says he wants to talk badly about me to everyone but they will see it for what it is. Jodi moved in a few days ago – I am liking having a roommate better than I thought I would.
    Looking forward to seeing Mom & Dad and cruising a new area. Play with my thirteen-year-old sister and catch up on my sleep.

    Mon 17 July 67
    Rehearsal bad this evening. I am gobbling aspirin. Whenever I see Robin talking to someone I know its about me. The orchestra is so pathetic there isn’t a beat to dance to! We get our counts mixed up. Left my black ballet slippers at the dorm and Mr. Johnson wouldn’t let me wear my pink ones – had to wear a pair that didn’t fit. The second act is definitely the worst – they put the summerhouse where I am supposed to be standing! I am literally dancing against a wall. I nearly killed Carrie in the cartwheel and then my bodice started to unlace. The only fun I have is in the cancan. And in the final act I have to waltz with Robin! That means I am wearing my ugliest costume for the meaningless finale.


    Miss Whalen delivered an ill-timed lecture. All those considering suicide will go ahead now and do it and the orchestra will be even smaller. Tea and sticky buns with Sister Mary Rosycheeks back at the dorm provide some relief. In a week I’ll be on the boat!

    Tues 18 July 67
    There is a serious drawback to having a roommate – I never get anything done! Mom and Dad called from Cape Cod I started crying and then we got cut off! I am ashamed of myself – they are never going to know I’m not miserable. I can’t explain about Robin obviously (Mom would take HIS side!!!) I get so homesick when I hear their voices! Avril was telling me about all the “psychedelic” boutiques on the shore.

    Thurs 20 July 67
    “Is the world a lunatic asylum then? Are we all courteous maniacs discreetly making allowances for everyone else’s derangement?”


    This from Muriel Spark’s wonderful The Comforters which I just this moment finished reading. So fabulous. So satisfying. Didn’t understand the title until I read that sentence! Halfway through I doubted I could survive the chaos (or the self-conscious writing. “Joe was feeling tired. “I’m feeling tired, said Joe.” There’s only so much of that you can stand.) The book jacket prints a nice quote from Evelyn Waugh and I will follow that man through thick and thin. It turned out to be worth it. Words blown out of context, motives ignored, manipulations misconstrued while people automatically say the opposite of whatever they really feel. Spark is enchanting. I will get all her other novels to read, but my next project is Waugh’s son Auberon’s Foxglove Saga.


    Sat with Chris Cahill during dinner. He is only 14 but painfully smart. No one can stand him but me – he wants to argue about art and/or history at every possible moment. With a male Alysse Aallyn on the loose how can I help but lend a hand. Spark backs me up that we are kinder toward those whose madness we recognize!


    Last night’s preview VERY successful – the nuns loved it. They are as sentimental as whores (according to Giraudoux!! ) Sister Mary Rosycheeks said the cancan girls have such cute bottoms! Our dancing was certainly the high point!
    Must get over to the theatre now in fact – it’s only ten to seven but I need ages making up.

    1:50 AM Fri 21 July 67
    Fierce rainstorm this afternoon – Jodi and I were DRENCHED! Had to dry my hair under the bathroom blower.

    Too much to eat! Jodi & I celebrating opening night with clove tea & orange peel (Alysse’s special recipe) chocolate cookies, apple and the rest of the orange. Who needs the dining hall? I’d better stay up while the tea takes its course – I hate being wakened in the middle of the night three feet off the bed on my bladder. Jodi looks so sweet over there – sleeping clutching her Kleenex box!

    Finished part I of Foxglove. Auberon’s nowhere near as biting as his father – but he is witty and entertaining. He’s certainly a lot more organized than Muriel! He’s also not a fatalist but maybe he’s too young (cover portrait handsome young man.) Hmmm. Don’t think I could ever marry a novelist. How would you ever know who was plagiarizing who?

    Opening night audience was packed. At first NOTHING could amuse them but by the beginning of the second act they were thawed and started applauding EVERYTHING!! Loved the cancan! Such a letdown when it’s over! I’m ecstatic when I’m dancing – sweat didn’t ruin my makeup – not a curl out of place – lost no feathers – not even an earring! Did not forget Sasha’s gloves or tights! Triumph! I am learning. (It was the first time I was EVER in the Green Room on time.)

    Some of these costume changes are TOO MUCH – once again Carrie forgot to double knot my bodice and it started to unravel!

    Called the travel agent – booked a flight for Wed. Get out of here 9:30 AM making only one change at Minneapolis. Get into Kennedy 3:30 PM their time. Then a train to Montauk. I wish Mom would meet me – I’d like to talk to her and it would do her good to get away. I’m sure she is afraid to talk honestly about Genevieve, but she’ll never feel better if she doesn’t. Her impulse is always to pretend it isn’t happening – I remember her stepping over dead drunk men in the street and being goosed by parking lot attendants in Morocco. All with regal hauteur.
    I bought her a green paisley cigarette case as a mark of a new Tolerance to let her know I love her – she knows I hate her smoking. At some point we have to step past all the frozen tears and kisses.

    Before the second act curtain when Robin and I were frozen in our places, him touching my bare back he begged me to go to the Black Hawk with him after the play. I said No. I said, ‘:Do you hate me Robin” and he said no but I can see he does.

    After the play I ran up the iron stairs to the dressing room, smeared cold cream on my face & eyelashes, put on my dress without a bra and rushed out before anyone could speak to me.
    Sweet, seven page letter from Genevieve July 15 –

    “This is a shamefully overdue letter and I apologize but all sorts of phenomena are happening in my life – I’m sorry I haven’t included you sooner..” Then she sprung her big surprise – she’s marrying Kent Winokur! Said she loves him because he’s like Daddy! Hmmm… Said she’s probably get married next weekend and I could come visit them! I wrote back saying I thought marriage was a hell of a contract and nineteen’s awfully young but I know she won’t listen to me! Enclosed penny candy as a wedding present!

    I do disapprove. It’s not Mom and Dad – I don’t think she can help feeling trapped because she WILL be trapped! I wouldn’t give up the excitement of independence so easily, that wild exhilaration. You never want to think you’ve missed the action. And what if she wants to be alone? I want to know that somewhere there is a single bed I can always return to. On the other hand, I haven’t met anyone who makes me want to give that up. I suppose it’s possible he exists. Sings Barbra:

    “I want to find my true love like all the lovesongs say
    I want to do what I want, I want to get my way.
    Wild dreams grow wise when sweet childhood flies
    Time waved her hand and the breeze
    Blew sand from my eyes…”

    But I may be making a mistake thinking what revolts me revolts her. Maybe she is the wife type. I better go to bed – Jodi and I have to clean the paint room tomorrow and I will look like Living Death. Is there no rest for the wicked?

    Sun 23 July 67
    Rudely awakened at 10:30 AM by Mater and Pater calling from Connecticut. Gave them my flight info.

    The day went blissfully, lazily. Robin came over insisting I help him with his NDEA lines, so I did. We hugged. He begged me to come for a drive. I was infused with physical longing but refused. Thank God I was strong enough! He claimed the pink ribbon from my hair. I wouldn’t let him have it unless he would give me his shirt on the spot. He wouldn’t so I refused to let him have the ribbon.

    Here’s the note he gave me:
    “If what you want is not to be together, if that will make it easier, I’ll try. Believe me, I’ve always tried to do everything your way.”
    Jesus I’ll be glad to get out of this place!

    Tues 25 July 67 4:30 AM
    Looks like I won’t be getting to bed tonight either! Didn’t get underway with my packing till 3;15 because I was saying goodbye to everyone in the smoker.

    Performance went great – ballet especially! Last applause rang in our ears. Black velvet curtains swung together and the major domo enfolded the cancan dancer in his arms. It’s a wrap! Strike! (Means something different in the theatre.)

    Felt so nostalgic taking off my satin & feathers!

    After strike cancan dancer eluded the majordomo, went back to the dorm to say goodbye to Jodie and meet her folks. Farm folk! I am so ashamed of my snobbishness! Robin insisted on a Last Walk. I’d actually believe he just had rotten luck to fall in love with me – if he hadn’t SAID he wants me because he can’t HAVE me! Sick! We sat on the stone steps and I stared into his crooked face (he is so much handsomer onstage!) He still doesn’t understand why I wouldn’t kiss him. What’s it matter to me?

    It mattered.

    He will NEVER understand but he insisted we correspond. He also demanded to drive me to the airport. Uh oh. What if he kidnaps me? My frugality will be the death of me!

    Swimming last night in the Lourdes pool – skinny dip! Just me & Jodi playing “Loch Ness monster!” Nice nuns caught us and showed us the door.
    All the cancan girls met in the smoker and munched cherries.

    Raced up to the fourth floor sundeck to watch the sun come up over the bluffs. Wake bring in huge breakfast – hot chocolate, mushroom omelet and doughnuts!

    Picked up my tickets from the travel agent – they are incredibly cheap – I don’t understand it at all. Three hours sleep in the afternoon. Parents called from Block Island where they are stranded by rough winds so Mom can’t come. I wasn’t depending on her so unsurprised.
    No point going to bed now! Second sunrise in a row! Shared with Joan Peska who suffers from an abscessed tooth.

    This summer’s been worth it.
    1) take bath
    2) clean room
    3) finish packing
    4) iron dress
    5) ?
    My tea is cold. I can sleep on the plane.

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Wed 5 July 67


    There are those (psychiatrists) who say Environment is All. I will raise my children with stimulation & excitement. I say routine’s the modern curse; we’re always hanging about like goldfish with our mouths open awaiting the next bell. Who lives more fully, a tiger or Walter Mitty? I say Mitty because imagination IS a life but no one agrees! In fact last night’s party turned into a “company meeting” where we all complained they work us too hard, yell at us too much and are too insulting in their criticisms. (Lucky they haven’t had a suicide.) They’ve turned us into a heap of Pavlov dogs and no one has the nerve to tell them this however.


    Found my own personal philosophy perfectly expressed in the explanatory paragraph before Browning’s Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister (a most awkward poem in my opinion.) I abhor the Victorians. Ugliness refined to an art. Anyway, “Life is a moral testing ground and the call to the individual to realize his (or her) potentialities is also a call to meet the moral demands of his (her) world! So true!


    I wonder how many people I’ve influenced to start diaries! JoAnn is starting one. She’s thinking of becoming a nun!

    Thurs. 6 July 67
    In the smoker listening to Jefferson Airplane. Fran says Grace Slick is bad for her voice but she’s attracted anyway. Jodi wants The Chad Mitchell Trio which is all western and warbly. I say there must be something in between – how about Night on Bald Mountain? Fran says there’s no singing, I say yes there is. I’m pretty sure the demons howl at the end. No different from Grace Slick really.
    Mousetrap opening tonight. Robin gave me a charming ring made from a silver spoon. We went to a thrift store so I could buy new jeans (and corduroys) – my old ones won’t stay up!

