Wed Aug 26 – 64 – Camp Tarantula – Somewhere in Darkest Canada
Shot the rapids yesterday. It was my day for paddling and I sat in the bow. Stu told us “They’re easy. Paddle like mad.” We were in sixth position. It was exhilarating. We took on water and then there was this grinding noise. Look out for that rock! I called too late and then our canoe was sideways. “Get out!” yelled Stu. Suddenly I was in the water, fighting for a hold on the sharp, slippery rocks. Half dragging the canoe and half being dragged by it we managed to get it ashore but our stuff was all gone. Watched Barb & Paul paddle insanely to the V point then lifted out of sight by the furious water. We tried again, again the yelling and confusion, me trying to obey. I think I’m just terrible at this. Horrible grinding crash as we hit another rock. The crash rang in my whole head and assed right through my body. I staggered dazedly out of the sideways canoe, pushed off the rock with all my strength and we were carried to the shore where the others were waiting. We screamed “Keep left!” to every arriving canoe but none of them could hear us. It was a massive disaster. Judy and Wendy were clinging to a rock in the middle of the stream and their canoe was gone. Pam lost her glasses and had blood in her hair. Marilyn was laughing hysterically. I could tell what Jeff was thinking by his face: “That could have been us!” Finally Stu & Paul figured out how to rescue the sobbing girls. (Paul’s sweatshirt doesn’t say “Defiance” for nothing!) “Form a chain!” Stu screamed and stripped off his outer clothing. Steve & Anne rigged a rope to a tree and threw it to Cindy on the other side. Those of us in the chain began a long hard pull trying to pull the girls over. My arms were almost torn out of their sockets. For a cold wet hour we pulled against the force of the current, saved the girls and all but one canoe. Frank tried to rescue our stuff but most of it was gone. Stu gave the girls jackets but everything was wet so it didn’t help.
No one was griping but no one was looking forward to sleeping on the cold wet frozen ground. Nothing will help but build a fire and climb right in it. I thought about my parents and sisters warm and dry wondering what a fine time I’m having at camp. I was glad Julie couldn’t come – I wouldn’t put a mosquito through this torture. Hard to believe there’s actually a world out here. Promised myself never to be so cold again. We tried to entertain ourselves by talking about what we would do to the person who suggested this trip when we got home. I started up a chorus of The Sloop John B – “This is the worst trip I’ve ever been on.”
We launched out once more against the surging water – me trying to see through the mist and follow Jeff’s command. We hit another rock! Leaped out mechanically and dragged the canoe to safety. I couldn’t believe it – this is the sort of thing you wake up from. Jeff was patting my back. More screams and crashes. I plugged my ears. “Camp Story Trip 5 – sleep on bed of scented pine needles at night, glide gently on sunny mirrored lakes by day” should be “the perfect trip for children you never want to see again.”
The last rapids I felt increasingly hysterical and I was doing well compared to everybody else. I persuaded Marilyn to take bowman’s position – I’m not cut out for seeing rocks rushing at me. “I’ll tip us” she said honestly. I said, “I don’t care” I just want to lie down in the boat, close my eyes and let death overwhelm me. Every now and then I would shout encouragement in the direction of Marilyn’s lumberjack coat.
It seemed the longest stretch we had yet – and then we hit. Water around my face. I jumped into the water - my bare toes showing through the holes in my tennis shoes. “You did better than me” I told a dazed and sobbing Marilyn. Jeff and I hauled the canoe over the rocks, trying to keep it from being swept away.
Barb and Wendy were right behind us and hit the same rock – Barb was thrown out and carried away by the water. Canoe completely overturned. Shavonne saved Barb and we tackled the canoe. You just have to keep jumping while everyone’s shouting contradictory orders; no time to stand and argue. I was in waist high water when I felt a shock of pain. “My leg!” It was twisted and I was afraid I had broken it. Jeff hauled me out bruised but OK. Good that I have rubber bones. (Shavonne’s a nurse.) All I have to show for it is a small purple cut.
Lunch was the only meal we ate that day – we skipped breakfast to get an early start. If they were honest about these trips fewer would go but more would survive. It was midnight when we reached our campsite and we just wanted to lose consciousness. Eleven of our twenty had lost their sleeping bags so we were all doubled up. Once again I slept with redheaded Paul who at least is safe. (And warm.) I’m not sure this is what the Young Men’s Christian Association had in mind but such is life on a wilderness trek. Probably Sacajawea shared Lewis (or Clark’s) sleeping bag from time to time.
Up at six next morning – skipped breakfast again. Just wanted to get somewhere safe with FOOD. My day for riding thank God. I had to borrow Steve’s extra pants – (I peed in mine but I didn’t tell him that. Wet is wet.) I even had a blanket so I am comfortable writing this. Alsace (a city of 28 people) is only an hour away. Yahoo!
Charlaix, Ontario – Sat Sept 5 – 64 Question of the week: What Can You Do When You’re As Sensitive as Sunburn? How slowly the days pass before school! Each day 24 hrs of experience, a million tiny memories. Someday most likely, I will be an old woman with grandchildren. Probably great-grandchildren – the Aallyns are notes for longevity. Will my face be wrinkled my dresses baggy, my shoes ugly and my mind thick with old-fashioned thoughts? Will I think my life is happy or sad? Will I laugh at the foolishness of youth?
Somehow I think I have the capacity to make myself happy. My future may be great or insignificant. I must say I keep hoping for the former.
I write aboard the Gryphon, docked at Carmine Bay. So far we have not been able to get out of the bay, every time we try we are hit with ten-foot waves, the boat heels over with its portholes in the water and my mother screams to go back. My cousin Jarvis, who seems a good sort, keeps being sick fortunately so far into the sea. Strange considering his mother is a homeopathic doctor who plies him constantly with “nux vomica”. Not working in his case. Glad we came in when we did; otherwise I might have seen my insides float by also.
Unfortunately Genevieve is also aboard; meaning the days are rife with injustices. I want to go swimming but I am on dish detail. Maybe I can swim later. Water balms all wounds.
Soon I will be beyond this, at Plumly School the last word in Preppy Co-Education. Next Wednesday! In the meantime I get to practice shopping and self-control.
Brockton, Ohio – Mon Sept 7 - 64
Diary you are the most recent diary in a long line. Today I took all my diaries out of the linen closet (up high where Mrs. Broadnax never dusts) and put them on the leaf pile! Did away with them. It was with considerable relief that I put away childish things. It seems right to burn diaries in the autumn when there are so many other burnings.
When people on the street sniff the burning pile and say, “What a good smell” I can say “That’s Jeff and Harvey and that English kid who pretended he was the Lost Beatle and all those other small-town idiots I can’t wait to leave behind.”
Tra la for autumn madness, new notebooks and new adventures!
Everything changed. Bookie & I broke up. He likes to make me mad by fooling around with other girls and I won’t take it. He knows how insanely jealous I get. He wants me to forgive him but I won’t. “You don’t need him” says Julie. She keeps telling me how beautiful I am! Haha. But she’s right that I don’t need him.
I am also giving up the pretense that I love my parents. I hear you recoiling in horror, diary but love cannot be forced. I admire them as clever, free-thinking human beings and I am grateful to them but love – no. God I have tried. No more. I take life as it is. I am sorry. They do not love me and I do not love them. They admire me for my talent but that’s all it is. All love died in the hard winter of 60-61. Their favoritism for Avril is insulting and humiliating. I have to bear long lectures about how fragile and sensitive she is. That kid! Please! She is a dreadfully spoiled, crabby, selfish child. Not to mention Mom & Dad fawning all over the French exchange student Jean Michele who pretends he is not interested in girls when he IS.
Sun July 11 – 64 I hate Trish so much. She has always wanted Bookie and now she has him. I can’t believe I was ever with someone who could hurt me so deeply. I’ve sworn off boys. Maybe not Tom. He writes regularly and I love him for it.
Tues. July 14, 64 Well, well, well, times have changed since my agonizing confession of Sun night. Trish’s old boyfriend Rudy came over to see me with Phil and made it plain that he liked me very much so it’s Trish’ turn to cry. I love it! I’m not conceited but I think I could wrap them around my fingers! I asked them if they wanted to join my fan club and they wrestled over who would be president! Did my heart good. Phil agreed to be Social Director if Rudy is president. They say they are my Bodyguards! Neither likes Bookie and say he is a poor idiot. Turns out people need praise to exist just like plants need water! I was feeling worthless before. After they left Phil called, said Rudy is “the wrong guy” for me and invited me to the movies! I accepted! Then Rudy called for Fri and I told him he was too late. He called Phil “a dirty dog.”
Bookie came over with Dan Bliss and set off a cherry bomb on my front steps. I couldn’t conceal my anger!
Waited till Mom and Dad went to bed and gave them twenty minutes. Jean Michele is staying in Genevieve’s room and had his lights on (she is helping Indians in a remote Western outpost which I could never do) so I had to sneak out down the front steps. God! Then I discovered I forgot to wear a bra so I had to go back and get it! God! When I finally stepped outside I expected to see Mom and Dad tapping their feet but I didn’t. I could see Rudy’ white jacket at the end of the driveway. The fuzz caught Phil hiding in the bushes in front of his house so he can’t come!
We walked all over town without stopping for two and a half hours. Just talking! He asked me to go out with him but didn’t give a definite date. He was cool. At five o’clock I said goodnight.
Phil woke me up on the phone wanting to know what we did! Mom listened in on the phone and discovered I sneaked out which was a pretty lowdown trick so now I’m grounded. It only gives the game more flavor! Everyone I know has been caught out at least once! In American teenagers these days the feeling of independence runs high. We have been raised to think highly of justice and freedom. But all the advantages lie with parents. Daddy called Phil and Rudy “nincompoops”. Now I can’t go to the movies with Phil so there is no longer any communication between us. I can’t agree to their idiotic demands. I will learn to wear a disguise. (Avril’s birthday cake was good, though. ) Parents allow me to go to Drama class. My parts are Maggie in Overtones and Mrs. Johns in Thurs Evening. Shipped off a letter to Tom Morris. Nothing on TV but Republican Convention.
Thurs. July 16 – 64 This bit with the parents getting steadily worse. I’ll tell you honestly whose fault it is – theirs. I was over at Julie’s today. Thought my parents were the only ones who were so bestial but Julie has the same difficulties. We formed a club to grouse about it called The Orange Toenail Club. Pooling our knowledge. United we stand divided we fall. This morning I was typing A Game of Chess which I had to turn in soon for Drama Club. Got a phone call so I opened the door to answer it. They thought my radio was too loud so CONFISCATED IT. They didn’t ask or complain, just TOOK. NO common courtesy. I said “the hell with you” raced up the stairs but I couldn’t hold the door against him. He threw me on the bed uttering a few choice phrases. So now all I want is my own phone and a lock on my door. That was two hours ago. Skipped dinner – nothing to eat. Might as well clean my room since I’m stuck in here. No Drama for me.
Fri July 17 – 64 It is the greatest fear of my life that I’m mentally unbalanced. In my dreams I laugh and scream and kill people. Mom and Dad just make fun of me. I can’t make my mind work any more. It’s me outside me, looking at myself. I’m asleep with my eyes open but my brain is dead. My horoscope says I’m a person of unusual mental activity and I’m afraid this is true. Can’t take much more of this. Maybe I’ll go on a hunger strike. LATER I hate them! Not only can’t I see my friends or talk to them, I can’t have a clock in my room! If these are the kinds of parents they are then I can’t go to Plumly too soon. Indian reservation here I come. I’m refusing to leave my room. If they hurt me any more I’ll run away and I don’t even care how childish that sounds. Took a bottle of aspirin from Mom’s room. 15 pills. Won’t kill me and it might put me to sleep. Can’t be up all night like last night. Thinking about suicide makes me feel better. 15 pills and enough water to sink a battleship.
Sat. Aug 15 – 64 I’m in the doghouse again. Caught making out with Joe Kingston. At least tomorrow it’s back to camp for me.