    Sat. 8 July 67
    Why has Robin such a small mind? BUT HE’S SO BRIGHT AND AFFECTIONATE AND WHO ELSE IS THERE? He’s grabby and pawy and the word No is against his religion. I dressed up for the Hawk because Michael Steele the MN reviewer would be there. Robin said we had to stop at his apt first but he wouldn’t leave. I got so mad I smacked him across the face as hard as I could. He was hurt, I apologized so he started up again! He produced condoms! I was insulted, he was angry. I told him Anything but That. We did manage some pleasure – I had several seizures. But men don’t like it if they’re not impregnating you, which is A Problem. I’m willing to grapple with birth control but not for this guy. He thinks never seeing each other again is a plus!


    I kind of hate myself now. Feel like Lady Ellenborough – “too much trouble to say No.”
    Feeling emotionally stomped.

    Sun 9 July 67
    Long mosquito-slapping talk with Robin on the way to Denny’s party. He looked really good in a gold-buttoned vest. I couldn’t believe what a long walk it was until I realized he was going around and around the block! He says he is going through a stage and he wouldn’t have admired me if I’d said Yes! So it seems to be a game and he’s angry at me because I wouldn’t lose! Now that he knows I’m a fine person it’s time for me to lose! I was so upset I had to look away. This was supposed to make our future easier?


    Merry Widow such a failure of a play. Dippy and trite. Between rehearsals Robin walked me to Lourdes Hall for dinner. We were relaxed like people no longer wary of each other. Or maybe I am exhausted. We were drinking coffee and eating dessert when I was paged – ship to shore call from “the yacht Gryphon”!


    Mom and Dad are not coming to the play. Last weekend Genevieve brought her boyfriend Kent Winokur to meet them and Mom had a meltdown. She says he’s a bearded hippie, Genevieve says he’s a law student and Dad has a beard. Mom made Dad shave off his beard! They already knew Gen & Kent were living together so I don’t quite understand.


    Dad said they want to go to VISTA together and VISTA won’t accept them together unless they’re married so they’re getting married! Mom wants a family wedding and they don’t. Dad’s loyalties are torn. Genevieve has always been his favorite daughter – I am barely “also ran”.


    Avril wanted to talk about her cat Morgan (his name means “seafarer but they have to keep rescuing him with the net because he thinks he can swim.) She did say Kent has “long hair”.


    Dad felt bad they canceled their flights – he knows I’ve been homesick but I reassured him that I’m having a marvelous time. I remember Genevieve making so much fun of Merrill’s wedding, also the idea of marriage – “How can she be sure?”


    I told Robin all about it – he sides with Mom! Gave me a lecture on “social responsibility” that degenerated into a paen to noble pioneer women of the soil. He is hopeless! I told him to read Giants in the Earth and get disabused. He seems to look at life as having a “traveler” and a “wayside – who feels free enough to leave who. What if I refuse this wayside? He assures me somberly that Women who Forage will Be Foraged. I usually feel confident I can land on my feet in a conversation but with him bliss keeps turning to despair. I told him he’s a perfectionist but it’s not really the word I want.


    Another depressing letter from Casey – I am getting afraid to open them. She says Brian Nydahl “gave” Marnie to Reed because Reed “loved” her more. Boil! I’m furious at the lot of them.

    Tues 11 July 67
    What a glorious day this has been – the change of directors makes an enormous difference! Mr. & Ms. Sullivan relaxed and cheerful, use Persuasion instead of Terror.


    I think my body is beginning to listen to me. Mr. Johnson gave a ballet lecture to the nuns and we Dancing Girls demonstrated the moves. After the demonstration Sister Mary Rosycheeks plied us with sticky buns and cake. She told me my hair is the color of sunlight. She is so darling. These nuns are the best people.


    Robin took 100 pictures of me (I warned him they’d all turn out bad) then rewarded me with lunch at the drugstore where we could relax in the airconditioning. When he bought me penny candy I said he was too lavish – he said I’m the only person who listens to him. Actually I’m the only person “expecting more” from him – every one else takes each other at “face value”. All the interesting stuff is underneath.


    Jodi said we weren’t needed till 3 so we went over to Tempo and had a leisurely shop. Then time for bath! Hot water has the power to reshape me as if I were wax – white sundress – tied my hair back with a white satin ribbon. You look like Twiggy! Said the doorman and I felt complimented!
    I love the walk to the theatre, the old stone buildings, the greenery, the arches – this is a sort of paradise. Robin was waiting for me on the steps – rushed up and put his arm around me possessively. He said I looked like a tall cool glass of milk! Then he tried to talk me into staying an extra day. I said my parents need me.


    When rehearsal started my joyous mood returned.


    Rehearsal ended at ten fifteen so we could pile into cars for Mr. Johnson’s Mousetrap party in Wisconsin. Robin and I ended up walking on a country road beneath a sky ablaze with stars. I thought, this is not my place but it reminds me of my place. A satisfactory make-out session devolves into an argument about city people vs. country people. He says you can’t be both. If forced to pick I will choose the country just because it’s quieter but why choose? I said if you feel controlled by circumstances you will always choose the wrong things thinking you aren’t choosing at all; that’s why people should feel free. He got mad thinking I meant him (which in a way I did.)


    At Tiplady’s party we listened to the entire score of The Fantasticks (which I saw for my sixteenth birthday.)


    Back at the dorm reading Irving Stone’s Those Who Love.

    Thurs 13 July 67
    Everyone released from rehearsals at 10:30 except Maxim’s Girls – we kept at it till 11:10! Steve walked me back to the dorm – said all my freedom makes people think I am a “loose liver”. I said why can’t we just be friends and got the Victorian line: “It’s IMPOSSIBLE for MEN & WOMEN etc etc etc.” I’d be willing to kiss him if in the midst of it he’s not talking about hating me and hating himself.


    We ended up wrestling against a wall – I kicked him with my newly hardened legs, trying to say he’s making me not trust him. He turned into an animal! He really scared me. I never imagined getting raped before but I see how it could happen. I’ve come unscathed through some pretty tight spots. I think I knocked his head against the wall. I said I’m sorry, He said, “Don’t apologize. It’s my fault.” But I can’t help berating myself. I shouldn’t even walk with him much less make out with him but I’m so hungry too! For passion and love and anything I can get.


    I kept talking as we walked back – I can cheer myself up with the sound of my own voice.
    “I can’t figure you out,” he said, “You want sex and you don’t want it.”


    “I like pleasure and I don’t like pain,” I told him but he still doesn’t get it. He thinks I don’t “do it” because he would despise me as he told me he would. But if we really aren’t going to see each other again, would that matter? (I’ve got a lot of boys despising me already; Beales, Reed, Shawn too, now, apparently.) I have to feel sex will be worth doing and I’ve almost felt it with other boys – just not with Robin. Am I “using him”? He says No!


    I flippantly said I didn’t think I’d find the “right guy” before age 30. He said he thinks I’ll find him sooner than that. It definitely felt like a goodbye speech. I had to go around to the smoker to rap on the window to find someone to let me in.


    He thought the reason he was getting nowhere with me was he wasn’t “forceful” enough! I’m praying he leaves me the hell alone after this. I think he will.

    Sat 15 July 67
    I should be so lucky. Robin grabbed my arm on the theatre steps and told me he’s going crazy. I said I have bad dreams too. He asked me to “fake it” for a week! I was blind with rage. I asked him to never touch me again. He asked if I’m going to write him off as “another mistake”. I shouldn’t have told him about my boyfriends – they aren’t “mistakes” even if we don’t end up together. (Beales was a little bit of a mistake.) I don’t accept what Miss Cluny says, that its what OTHER people think of you that makes you what you are! How could you become yourself?


    Robin quiet during rehearsal – I just got the “reproachful stare”. It bothers me WORST OF ALL that he thinks GUILT is the way to get to me. Whatever I’m doing, I SHOULD be doing something else! This is the end. I don’t want to waste valuable notebook paper on Robin. Shawn’s the kind of man I would THINK I’d want but Reed’s the type I REALLY do. Artistic. Uh oh.


    Pawed my way through Those Who Love. Much too slick and glib. But at least he’s reassuring me I’ve made the right decision! Finished O’Faolain – he’s not Mansfield but he does have something. Struggling with Mary Renault but I’m tired of The Ancient World.

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Mon 26 Jun 67


    So much has happened! I covet every moment! Screwtape Letters remind me every day is a gift and warn me against reverting to self-pity. CS Lewis amusing & cultured. Unfortunately his God demands belief and I do not believe in a jealous God. Jealousy’s a sin! Also don’t care for “forcing” prayer. Is it a tribute? I pray to my inner resources every day!


    Finished Quennell’s Byron – Years of Fame and started Miss Bigland’s Lord Byron; sheer plagiarism!


    Reading Waugh’s Men at Arms instead. He is a genius! I think we would look like his stumbling, bumbling characters if we could view ourselves objectively. The weird part is Waugh LIKES the army! I guess he makes fun of everybody.


    The Madwoman of Chaillot is a failure because everyone knows going in that rag pickers with daisies are Good and Presidents in tall black hats are bad. But we don’t live life like that!


    Spent half an hour putting on my gypsy makeup. Jodi very worried that I don’t do it the same way every night! Looking forward to Tiplady’s party – having someone interesting to talk to makes everything worthwhile.

    Tues. 27 June 67
    Everyone got drunk on beer at Tiplady’s party. I hate beer! I guess I should be glad there weren’t whisky sours or Purple Jesuses. I cold-shouldered Robin and he grabbed me and kissed me in front of everybody! Told him I forgive him. I’m the forgiving type. We danced and sat around. He stroked my thigh beneath the table.


    Horrible letter from Shawn – a more prosaic and fatherly epistle cannot be imagined. Why do all boys flunk writing? If they knew the power it confers! Maybe Robin will do better.


    Shawn is a Victorian – working hard to separate girls into “types”. (He’s the “Victorian type!”) This is the boy who bit my breast! I ran right up to dorm after and refused to talk to him until he apologized over and over. Obviously to his way of thinking it’s somehow subtly my fault! His bad letter had the good result of keeping me from missing him so much. I let Robin stroke my belly, even though if he was Shawn it would have given him “dangerous ideas”.


    Got a coveted part of Dodo in The Merry Widow – a Maxim’s dancer! I didn’t even want to try out I was so convinced of my own inferiority but Mr. Johnson made me! Abject humility! Mr. Dolan was very polite about my reading – he is the best of the professional actors here. (He completely saved the last play.)


    Alas the play is hopelessly insipid. But we do get a lot of fun costume changes. (I run right up to the audience, throw my skirts over my head and show them my backside! This will be especially fun with a theatre full of nuns!)


    We have been working so hard I am a living bruise. Back to the dorm to boil myself pink, enjoying Gladys Schmitt’s very well-written Rembrandt. It’s full of trivia but LIFE is trivia. She’s latched onto a great theme – birthright sold for a mess of pottage. Of course if you need pottage, what are you going to do?


    Solitude is as refreshing as a meal. Starting to feel bad for Casey – she doesn’t know what she’s getting into. I must be a trial to live with.