Sun. Aug 16 – 64 Right now we’re in Michigan. Stu and Shavonne are as cool as ever. This bus is pretty jiggly but I’ve managed to make friends. There’s one cool guy. I started my period while I was asleep so I had to change my white shorts. Borrowed a tampon from Shavonne. Cramps and everything. We’re stopping and everyone has gotten out but me. Stu has to change a tire on the canoe trailer and everyone is buying snacks but I’m determined to lose weight and I don’t want to break my ten dollar bill. I’m trying to save up to buy the second Beatle album from my sister.
Just had a root beer and now I feel better. Spending the night at St. Ignace in Clare, Michigan. 10 girls and 8 boys – no one is as outgoing as last time but there is only one fink.
Mon Aug 17, 64 Breakfast in Seault Ste Marie. I have Canadian money and Canadian stamps. I bought postcards and stationery so I can send letters and a plastic bag for my sleeping bag.
Bus broke down! We are somewhere in a godforsaken marsh. We will be eating dinner here in the middle of nowhere and sleeping by the side of the road! Getting to know a really nice boy named Jeff Spiegel. Trying not to compete for him with an ugly scab named Mimi.
Fri. Aug 21 – 64 We have been canoeing for days. I’m sharing a canoe with Jeff and Steve. This idyll could kill those who drink too much of its wine. Jeff told Mimi he likes me more because she wouldn’t stop mauling him. But he told me he’d going steady with someone else and he has no intention of breaking up with her. I said “Fine let’s just be friends. Don’t worry Jeff I’m not madly in love with you.” And so I ended before it began.
Sat Aug 22 – 64 I never ask about her but he tells me everything. She is three years older than him! He says she is very different from me. He is a very complex person. At least he never makes fun of me which is good because my self hatred is especially strong now. He calls me “Spider Lady” because I’m not afraid of spiders (I quite like them actually. Wolf spiders especially. They’re interesting.)
Sun Aug 23 64 Cold and wet. We are all miserable with our canned spam and peaches. Everything I own is soaked – I had to share a sleeping bag with Paul Cook. (Plastic bag didn’t work. The one for my diary is better.) Fortunately he is very nice.
I get terribly depressed sometimes. I fantasize about hot food and mattresses. Above all I miss reading and privacy. If we ever reach Alsace I’m going to 1) buy chocolate 2) call my parents I’m going to ask them to take me out to dinner at the Brockton Inn where I can have snowflake rolls with lots of butter.
It will be nice to hear their voices again. I guess they made their point that life in their prison house beats life in the wilderness. Too bad they don’t understand me. Stu keeps his movie camera dry and he is still taking his famous movies of us singing “The Cruel War is Raging and Johnny has to Fight”.
MON Aug 24 -64 Sun! I fished from the canoe and caught 3 nineteen inch pike! We’re eating them for breakfast (the others caught only one.) Strange to be at a campsite when it is still light. Jeff puts his arms around me a lot for a friend but he is an enjoyable person to be with. Chili for dinner! Yum!
So much to write don’t know where I should start! Quebec is a beautiful city built by dreamers. From the grassy fortress of the citadel to the boardwalks of the wharf I have fallen in love wit it. I loved London, Florence, Paris and Rome and now I have to add Quebec! You could be fooled into thinking that it was a prosperous French seaport.
Not just the money and signs are different, the people are different as well. We drove all night to get here and when I awoke from my uncomfortable position on the floor we were parked on the Green Plains of Abraham!
A troop was sent to buy breakfast while the rest of us walked around. I stood on a bluff overlooking the harbor and then sat meditatively on a bench. How beautiful life is, what a precious thing to have! How can people look forward to eternal life when this is so good? Seems greedy to ask for more!
After breakfast, put on my blue gingham sundress and off to the Chateau Frontenac to use the john. “You can’t miss it!’ said Stu, putting me in the lead because my garbled French has him fooled. He underestimated me. I clung to the belief that since Chateau Frontenac is old, big and made of stone, any old big stone building would do. I led my faithful few to a storehouse, a club and the Quebec Institute of Dramatic Art before we wound up at the Quebec Parliament where we wandered up and down the halls.
After all that fun, Andrea and I were on our own, working on more creative ways of getting lost. A street artist did my portrait for $2. He made me too pretty but flattery will get you everywhere. I’ll give it to Mom in a last-ditch effort to give her some illusions about me. I ruled the sailors and hoods and old men who came after us Unacceptable! Poor Andrea in mourning for her brothers will take anybody but I won’t let her. She wanted a midshipman, I wanted a French beatnik. We found two charming French beatniks (short-ish- my height) who walked us to our bus. Learned a new French word: “ravigoter” to freshen. Two beatniks gave us two kisses each! Singing on the bus: Up in the Air, Junior Birdman, Up on the Air, Upside Down! And Down in the Sea, Junior Frogman! Made camp WAY outside Quebec and we were tortured all night by malevolent mosquitoes. Next morning I was so sleepy I didn’t think I could stand up. Fortunately I can sleep at the laundromat. I sent so many postcards!
July 4, 64 – Stratford Ontario
Happy Independence Day! The trip just began and tonight’s the last night! I will pitch it to make it really great!
Arrived in Stratford too late to get the mail. Drat. Cruised around town, listened to some bagpipers, then pitched tent on the edge of town.
Dinner was delicious: tuna fish salad (in honor of the Catholics) and doughnut balls (Bisquick blobs in boiling Crisco) for dessert: delicious! After that, we were all getting ready for the play Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme which I had seen twice and loved in the original French. In English I should understand so much more. Wearing my figure-flattering sailor suit and white wood heeled sandals.
Unfortunately my hair is dead after all this camping. It isn’t doing anything. Stratford is a lovely town and the theatre a splendid combination of old and new. Front balcony seats! The play was very good. At intermission Debbie came over and said two of the ushers were asking about me! I gave my address to the handsome one Dell Rynehardt. They walked us back to the bus Dell holding my hand. I would have let him kiss me but he didn’t try.
We performed our song, the Trailblazer Anthem and Stu talked about how much the trip meant to him until the tears were hot in my head! I apologized for not doing more for the group and he was very understanding. Afterwards Andrea, Vicky and I slept in the same sleeping bag!!! Later –
Saw the Falls! They were so beautiful but I did think they’d be taller. Too bad we won’t be seeing them by night – must be even more breathtaking than by day. Beginning to think tenderly of home, especially the sunlight striking that gray rug in the hallway. SusiAnna (he’s a boy) always hogs the brightest sunlight on the dining room floor. Plants everywhere, green and rich, the wood carved king with his tired kind face. Maybe there will be a letter from Mark!
Last but not least my room with its green walls and twin pink-covered beds. Furry white flokati rug. Ending this on a happy note. Isn’t that the way all good things should end?
TRAILBLAZER ANTHEM Oh we set out from Toledo on a bright and sunny day And our parents were there to wave us on our way! Gettysburg was our first stop where we made a movie flop As we rolled along the bumpy Eastern Roads! Bruises and hives, seven campers lost their lives as we rolled along the bumpy Eastern Roads! CHORUS: We’re still moving thank God, still moving Hallelujah! And the bus hasn’t conked out on us yet! Valley Forge was just a hop where We were picked up by the cops And the New York Fair made us spend our money there! Hanover we found was a Dartmouth kind of town As we rolled along the bumpy Eastern Roads! Peanut butter, jam, bug repelling spam oh we rolled along the bumpy Eastern roads! We flew to old Percé which is on the great Gaspé Where we realized French boys just love to fraternize “Bonjour, good day, ou est le cabinet?” As we rolled along the bumpy Eastern roads! Garçons of all kinds, Stu & Shavonne lost their minds As we rolled along the bumpy Eastern roads! We went out to the Boardwalk to see what we could find And each girl there had sailors on her mind The last two of our hauls were Stratford and the Falls as we rolled along the bumpy Eastern Roads! Rollers and combs, without money from our homes As we rolled along the bumpy Eastern roads! Oh, our sleeping bags were nests for nasty insect pests And the mess on our bus was very picturesque Though the trailer broke down once We’ll remember this for months As we rolled along the bumpy roads toward home! Impetigo and fleas, we had Band-Aids on our knees As we rolled along the bumpy roads toward home!
Mon July 6 – 64 Dear Diary, I‘m sure you’re tired of my lovelife, but I’m not. The Trailblazer bus roared into Brockton at 5:30 PM on a hot Sunday afternoon. Passed familiar figures – Haze & Bookie!!! I cried but he didn’t see me. Forgot about Tom & Dell, it’s all Bookie Bookie Bookie! Forced to go to the Pendragon house because my parents are out of town so I called Bookie from there. Bookie rushed over and kissed me. He doesn’t like taking off his mirrored shades but he will remove them for me. Julie & I agreed to meet Bookie & phil at the college snack bar. I care so deeply for him!
You have to forgive my writing – it’s hard to write on a jiggling bus! I snuck out one more time before I left. Andrea and Chase threw candy at my window – Bookie was easier to rouse because he sleeps on his porch. Andrea’s parents were already gone so she opened their liquor cabinet and Chase got drunk. (He is a problem. He steals things from cars. I think this is why he was kicked out of Eastern. ) Bookie and I didn’t have anything – we just wanted to slow dance. We kissed! He promised he will write! Andrea and Chase were making out like mad but Bookie walked me home.
4:30 AM! Up at quarter to seven – too late to have breakfast – off to Toledo! We are getting to know everyone on the Trailblazers bus. I am working on a Trailblazers song to the tune of “Oh It Was Sad When the Great Ship Went Down”.
Stu & Shavonne are the leaders. They are nice – especially Stu. He wanted a few kids who could speak French and Andrea volunteered me! Let’s hope I can understand enough to manage.
I slept all morning; we stopped at 1 to each lunch (tinned food) in a motel parking lot. Maybe I can lose some poundage. Looked at a map and selected a park to stay in, (Gettysburg) in Pennsylvania. We slept in sleeping bags on the ground! It was hard as cement. I slept in my cute pink nightshirt. Walking around the park all day looking at monuments. Every now and then you get a whiff of history. Names like “Valley of Death” and “Bloody Run.” Stu posed us dying over a fence for a picture!
Left Gettysburg driving too fast, the trailer broke free and we had to go to town to get a part. We need to travel tonight to get to the World’s Fair on Saturday.
Fri Jun 19 – 64
I’ve decided to work on a third person account of my life. (Everybody wonders why I am writing all the time.) Look at myself from the outside in. Obviously I have to change all the names – for me, chose the name Melantha Clenn. The title is “Dark Flower” which is what Melantha means. Whew! That was enough work for one day! My poor brain is exhausted!
Last night we reached Valley Forge very late and decided to sleep there. There was nowhere to camp but thought it would not be too much to sleep by the side of the road. We no sooner had out sleeping bags out then up comes a fuzz car! (Stu referred to him later as Officer Remedial.) No amount of pleading would work; he ordered us to “follow” him. I guess he thought he was on Dragnet or something. We weren’t even told where we were going! Straight to the Valley Forge Police Station! Shavonne and Stu were led inside and the rest of us just sat there arguing about whether our camp counselors would be arrested for contributing to the delinquency of minors!
But when they came out they said we would be allowed to sleep on some rocks behind the fire station!
I do miss Bookie but for some reason think mostly of Mark! I’ll send him a postcard from Gettysburg: North Carolina memorial is a good one.
Sun Jun 21 – 64 – YMCA Camp in Poughkeepsie, New York
Can’t believe we’ve been on this trip four days only! For such a motley crew of sixteen girls and two counselors we are very compatible. Two of the girls are childish which I actually don’t like.
Shavonne is a sweet person. She is plain though with a very bad figure. She is certainly not distracting Stu from thinking about his girlfriend who he says we will all meet! Shavonne is reading The Agony and the Ecstasy, says its very good and will lend it to me when she’s finished. (It’s a big fat book and she seems to read onl8 4 pages at a time! She was impressed that I’ve seen the Sistine Chapel.)
Michelangelo says: “the promises of this world are phantoms and to have faith in oneself and become something of worth and value is the best and safest course”.