    Wed Jun 28 67
    The girls here are a really good bunch. I am sorry I was such a snob. Outward differences really are skin deep. Shows how prejudice can be defensive.


    I am happy, struggling to achieve the balance between solitude and group endeavor. Carrie Benoit, Jeannie Morrison and Kathy Knoop are all the dancing girls – we have such fun together. We have to lace each other into ridiculous children’s tutus that barely cover our backs!

    Thurs. June 29 – 67
    Today was the sorest I’ve ever been. I am cross-eyed with exhaustion and half way through the ballet I was shot. I can’t believe they picked me for this! They must be crazy! The worst part is doing it over and over. I can see all sorts of shortcuts but I am not allowed to take them (I’m already faking a split beneath my skirt.) Ballet is a punishing discipline. I think it may have been made up originally as a punishment. Sleep without dinner (two oranges and iced tea) my jeans are HANGING on me.
    Mr. Johnson says the soreness goes away and leaves fine muscle. I hope so. I think I’ve just about stretched myself out.


    Robin invited me out but I didn’t want to be alone with him so we went to the Black Hawk. Fran and John sat with us – I think they have the ideal relationship (they live together but it’s a secret.) Fran’s a dancer now that poor Jeannie threw her knee out. Occupational hazard of cancan dancers! Feeling indestructible (fingers crossed.) Think I am finally growing up – I hate it when Casey or Aynsley say they wish they were children again! UGH! To be my own mistress at last is all of my dream.
    Letter from Casey that she 69’d with Dan! Shudder. I can’t visualize it – what do you do with your knees? Letter I longed for from Mom I didn’t get.

    Tues 4 July 67
    Coldest July fourth in history! No tan possible under these conditions. Last year I had to rub my body with ice cubes and 4711 to get the fever down, now I lie beneath 2 blankets and a spread, swilling tea. Sooner or later all this tannic acid is going to catch up with me. On the other hand Mr. Nichols says tea’s the reason the Brits conquered the world – their insides had turned to leather and they could tolerate anything.


    First day we’ve had off! Washed my hair, did my laundry, finished Waugh’s Men At Arms. His Catholic confusion really starting to show. He hates everybody for not following the rules, on the other hand they think they ARE following “the rules”. Constantly changing the rules is not helping. Also finished The Killing of Sister George, which reminded me of A Thousand Clowns. Preferred George for technical reasons, Clowns as a play. Study of the individual floundering in a cage a lot more interesting than the cage myself, if you get my meaning.


    Reading Sean O’Faolain’s tales with occasional snacks of Shelley and Baudelaire, when I get bored which happens often because he’s no Chekhov or Henry James. The Darling and Europe still stand alone. Luckily Baudelaire comes with the original French. Would you translate:


    “Des costumes qui sont pour les yeux une ivresse
    Des femmes don’t les dent et les ongles son teints
    Et des jongleurs savants qui le serpent caresse”


    As


    “we have seen wonder-striking robes and dresses
    women whose nails and teeth the betel stains
    and jugglers whom the rearing snake caresses”
    sacrificing beauty for rhyme?


    Makes me wonder what’s really going on when I read Yevtushenko.


    My feelings for Robin are a wild seesaw through indifference, unaffected affection and outright rudeness. Had it out with him on our walk. I hate this “game” – can I get my hand up her thigh? Will she let me touch both breasts? It pushes us apart.


    He said “Do you realize after three weeks we may never meet again?”


    I said, “If we stand long enough in Piccadilly Circus they say we’re bound to see each other.”
    He was very huffy: “I’m not going to Piccadilly Circus!”


    He called me a “prick teaser” so I called him a bastard. There’s even less in it for me than there was with Aiken! I refuse to walk with him any more, will only see him at The Black Hawk.


    My diet of One Meal a Day (can’t be bothered to leave my room) plus constant dancing has exposed all my ribs. I’d like to be even more emaciated but have no will power (two ice creams for dinner!)


    Frannie’s having a party tonight and Robin WON’T be there! A welcome change.

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Wed 26 Apr 67


    Dammit, flunked another math quiz. Had to ask what R stood for (radius). If this keeps up will need a tutor. Who ever heard of the radius of a SQUARE? It is wrong that it should have one, but it does. If I fail I have to retake as a senior and that WILL NOT HAPPEN. Will memorize the damn textbook if that’s what it takes. Coming up: Gertrude spouts equations in Hamlet death scene. “To fail or not to fail…”

    Fri 28 Apr 67
    They show Rashomon after dinner and Reed and I got into a stupid argument about it. He blames the whole thing on the poor woman, which is not the filmmaker’s point at all. I really think he is going to force me to break up with him and his beestung mouth.

    Sat 29 Apr 67
    I hate everybody. Miss Wienand had the nerve to tell me I would never be a writer because I have “no feel for literature.” She did not like my Wordless Play. Hideous struggles with CP Snow and Isak Dinesen. Trying to write a poem in French that is a takeoff on Rimbaud – reflections of sweaty men in a wineglass by firelight. The soul heaves! You know the sort of thing. The tap dancing of an amputee.


    Having my mother show up for Parents Day a VERY good thing however. She is so gracious and beautiful I am raised in everyone’s estimation. I sit in the East Room eating 2,000 macaroons while she is making lifelong friends. She did sleep through the lecture on careers! Then she took me & Aynsley to lunch at the Media Inn saying she is thinking of buying Pewter Hill, Aynsley’s grandmother’s beautiful house. That would be lovely. Avril and I would get a whole floor. Unfortunately Auntie Beulah would have to come live with us. I ate prime rib, fondue and Cherries jubilee. I really am a fire-eater.


    Now I have to write a paper about whether Lincoln could have avoided the Civil War. (NO!) Paper doomed unfortunately. Miss Cluny said Lincoln’s letter was the model sympathy letter and I said it was a disgrace to humanity.

    Mon 1 May 67
    Brice came up to me after lunch to break up with me! From Aiken! Due to Differences in Lifestyle & Libido, blah blah blah (the nerve!) He OBVIOUSLY expected me to fall sobbing into his arms, which I refused to do. Said it was a pity Aiken was such an Old Man while still in his twenties! I like my generation! Not One Tear will I shed on or for either of Those Men.


    There is NO PLANET in the stratosphere where this mess of a Cyrano breakup would be OK. I was so annoyed I broke up with Reed! Not very nicely either. I do feel guilty but new horizons, etc.
    New horizons may be Shawn Kobler. He keeps casting me Unfathomable Glances. Getting the distinct impression I represent Bad Girls to him – don’t like that at all. Didn’t know if he would “forgive” me for Reed – fortunately he doesn’t approve of drugs either. He usually doesn’t date – he is too busy running the school. Did invite me to put in an appearance at a dance he will be “working”. That’s not quite good enough for me.


    Reed’s KOBS (he’s still sending them) are poems as-screechy-violin-psycho music; Shawn’s complicated screeds fear “stuffy domesticity” and wonder if the “call of the wild” is dead. I can answer that: No.

    Sun, 11 Jun 67 – Wyriga, MN
    Back for more with the Theatre Nuns! What is it I like so much about the Sisters of St. Hilarious? Is it that fierce battle of Inner vs. Outer? Must be. The students on the other hand, give me the creeps. Long skirts, weirdly puffed hair and old fashioned makeup makes me feel they’ve stepped out of the pages of Little House on the Prairie. In fact we are putting on Giraudoux’s Madwoman of Chaillot – too modern for them if anything. They are worried whether the audience will “get” it. How can they miss it?


    I hate finding out I’m such a snob but I might as well be honest.


    Picked up at the airport by Dr. Magnus and driven to the just completed dorms –smells like the mortar is still drying – where the other students claim to “adore” my “accent”. Didn’t know I had one but presumably they can’t hear their own nasal twang. Fortunately I have my own room – the senior I was supposed to room with – Josephine – has taken an apt! Yay! Now I can stay up all night if I want to.


    First class is Ballet (!!!) where I am forced to admit I am starting from rock bottom. Imitating a leaf in Miss Pleverer’s modern dance class when I was six has apparently not helped me at all. (She was another Misbegotten Wretch Mom wanted to support.) The only direction I have to go is Up.
    After that, Voice. Stress makes me screech – we are trying to lower my high whine.


    After that, casting for our play – I got cast as The Spanish Dancer because the director (with whom all the girls are in love) did not see me in Ballet. He selected me to lead the mazurka! Uh oh! Here’s hoping I pick it up.


    There’s a very good actor named Robin (didn’t get his last name) blond hair, long nose, tall and thin, poor posture but a terrific actor. He can imitate anyone – he is electric onstage! He’s also charming and funny and seems to like me.


    I’m trying out for one of the leads in The Mousetrap. I wouldn’t have the nerve if the others weren’t so hopeless.


    Tried calling home – was feeling homesick which Mom cured by lecturing me. The office chose that moment to cut us off. When I finally got her back I discovered she thought I hung up on her. I don’t think she really believes that I didn’t. Wish we were closer but she is going through a Bad Period. She is very angry that Genevieve wants to leave Radcliffe and go to Boston College with the rest of the rabble. She thinks she’s doing it for “some boy” but even if she were I don’t see why that invalidates her dislike of Radcliffe. It is a snooty, stupid place.


    I think she’s really upset because every time we talk about Africa, I cry! It’s automatic at this point and she thinks I’m doing it just to make her feel bad. “Mom, you took me to a war.” Neither Mom nor Dad want to know what we REALLY think which is especially awkward since all our friends praise them for their Honesty and Involvement in our lives! Our job now seems to be to tell them over and over again, You’ve Been Perfect but they raised us to be honest, analyze Problems and Problem-Solve. But only for the Benighted , apparently, which by definition our parents can’t be.


    For example, they are furious at Merrill’s husband for joining the Air Force. But if he JOINS as opposed to being drafted, he gets to take Merrill with him to Meteorology School in Athens, Greece! This sounds better to them than the jungles of Vietnam and I concur! (Wish I was there.) I HAVE to defend my sisters. Cried fiercely in my room afterwards – a girl came to be nice but I was old and proud.


    Slept till one PM Sunday. So great not having a roommate. Napoleon says “a man needs six hours of sleep, a woman seven and a fool eight”. A theatre student needs nine! I keep missing meals so bought lemonade and cottage cheese with pineapple and just got full on that. The lemonade I keep in my room, and there’s a kitchen with a fridge down the hall for my cottage cheese. LOVE that stuff!


    Rehearsals lasted till ten pm! My part is insignificant so I sit in the audience reading. Finished Genet’s The Maids (love it!!) starting Deathwatch. Almost completed Markham’s Napoleon and Dostoevsky’s The Idiot but left them in my room. Love Prince Myshkin and Jacques Louis David.
    Robin offered me a ride to the Black Hawk – the local night club. My high hopes were dashed. Sleazy dive with a juke box. Made me even MORE homesick. Missing Shawn.