Stu is broadminded – I think Daddy would approve. But he does have fits of anger and bursts of gloom. He’s a Catholic and says we should all get a chance to attend mass! I found the sermon interesting and the hymns beautiful but the Latin is annoying. Andrea and I left early because we had signed up for horseback riding at eleven thirty and when we returned for lunch Stu was furious! Said we were rude! We offered to be waitresses to get back into his good graces. Andrea and I have a room to ourselves in the South Barn. Boys in the North Barn!
The World’s Fair is no Disneyland but it was interesting. Andrea and I pretended to be French! I got an ID bracelet with a big A on it. (I got another for Avril’s birthday.) I love it and I never take it off. Andrea and I saw Peter and Gordon who were performing – all the girls screamed and we screamed right along with them. I hadn’t heard of them before but I like their Willow song. Also the Eggheads and the Esquires. We were separated from the performers by a pool and a lot of kids jumped in! Andrea and I danced instead while 3 men filmed us with movie cameras! The only performer whose autograph we got was Danny Taylor. He was very nice, says he’s been doing this since he was 13.
Mon. Jun 22 - 64
Thinking strange powerful thoughts. I guess it is another mood coming. How can I think of Bookie and death in the same thought? Probably because I feel bad about Mark. I didn’t say the things he wanted and I didn’t want him to say the things I thought I wanted! Bookie is outgoing and clever but less scary somehow. Do I like being the one who cares more? I don’t think I want to be in this boat alone! I hate myself for complicating my life!
Now, meeting so many new people I am having to worry whether people like me. Andrea called me “ugly” several times yesterday. She was trying to hit a tender spot but I think she was really feeling the opposite! So there goes that relationship!
I would rather not be hideous.
Dark Flower coming along pretty well.
Mystic Seaport, CT – Tues June 23 – 64
Awful night! Laura stole my diary and read it! Made me so mad! And that’s not all. We were sitting around the camp fire singing songs and I saw Laura and Andrea planning something in the woods. Said they are sneaking out to meet four boys and did I want to come! I was all for it! Laura, Chris, Andrea and that awful Julie who keeps tagging along.
Unfortunately the minute I saw the boys I wanted to leave! They looked like hoods to me, but I couldn’t talk anyone else into leaving. Andrea started making out with a complete stranger immediately! I talked to an ugly lug named Ralph, but when I told him about Bookie he kept his hands off. Then who should appear but Stu! He knew all about it!
I told him nothing happened and he was very sweet. Said he gives me credit for a lot of common sense, says I am one of “the most intelligent fourteen year olds he’s ever met! Others not so much. This AM when I woke up my eyelids were swollen: gnats bit them almost shut!
Really liked Mystic Seaport. We toured the beautifully restored ships. Here’s a picture of the Charles Morgan. Bought ships-in-a-bottle for all family members and sent postcards to everyone.
Stu staged another of his “movies”. I was a barmaid!
Mass & N. H – Fr. Jun 26 – 64
Having a ball! We are in Hanover NH at Dartmouth College. What a pity its not co-ed or I would go there. We went to Boston and rode the MTA – saw a lot of Harvard! Met Stu’s girlfriend who is a waitress at an ice cream store! They just stare at each other adoringly. Luckily she gave us free ice cream because now I have exactly seven cents to my name. Writing home desperately for money. I owe Vicky 5¢, Sally 10¢ and Chris 5¢.
Stu goes to Dartmouth and he was eager to show it off. Not having seen boys for DAYS Andrea and I were principally interested in finding one or two or FOUR THOUSAND.
It didn’t take long! The few girls we’ve seen are nothing much so the Trailblazers bus is getting a lot of attention! At Hopkins Hall we picked up seven eligible males, all of them cute who promised to visit our campsite and say hi. Stu is not too sure about this. A particularly cute boy named Tom Morris said, “We can’t help it if we sleepwalk, can we?”
I was Head Cook that night and while stirring the ravioli was not too surprised to see the bushes rustling. When we sat down to eat they jumped out to say hi! Stu made them go away. They kept loitering around making it hard to go to the bathroom.
When I climbed into my sleeping bag Morris scared me to death jumping out from behind a tree! We talked for hours, promising to write each other. We have a lot in common (He is 5’11’!) but I don’t see how we can be more than friends.
Percé on the Gaspé – June 28 – 64
I seem to be in an awfully good mood right now! Probably because we’re on the move, singing our latest camp song to the tune of 500 Miles, “If you miss the bus we’re on, You will know where we have gone
You will see the garçons trailing on behind…”
Who would guess an all-girl trip would be so much fun!
Poor Alain! He is a French boy from Montreal that I met here. He is cool. MARK, BOOKIE, MORRIS and now ALAIN. I’ve “got” them except I haven’t got any of them! It’s either sheer starvation or crowd control? You can see I really do have problems! The question is: which of them do I want? The $64,000 question!
26 hours without T. Spoke to him last night and again this afternoon. His acceptance of me is total, but it comes from a position of strength and I have fears of being annihilated. Last night I experienced hallucinatory states – drove home the wrong way – felt something was happening to the car – re-experienced my swallowing problem. Resolved my panic by starting a poem.
Sat night Toss and I read the diary passages where
we lose our “divinity” (his word) together. He cried and told me what he’d felt like from his “side”, wanting to be male & in control, feeling helpless & immature. Agreed if we had married then we’d be divorced now.
11:05PM Trying to read Oneness & Separateness. Not well suited to me right now! Much as I want to be a mother the thought of a demanding infant between me & T truly horrifying. Insane fears of rejection and abandonment – why on earth should I trust this man? Called T at work! Complete craziness. He reassured me we will have private alone time a real vacation in the Berkshires. He said champagne arrived. Called A & we discussed Mom & Dad – how they rewarded “self-sufficiency” and responded to neediness coldly. Makes it hard to be honest now but I hate this weirdly formal relationship with my own parents. Avril says there is no retraining them.
Sat 14 July 79 – StormFall Farm – 11:15 PM Oh, my God who would believe it – here I am 11 years later! Told T about my uncle last night as we made sexual “confessions”. He was completely calm about it so it’s no longer a Big Secret. He insisted I read his ex-girlfriend’s letters. She was a Piper Cub to his Concorde, believe me. He kept carbons of his letters to her!!!! Not very loving – downright fatherly. In a bad way.
T’s actual father and he smoked cigars last night
after dinner leaning against the mantel – they were so beautiful together I felt stunned. Wrote a poem:
MY HUSBAND SMOKES CIGARS WITH HIS FATHER BY CANDLELIGHT
Your profiles cut my heart like glass. Go ahead. I’m a bleeder, I’ll Still be here when you look back. Your father is a silver-headed Walking-stick; his elongation glows with far less heat. You’re his nemesis; and he’s used to it. The wooden floors washed cornelian Perhaps by sunset Perhaps by jealousy of girls who Lost you; judged too soon the temper of your eyes Wrote too many letters or Not enough; the wrong kind Addressed to the pale law student with The cinderblock heart Traveling commentator with the hundred Dollar bill rolled inside his shoe, The long-haired Pinkerton guard. You learned to suck the cherries Scarless from the tree; it’s no mean art Broke a few at first; we all did. By what right am I the winner? You chose me in thirty seconds leaving enough time to smoke another cigar.
Everyone wants us to marry before May. But I feel
I need some time in Kentucky first. Toss told me last night that on paper he is a millionaire. Here’s luck, because if I keep on keeping on, I’m a pauper! Tom’s grandmother’s response was “I am not surprised.” She committed herself to reading my “thriller”. At dinner he announced I’m the only woman he’s ever wanted to marry. Tom’s dad said he thought he’d be a bachelor forever. Privately we affirmed absolute sexual fidelity forever. Will we be able to keep it?
Plush Palace – Wed 18 July 79 – 4:55 PM Boring day but good tips. Magnificent party at The Third Edition last night for Avril’s birthday. (I didn’t care for Avril’s latest “honey” Vigo but was furious at myself – she should date as widely as possible. Maybe I was affected by T who is a snob and a purist.) Drinks, fruit & cheese – then dinner at The Old Angler & Frank Langella in Dracula. (Not a good version.) “Finances” discussion with T. He talked me out of selling my car. I worry about being dependent on him but he says it will be fine. Sounds to me like he is living on a knife’s edge – working part time, going to law school, selling stock when he needs money (which he is loathe to do being naturally frugal.) Too tired to make love last night but we started up in the middle of the night – both asleep. Doors keep opening – then there’s another one.
Castle – 1 PM – Thurs 19 July 79 So happy I can’t take it all in. Feel like someone recovering from a long illness. Read Cheever’s Goodbye My Brother – as satisfying as a novel. Last night we made love for hours and hours but I just couldn’t come – kept holding his face saying, “Is it really you”? Dancing with Barbara the Kikuyu and blonde Joyce of the day-glo costumes.
3 PM Party Castle – 24 July 79 First real friction last night – very predictably, about my job. I’m irritated over the assumption that its sordid and brutalizing. It is totally NOT the same as the dancers in DC!!! LIFE can be sordid and brutalizing – I like this club because it ISN’T and I’ve tried others. We discussed HIS job which also has its sordid and corrupting aspects. Duh. His last girlfriend gave him shit about it (and refused to read the paper!) so it’s a sore point. He should get it. There was a horrible moment when he felt foreign and alien – but I expected it – too much intimacy always causes a backlash. Trying to read Sisters & Strangers. The Victorian novel is not dead.
Castle – 2 Aug 79 – Wed Seems hopeless to TRY writing in this book – things happen so fast – a month is an eternity. Last night celebrated our 11th “divinity loss” anniversary – and a difficult anniv. It was. T came to see me dance for the first time – with Avril so it wouldn’t be so bad but had to leave he was so upset. He didn’t like me smiling! Like I’m ENJOYING myself! The PLACE didn’t bother him (“reverent & reserved” were his words) just my pleasure in movement beauty & freedom! Uh oh! He goes back to my parents’ argument: IT’S TURNING MEN ON. So what? I get impatient with that – that way lurks the “hajib”.
We have to educate each other. At the end the atmosphere seemed cleared and we both cried with relief. Even though I know my love is in the larval stage, I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him. We had our last dinner at 641 E street – steak and wine, fruit, cream, brandy. He asked me if there were any boyfriends’ the report of whose marriage “depressed” me (he was referring to my marriage) and I had to say no.
He opened a letter from Mindy, ex-girlfriend he was thinking of re-starting a relationship with except she went to Nepal. A letter I would have thought perfectly reasonable two months ago now strikes me as ridiculous – an ounce of love is worth more than all these pages of barter.
I got a wonderful letter from Devon – he’s found “another girl” (with three more in reserve I’m betting) and wishes me the best. But T was upset because he closed with “I love you” a word NOT thrown around in his world! (Mindy and Cindy don’t say it!) He says it’s the only part of the letter he believes – “the guy is a total phony.” I said his only victim is himself. We then made love on the floor on top of all our exes’ letters. Gloriously. Got a poem out of it.
The Bridesmaid Yes, I know everything You’re my poor Relation. I know of your daddy’s desk where you Fucked with formaldehyde fingers I know of your lonely Rosary of abortions I repeat, I know everything. We made love on your letters undisturbed As two icons. She’s imperfect He told me. Unseated by mortality We must take our place With the king’s crazy mistresses; Brewing menstrual blood coffee And mandrake root tea. Swim away, little bridesmaid, You’re too young I’m in love We’ve got Too much in common ever to meet. Need to see dentist & gyno, overhaul bike, pay bills. T. meets Ralph Nader at 6. Lucky me snagging someone so ambitious and competent.
Castle Mon 6 Aug 79
God I need Maine. I love T but I need to get away
from him. I am used to being alone 4-5 hours a day. Starving for that. Wonder how many otherwise perfect relationships break up for this reason! T. is a little TOO driven. A little TOO single-minded. Makes me argue with him – I can’t help it. For example: he talked about the “ugliness of the desert landscape.” It’s not my “thing” either – because I grew up somewhere else – but O’Keeffe taught me to see the beauty of it. What he REALLY meant was “I don’t like it” but he raises it to a religious principle “New England is better.” That’s embarrassing.
I constantly feel he’s trying to “re-educate” me – for example he didn’t like my turquoise silk pants because he “doesn’t like colors that don’t appear in nature.” When shown an aquarium of tropical fish he doesn’t “count” them, their colors are “cultivated” and somehow “wrong.” The truth is bright colors make him nervous. So say THAT.
Sat night we went to an office party of his people (to which I wore the aforementioned pants) and praised the house over- extravagantly. (He does NOT like my yellow velvet furniture. I’m giving it to Maureen.) “One good picture” per wall, beige Danish oldern furniture – unbelievably boring and sterile. A chipped china frog would have done the place a world of good. Could warn of decorating problems ahead. His younger brother Dominic in town – when I complimented his Mazda sports car and said I’d love to have one someday Toss said “we’ll see” as if I could never buy one for myself! These flare-ups are important signs. Must work on my self-value.
8 Aug 79 Packing for Maine came across D’s letters. Not a “good” one among them. “Phoniness” is NOT his problem – that’s not the right word – he’s not even “tone deaf” which was Bruce’s disorder. I think it’s a “temperature” thing – he WANTS all passion sexualized (not that he would ever admit it) and doesn’t trust intimacy, closeness – as if he doesn’t believe – doesn’t want to believe it exists. He fears never freeing himself from the physical so he cultivates a lonely “spirituality” but he’s mired HIMSELF in it. So that’s pathetic. I take responsibility – he probably felt hounded by my love. Thank God I escaped is all I can say. I’m betting he was geared up to torture me for a lifetime. I let T read my short story about his mother. That was probably a mistake. (In it he’s planning her death!) He made some idiotic writing class comments – I said it wasn’t THAT far along – but there’s something appealingly mythic about this undigested mass. Worry about it in ten years!
Shadowe Island ME – Mon 7:30 AM 12 Aug 79
Toss just left on the ferry so I can relax. Wish this
diary ended here – I need a New Life. But Not Yet. Rainy with a gray sea. Dogs stretched out snoring on the Greek carpet. This visit has been everything I wanted, but the first night was classic in its ghastliness. Guests showed up at cocktails and stayed through dinner – unexpectedly – this mob scene making our announcement a bit tougher. Toss whispered, “Want to go through with it?” I said, “Sure.”
We opened the champagne. The guests loved it – Mom & Dad really surprised. Dad started talking about his difficult father-in-law and how things would be different but flat out calling me a liar when I chimed in about how Wilbur returned his prison mail (he told me this story HIMSELF last Christmas!) I kept my temper – oh I must have got it wrong. (I didn’t. We’d discussed it later ad nauseam.) Avril attacked me later for bringing it up and “embarrassing” Dad – but he’d been TALKING ABOUT HIS DIFFICULT FATHER IN LAW. Toss was surprised at Avril’s hostility – used to her as an ally. He said, “They obviously think you’re invulnerable.” Probably. If so they’re all idiots! I thought A was upset about her own out-of-his-depth boyfriend, Vigo. Anyway T rescued the evening bringing tears to Mom’s eyes by talking about how he’d always loved me. M & D apologized & congratulated us.
Sunday the four of us toured the island – trying to get along with Vigo. (A says he has just one testicle as if that’s all that’s wrong with him.) At dinner watched slides of my growing up – T tremendously moved – then lobster dinner.
Tues 13 Aug 79 – 5 PM T called last night on his WATS line and we talked ½ an hour. Says he used to play an “airport game” of “Looking for his future wife” but thought “I AM married!” Wow!
Sun. 19 Aug 79 T’s letter came! Glorious. I do not feel worthy. Tension between A & V – he teases her too much – we all try to ignore it – tough to figure out how to call him on it without opening up hostilities. Hope she dumps him. T on phone! Ex-island boyfriend visits. A says he acts like he wants to knock me to the floor and French kiss me to death. Seems accurate. Glad T missed him.
Party Castle – 11 PM 22 Aug 79 Glad to go to Maine and thrilled to leave it. Mary & Debby dancing. Today’s been eventful – T got my letters and was enormously moved. He says the worst mistake he ever made was burning my teenage letters. We should try to exist without this phoning but can’t help ourselves. Diet going well: I feel good. Struggling with a pile of thank you letters.
Castle – 7 PM Fri 25 Aug 79 T. and I separated 11 days already – feels like eternity. Avril announces she wants her own apt so I should put house on the market. Maybe its easier. Flooding small publishers with Blood Memory – feel pessimistic however. 3 poems accepted – 2 by Colorado Woman, 1 by Friends Journal. Doesn’t feel as good as I’d hoped. Struggling with new novel where I try to tell the truth about Devon. But why should anyone want THAT God knows. Moving costs $400. I still think I should sell my Fiat. Rotten crowd. Bored and jerking like a marionette. Dancing with crazy Robin and Anne who never stops talking. She says June’s in the hospital in a full body cast – will never dance again. 2 more sets – praise God. Trying to read about Lewis Carroll. A says Zach threatening to show up. Don’t show up, Zach. I have a headache.
2:30 AM Sun 27 Aug 79 – There is a God. Zach didn’t show. Long phone call w/T then walk dogs to think about it. He is such a powerful person it’s a little disturbing. Said he read my poem (The Duel) to his most erudite friend who was very impressed. We wound up in another argument about my dancing. I can’t bear his slurs so I referred to his past drug use – WE’VE BOTH EXPERIMENTED, ALL RIGHT? He wants me to live without money then complains about selling stock. I told him it’s a “schizophrenic bind.” Didn’t mention how I have to PRY my stock (that’s in my name) out of Mom and Dad.
Reading an idiotic romance – its very idiocy is refreshing. I see why people get addicted to these. Like looking at maps when you’re lost. Ok they’re only two dimensional but its SOMETHING!
Party Castle Tues 28 Aug 79 Last night dancing. Celebrate with chocolates but I’m too enervated to appreciate it. Finished I’m Radcliffe, Fly Me. Ultimately a failure. Fails to explore the inherent corruption of institutional structures. Horrible night. $5 in tips – they are sick of the sight of me and I refuse to buy new costumes. I am scared to death of being dependent on T. I think he could reassure me but doesn’t know how because if I really needed him would I be so desirable? Is a puzzlement.
I feel like I’m unfastening my suckers from Avril and grabbing onto T! Up here without a net! Then I get mad at myself for being so infantile. Can I just write and feel powerful? We’ll see! Doubts creeping in! This time next week I’ll be in Kentucky! Well, I’ve written some good poems lately. Self-confidence atrocity attack. Feel & look rotten. Realizing the extent to which I was fertile soil for my parents’ anxieties.
3:30 Thurs 30 Aug 79 Everything done, ready to leave. I’m in shock. Crawled into the bath with a vodka tonic and now I’m feeling better. Trying to figure out how to approach parents for money. Maybe they could give me my own stock as engagement present? Feel I won’t be able to disguise my rage. This “I’m All Right Jack” no matter WHAT – is mighty convenient for them. I realize its any sense of helplessness that triggers all this rage NOT a good sign for T’s and my relationship. He can’t “make” me independent! I must not succumb, or Plath-ize. (She sacrificed herself to the gods of rage.) I’m doing this guy no favors handing him a woman on the edge of breakdown.
4:25PM – My darling just called! Relief! He borrowed a truck from somebody so although we’ll have to drive separately we won’t have movers or returns to cope with. He’s driving it out here so I can sleep as late as I like which I really need. Impossibly intense happiness. Peace & joy. Feel we have been standing in a dinghy trying to balance. Equilibrium is everything. The irrevocableness of marriage. My children mutely regard my choice. The hopelessness of explaining myself to any of T’s friends. Rain. Any excuse not to take a walk (T lives in bad neighborhood.) Feel like a girl in a gothic novel except for the constant sex which makes it a different kind of novel. Break with the past.
Reading Robert Ludlum’s perfectly ludicrous Matarese Circle. In 100 yrs people will wonder how we stomached this stuff. A. and I going to Olney theatre to see The Bat tonight.
TOMORROW STARTS WOMAN INTO WOLF Alysse Aallyn’s thriller about difficult marriages & split identities
…a thrill-ride, unique and highly recommended reading.” –Entrepreneur.com “deceit, rape, fertility, imprisonment and a mother’s grief…as each piece of the tightly coiled fiction was loosed I waited for the revelation to come…she couldn’t imagine the extent of the deception until it was spelled out. Neither could I.” –MyShelf.com “one of the most unusual mysteries I have ever read…I loved reading Woman Into Wolf … kept me on the edge of my seat right through the end…I highly recommend this novel to fans of crime mysteries that also enjoy some extra spice in their stories.” – Readerviews.com “a very fine psychological thriller… the characters in this book are as bright as crystal and as sharp as shattered glass. Aallyn not only can describe them to a neo-noun, she can make them speak true to those characters. Quite a talent…a novel every bit as worthy as her first.” ArmchairInterviews.com
3:30 PM – Dumbarton Oaks – Sat 14 Apr 79
Enjoying a day of full sun. Beautiful carved stone bench
– azaleas in full bloom – peace. Woke up determined to finish taxes – offices closed! When can people go if they work all week? Beats me. But it would take more than a late filing to bother me – feel blissful. Approaching Plath from the question of her reputation. Determined to write and to learn to see movies alone. Last night awful sets with Zach – I don’t like his new band. He couldn’t seem to play guitar and sang off-key. Promises of a future have taken his present away. My heart went out to him – ordered a bottle of champagne to cheer him up. Late dinner – I ordered catfish in a spirit of adventure (not good) he ordered what he always has – chicken & fries. He told me about the times he’s been mugged and his belief in magic – I didn’t believe any of it. He was full of insecurities about Usher – I decided to act like we have a relationship to make it easier to get rid of Z later on. He “retaliated” by describing his affair with his friend’s 48 yr old divorced mother back on the coast. Sure, sure. Asked to come home with me. I said no.
Plush Palace – Mon 23Apr 11PM
God Malcolm Muggeridge is unpleasant (Jesus
Rediscovered) and not even Christian. Makes Waugh look like the author of Sermon on the Mount. Trying to figure out how I would address God: what would I say? Beautiful note from Devon saying, “I love you dearly”. Sweet. The silenter I am the more he adores me. Sent a copy of my Plath essay to Usher – we’ll see what he says. Agent passed along a very flattering rejection on Memory – I am “too much” of a poet! Since I have just concluded (with Usher’s help) that I am no poet at all this cheered me up enormously. Airborne today – dancing really well. It’s the fasting. Feel a shimmering force field all around me.
Starlight – 12:45 AM – Thurs 25 Apr 79
Dragging myself around this AM – my own fault for indulging
in Irish coffee and caramel ice cream last night. 2nd anniversary party at the radio station and I thought, That might be fun! It was a disaster. I took Avril and we were immediately cornered by the club bore. (I had to give him a fake phone no just to get rid of him.) Plus they charged us for our drinks! Rod was there – tight and prim – fearful I would attack him about his nonexistent dance story – I put him at his ease. Left after an hour and Avril and I “drowned our disappointment” in the usual way (it felt good at the time.) Ross & Tom should be required reading for egomaniacs.
Plush Palace 9 PM Mon 30 Apr 79
Had my hair cut today and dyed platinum blonde – like the
color not the cut. I wanted it all off – she asked to “try something” and if I didn’t like it she would “fix it for free”. Of course, I don’t like it but I didn’t have the time to stay and have it re-done. I think it’s almost too much trouble to go back – get somebody else to fix it. Everyone likes color however; I needed a boost. But it’s not what I pictured – looks like a medieval “bowl” cut to me. Fistfight! Guy dragged out of the club in handcuffs. Joselle says too bad; he was such a good tipper. Feel too old tonight – I obviously need a vacation but the only one I can take is in my own mind. I love the house but it always needs something. I was perched on the edge of celibacy but Jervaze showed up last night. Fabulous sex! Turned out to be worth it! 2 Hrs (I counted!) Oh, bliss. Reading very bad romantic suspense – A Relative Stranger. It’s a serious problem that I hate everything popular.