    Tues 13 June 67
    Finished The Idiot, then speed-read The Blight on the Ivy by “The Gordons”. I was hoping to sound well informed on student suicide rates in my next argument. But what a terrible book! Authors condescending to their readers fall between three stools: lurid Sat. Eve Post article, useful survey or Ma Gordon’s Common Sense Advice. No opportunity for moralizing missed. They told me to read their other book entitled The Split Level Trap. No thank you! I saw the movie (No Down Payment.)


    Really didn’t understand Deathwatch. Trying to read Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey – to my surprise, I haven’t read her before but I enjoy it.

    12:50 AM Fri 16 June 67
    Trying to keep away from Robin or I think The Inevitable will happen. Three months without love can’t be borne! He keeps following me around and joking with me. He elbowed into being my partner in ballet! He lifts me up with a smooth flat hand, right beneath my rib cage. He may look spindly and sick but he is strong and lightning sensitive. He always catches me in the “trust falls”.
    During rehearsal I was writing to Shawn and Robin came and sat by me and said, Is that a letter to your boyfriend? I told him it was and nobody writes long letters the way I do! Robin said HE DOES! We can write each other after we leave – or starting now of I want! Uh oh. Dangerous to ask me what I want! Shawn didn’t ask me for my address – I’m putting it on the envelope but I might hear nothing. Feeling very down right now and not seeing a single lovable quality in myself. I am one of those insecure people needing constant reassurance – like a spaniel. Do I have patience for The Endless Games?
    I prefer erotic dreams…

    Thurs 22 June 67
    I am in the smoker listening to Barbra Streisand who always brings my emotionalism to the surface. Lost the part of Mollie in the Mousetrap – my own fault. Robin is so good – (he is Giles) perfect accent and everything – I just can’t manage it. Said I’d learn it – overconfident as usual. Now I’m just a stagehand. Robin is worried he will be stereotyped in villain roles because he does them so well! (It’s that thin, sinister face.)


    I got stuck with Julie Haydon after the preview performance. She talked endlessly about how bad she’d been and it didn’t matter how many times I said she was fine – it didn’t register. Robin was dragged into a passing car to go to the party, I’m stuck Helping the Star Take off her Makeup. I wanted to talk about George Jean Nathan and New York City in the 20’s – (she says their anniversary’s in a few days) but she wanted to talk about her wrinkles. And when I said the part needed wrinkles that was NOT the right thing to say. She did tell me about her wedding aboard a Caribbean cruise liner and their conversion to Catholicism. Finally a car arrived for her from the hotel and I walked back to the dorm by myself. Pathetic!


    When I got to the dorm I was told it’s Illegal for girls to walk alone after dark! Great! Then my purse broke and my stuff went everywhere. Fortunately the nuns are very kind – they really control the atmosphere of this place and work hard to seem human and not just institutions. I feel most sorry for them having to wear such cloddy shoes. Oh, well, they’re not out to satisfy my aesthetic tastes!
    Up till 2:30 AM reading Byron.

    Dressed in my blue and white polka dot voile culotte dress with the white collar and cuffs to perform for the NDEA reception. My drama piece is Shelley’s Letter to Maria Gisborne, which kept the teachers mesmerized while nuns played violins & harps.


    Robin said, “You look cool and pretty.” He looked good, too in a green madras coat. Of course he wanted to now why I wasn’t at the party! He said Jodi is making a huge play for him but he doesn’t like her. Says the party was depressing – the director yelled at everyone. Says we better hope the reviewer from the Minn Star doesn’t come – don’t get false hope – our all-nun preview house will laugh at anything.


    After dinner we walked out on the golf course under the stars. He said, “You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met.”


    I was genuinely surprised. “Me?”
    “You don’t like it here, do you?”


    I said all my failures are bringing out my stubbornness then HE was surprised. He didn’t think I felt like a failure but I’m so BAD at EVERYTHING! He said he would “help” me, which doesn’t make me feel better. I’m used to being good at things! He was also surprised that I don’t consider myself beautiful. But really! My face is all misshapen and lumpy! He said I had “a good face for makeup” and I could tell he meant it as a compliment instead of “cover yourself up” which most girls would think.


    He wanted to hear all about my friends and family – said I obviously came from money, has a chip on his shoulder as a “poor boy”.

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Sun. 12 Mar 67


    Desperate for a really strong cup of tea but must wait for Miss Beeston to close her door. WHY does she keep it open? She isn’t actually concerned we might be throwing up or anything, it’s just morbid curiosity and vicarious excitement. What do they DO all night? Don’t dragons sleep? Ah here’s my chance. No such luck – ran right into the Gruesome Twosome – one tall and fat the other short and fat.


    “Was that your water we just turned off?” (They know it is, they’re the ones who confiscated my personal hotpot.)


    “Not tonight.”
    I waited for “See you in the Greenhouse for 2 hrs hard labor” but it didn’t happen. Must be feeling mellow. I scuttled back to my den.


    “THEY WRITE BY NIGHT – part 2 – Dancing In the Rain”
    When Brice and I got to Aiken’s apt he wasn’t even up. Wearing only a blue Chinese silk dressing gown with his curly chest hairs sprouting out. Just grab me and lay with me in his bed until Brice made coffee saying, “Enough of this orgy.” Jealous.


    Aiken nibbled my ear and said, “Look how we fit. Interlocking pieces.” I had noticed.


    The we got up for breakfast and Aiken took a shower. He came out looking magnificent in blue and white striped shirt and white levis. An astonishingly spring like day. Went to the park to play on the swings and seesaws. After that we ate pizza then Brice went to the library. Gentlemanly of him. I stripped down to my pettipants but refused to go further. I just don’t feel safe. I could tell Aiken was irritated but he doesn’t try to reassure me. There must be magic words but he doesn’t say them. I don’t want to be “operated” on and I don’t want to operate on him. I’m beginning to think babyish Reed Hambro, who is practically an idiot savant, may know more about satisfying a girl than this guy does. So we were Two People Separated by a Bed; very Saturday Night & Sunday Morning. Then Brice rang the buzzer and we had to get dressed fast.


    On the drive back Aiken said (right in front of Brice) that I thought sex would be “violent & cold.” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t GET to say anything because Brice talked for a solid 40 mins about the biological Difference Between Men & Women, which I totally don’t agree with. He brought in Freud, he brought in Jung, he brought in Samoa & Masters and Johnson!


    Neither of them talked about “sex leading where” and I felt to say so would sound like I expected marriage! So I was completely flummoxed! The weird part is they both sound regretful about it as if it WOULD be a bad thing! That’s not a recommendation! So you can imagine the state I was in when I got back to school. How can you be both attracted to and repelled by the same person? If not “pre-coital tristesse” this is “pre-coital nausea” at the very least!


    I had 3 minutes to get dressed for Prom! Wore my Christmas dress with long sleeves & black cuffs of gold tissue brocade, tinsel in my hair. Reed is very relaxing. Comforting. Is it just because I know he can’t physically overwhelm me? If Aiken was long and thin – built like Trey, say, would I be less afraid? Stubbornly I still eel it is his attitude. Defective somehow. Honestly it reminds me of Beales whose every third word needed a face slap. Aiken isn’t so obviously unromantic but both he & Brice think there is no “mystery of sex” and are very utilitarian about the mating process. I don’t think ANY girl would be safe with them because it’s never a joint experience. It’s women letting men have sex (for whatever reason.) It seems so repulsive. They would make progress with me if I didn’t know history and literature so well. They think “modernism” is anti-Romance but of course, it isn’t.


    “Baby you and me
    We live this life
    From when we get up
    Till we got to sleep at night
    You and me we’re free
    We do as we please, yeah –
    From morning –
    Till the end of the day.”


    Aiken hates the Kinks. He prefers jazz because it is meaningless and goes deliberately nowhere. I am very spoiled I guess because I want MORE. I am beginning to think Aiken needs some old woman to satisfy him – dripping cigarette ash as she jerks him off.


    In spite of all this mess it was the best prom ever! Reed was so sweet I was close to actually LOVING him! He was getting high on me. He kisses so completely differently from Aiken it isn’t the same thing. Makes me feel it is really spring at last, and maybe I can leave my virginity behind as slowly and imperceptibly as we have escaped this harsh winter.


    Mon 13 Mar 67
    Developed a whole new theory during German class. Possibly my exam suffered (I rushed through it) but what are classes for but to provide intellectual stimulation?


    I’m thinking Aiken’s too domesticated. Am I mistaking youth for originality? (That I think would be his argument.) That everybody “gets over this” and romance is a function of youth. But history and literature prove that its not. Since, however, I’m “the kid” and he’s the “PhD” I will NEVER win an argument with him. Never! And I am accustomed to winning my arguments!


    Trying to write a story in which I construct the Perfect Man. Anyone over twenty’s too old. He’s tall and thin and golden and had most of his toes taken off my a lawnmower. Sadly the story races away from me – my heroine isn’t good enough for him – so I’m having her run off with someone else. Not quite halfway though Queen Victoria – Born to Succeed. Ugly period – the women in their heavy clothes look very depressed.

    Thurs 30 Mar 67
    Left a note at Aiken’s he wasn’t there (being satisfied by a glamorous – yet elderly brunette? No – working hard at the library to “gain a place in life”) and took the train to the new Penn St house. (It’s haunted!) The place was all lit up and Avril was playing the piano. The third floor has the most beautiful windows flush with the floor. Sending sunlight across the ancient, uneven boards. Delicious.


    Daddy not home so off to Bookbinder’s for dinner where I ordered soft shell crab. I got annoyed with Mom’s questions about Aiken so said he was a MauMau with a bad case of cradle cap. She laughed so hard she wept.


    Our phone not yet installed so I put a jackknife in my pocket and went out to the public booth. Aiken was in – sounded cranky but surprised me by inviting me to a party. I was certain I was going to be dismissed for being too “jejeune”. He seemed completely unimpressed y the risk I’d taken to call him – probably thinking if I got raped it might clear up some of his problems.
    Borrowing a blue velvet dress from Avril – it so short!! A classic baby doll! But she is a champion blabbermouth and told Mom who absolutely FORBIDS IT. We WILL BUY A DRESS! Uh oh. Madras and whalebone, mark my words.


    I bought a man’s shirt from the man who sells used clothes at the corner of Chelten & Chew. Pink chiffon with balloony sleeves! Indescribably flattering. Tight through the body. I already have a perfect black velvet skirt.

    Tues. 4 Apr 67
    My hand is shaking because I just left a heavy make-out session with Reed Hambro. I want to write about the awful party but the wonderful evening . I got out of the house without a problem because Mom wasn’t there. I showed Aiken all around the house – I could tell by his eyebrows he was confounded by the mixture of splendeurs et misères. I told him it was temporary and showed him my beautiful third floor where I sleep on a mattress on the floor so I can look out the windows but he was unimpressed.


    Oriental artifacts everywhere but they are shabby. Still he admitted OI looked beautiful.
    Horrible university party full of pregnant wives. Didn’t like the way they looked at me – decided to drink coke and say nothing. They seemed so doglike and uncomfortable. But I did get into a long discussion with a Prof Wylie who has a system of “personal anarchy” that sounds a lot like my own. He was drunk but funny. He kept saying “What this party needs is a little audience participation.”
    But everyone had to be on their best behavior because it was more like work. Strange Danish Oldern house with peek-a-boo architecture – how can you climb stairs – in a dress – that are only slats?