2:30 PM Wed May 2 79
Perfect day at home. Worked on poems listening to Mozart.
Got my “medieval bowl” changed to “little boy” haircut – it’s wonderful! Do nothing to my hair anymore! Don’t have to wash it, brush it or even look at it! Of course, I have to deal with all the sobbing men at the clubs. Turns out long hair is a powerful masculine fetish. I consider pretending I’m a different person – but I have the same old costumes. New stage name? Wonder if “Colette” is taken. Guess I didn’t plan this very well. Yesterday overeating so today it’s a fast – only coffee. Phone keeps ringing I refuse to answer. It’s probably Paz begging me to come in and sub for some dancer who had an onstage breakdown. Reading Wagenknecht’s “psychograph” of Nathaniel Hawthorne. Interesting.
Sun 6 May 79 -1:50 PM
Avril and I drove to St Michaels yesterday – such a pleasure
– I remember sailing into that port. It’s so beautiful I fantasize about buying a house and “retiring” there. I tell A, you get the country house, I’ll have the town house we can go back and forth. She says she does not want to live with her sister FOREVER! Why not when I’m so perfect? Delicious lunch of soft-shelled crabs and homemade coconut cream pie. Didn’t get to work till 6:40 and I was the only dancer till 9 PM! Apparently previous dancer unconscious in dressing room and ambulance was called. Sorry I missed it. Eddy gave me extra $$ but told me I can’t wear my black jade rosary on stage (too many complaints). Too bad – it looks so good with white collar and cuffs. He says the place has been sold again and we will be getting new management. Hope it’s not Tony.
Plush Palace – 10:10 PM – Mon May 7 – 79
Would like to break my 2 day fasting record but I got up
at 5:30 AM this morning and was just too hungry. Cucumber sandwiches with lots of pepper on whole wheat bread…mmmmm. Here’s my latest plan – rewrite Secaire and Blood Memory – get pregnant Sept 1 1980, have baby May 81! Father as yet unknown. Crazy, huh? Reading The Restless Journey of James Agee.
Tues 8 May 79 – 4:45 PM
Great day’s work on Secaire. Not “done” but better.
Completely new scene showing why Hank and Nilssa are attracted to each other. 10 P!!! Celebrated by going out to buy new notebooks. Sniff the paper hungrily. New lighting at the Palace very bad – guess who came in to audition? Brandy! I told manager she was lying about her age so he wouldn’t hire her. Nobody wants to work with her. She’s a grenade with the pin removed. Interesting book by Louis Cassells about the differences between religious faiths. So far I like Unitarianism best but want to expose my kids to as many different ones as possible and let them choose. Joselle keeps asking me if she’s going to be in my book. (I’m afraid she thinks I cut my hair for her.) I start instead a poem beginning “the chaste warrior sleeps only with his prey…” Bad! Sad.
3PM Thurs 10 May 79 – Plush Palace
New manager Jasper comes in. Seems nice. I curtsy
very low. Yesterday fasted till evening – wrote 7 pages – walked dogs then Avril & I saw Truffaut’s Love on the Run and went out to dinner. White pizza with plenty of garlic. Usher is reading at a NJ college – invites me to go with him. Hmm. Needing a pair of hot pink pants to visit this college in.
9:30 PM Fri night 11 May 1979
No hot pink pants. Did find a nice pair of aqua polished
cotton jeans and matching high-heeled shoes. Usher phoned and we commiserated about publishing. Avril and I went to see the movie, A Little Romance. Very good. Long walk with dogs, further exploring our new neighborhood. People keep their lawns very tidy around here. Since I refuse to do ovens, windows or lawns, house-pride like this could present a problem. Must hire out. I’m bored with my job, but it pays the bills so well I don’t think I can make changes till July. But who knows what lies just over the horizon? Reinventing oneself could be the greatest pleasure there is.
Plush Palace – Sat night 12 May 1979
Another exhausting goodbye with Jervaze. I wore see-through
chiffon bell-bottoms and flowered Qiana shirt – gratified to see they had their effect. He said he will always feel the same about me, always be jealous of the person I marry. I must say I now wish he would just go away. Which he’s supposed to do – off to Alabama. Again. I am not, shall we say, invited to this on-again, off again wedding. Awww. Feeling emotionally drained – only 30 short hours till I see Usher and I want to be witty and “on.” As opposed to slack-jawed and twitching.
Queen’s Chapel – 4:30 PM Sun May 13 -79 Dragged Avril to Unitarian church. There was a woman minister. I found the service satisfying enough and the church (River Road) very beautiful. They seem to have a lot going on – discussion groups, plays, theology class. I could be interested if I had the time. Unfortunately everyone seems old. Could I overcome my misanthropy to go alone? Remains to be seen. The church has a bookstore – I bought an interesting book on female contemplatives. I’m contemplating a future as a single parent. Feel a faint hormonal stirring. (Avril says it’s the house.) Who’s the lucky guy? Jervaze would have been perfect if it wasn’t for that alcoholic gene. And I don’t think I could hide a baby from Devon for the rest of his life. Usher probably has some impressive genes along with the vast millions to which he constantly alludes. On the other hand, the kid he does have sounds defective. Need to get clear about his marital status.
Queen’s Chapel – 9:30 PM May 15 -79 Bad visit to NJ with Usher. Thank God it wasn’t an overnight. First he showed up in a Mercedes he described as “the color of Lena Horne’s skin”. UGH! Next – brace yourself – he wanted to hide me from his audience!! Dumped me at an antique bookstore (that part wasn’t a total waste – bought the diaries of Cynthia Asquith) then took me out to an apologetic dinner. I was so annoyed I commanded everything to be set on fire – fondue, oysters, and 2 desserts. (He chose a very good wine. It was the least he could do.) He didn’t want to talk about his reading – said if I had attended there would have been “too many questions”. And as artists, aren’t we SCARED TO DEATH of questions? Aren’t we?
Castle – Wed 1:15 AM 16 May – 79 Unspeakably rotten dinner at the Cosmo Club with Usher. Forget him and his majestic New England genes. He is simply “collecting” me as his latest oddity. He has “so many” “warm, women artist” friends but no dancer yet (he’s way overdosed on poets) and he drifts from one “presence” to another, sucking wattage like some radioactive swamp monster. He and his wife have an “understanding” which probably means she has no idea where the hell he ever is and nobody’s had sex in eons. Can’t I do better than this? In spite of the fact that I’m a degraded person who doesn’t know where her next sexual or emotional meal is coming from I think I must insist on a note from wifey before taking this matter further. According to his poetry he associates sexuality with evil – not that I’m physically attracted to him, it’s just so piquant to be with a man who gets a fresh barber’s shave right before seeing you. (It’s been awhile). I don’t think he listened to a thing I said, just gazed at me rapturously. I tried getting him interested in helping me write a screenplay for Faulkner’s Mosquitoes – to me a completely ignored, obviously filmable work. He dismisses, “It’s been done.” Well it may have been “treated” BY SOMEBODY but the point is, it hasn’t been treated by us and it hasn’t been filmed and it would be WONDERFUL. Couldn’t ignite him. He really doesn’t want to talk about writing with me – I guess he has other people for that. I was so happy when our “date” ended I could have wept for joy. On the other hand I am sorry to see these millions slip away. My children could have used them, not to mention all my fantasies of early retirement busted. Looks like I have no one to depend on but myself. Enjoying Monica Dickens’ enchanting The Moon was Low. But had to buy a Quaalude from Maureen to get to sleep. Finished V. Sackville-West’s The Devil at Westease. I can’t figure out why she wrote it. She speaks entirely in lost codes. I really dragged myself in to work today. That’s how you know you’re working too much. Letter from Devon – he’s off to California to “find himself.” What he really wants is any way to figure out how to be a minister in a state of sexual abandon and he instinctively knows if the answer is anywhere, it is in California. On the other hand, will this really turn out to be what he wants? Not if I know him. The only good news about him is that his genes are impeccable. Plus, I’m very depressed about my writing. Spreading myself too thin – thinking about one project while working on another. My St Secaire book is starting to get ridiculous, but I want to follow up this “satanic rites” thing to see where it goes. Why did I come up with it? What does it mean? Who knows? Cheap and derivative everyone would probably say at this point. Yet it holds some interest for me. Love and sex as hostage-taking. The question is, who’s the hostage and who’s the keeper? Could it be hours of research, prose and bitching produce only a single poem? Lucky if so.
The Chaste Warrior Sleeps Only With His Prey
My sutures hurt; I’m Completely unavailable, You laced my body like a jerkin Unsheathing your ambition; Cut my breakfast with a corkscrew Your secret spine Doubled up and put away.
I’m fasting now Bracing for the worst I can’t eat anything that doesn’t Look right at me And want to know the truth; who’s for real? And What’s the state of play?
I know it’s a mess.
Also miserable about money and my body. Buying the house was a great idea – I love it – however, there are constant expenses I can’t ignore that keep me chained to this goddam stage and dressing room. My mortgage calls for my monthly payment to increase next year – I could worry about that if I wanted to. And then I always respond to depression and worry with a desire to eat which of course threatens my job. (Sigh.) Tips down (maybe I should buy a wig.) And my face is all broken out so I have to use heavy makeup – and my skin doesn’t like that.
9:30 AM – 22 Dec 77
Very dissatisfied with my life right now – trying to avoid
making out of sheer boredom some kind of major financial mistake – like buying a house and filling it with furniture. Now that Avril has been accepted as a “permanent student” at U of MD don’t see why we shouldn’t share a berth somewhere. One of our dancers is a student there and she says student housing is very expensive. Why couldn’t I rent out rooms? But then what would happen to the three months of traveling I was promising myself ? Wanted to spend March skiing in the White Mountains. I need something more solid than Romance, that’s for sure. Jervaze cancelled our last date so now I’m freaking. It is vital that he makes the next move but my feminist soul revolts. Four months of celibacy appears to be my limit.
Sitting in the bay window drinking a third cup of coffee and watching a calico cat stalk the yard. Avril and I have been living rather high lately, buying clothes for Christmas. Last night saw the movie Telefon -very exciting but with an unbelievable ending – then watched Baryshnikov’s delightful Nutcracker on TV. Avril says she’s finally starting to forget old What’s His Face.
I’m trying to get her interested in the religious and meditation books that have been such a help to me. She’s not that kind of a reader, alas. No word from R. My latest “daymare” is that he will just show up at the club. Should I talk to Randy? A says Ryder’s asked her about it. I made her promise to say “We don’t think you should have that information” even if he already knows. I try comforting myself with my knowledge of his vanity – he wouldn’t want other men to see Randy throw him out as an “unsuccessful suitor”.
(Angry exes show up at club routinely and aren’t allowed in no matter how they behave or how much money they have. They get On The Bad List.) Let’s hope the sensitivity of his ”face” protects both of us. But he probably would send a stooge – it is just like him – to spy out the land. Fortunately I look good and this classy place has the Shalimar beat so no disgrace. Jervaze and I are trying to keep people at the club from knowing that we date. But it’s impossible to really disguise favorites what with the tripping, drinks, flowers and etc even if we aren’t allowed to sit with the customers. Stooge could probably figure it out. Maybe R would “give up” at the sight of him. Search me.
I’m at the stage with Jervaze where I hunger for some symbol of his caring, that he’s broken through the surface status and glamour of “dating a dancer” and has some deeper regard for me as a unique human being. He buys copies of my book whenever he finds them, but of course that’s status and glamour too, even though it’s just a paperback. I have forbidden him to tell anyone at the club about my book – he finds that a little weird, but I don’t see how being “a dancing author” could do me any good. The thing I most love about this job is that you don’t have to talk. Gave him a book of my poems for his birthday:
a declaration of erotic war.
23 Dec 77 12:15PM So in love I’m crazed. I’m at that stage where you can’t honestly tell if the other person is even interested, you’re in such a delirium. Jealousy of all the other dancers because he looks at them. Jervaze says he liked my poems, his favorite being Nocturne.