    When we got back to Penn St my mother was there. She said nothing about my clothes but she really gave poor Aiken the business while I made Earl Grey tea. She is the only person I have ever known who can lower the temperature of a room to freezing in seconds. At least she didn’t ask him his intentions.


    He behaved very well, just as if she was normal. He got her on the subject of Southeast Asia while I roll my eyes. Finally she had to go upstairs to get Avril to sleep. Avril’s afraid of Phila because of all the stabbing news and who can blame her?


    So Aiken and I were left alone…on the oriental rug in front of the fire.
    “I wish I could take you back to my place,” he muttered.


    “Why don’t we do it right here?” I suggested. To be funny. He said seriously,
    “Because you might bleed and we need some form of birth control.”


    Let’s go straight to the hospital and do it on a gurney!


    “I really have to go” he said. We could hear Mom creaking about upstairs. He gave me one last kiss – lifted me up completely! Bliss.


    When I got upstairs I saw my shirt was all torn and I had to throw it away. But it was definitely worth $9 even for only one evening.

    Mon 10 Apr 67
    Pretty sure the Aiken thing is shot to hell. Called him Sun morning but he had a woman with him! He really made me feel about twelve. Guess it’s finally time to stop waltzing with fire. At least I have a new interest. Trying to deepen my voice for Gertrude; Hamlet rehearsals starting in earnest. Wish I didn’t loathe Matt R (who plays Hamlet) so much. He spits when he declaims! At least Toss Sheffield plays my husband…Toss of the long blond hair. Unfortunately he is knee deep with Beth Donoghue.


    Coffee & Conversation VERY dull. D. H. Lawrence; “It makes me ill having people constantly stuff my ears with bits of chewed newspaper.”

    Mon 17 Apr 67
    To be or not to be? Chaste, I mean. Casey’s and my sole topic of conversation.
    Reading The Slender Reed about James K. Polk. I consider him the last president of any note at all.
    In Eng we are reading John Brown’s Body, which is surprisingly good. Anyone whose “favorite writers” are Emerson, Bret Harte and Melville the way Roach Face’s are is “colordeaf” in the matter of literature. But they’re not as bad as Steinbeck.


    Asked Reed if I was the first girl he ever kissed and he nodded. Brave to tell the truth! If it was me I’d lie!


    Thurs 20 Apr 67
    Interesting conversation with Shawn Kobler who walked me back from dinner. About mercy killing. I have a soft sport for it since Aallyns live forever, leaving their brains far, far behind. He used to be ugly ugly now he’s ugly interesting. Plus smart. He’s class pres, I’m VP so we have many excuses to meet. Hmmm. Negatives: Religious Life Committee, friends with Reed. Positives: Interesting athlete. He gets a lot of injuries ( hidden conflicts.) And he has curly blond hair and big shoulders. He plans to be Student Body Pres next year. Me – the Notorious Scofflaw – going out with Student Body President? It has a certain appeal.

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Thurs 16 Feb 67

    RoachFace didn’t like my story. “I” for INCOMPLETE. Guess the whole Modern trend in literature has passed her by completely. She says she can’t “figure out what’s going on.” Ask Mrs. Dalloway! Read it aloud to Casey who said, “It does make you want to know more.” I call that a success! Anyway I can afford an incomplete since I run Junior English.


    Working on an appropriate revenge. How about an incredibly ugly old lady with an empty love life and a non-existent sex life who falls hopelessly in love with 16 yr old pupil? Death in English Class. Unsubtle, ye thinks? “I’ve never seen a mind so tangled, a girl so strangled” as the Stones would say.


    I may give her a pass. I’m in a very good mood, listening to the Stones and writing pornography. Even the discovery that Brice is “against” my relationship with Aiken can’t harm me! He wrote me a long KOB last night – “You’re everything a man could want – beautiful & clever” but goes downhill from there! “I am in love with both of you, trying to solve problems by bringing my “forbidden territories” together I’ve created Frankenstein.”


    No he hasn’t! Leave us alone! Imagine his “conscience” acting up at THIS point! I have to find out how much of this he’s said to Aiken. If I were Aiken I would drop him like a hot potato but do I want that? If Brice withdraws support does our house of cards fall down?


    This is all Aiken’s fault for allowing an intermediary like something out of Cyrano de Bergerac. It devalues him.


    Took my own trip to Princeton yesterday to see Hamlet. Unfortunately a box lunch and a bus ride brings out the four year old in teenage boys. All the girls sat in the back watching transfixed while they bounced and screamed and threw chicken bones! This is why they have single sex schools, to preserve enough Healthy Mystery so we can Mate, already! We feel like sane people sentenced to the looney bin!


    Should I tell this to Bloy the Boy Next Door? He was so envious of the whole Boys’ End, Girls’ End thing – when I told him The Legend of the Girl Who Sent Herself in a KOB I thought he’d die. The truth is so discouraging I would turn to Fleur the HalfBack if I didn’t have Aiken! (Alas Fleur is more of a FullBack these days.)


    But I don’t have Aiken and that’s the point. In the arras scene I suddenly realized he’s Not My Type. Very Polonius (with a hint of Bolonius.) He’s just too staid. Do I want to be lectured lifelong on Southeast Asian Politics? Like marrying Daddy!


    You also should never marry someone till you find out what they expect. I get the distinct impression that although I wouldn’t have to do housework for Aiken he would expect other Old Fashioned Disgusting Chores. You now like tending his Requirements. I can tell by the way he asks me to hook the cufflinks on his French cuffs he thinks he’s the racehorse and I’m the groom. Non merci! I’ve got races of my own to run!


    But he has SUCH A NICE BOD! I wish I was seeing him this weekend. Damn. I’m too poor to go into Philly on my own – things are so bad I had to sell my alarm clock to afford ice cream.
    And we have to leave – there have been blackouts and Power Outages lately. Looks like Scarface down in the PowerHouse is revenging for his minimum wage.


    That will teach the headmaster to hire ex-cons.

    Tues 21 Feb 67
    I’m in the throes of some Fatal Disease. I’ve got bumps on my thighs, sores in my mouth and a headache running all the way down my lower back. Miss Cluny says “gargle with salt water!” My collapse is a defense mechanism against a pernicious environment. Failed a math test – 31 out of 61! Parabolas not my strong point! Now trying to create a map of Portuguese holdings in the sixteenth century but just can’t find Ormuz. Why do we need to know this stuff? Get me out of here! I’m MUCH more interested in anatomy and the human psyche – and the anatomy OF the human psyche – but they never let you study that stuff here. Our “health” text says picking pimples causes brain damage.


    Still struggling with Simmons’ Chekhov. Not nearly as exciting as Pushkin. Hemorrhoids, pets and love affairs all treated exactly the same. He so feared happiness. I like his letters though. Next I’m trying da Vinci.


    Roach Face daring us to read Moby Dick but the book stone dead beneath her pudgy fingers.
    In French we are plagued by Miserables. Taught by a Miserable, studied by Miserables. All French to me!


    Stukey FINALLY paid me the $2 he owes me so I am slowly getting together cash plotting a jailbreak. Last night after Die Fliedermaus rehearsal I planted myself in front of Brice and said I was going on a meal per to see Aiken OFF MY OWN BAT. He was nice about it gave me $5 and the phone no. He is a fickle guy. Maybe I could sell him his letters back.


    After setting my hair and donning my day-glo nightshirt I commandeered The Senior Phone Booth, sitting on floor instead of seat for Utmost Privacy. Dialed he number trembling with eagerness to hear his voice. Would he even be in?


    HE ANSWERED RIGHT AWAY! “Hello?”


    I didn’t even recognize his voice, it was so impersonal! The next few seconds fraught with drama! I mean, I knew it was me but he didn’t! Gives one an appreciation of the difference just a few seconds can make.


    “Hi. It’s Alysse.”


    “A-leeeeeeeessssss…” drawling in the familiar way! Yes, he has a special voice he uses only with me! So exciting!


    “I could come visit you for lunch on Saturday. Brice says you might be writing a paper though.”


    “I think I’ll be done by then,” he says. “I’d love to see you.” Then he gave me complex directions how to get to his place by subway which I had to memorize stupidly having no pen!!!


    “Your time is up” droned a nerdy voice.


    “Give me your number and I’ll call you back,” he said. So I did. Then I screamed, “Lindles! Get me a PEN!”


    He called right back and we had a lovely chat. Our first. Maybe he’s my type after all.

    Sun 26 Feb 67
    Wearing tights, purple corduroy miniskirt, wide belt and boots I found his apt without trouble. I was bouncing with excitement but he left a note saying he went to borrow a car – “Make myself at home in the vestibule!” So I did, borrowing somebody’s Inquirer to read. A luscious blond exited. We eyed each other. Then I tried to figure out who he was from the nameplates. Cooper Fowler? Fowler Cooper? Great name!


    After only a few minutes Aiken came bounding up and gave me a kiss — on the forehead. He was wearing a blue sweater and some khaki pants – eyes blazing out like sapphires. I just sucked him in, gulping like a guppy. He opened his mailbox – one letter. Said it was a check of his that bounced!


    I told him I could stay then fearful I’d outstay my welcome but he seemed thrilled and offered to drive me back! We went to a smoky place next door where he always has lunch and I ordered the most appalling beef stew – worse eve that the school’s! Muffins, salad, coffee. We talked about Russian writers – I extracted a promise from him to read Gogol. He was very sneery about my acting aspirations – just like my father. They seem to think it’s all outer presentation with no inner work involved and I just can’t explain my attraction. I believe the word “exhibitionist” – horribly – was used. Brice, who worships the theatre, wouldn’t do that. I talked him into the 5:30 show of Blow Up, which I’ve been dying to see.


    Then back to his apt where he put on some Cannonball Adderly. I must say it’s just awful, awful stuff. At least I coaxed him to turn it down, then I made things very easy for him by sitting on his lap. In moments we were making out furiously. Dizzying heights! I’m not so crazy about the “grinding” though. (You know what I mean!)


    Then we got into a “shadow” conversation about whether it was better to be “partially” frustrated or “thoroughly” frustrated. Felt he was asking me something else – unspecified. Like I know what I’m doing! I love just being touched – like a concentration camp victim.


    At a certain point we had to stop or we’d be late to the movie. I could tell he was grumpy. But he was so much fun in the movie line, pulling me inside of his coat, touching and grabbing me. Ate it up!


    Blow Up is as magnetic and gorgeous as I’d heard. I fell in love with Jesus-eyed David Hemmings. Aiken too was stunned. He seemed to admire it — said it was like an extended dream. I loved especially that the mystery wasn’t solved but Aiken argued we were supposed to see something in the blowup and the resolution wasn’t good. I said we aren’t supposed to solve the mystery and he said very rudely “Where did you read that?” as if I can’t come up with my own ideas. I couldn’t remember whether I’d read it or not but at least I could say I’d seen L’Avventura and I know that mystery isn’t solvable. I prefer making up my own solutions but Aiken says that’s “unfinished” art.


    There was one horribly embarrassing scene where David Hemmings plays with two teenagers who are all elbows, hair and knees. I winced but Aiken made no remark. At least I’m not child/skinny and when we got back to his apartment I proved it by taking off my top like Vanessa Redgrave. He complimented my “amazingly pale areolas” – palest he had ever seen! He touched my breast and an electric shock went through him! In moments we were making out passionately. He took off his shirt so we were skin to skin. Best feeling in the world! After a few moments he rolled over, took my face in his hands and said, “I have to finish.”


    I said, “It would be my first time.”


    He said, “Did you think I meant intercourse?”


    “Didn’t you?”


    “No,” he said. “God, I thought girls talked about these things on dorm!”


    He mistook Plumly for a “finishing school?” He’d be better off with the girls from Wilton who wear eye makeup like raccoons and play hockey like them, too. I said, “We talk about nothing else but we don’t know what we’re talking about!”


    Then followed the most excruciating fifteen minutes of my life. He wanted “me” to “finish him!” Eeeew! I mean, I did it with Trey but he was doing me at the same time! I don’t even know how to ask for what I want! I just bubbled purposelessly like a landed trout! He got up and made himself a drink – offered me one but I don’t like vodka.


    “Don’t you have anything else?”


    (Very annoyed) “No”.


    So I guess he didn’t get to “finish”. Very, very hairy blue balls presumably! I’m frustrated too but that doesn’t seem to count – he assumes whatever I get is what I want and it’s true I’ve learned to roll with the punches (hem hem.)


    I don’t even LIKE the word “finish” – it seems so unnecessarily terminal and I can’t quite picture it. Trey and I, after all, were rolling around nude in a bed – but this would presumably be me giving Aiken a hand job! Would I need a washcloth? Sounds so prostitutional! Inner visions of a fire hydrant coming loose and spraying everything in sight! Would we both need a shower after? Two showers? Am I frigid for not wanting to do this?


    I did discover he WEARS SOCK GARTERS and this is the first real turnoff I’ve had with him. They look like slingshots! What baldness and fatness couldn’t do, sock garters have achieved. Ugh. There must be times he DOESN’T wear them! Surely they’re an artifact of some sort like collar studs.
    He could read revulsion on my face. For a good actress, I’m a bad actress. I said, “Are you mad at me?”


    He said, “Don’t say silly things” and bolted the rest of the vodka! Incipient alcoholism? I was sort of in a state of shock on the way back to school. I finally said, “Maybe this is post-coital tristesse.” I was joking but he said, “Without the coitus part.” Kissed me goodbye very affectionately. Should I stop being a virgin with a guy who wears sock garters? Can’t decide.


    Fortunately I have Pushkin to come home to! “I was in love with you it seemed…I lost the kingdom of my dreams.”

    Sun Mar 5 – 67
    Incomprehensible greeting card from Aiken covered with Japanese writing. But at east it says inside, “je pense à toi” which I can understand.


    Showdown with Reed Hambro Friday. I had just come back from performing detention in the Costume Room (I was sorting bats from fairies – I’ll have to go back to do peasants vs. nobility.) He dragged me into the Trunk Room to ask me, “Would you be disillusioned if I took wyamine!”
    It’s that inhaler drug they’re all taking. Reportedly keeps you high for three days.
    I said, “I don’t like the word “disillusioned”. Mad is what I’d be.”


    “Well I took it after lunch.”


    I felt manipulated! I said, “Have a nice oblivion!”


    He said, “What if I have a bad trip?” All puppy eyes.


    I said Bon Voyage! And left him there in the trunk room. At dinner refused to sit with him till his roommate Brent came over, all mad at me for being one of those Dylanesque blonds put on earth to ruin Man’s Good Time. The usual druggy spiel. “He thinks rabbits are devouring his insides! He thinks his skin is alive!”


    “It is alive!” But I sat next to him and ate a few pretzels and tried to pretend I didn’t think he’s a dope. (I even let him put his arm around me). But for a good actress I’m a bad actress. I haven’t seen him since.


    Sat. I called Aiken. He had such a bad hangover he could hardly speak. He said Brice was passed out cold on the floor. (“Finished” each other?)


    He said he’s “trying” to have me “up for the weekend.” I said my parents rented a townhouse on Penn St and when they get back from Europe I can take weekends there. He sounded unenthusiastic. He promised to call me. I said “I’d better give you a time – I’m hard to get ahold of”.


    “But very nice to get ahold of.”


    Aww. Am I forgiven? (Particularly if I’ve got Brice doing the “wetwork”.)


    “It’s best at night.”


    “Particularly at night.” When his garters are off…


    “After ten?”


    “Wed after ten.”


    Got this note in my box from Reed to ponder as I sucked down milk & crackers: “How to say I am sorry when you seem so sure I am not. I never pretended it would be a substitute for you…” (Like that’s what gets me. Jealousy!) Quite a double-edged sword it’s been this weekend for more than a few people. The disadvantage of your current frame of mind is I can’t put on paper how I feel. Would you reconsider Prom?”


    I would. Because otherwise no date. I even apologized for hurting his feelings! I’m so sorry the rabbits ate up his insides! If nobody can produce that “special feeling” in you I guess you can always produce it in someone else. His eyes really lit up. Soon we were hugging and kissing. He is so different from Aiken! But at least I feel safe which is very emboldening – he is just going to pet me FOREVER. Soon I was huffing and puffing like a steam engine!
    Isn’t life peculiar? The next voice you hear…

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Sun. 5 Feb 67


    Saw Georgy Girl yesterday. Kind of depressing that she’s supposed to be fat. She’s just not thin. It’s the best movie I’ve seen all year but it doesn’t solve any of my problems. There’s an inherent incredibility in a girl running away while Alan Bates is stripping and calling her name. I guess it’s like Brick telling Liz to keep that slip on. Will the customers buy such tosh? Never saw James Mason so horribly unappealing.


    Open dorms this AM but we had the times wrong – the boys were all running around in towels yelling, Get out of here! You’d think they’d be thrilled to show their wares! So we went back to our room and a good thing too – about 8 boys were going through our drawers!


    Ended up in Reed’s room listening to the Stones the only band we agree on. He says the “atmosphere” at Girls End is “intolerable!” At Boys End they make tents out of blankets – stack the beds – sometimes take the beds out entirely! Double standard! Miss Wienand expects tea & crumpets when she pops in for a surprise white-glove inspection!


    “What is that jug beneath your bed, Miss Aallyn?”


    “Nothing.”


    “What did it used to be?”


    We’ve got the past as well as the future to worry about! At least they’ve never found the hole in the wall carefully spackled with instant mashed potato mix. Miss Wienand’s lucky she isn‘t murdered. I’d throw her out the window myself but she’s too heavy to lift.


    Fair in Central before Vespers – I read palms. I gave everyone about three years to live. Reed was my last client. Told him I read faces too. My hands were cold his cheeks were burning hot. It felt strange dragging out my dusty tactics like a cashiered general!


    Eyes closed I gave him a long spiel about his intense love of privacy and his fear of getting close to anyone! He gasped like a fish! (The janitor probably knows this about him!)


    His cheeks are as soft as a girl’s. I told him to close his eyes – so I could open mine – but he couldn’t keep them closed. Eyelashes fluttering like a person fighting hypnotism! Our hearts connected – melted – for a full second.


    Alas Brent O’Bryon interrupted us. My single afternoon with Aiken seems pale and far away. Maybe he’s forgotten about eyelashes and seconds and hypnotism – or maybe he never knew – he went to a boy’s school! He thinks I don’t know about erotic intensity!
    Went to bed more satisfied than in weeks.

    Wed 8 Feb 67
    Reed is giving me the business. He thinks I don’t know! Mad about me one second – the eyes, the smile – then fleeing like I’ve got the plague. Wrote:
    :We mustn’t get into the rut of being together every night after dinner. Good way to ruin a relationship.”
    Can you imagine? What relationship?
    Trying to read The Beach at Falesa. Lousola.

    Fri Feb 10 – 67
    Latest entry in the And You Think You’ve Got Troubles Sweepstakes – from my math book – “The term group” was first used by 21 year old mathematician Evariste Galois in his feverishly scribbled will written the night before his death. The brief life of Galois, born in 1811, was one of continual frustration. Twice he tried entering the Ecole Polytechnique then the leading school for mathematicians only to fail the entrance examination.


    By the age of 17 he had made a number of notable mathematical discoveries, which he submitted to the Academy but through carelessness his paper was never presented and later lost. Two years later he submitted more significant work, which was never reviewed and probably lost. Discouraged with scholarly pursuits Galois became a radical opposed to the King Louis Philippe. He was imprisoned as a dangerous revolutionary on trumped up charges and later released only to be maneuvered by his enemies into a senseless duel in which he was killed.


    Before his death he said to a friend, “ Preserve my memory since fate has not given me enough life to learn my name.” Today Galois is remembered internationally for his work with groups and the conditions for solution of algebraic equations.” Makes you think, eh?

    Sun 12 Feb 67
    Word to the wise, Aiken, He who Hesitates is Lost. I may not be able to hang on much longer. Fri after dinner Reed and I cornered the French room of the lush, high-pile carpet. We barricaded ourselves behind chairs and stretched out. Either someone has beaten me to it and laid down the basics with this guy or he’s a fast learner. Spent a lot of time angling for an invite to the Valentine Dance. Success! I was really enjoying myself!


    It’s just another Dirty Old Dance in the School Gym but by dinner time every girl immured in this place is standing in the hall in pantyhose and curlers screaming uncontrollably. Yes I had to wear an old dress but hair down, filigree earrings, makeup and heels I looked pretty smashing. Reed stunned at the bottom of the stairs. Miss Womrath assuming “attack position” at the top of the stairs checking for bra, skirt length, not too much jewelry, etc. Check!


    Kind of a strain dancing with him. He doesn’t know what he’s doing there but I like his cold hands on my back. We decided to “Take a walk.” Who should we meet coming down the stairs but Beales! Staying with his old roommate (who lives nearby) thought he would visit the Alma Mater. I controlled myself and chatted animatedly, wondering if he recognized the dress. (Probably not.) Reed behaved impeccably, talking, smiling and never letting go of my hand! So the points I lost through Reed being a sophomore I gained with;
    a) His social elan
    b) Getting to wear heels.


    Take that Beales!


    “You look very fetching,” thus spake Bealesley, squinting up as if he were going to cry. He says he dislikes Harvard and skips a lot of classes. He was on his way “to see the dance” so we said good night, stepped outside and fell into each other’s arms! I think my dress fell down, I’m not 100% sure my nipples weren’t hanging out – we were biting each other’s necks like vampires! Made it back for the Last Dance, however. Beales gone.