NOCTURNE
Reveal
Yourself to me
To my inner palate
An artist’s palette
Moth-winged hands
Fluttering
Crescent thighs surging
Urging
Union undivided
Prickly venus flytrap hairs that guard
Your anis scented anus
Fleshy mandibles
Trembling sheaves
Snouting for your smoky-salted dinner
Double-snouted cock stiffening
My mango halves
O I will baste you when its time
Angelspit,
Lovespawn
Dipin my styx of roe your
Musky caviar
Sensate wanderer you
Suck
Ubus –
I dreamed you
Open me.
I thought that might do the trick. I possess wiles
unknown to other babes. He mentioned that his brother’s going back to Alabama so he might be alone for Christmas – I invited him to New York City but I could tell from his expression he’ll never do it. He thinks Virginia is the north – calls the New Jersey Turnpike “undriveable” – a lawless war zone. (If he could hear what we say about the South!)
We exchanged presents – he gave me a bottle of Irish Mist and another one of my books (he keeps buying them for me) and I gave him a very small glamour shot in an antique frame – so he can do anything with it – hide it if he wants. Keep it in his car. He said he liked it but in the bar light he really couldn’t see. The we went to breakfast – had a wonderful conversation about ghosts and WC Fields. He believes in one but not the other. I was hoping he would kiss me – regretted the first time when “rocked out” on beer, he leaned forward to kiss me but I pulled away.
But last night would have been completely unmanageable – under yellowing lights and the stares of strangers (me in my stage makeup) or out in the pouring rain. So we said goodbye, hopped in our cars. We may not see each other for three weeks! I’ve got his address (on his business card) so I can at least send him a card from NY. Got to get up and face the day. Avril back from her final exam in ½ hour – then off to Landover Mall to see Saturday Night Fever.
24 Dec 77 - midnight – Plush Palace
The Big Day. Go home, sleep, wake up, do laundry, take
dogs for shots, buy snow tires. In a haze of infatuation – J was in for 5 hours tonight watching me dance with a sense of unmistakable pride. He asked for my phone number so he could call me on Christmas Day – I gave him all of them.
New York City Dec 25 77 – Fri night. Life is so interesting, Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Lovely intimate family talks – just what family should be doing for perspective on past and future. In two days Avril and I drive out to Michigan to see Merrill – 11 hours – tonight’s dinner in the Village then an early night. Heard of a studio apt on the island – winterized – going for $200/month. Of course I will have enough royalties for that…or won’t I? Harcourt royalty dept uncooperative, editor Lauren very cagey. But won’t the island kill my already comatose sex life? This is the longest time I’ve been away from dancing and I miss it. It’s a great substitute for sex but not a complete one alas. Physical activity vital to my peace of mind.
96th St off the Park- New York City – Dec 77
This apt is triggering horrible flashbacks to how sick I was at the beginning of last summer. Scary that a man could do this to me. Don’t ever want to get that sick again. Makes me sorry this diary exists – my trusty friend – because now misery has an actual corporeal reality. Burn these sickening wails before I die. The Victorians always did.
Well I’m raring to get back. Not only do I miss the dancing, I miss the bar. Ah, the nightlife. Always a party atmosphere but I could feel superior for not drinking (or getting high). I like our status and protections – I like getting paid for exercising, being admired and having fun. This pleasure just cannot be shared – Mom’s face crimps closed – and I am lost in the unredeemable beastliness and ugliness she feels certain it must be. The fact that I am a feminist and consider myself spiritually in tune with the universe also is incomprehensible to her. (Wives can get into big spiritual trouble too, but I am too tactful to bring that up.)
Unfortunately there is no way to defend myself except by attacking back – her “safe”, closed,
restricted world of handmaiden to Dad, feeding and burnishing him like a racehorse, talking him “up” as if she were his sports coach, does not seem to me more inherently saintly.
But to Mom self-loss is what “sainthood” is – you totally do not regard yourself in your care for someone else. The fact that you are puffing them up like a grampus, encouraging them to be completely selfish, is I guess too shockingly cruel to mention. So I’m stuck in Patient Griselda mode with undeserved imprecations heaped on my innocent head. I wonder if it would be too nasty to talk about how I am sacrificing myself for those poor lonely men who need to look upon a perfect feminine ideal while they swill beer? Guess I better not.
Mom is fond of saying that love doesn’t work unless you open your heart to the other but you can’t do it without marriage! I say Jervaze and I are “courting” which is a very different thing. I don’t think I will ever open my heart again. I think perhaps it opens by itself, naturally. One might as well tear a flower open and complain about the quality of the bloom.
Interesting being here with Brett and Genevieve and watching someone else’s marriage from the outside. Does not look too enviable. Reading “Eclipse of the Hero in Victorian Fiction.” He’s in eclipse everywhere else, too, I may add.
12:10 PM- Plush Palace – Wed 19 Oct 77
Dance night, then dance the next day kind of rough. And
days are bad when the weather’s good – no one comes in. I seem to have a lot of bills – just turned on the heat – but I’m meeting them. Making some inroads today on Thomson’s Life of Frost. Randy fired Robin – Yvonne needs $300 immediately because she just bought a piano. Well good luck getting it out of this crowd is all I can say. Paz’s “on call” because she left her husband and moved into the motel across the street. Let’s hope she shows up. Last time I saw her she was pretty depressed; said she gave him “the best four years” of her life. I have to get this all down in case I need it someday. R used to be especially pissed when I got nostalgic for dancing. But dancing is its own little world.
7:30 PM- Plush Palace – Thu 20 Oct 77
This aft I was getting ready for work phone rang, I say
hello and Ryder’s tight little voice says: (very meaningfully) Hello. I turned the radio down (Lakmé) and said casually as I could, “How are you?”
He said he should enroll in FBI school after all the trouble he’d had tracking me down.
(It couldn’t have been that hard since Mom and Dad’s house sitter has been giving my # to all and sundry.) Said he was punished now for being a non-communicative procrastinator who should fling himself off the 14th St Bridge. I told him I lived in Beltsville and danced in Virginia, refused to give further details. I didn’t let him get away with any of his garbage. He said I’d been in town since Sept 8 without contacting him. I said he’d made it pretty plain he didn’t like what I had to offer. Then why did I come back? I said, I like it here. Creep! Like he owns the world!
He said, will you eat with me? Hmmm. Something rattling
in Pandora’s box. While I hesitated he said don’t make me disguise myself as a girl scout cookie salesman (he could get away with it, too.) He said he hasn’t gone out to dinner since our last night at Alfio’s!!! (I guess the Emmys don’t count but I said nothing.) Said he’s having to give back his furniture and sleep on an air mattress because he can’t make the payments. Aww. This is the idiocy of buying furniture on time, but I still say nothing. So we’re meeting Babe’s Sun at 3:30. Seems fairly safe… Rushed to library and took out every true murder book I could find. Just in case.
2 Nov – Plush Palace – 6:05 PM.
R called this morning to “report in!’ Just to chat about his
day! No more of that, I said. I’m busy. Slam. I don’t chat and I’m not sorry it’s too late to learn. Actually feeling amazingly happy. Kiki showed me how to cut off my corn with an exacto knife. All better! Still in Vol I of Life of Frost. He was a repulsive human being, all right. Nowhere near as fun as Agatha. Precious equilibrium recovered.
8:30 PM 8 Nov 77
I gave him the full treatment, poor guy. Red Italian boots,
glittery eyeshadow, tight, tight jeans. Deliberately drove Conn Ave but no markers from the past reached out their claws. Felt strong and blissful. I was first there (of course) so could order carafe of wine and think. Thinking, I’ll just explain to him that my idea of friendship and intimacy requires a degree of truth telling that appears to freak him out.
He wore his high heels, too. His hair is blonder, longer and messier than I remembered and it suits him. Off to the Bahamas next weekend, he says for a “dive”. He wore the pinky ring I gave him (he says he can’t get it off.) But that holy glow, that shine he used to have is gone for me. I get it that he doesn’t know the pain he caused – shallow people can’t. And that’s pitiable, really. He’s not just deaf in one ear, he’s deaf in his soul.
He has a carefully worked out a “barstool rationale” for what happened to us; we became lovers before we became friends. I have no comment. Postponing sex would not have helped – and it might have made things worse dumping all the responsibility for timing on me. I think when he saw how easy it was to draw blood he couldn’t help doing it, and I was a fool and an idiot. I ordered the fruit and cheese plate but left before it arrived. Realize how much I want all this to be in the past. No future of any kind exists for us. Not even in fantasy. The future is what matters. Told him to give my regards to the folks at the Shalimar. He said he’d give me a buzz. Bet I can finish Demon by Thanksgiving. Avril coming. Lucky I have a second bedroom. Furnish it with Kliban posters, a thrift shop bureau and a mattress on the floor.
12 Nov 77 6:25 PM Plush Palace
I finally called R. (He’s been leaving me messages.)
I said if we were going to have a relationship of any kind – the friendship that he wanted – we would have to have rules (I got the idea from Nancy Mitford.) He said he was so glad I called, he’d been having the most awful day. Took my card out of his rolodex but couldn’t bring himself to destroy it and put it away in a drawer. What rules he said. I said we’d have to think. No idle calls? No talk about past? He said, “Please forgive me” but of course I can’t. I said “Forgive me.” He said there’s nothing to forgive,
Dancing suddenly OK? I said we’re done with all
that stuff. Starting over. But I’m very busy working a lot and writing a lot and he said he’s very busy working a lot. No expectations. We both said fine and I’m pretty sure he’s as relieved as I am. We’re going to Looking for Mr. Goodbar Thurs – I want to see it too. He knows how I love movies. It’s perfect weather to pick up Avril at the airport and drive to Galesville tomorrow for brunch with Mom & Dad at the marina. There’s a big white farmhouse on Old Annapolis Rd I always look at longingly.
Plush Palace 4 PM Wed 15 Dec 1977
Shaking like a leaf. Ryder called the club saying he
was called early into work tonight – change of plans. Called his work immediately – “Mr. Arlen’s desk.” Left her a message saying I got his message but do not call the club. Hope this stymies him till after Christmas but I know he is going to say we need each other’s workplace
for last minute plan changes.
I say is THIS IS NOT DATING. WE ARE NOT DATING. You can’t be trusted with my workplace #.
Then I start looking desperately for Jervaze to come in. He’s supplying me lately with that all-important fantasy vitamin of which I have been so deficient for so long. Can’t even THINK about R to the background of Disco Inferno.
Sat – 18 Dec 77 9:30 AM
Very dissatisfied with life and self and, as usual, in
complete confusion as to what to do about it. I suspect I should not be making any big investment decisions, like buying a house and furnishing it but I am sick of being such a goddam wanderer. Avril has been accepted at U of MD – my job is to finish this goddam novel. If I could finish it maybe March, April and May could be my traveling months. I thought March skiing could be nice – in Devon’s back yard.
I am in danger of making an idiot of myself over Phil Jervaze – “Adonis” as I privately call him . He seems very attracted but is not making the first move. I’ll have to bring him along somehow. Going tomorrow to Renaissance Music at the National Shrine. Should I wear my rhinestones or can I restrain myself? Avril says I’m doing a good job taking her mind off of Dipstick, (my name for Mason). Bought her $80 worth of clothes – she can pay me back when I need help with the January rent.
The Plush Palace 20 Dec 1977 – 4 PM Avril called to say that Ryder called again – trying to find out my
holiday plans from her. Says he might have to work. I am surprised to be shaking so much. I am very unhappy about this level of communication. I was actually hoping not to have to deal with him till after Christmas. Would prefer not to give him an opportunity to go into his act. I’ve learned if I call his work I get his secretary. Left the message I will be “out of town”. Favor, Alysse., The trouble is, telling a game-player you don’t play games is all part of the game to them! There is absolutely nothing I can do to step out of this thing except bore him to death. We will see each other fewer and fewer times, the emotional content will be constantly plummeting, and meanwhile, the chicks on the side he has summoned up for contrast and amusement will be clamoring for center stage. Let them have it.