    Reed gave me a chaste kiss goodnight (I didn’t mind already having plenty) and I threw on a pair of jeans and went back to help the cleanup crew. Tunnel of Love turned into an aging gym littered with tatty crepe paper and stepped-on doughnuts.


    Slept like the Grateful Dead.


    Aynsley put a mug of coffee in my hands, I shrugged into a trench coat to continue my beauty sleep at chapel. Back to bed with NY Times and Paris Match. Reed sat with me during dinner and what with running upstairs to get me The Blues Project we were both late to Vespers. Coming out waylaid by Beth Donoghue:


    “That man is here!”
    “What man?”
    “That friend of Mr. Harbreath!”


    Oh, my God, who would have thunk it! I rushed to Central and there he was, larger than life in all the splendor of his healthy, magnificent, oversized, overripe manhood! Go is he big! My stomach was churning like a cement mixer!


    “Did you get my Valentine?”
    “No!”
    “Well, I sent you one. “


    I didn’t send him one! I was still clutching my Blues Project record so he wanted to talk about it: “Is it danceable?” Teasing. But I hadn’t heard it yet.


    Took him on a walk because everyone was going through Central deliberately to goggle at us – some three or four times! His father is all right – he has had these episodes before. It was freezing out so he gave me his coat – it hung on me like a shroud (he’s got muscles & nicotine to keep him warm.) Told me all about his father – foreman of a road gang, then a bootlegger, worked his way up to stockbroking. I kept playing with his cigarette case, which is a beautiful Art Deco one of silver & blue enamel.


    We wound up in the East Room where I played him the old music boxes. I was laughing and at one point he said, “Don’t put your tongue out or I’ll bite it.”


    He asked me what my favorite flower is – I stupidly answered the thistle – because of Scotland – not realizing he wants to send me flowers! Dumkopf! Why couldn’t I say lemon lilies? Why am I so deranged? (Because I’m 17, that’s why.) Maybe I can repair this somehow.


    He said, “When will you visit me?”
    I said, “When will you invite me?”
    “Whenever you want.”


    Brice rushed in with a lateness pass for me because at this point it was really late.
    I went very slowly up the stairs, reluctantly leaving them alone. Will Brice be tacky enough to tell hi how I mauled a sophomore at the dance? Brice is tacky enough for anything, but telling him not to makes a worse point of it. “She told me not to say…” Who will I dream of tonight? Miss Wienand with my luck.

    Mon 13 Feb 67
    Capped a sleepless night with Aiken’s valentine. Not too mooshy unfortunately. Why can’t these guys just let themselves go? If they want US to “surrender” SO MUST THEY! Spent all morning drooling over him. I think I’m just in love with his “high gloss”. Because if we got married we’d skip all the “hard parts”. Tried picturing him getting fat like Henry VIII – strangely, that didn’t turn me off. Next I’ll try picturing him without hair and we’ll see what that does. He did sign the valentine “love”. It could be meaningful. Here boys are very careful NEVER to use the word unless they’ve really gone for the Long Jump.


    God my hair needs trimming. (I will NOT grow out my bangs.) Horns need clipping too.
    Beth Donoghue (only one link on my extensive spy chain) tells me Reed saw us together last night. Should I mention it to him? My natural cowardice and Bad Taste says Not. Serve him right for withholding on Complete Abjection.

    Tues 14 Feb 67 – Valentine’s Day
    Bare legs sticking out of frayed green gym tunic, inside-out peach colored sweatshirt, clodhopper shoes, ice cream cone. Ice cream in hair. Penny Mason yells I have a phone call. Brice’s flat dark voice: “Aiken’s coming from Princeton with my car at 3:30 and then I have to drive him to Philly. Want to come?”


    Do I ever!


    “I’ve got field but we’ll be done at four. Wait for me.”


    So, looking disgracefully Junior Varsity there I was running uphill and puffing silver clouds and HE saw me!


    “H, beautiful.”


    JUST LIKE IN THE MOVIES!!!! Several girls turned to stare at me incredulously. “If she – why can’t we – “ etc.


    I didn’t have time for a shower so only pulled on jeans. I must have smelled pretty ripe but Aiken said he “liked” it. Disgusting or desirable? Decide later.


    We sat in the back seat holding hands. Mad with desire having my thigh against his but I am NOT making out in front of Brice (he wants it too much.) That Aiken is a hunk! So glowing, so clean, so freshly shaven.


    Very meaningful goodbye as he looked deep into my eyes – but no word of the weekend! Not a minute alone in fact! Brice simply turned the car around! I was so frustrated I burst into tears. VERY humiliating in front of Brice! I apologized: “It’s been a long day.”


    He said in that throbbing voice of his, “I still love you. If I didn’t love you when you’re sad I’d be cheating the other times.”


    Bizarre! Imagine! Wheels within wheels. Problem? Sickness? What?

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Wed Aug 25 – 65


    M & D up sailing at six, we girls slept like hogs till 9. Loafed in the sack discussing M’s wedding.

    “I want a small wedding.”
    “You’ll never get it under 50 people,” I said.
    “You can all be bridesmaids! Gayle is maid of honor.”
    “I hope our dresses are full-length!” (me)
    “Avril will be flower girl,” suggests Genevieve.
    Now Merrill is threatening to get married BEFORE the actual ceremony because otherwise she’ll be too nervous! Yeah! She might fall in love with SOMEBODY ELSE and then what I think but don’t say.

    Reached Long Point, Canada by lunch. Half mile to shore, G and I certain we could swim it so we plunged in, Avril trailing us in the dinghy. It was gorgeous, water clear but green, not blue like Mediterranean. Bottom pure pale sand. Not actually tired when I reached shore but proud – boat looked so far away! Glorious sand beach, big light house. G found a dead seagull that hadn’t been dead very long so we got a good look at this magnificent bird. Close up they are so beautiful. No clue what killed it – did not look sick. We gave it a nice burial (it was so heavy I was surprised it could fly.) I recited Millay – I never miss a chance to be poetical, just part of Alysse’s Beachside Morgue Service. Avril cried.  Byron’s my favorite (strange since 19th cent makes me want to scream) but couldn’t recall any of his stuff. 1Jane Austen my favorite hist period. )  Could I have used his quote about Napoleon? What must be the madness of thy memory? I particularly love Don Juan. Also I like Keats. Frost is good but with him you don’t have to think. 

Back at the boat we had lunch and set sail for Berwell. Long, lazy afternoon.. I’ve finished all my books – heavy into spy literature – also poisoned chocolates case which I didn’t like as much as I thought I would. I thought it was Mrs Bendix all along. Also Anya Seton’s Katherine. “Eve of Destruction” playing on the radio. Great. I need several hours alone with the author of this song in order to straighten him out. I refuse to believe politics is anything but temporary madness.

    Thurs Aug 26 – 65
    Harshly awakened by pots, kettles & cans falling to the floor. Boat rocking wildly and me, in the lower starboard bunk, got entangled in my sleeping bag and almost thrown into the bilge. Then my roll-in bed slammed into the wall as far as it would go with me in it! Knives flying – I was in fear for my life!

    “This ketchup bottle almost hit my FACE” said Merrill. I rescued diary from floor and tried to lock it in books cupboard while books fell on my head. I heard the sound of the motor as M & D tried to straighten the boat. Avril was actually thrown out on the floor under a cascade of bottles. If you really thought about it you’d get seasick. Put on a lumberjack shirt – no time for  bra and climbed above to see Port Stanley heaving into view. Fat white gulls sitting on the black coal. Port Stanley itself looks like it was erected overnight for a Hitchcock film and will be pulled down next day. We had a lot of trouble docking. A cheerful idiot in a yachting cap kept offering directions that turned out to be wrong. Once docked a customs officer came aboard and stamped around. We were still cleaning up.  Dad said we looked like “a laundry scow.” The customs man kept  a cigarette in his mouth while the ash grew long and longer. Had to ask us the date. After he left we put up the awning and ate lunch, then went ashore looking very conspicuous. The natives seem harmless.  I bought 2 books – Nicholas Blake & Phyllis Whitney.

Mom found a good bakery so we are all in the cockpit munching cookies. Tough t-bone steaks for dinner with plenty of onions, then cards.

    News: that Johnson again. Married men no longer exempt.

    Wed. Sept 1, 65 2:40 AM
    Lie awake wondering why I want to be an actress. My reasons are all wrong. I simply want to be Somebody Else. Wouk’s Morningstar currently driving me up a tree. I refute his assumption that if you’re young, talented, beautiful you’re bound to make it. I have hit upon a Plan of Action. Genevieve thinks I should go to a WORK CAMP next summer. I need to find some non-exploitative training so I can enter RADA age 18. First goal: save $100 out of my allowance. (That’ll be hell. Out of $30/month!)

    Next summer I will be sixteen and can WORK so maybe I should do that. Genevieve says you can just go into the Inn and get a job. THEN THERE’S THAT MINNESOTA PROG I WAS TOO young for, Maybe should go there. I don’t want to be so parasitical. Genevieve says London will be s expensive as Wellesley! People advise me to try writing short stories but I’m not there yet – still learning – and I don’t want to rush things. 3:40 AM! I surprise myself sometimes.

    Thurs. June 9 – 66
    Yahoo! Summer is officially here and I am FREE! Mom & Dad aren’t coming till tomorrow night so I have noting to do but take walks, pack, and try to avoid Blair who is becoming a little much for me. He moves with such incredible slowness and he has to have all my ideas exhaustively explained to him. He likes to read Ezra Pound’s poetry out loud while I lie under a tree with my eyes shut. Since this is the only thing we share I’m afraid to tell him I just don’t like Ezra Pound. I don’t think he can stomach Millay. Oh dear. While he talks my inner music plays Let’s Get Lost on a Country Road by the Kit Kats and We Gotta Get Out of This Place by the Animals. Speaks to our condition as they say. Merrill’s wedding June 16 – we have nightmarishly ugly bridesmaid dresses to wear – Mom had them made by some disabled woman she took pity on. We are the ones deserving of pity for having to wear the damn things.

    Mon Jun 27 – 66
    Here I am at the University of Minnesota! I’ve hit the big time! I would not be writing at all but we are in the basement because of a tornado warning. Ah, the joys of the Midwest. Just us theatre students and a bunch of nuns who wear funny underwear and caps with strings. You wouldn’t think there would be an order of theatre nuns would you! Well there are! They are called the Franciscans and I must say they are making the idea of the convent look attractive. (Not the clothes though. But there is talk of fixing those.) They even have a swimming pool which Chassie my roommate and I sneak into – naked – in the middle of the night.

    A fat one named Sister Glory is praying out loud. They told us to bring “something valuable on our way down so of course I brought you!  Next time I will bring a blanket and pillows (the floor is very hard.)  Writing hard too because whatever I put down is played back in my brain very discouragingly.

I am studying Acting One, Fencing, Makeup and Fencing.  I love theatre people! (even uns.)But we don’t spend nearly as much time on those as on building theatre sets – obviously we are Slave Labor. This is even worse because the slaves didn’t pay to work. So far the only thing I’ve learned is how to mix “dope” to stiffen unbleached muslin into walls.  This will take me far in life.