And I have my own magic pill in reserve – Jervaze. That anyone can drift through life so far unironically with shoulder length platinum hair, platinum mustache and a white cowboy hat, drive a 72 Shelby and work for the Pentagon titillates my Yankee soul. But that’s what’s so much fun about the fine commonwealth of Virginia. It’s full of these people. Uh oh. I hear the rhythm of Disco Inferno, audience’s current favorite. Dust myself with body glitter and I’m up.
8:30 AM Thurs Sept 15 1977
Up early spending the last of my money on necessaries – hardware, lampshades, contact paper.
Fri 16 September 1977
My books arrived at Larry’s! I spent the morning sending them out. Then drove to the Landover Mall, bought two g-strings and pasties and off to the Plush Palace. Steve was there – (Randy the bouncer just hired) thrilled to see me.
Wanted to know where I’d been but I turned that easily away.Vacay! Who wouldn’t! Told me to come to work Saturday night and they’d give me my schedule. So that’s settled. I don’t like trying to live without money. Took the landlord my paint color selection – he buys the paint and I do the work. Probably will take me the next week. Every now and then am attacked by that claustrophobic feeling of restlessness and purposelessness but I am able to keep it at philosophical bay. Working at my poem index made me feel strong and soothed.
PREPPY
Corseted with verbs French teacher sweeps Cherry blossoms from the tennis court As she would like to french The cherries, squelch them soundly Beneath her soccer-spiking shoes
While the headmistress Cello-breasted Polishes graffiti carved upon her coffin In Chaucerian High English, And the girls – Nun-white, nun-blue
Soar above the hockey fields like Foul-mouthed angels, anticipated ecstasy locked In narrow hope chests ripening on Amphetamines Free Love Bad dreams.
Called Chloe to see if I can get on the radio – she was excited to hear from me, but unfortunately gave Erika my number. Erika called – I was nervous that she wanted me to rewrite her manuscripts, but she just invited me to breakfast. After that she has another appointment so she can’t swallow up my day. Letter from Avril saying she is coming end of Oct.
10:15 PM Sat 17 Sept 77 – The Plush Palace, Alexandria Virginia Ego lift. Nothing’s changed. I’m still the best dancer in the place. Four dancers on and I know two of them. The gossip, the Costume exchange, the curling irons, the dope in the dressing room – it’s all coming back to me. They’ve introduced some weird rules, like customers get to play the music, but it’s still a fun and relaxed place to be. Steve the floor manager says I can have all the work I want so I might be able to put money away.
Sun 18 Sept 77 Opal comes to over to say “hi” but really to complain about her incipient divorce. Not the best company. Not the best climate for me either – I found myself sobbing over Ryder (fortunately was alone by then). Why does it seem a lost paradise? So I can still get into that sort of mood. Nice phone call with Mom and dad, not too pressured. They are coming to a boatyard in Annapolis to look at a boat – will see me then. One of the best things about this house is the month-to month lease. Feel I can leave any time but if I behave well they won’t kick me out. Gorgeous location but forty-five minute highway commute to The Plush Palace. Still wish I could live in Virginia.
Wed AM 20 Sept 77 Sent out a ton of poems. Replied to a woman who wants pieces for an anthology. Got a beautiful love-letter from Devon! His usual length – both sides of one page. Talked about how much fun we had in August, dressing up and going out and “afterwards…!” Made me smile. I said to hell with money and called Avril because I wanted to share – Mason is not there during the day. She is in a bad place. Providential I called. He has taken to staying out at night without explanation – she is frantic. Thank God she is coming here. I told Randy since I’m your best dancer, how about a raise. He gave me one! Only flaw to this house – they need to fix hot water. I had to heat water to wash my hair. Bought 2 more costumes bringing my total up to six – the bare minimum I’d say. Plush Palace – 11:20 AM Sun 24 Sept – wrote a fourteen page letter to Avril tonight. There’s a very pretty blond here who looks just like R – they could be mistaken for each other – but it’s not him. 9:40 PM – walls dry so I could hang paintings. What a difference. Reading Redinger’s bio of George Eliot, The Emergent Self. Like it very much. Turns out I love driving to work – 5Pm is rush hour on the Beltway – everyone’s coming home but I’m going out for the night! Makes me feel weirdly close to all those people. And apparently they feel close to me – though they could just be reacting to my bumper sticker (Colette was a Nudie Dancer). They don’t seem to get the literary reference.
Mon 3 Oct 1977 I hear only from my sister Merrill who declares my book a “brilliant satire”. She wants to know why I work? Shouldn’t I tour with book? Sigh. Give me the money and leave me alone I say. Spent the AM phoning around trying to find my book in all the stores. Only found it one place. Dropped note to publisher.
Out for Courvoisier with Erika who lectured me on my book. I ended up defending the Victorians saying everyone now thinks “honesty and openness” are going to save them but we don’t know enough about ourselves for real honesty and our lives are still based on “smothered panic” as far as I can see. (See Janet Case’s strictures to V. Woolf. ) Well off to my double life. When I pull into the Plush Palace parking lot I have such a good feeling. Everything coming together. Down the old runway.
Bought the most wonderful gold stripper shoes that tie with ribbons and have clear Lucite six-inch heels. I finally have enough costumes to feel really professional – every set should be good. Randy always compliments me. I am slowly phasing my hair from red to blonde – seems to help with the tips. I can live on fruit and cream of wheat – only buy groceries with tip money. Little man down front muttering “fuck me-fuck me-fuck me” over and over but not loud enough to be evicted. Randy said I am the best dancer in Washington area.
Sat 8 Oct 1977
Giving a dinner party. Bought 8 old-fashioned glasses for 50 cents apiece, five floor pillows, peacock chairs and a glass dining table. Now I’m looking for silk eiderdown (for my bed) in some violent color. Bought beautiful rose-lilac fabric for curtains. Randy gave me another raise without my even asking for one. I love my body again! After the long estrangement caused by Ryder…he deliberately tried to undermine my faith in my body. He would prefer bad sex with a slave as long as he can be boss. Wait – isn’t that the marriage he just got out of? Guess we all repeat ourselves.
7:30 PM Tues 11 Oct 77
I’m too fucking fragile. All my problems come from pretending I’m not. I look forward to old age when presumably throbbing metabolism, soaring hormones and plunging brain waves will have smoothed out. How to describe this scrambled day? I’ve been vibrating like a cilia ever since I got up this morning. Made dentist, gyno appts, shots for dogs, dog licenses, took angel puppies on an hour’s walk. Divorce lawyer on the 26th: “John Love”: seems appropriate. Clear the decks for writing.
My area of Beltsville very rural. Poetry in all directions. Reading Mildred Savage’s A Great Fall and getting lots of ideas. Vac cleaner to repair shop they say they can fix for under $15. I hate errands, a disgusting dribble of irreplaceable time. Rewarded myself by getting Sleeping Murder at the library. Already know Dr Kennedy is the murderer.
2PM Wed 12 Oct 77 – Plush Palace
Some men seem to interpret the fact that I’m a dancer as some sort of personal challenge to them. You can feel the spike of hostility. “You’re making me think about sex again!” Is it fear of rejection? Any aura of professionalism bothers them also. I always curtsy especially low to the hostile tables – they can never figure out whether I am mocking them or not AND THEY THINK I PROBABLY AM! I save them a lot of money by getting them thrown out early. One guy asked me how long it would take to get in bed with me. His erection was so obvious I almost asked, “And what is your little friend drinking?” but instead I said, “5 years.” He showed up next night, saying, “Day one of the five year plan!” I like those guys much better.
Final R conclusion: What a JERK! Jerk’s absolutely the right word - in instinctual reflex – no brain activity involved. Will I ever find a gorgeous man (blond, please) whose soul connected to his brain?
9:20 PM Thurs 13 Oct 77
Shopping Loehmann’s yesterday with Maeve. 3 sweaters, silk jumpsuit with jacket & scarf, lime-colored silk jersey blouse, socks, boots, shoes, gloves - $140 cash. Nice. Saw a wonderful fake fur coat I’d like to come back for. It has a priceless air of Ken Russell camp. Buy it with my Folger money – Shakespeare would understand.
Maeve bought nothing. Couldn’t find one thing she liked, reading labels with the expression of Queen Victoria viewing a slum. And the free-for all dressing rooms full of naked people just astonished her. (Stuff I see every day.)
She wants to know exactly why Wealthier People rejected this clothing at its first price? They must know something we don’t. (Wondrous rhinestone earrings to dance in, too. M. expressed pious horror. ) People like this amaze me. Why is your own taste of little importance? Then went out to dinner at a Middle Eastern restaurant – my choice – heavenly lamb shish kebab and a belly dancer! I loved it but Maeve had to rush out before dessert. But as it seems I can never be with ANYONE – even lovers – longer than 3 hrs it was just as well.
Folger morning started badly, hair looked mangy, face requires immediate skin graft. Dog hair even on NEW clothing (How is this possible?) Running an hour behind schedule (compulsively early me). May Miller gave me worst intro I ever hope to have, misquoted my poems and said I was a grad of the U of Minn. I thought I would sob with emotion 52 times during reading. My “woodcunt” poem did not go down well (even though it is definitely my most Shakespearean).
Damn. Then I could have strangled Erika Gelbfisz (at the after party) who is so scornful and cynical about everything you can’t even have an ordinary conversation with her. I felt like throwing my wine in her face saying, “Suppose you actually succeed in making us all feel rotten, what then? Fighting in the streets?” Nothing’s worth anything in her opinion, so why is she alive exactly? This is what gets my hostility going but because I am at a party I DON’T WANT TO GET INTO IT. So I just growl and stew. I don’t care for Cocktail Party Standing Around – my right boot was trying to extinguish my left toe, a toe already threatened with extermination from dancing. This is real Italian leather so SHOULD ultimately fit my feet – I can see each boot slowly outlining my toes – if I don’t come down with gangrene first. Will try Wet Washcloth Stuffing tonight. (Still, I looked ravishing, my dear, in a blue gaucho three-piece suit and my red, red, high-heeled boots.) Poet Usher Glayne seemed impressed with me – but he’s an old man.
To bed with my main squeeze, Agatha Christie. Thank God for that woman. She has pulled me single handedly through the last three months.
I was just drifting off when Marc Kramer called. We talked ½ hr. He bought a sailboat and a BMW and wanted to be sure to let me know. I like the sailboat and the car but the desire to “impress” me diminishes him in my eyes. Sad to say. He’s presently at risk of being filed under “has no conversation”. Well, he did talk about work. They wanted to fire him from The Washington Project, then admitted he had been right all along. He’d love to have dinner sometime, “see how I live”. Uh oh. Can I keep this relationship out of the sexual? I don’t want to go to bed, even experimentally with someone Lacking the Necessary Spark. Could they make up for it by enthusiasm or step-by-step instructions? I hesitate. Is it ever possible to just date? It was AWFUL with Keith. Marc, however, has a gift of humor. And my parents like him. “No expectations?” I finally say. And he promises.
4:20 PM Fri Oct 14 – 77
Blessed book! The joy, the solidity, the security this diary has afforded me all my life can’t be measured. Bizarre letter from my dentist thanking me for referring “Mr. Arlen” to them! Apparently he is stalking me. Now I have to wear makeup to the dentist! Hope I don’t run into Ryder while wacked out on Novocain. Usual day of quotidian pursuits, washing lingerie & hair, filing, letters. Avril writes that Mason is moving in with a friend! He thinks it will be “better” for her. Bet the “friend” is female! Sure sounds like death knell to me – he dragged her all the way out there, ran busily through her money & lost his spark. Still other’s relationships are always so much clearer! Now we can be glad she’s not going to school – she needs to get out NOW.
Plush Palace – Mon – 11:40 PM 17 Oct 77
4 Dancers on tonight but Cindy and Linda walked out, ticked about my raise (I didn’t tell them.) So more dancing (and $$). Plus coffee machine broken and we need to order out so I treated myself to 2 Krispy Kremes. Ah, the simple joys. Five-year plan guy is back. His fave play? “Love is Alive” – unfortunately.