As usual my intellectual life is alive.  Reading The Carpetbaggers in which sex warps into hate (Beales!) Turgenev’s Hunting Sketches (adore!) and The Prince, which is sort of a drag. I am Mrs. Smith in The Bald Soprano.  The director asked us when our periods are due before casting. (He is very superstitious.)

    Fri. July 22 – 66
    The fact that I am still a virgin’s not my fault. I am sitting in the coach of a New York Central Train headed (eventually) for Philadelphia – because there is an airline strike. I am headed to Charlaix to meet up with family aboard The Gryphon. It will be a long, laborious journey, which is good because I have had a monumental hangover (my first!) for three days. I am eating liverwurst & onions to keep away the sailors (it’s working.)

    I was dating this fantastic college student named Trey (Très très)!  I was too absorbed even to write about him!  He has the most glorious bod – how I wish I had a picture – and is very tan. Runs around Minneapolis St Paul in a little loincloth & flip-flops. He’s covered all over with a glittery platinum fuzz.  Alas he was just as interested in my roommate Georgy as he was in me but she was not interested in him. (Thank God.) He’s six feet six and has to wear coke bottle glasses but since I can’t really see as far as his face that doesn’t matter. He took me to see The Skin of Our Teeth at the Guthrie – fabulous.

(A sailor sits beside me. He grins. I grin. Blast of onionated liver.  He departs.)

    Trey gave a going away party for me at his house (parents away.) It’s a teensy little garage way out in the suburbs I’m surprised humans can fit in there. But it has a big back yard. I wore a bikini , sundress & sunglasses and brought my Village Fugs album – they loved it. Trey opened up the booze cabinet and started mixing whiskey sours while 4,000 of his closest friends trooped past scrutinizing and then ignoring me.


    Finally I announced I had to be going. (Early train!) He told me he would drive me. I said he didn’t have to – I could get some actor to do it – he said – “I want to” gazing deeply into my eyes. That gave us more time (all night!) together. Unfortunately. I was handling the whiskey sours, it was the Purple Jesus that did me in. Jesus! Never again! Nothing purple EVER! Trey went out cruising around for supplies leaving me alone with Leechy Friend who mixed me this awful drink and I was too drunk to turn it down. I threw up all over Leechy Friend who kept patting me and saying “Don’t worry, this happens all the time.” (Around HIM!) Trey came home and was quite upset by my condition. He got me a sleeping bag and put me to bed in his parent’ room.
    Later on I hear this noise like someone coming to bed with me.


    “Trey?”
    “No.”


    It was the Leechy Friend! I tried to escape from him but got stuck in the crevice between the twin beds and was still too drunk to escape! I yelled “Trey!” and didn’t my hero appear to rescue me! Minus his loincloth. I begged him to stay. He knew I was a virgin but he said, “There’s a lot of other things we can do” and there were. I had several “seizures” and I think he did too. If I had any criticism it would be that his penis is a little skinny- and ribbed – like a dog penis. But still! A night to remember! Life is no fun if there’s no one to play it with!

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Drama Camp – Bellfort LI Fri July 30 – 65


    After 4 days I am horribly homesick. The classes are wonderful, I am sure I will learn a lot, why am I so lonely? This is costing Mom & Dad a lot of money. You have to buy your own lightbulbs here and the teachers are alcoholic & temperamental – someone missed a diamond ring and all our quarters were searched (not found, either.) There’s nothing wrong with the kids – they aren’t the glamor girls I feared I’d get so what’s missing. None has the requirement of individuality I desire in a person. Maybe they’re pretending. Maybe they see our job here as pretending. Is acting imitation? Alysse doesn’t like that! The classes are good but the food is terrible and they give you so little you’re constantly starving. But at least there’s swimming. Should I rave about the place or lie to M & D? I’d betray myself when I see them again – burst out crying I love them so much. It was Thanksgiving before it hit me how much I love them. I love mom more than Dad if I’m confessing. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder to the point of hysteria?” It could be worse. I love everybody and I’ll write them every day. I’ll read Lord of the Flies, Le Morte D’Arthur – can’t wait to get started.

    Sun Aug 8, 65
    That went horribly. Was it a dream? Sadly, not. It went on and is still going on. Camp got better in some ways, worse in others. Found a good friend in Edie Jacoby. Danni Wisefield invited me to a beach party Wed night! This sounded exciting and it WAS. Guitars, beers, fires, BOYS! We built a sandcastle & sang! I met a boy named Rob (Victor Robinson Larsen) who goes to Oberlin College! (Class of 68.) Very nice person to talk to (never touched me.) He brought a book of poetry we read around the fire! They walked us back. The truth is I never thought about getting caught, I certainly didn’t think about getting EXPELLED. So shaming. I think I am a person who TRIES to be good. Mom and Dad didn’t even come to get me – sent a friend who brought me back to her Southampton estate. I feel cheated. I FELT cheated. It’s common knowledge that you rebel against those distrusted.

    Danni denied everything, I couldn’t. I did cry because I hate to be cross-examined. Mr. Pomeranz offered me a dirty choice. If I would say it was Danni’s idea and I didn’t know what I was getting into – but I couldn’t. I had to call home – only Genevieve was there. “A boy – AGAIN?” She asked. The worst injustice! She means sneaking out with Julie last summer. My parents never called back. Finally I put on my red boots & red corduroy dress and went to borrow a dime for a phone call.  “Your parents have been trying to reach you” says Mr. Sheldon. Pity no one bothered to tell me! Calling wasn’t a good idea – they were stern, I cried. Made myself feel better after by making up jokes: The Mr. Pomeranz windup doll- steals your money & expels you. I got a going away party – hamburgers & ringdings. Rob and his MOTHER showed up – tried to put in a good word to no avail! Sweet, though. I was happy to leave. At the last minute they offered to let me stay. I said No. 

This place is  rathole. Couldn’t talk honestly with Daddy because Mr. Pomeranz was there but he figured it out. The Hortons arrived in the middle of my going away party! I remembered Bill but had never met Leonie, a solid, freckled figure. They were very kind. They put up with all my emotions and rushing about. Mr. Pomeranz wouldn’t give me my plane ticket, refused to believe who the Hortons were, finally we got out of there. Isn’t it funny how things work out?

    Thurs. night Aug 12 – 65
    The Hortons house is a huge white estate on the water! Dripping with ivy & windows in unexpected places. Pretty much my dream house! I have a wing to myself! The bed is big but as hard as a rock. On the bedside table Eng short stories by Christopher Isherwood so they expect you to be wakeful. When I was twelve I had a crush on Christopher Isherwood! Children really are awfully strange. First I was at acting school, now I’m at a country estate for an Indefinite Stay. Sounds like the plot of a Passionflower Hotel book! Had a horrible nightmare about Mr Pomeranz.

    Woke late and helped Lee Horton fix lunch. She likes silent meals – she reads! Fine with me! Then we drove to the train station and picked up the cook, Georgia Clark, tall thin black woman who said, “I want some coffee as’ll do me some damage.” Apparently no one makes coffee strong enough for her. 

That night Leonie and I went to Prescott Horton’s house in St. James for dinner before the Smithtown Pageant. He’s Bill’s older brother. He looks like Commander Whitehead. I wore my Greek dress. He’s an official for Smithtown so we had to go – it’s a travelling co performing the Pageant. I sat there with an asinine smile on my face. Worst performance I have ever seen – pure canned corn. Called home after. Mom has not forgiven me yet. On Wed we went to Bellfort to see The King & I! The dancers were fabulous! Too bad I have no talent. Saw everyone during intermission! They were surprised! 

Thurs a beach day. Mr. Horton was late (he’s a lawyer in Manhattan) we didn’t have dinner till ten! Tomorrow I go. Hope there’s no yelling – I feel guilty enough.

    Fri. 13th Aug 65
    On the plane. Something wrong with landing gear, pilot circling while they figure. We may have to return to Kennedy. Almost hoping we crash; I don’t want to die but if I was a little mutilated my parents would go easier on me.


    This AM drove with Mr. Horton & Georgia into Manhattan; I slept most of the way. Left Georgia at bus station, then was delivered to Mr. H’s secretary at his office. She took me to the UN right across the street. Pretty cool but I hate guided tours! Hate being one of the masses. After that I was given a typewriter & office stationery to write letters until cab time. Now trying to think of Famous Last Words in case we crash (it IS Fri 13.)

    OBITUARY
    OUR whole community is sorrowing sorrowing SORROWING to hear of the death of Miss Alysse Aallyn, budding actress and writer, dearly, dearly DEARLY beloved of the entire Clark family (currently vacationing in Italy) nipped in the bud by a p
    L
    A
    N
    E
    Cra…..

    7:15 PM
    You’re not going to believe this. We DID have to land and have been waiting here ever since to find out why they gave us a broken plane. Luckily I bought duMaurier’s Parasites it is very good. Called home – only Clarice there of all people. They’re serving dinner – nice of them! I better eat it. Unfortunately the food is all sterilized, just like airplane food. I am so scared I am breaking out.

    Sun. Aug 22 -65
    Still alive. Very jumpy plane ride – a stewardess buckled in next to me and when she got scared I got scared!

    Whole family there to meet me! No reproaches – even hard looks except from Genevieve. After M & D have gone into a huddle they are Done – no more influencing them. It  was a mistake to write those glowing letters! I told them they read our mail but I was not believed. I am set for Plumly school which will straighten me out (G not too thrilled since she had it to herself. She is clucking away disgustedly.) Definitely Wellesley material (where she wants to go.)

Frankly it’s horrible being home. I should have stayed at camp. Why can’t I learn to fake it? My old friends seem cliquey and narrow minded. I go to library, run errands for Mom, read, write, sleep, keep to the house like  a hermit. I read in G’s diary about how she read my diary!  I said, ‘I forgive you.” Then we both burst into helpless laughter. 

Merrill called to say she’s coming home instead of meeting us on the cruise. Looking smaller, she arrived with Ted Damian in tow. He looks stupid to me. Merrill seemed a little sarcastic towards him. After he left, she said they broke up! Her eyes were shining, she seemed relieved and happy! She said she’s IN LOVE and ENGAGED  to a guy SHE MET A WEEK AGO! HIS NAME IS JULIAN Holt (she calls him Julio.) I decided this girl doesn’t know what true love is. But then, I don’t either so there you go. He wants to be a foreign correspondent and has given her an engagement ring which is more than Ted ever did.

Had to cram the station wagon with provisions and drive Merrill, Mom, Mouse & me to Mentor on the lake Ohio where Dad & Jay took the boat. Passed through Brunswick where the police checked every car in advance of the big KuKluxKlan rally. This plus Vietnam makes me want to cry or be ill. He’s a corn-mouthed, barbecue-eating ASS!  He’ll incinerate the world if he gets a chance.

Lovely cruising days (even without the sun.) First night at Ashtabula, next Conneaut. They were dirty & insignificant but now we are at Presque Ile which is glorious.