The most gorgeous autumn weather tonight driving here – my heart soared. ONE MORE SET! Then fling on fake fur “Shakespearean” coat, jump into El Diablo, off into the night. Bar deserted, tips unspeakable. Asked if I could cash a check with Randy he just handed me a $20 bill, so there’s gas. Kiki says she’s getting married, worked the whole evening on her guest list for Big Event in Fredericksburg. Reading Hardwick’s Seduction & Betrayal and appreciating it although something’s “off” about her. Why won’t the ventriloquist put down the dummy and just talk? And she’s just flat wrong about Woolf and Plath.
I brood about letting R. know where I work. Brave or stupid? Stupid, I think. Better class him with “dead end relationships”. I have plenty of people I’d never want to see again – Bruce and Kyro springs to mind. Other people I feel good about like Toss Sheffield. He’d be fun to see again. Could he handle my dancing? He had a fun “hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy” attitude in general towards effort & enterprise.
I can’t sleep Because you’re gone My muscles wake My mind goes spinning on And where your fingers Plied and pruned my face Night air is cold and Caustic in its place And where we turned and woke In complex rhyme, I’m left To face the music frayed by time A waltz which once we won A losing battle choreographed for one. None to explore or Appreciate my line though now at last It’s incontestably mine.
2:30 PM Dunkin Donuts, Eelsboro, Maine Fri. 26 Aug 77
Here I am again: have I changed? I like myself better,
I think I can say that. Thurs night was a big success. Devon came in with an IMMENSE bottle of white wine – he either needs it for himself or he’s trying to turn me into an alcoholic (with my full cooperation.) The clam and noodle thing I invented was quite good but he wasn’t ready to eat till nine and we didn’t get to bed till midnight where he revealed a sexually savage side to his nature that has been previously unseen. So maybe he was nerving himself. (I loved it). We finished the housecleaning and were off to the airport by 11. Fairly silent in the car, though he was tender. When I mentioned he might come down to DC he said he didn’t think there was much of a possibility – so now I’m worrying that I’ve been pushed onto Bad Girl Island while he pines for Pure Young Innocent Eng girl with who he would NEVER do those enjoyably awful things. (She’s 21!!!! He knew her 24 hrs!!!) I shouldn’t be silly. I really can’t ever “lose” him. I think he loves me and everything else is just scar tissue. Devastating airport goodbye – he asked me to “write soon”. I’m probably lucky he loves me as much as he does. I was looking damn good if I do so say so myself in backless red halter top and tight, tight jeans. I do want him to remember me as beautiful.
11:30 AM Sat 27 Aug 77 M & D are on Ryder’s side!!! And they HATE him! In other words, they will line up with anybody rather than me. They say of course R “behaves badly” if I am having an “affair” (don’t you love the archaic term?) with Devon! I say he doesn’t even know about Devon, plus we weren’t exclusive BY HIS CHOICE plus we were BROKEN UP. All still seems to be my fault. Incredibly, they think I am not SUFFERING ENOUGH. Here are people who have lectured me all my life to find any excuse for other people’s bad behavior – life has surely injured them somehow. They didn’t have Advantages! According to them I am the only human being alive who doesn’t get an excuse – I should just “be different”. How, asks mom, can I meet “suitable young men” while dancing? Suitable young men! (They like Marc Kramer who’s a complete horndog and a political troglodyte. But at least he can afford me!) Am I living in a Trollope novel? I am so annoyed I don’t want to accept their hospitality but I really don’t want to rent a room in the House of the Damned aka Burnside Inn. which doesn’t take dogs – who wept to see me again like children – then immediately got over it.
Dad’s a very restless retiree I must say but don’t ask me what to advise. I’m too ignorant. My advice to everyone is “write”; like naturalists say “Be alone in nature” and religious people say “Find God.” Reading Vol I. V. Woolf’s diary (so different from A Writer’s Diary) and hitting the gin. Mom thinks I’m taking “bad” advice from messed up writers – “modeling” myself on failures and suicides – (Dad calls them “degenerates”) – because it’s “cool”. That’s why I need the gin. I need the gin the first minute I wake up. Must try not to be such a limp limpet. Told Mom if R calls at night not to come get me.
Sun 9:30 AM 28 Aug 77
Mom washing windows. God - I think I am supposed to
offer help but I Refuse. I need to get the hell out of here. Mom says I can’t add my laundry to hers but have to go to the laundromat in town. So the Battle is On. I’ll just go around smelling bad so there. Mom and Dad are sailing down the Inland Waterway but not till Oct. Have a horrible feeling I’m not out of the woods on this Ryder thing. Maybe I can get established in Wash without him knowing. If I go back to him I will despise myself. Keep D as my lucky talisman.
9:45 PM Drunk, fat and exhausted. Parents had cocktail party inviting Island Poet. (Published in The New Yorker.) Tried to give her the rundown on my summer but it sounds a complete waste – “Wrote half of a no-good book, got my other book rejected”. Of course my summer doesn’t sound like anything with the sex & love left out!!! Am I trapped at the end of a cul de sac? No; there is something there. I just can’t find it yet.
Dad said he’s sure my life provides a lot of stories, but maybe what I need is a PhD in Eng Lit! Mom’s reaction to that is rigid disapproval. (He’ll never make that mistake again.) To explore the boundaries of one’s soul is Selfish. One Lives to Serve (or to Claim one is Serving. So, if you’re too stupid to know you’re selfish its win-win for the small-minded!) Tried to read The Clocks but its Agatha Christie’s worst. Absolutely meaningless. Poor Virginia Woolf going through a very bad, painful period. Obviously sick, recording only weather & food. Now theorists act like she was “mental” not liking to look at herself but Vita Sackville-West felt the same way. Couldn’t look in a mirror, wouldn’t buy evening dresses or go to parties! (And she was on the sexual prowl, unlike poor VW.) I think their era was actually worse about beauty than we are – they gave it a “magic” “classical” quality so it was very much restricted. We see more beauty – and in weird places. Otherwise how explain Leslie Caron? Jeanne Moreau? Charlotte Rampling? Hardly classic beauties but wonderfully, rightfully worshipped as goddesses. I see hope for all of us.
8:00 AM Mon 29 Aug 77
It’s real Agatha Christie weather – fog so dense you
can’t see the water. Nevertheless the ferry’s running – Mom took Dad down. I’m feeling successful, sober and sane. I’m doing exactly what I want and will find my own way. I’m determined to be happy and not develop some kind of “rejection phobia.” Not knock out the props of my own happiness. Accept the fact that my pride has been hardest hit.
PHANTOMS
The ghost awaits his chance Inside us all Revenge de-bodies – Anticipates the dark Impatience ill-concealed Grasps our foot Beneath the turning of the stair Reveals a face as blank as Nightmare whose Icy, seaweed coils entwine mistrust Around our throats Suppress our breath While we dead live.
4:20 PM Letter from the Folger Shakespeare Library
inviting me to read Oct 13! Even Mom was impressed. 20 mins pays $50! I’ve hit the big time! Wish I’d known this when Island Poet was asking me why I don’t just kill myself and get it over with. M & D can’t argue with me going back to DC now (they tell me Berthe Slaughter’s condo is for sale on the cutest little road. Right on the waterfront. I say I would rather have the art gallery next to the Atlantic Grocery $5000, no bath or kitchen. In case they’re buyin’. They aren’t, in spite of the fact that they are very flush with money right now. Got their $$ back from NY State bankruptcy but Dad always in a panic that we’ll figure out how rich he is.)
9:00 PM Called Shoulders. He said dogs will be all right for a couple of days but he’s being evicted at the end of Sept! Too bad, such a nice house. (And in Chevy Chase!) So I’m spared kennel fees for 2 days at least. R must be back at work (if he still has a job). Reading old NY Times Book Reviews in front of a roaring fire. Dishwashing break – I said I’d do them. Pick up Agatha Christie afterwards – the preferred reading for “shock cases”. (She was a shock case herself. Absent in the Spring is very fine).
Island 10 PM Monday night, 5 Sept 77
In bed in the Barnacle drinking coffee, eating bread
with honey. Delicious solitude. Can’t go to the Main House because Genevieve’s friends from Boston are there – they no sooner arrived for this Fantasy vacation than they decided they need a divorce. Fortunately, they are quiet about it. The one thing they can’t deal with is their dog – tomorrow I have to drive him to the ferry. Oh well. I’ve been enraptured by this delicious solitude – beachcombing is very healing. I guess I am just a solitary sort – don’t really care for people at all, I fear. Last night a bad dream about Ryder – treating me cruelly and me, paralyzed. In the daytime – in my conscious mode – I remember everything good about him, his lips mouth and fingers – his constant air of playfulness. The way we fit perfectly together like interlocking puzzle pieces made it nice that he was short – my mirror opposite, only male. My lost twin. But nature abhors a balance, apparently. Must remind myself how he had to try to turn it to his advantage, throwing the whole system off and spinning my world into frozen space. Now he doesn’t know where I am (although he might suspect.) No phone in this building thank God. Tomorrow goodbye Maine – back to DC to house-hunt. M & D have been good about not dragging me to things – enjoyed the Smythes sculpture show – parties not so much. Parties seem like “consensus building events” where I’m fated to be perennially on the outs. Ford Madox Ford made some kind of statement about how people have to achieve a level of “ordinariness” to be “successful” – I can’t remember the exact quote. Plus I lack the patience to look it up. R felt I despised him intellectually, which of course, I did. I don’t think of myself as stratified, but he is and when you’re with a stratified person, you become so. Sometimes I am in mourning for the part of me that died. I wish I could get my letters back – but they were only love-letters. Must seem now like the ravings of an insane person. Well, there’s no reason to see him again. I think the casual relationship is beyond me. I hope in the future I’ll be careful of men going mach one across the sexual barrier. I’ve got to stop looking at sex as a vitamin requiring periodic intravenous doses.
Chevy Chase, MD - 10:15 PM Thurs 8 Sept.
At Shoulder’s house. Not a bad drive down – (washing the
dogs right before the ferry (I had to – they stank) put some time pressure on me – but I made the ferry anyway. Larry – Shoulders – looks different – has a moustache. Talks about needing a roommate – does he mean me? He doesn’t know where yet and I don’t want to live with him. His constant string of ignorant pickups would eventually get me down. He doesn’t mention Ryder and I don’t look up his TV show. Promising stuff in the classifieds – a garden apt in Landover, a townhouse in Dale City, sharing a house in Kensington. Took the dogs on the old walk – they remembered the route. Huge construction at my old house. L’Escargot closed.
CURATRIX
Cold lonely core I was Before you found me Freed me from Ambition’s boundary. Now I’m a single facet on your stone Most myself when I’m alone. But Memories like stones I’m free to choose And in life’s river, Eventually, lose.
5 PM Sept 9
Kensington House hopeless. You have to join some
kind of food co-op that’s like a cult religion and there’s a huge emphasis on kitchen and cooking duties. They all eat together. Seems like the worst of college and boarding school to me. I’m now sitting in a real estate office which is really a garage waiting for a guy who’s already an hour late. He’ll be here in 10 mins they say, then he’s going away for 2 weeks so I hope he will want to close the deal tonight, It’s described as an old apartment, high ceilings, fireplace. $210 a month. So I’m just praying the neighborhood’s not too bad. 7:00 PM Bleak. Too bleak. Tried to imagine myself doing my exercises on that floor, standing in that kitchen waiting for water to boil, etc. Couldn’t manage. Feeling very stressed. Do I even want to live in this city? It’s just that I know I can easily make a living if the book doesn’t take off. Went to the library and loaded up on Agatha Christies to help handle the strain. It works. Maybe I need to get a shag haircut and spend the winter in Spain. Now why don’t I do that, other than the obvious reason I can’t afford it and have missed my dogs as much as I want to. Another guy says he has half of a house I might want. With a fenced in yard.
8:15 AM Wed 14 September – Powder Mill Road
Drinking coffee in my own kitchen from the mug that
was my present to myself last morning on the island. The guy is selling this house as a rental property and was amazingly cavalier – needed a tenant – didn’t look up my refs or demand cosigner. Absolutely cool when I described myself as a ”writer” so “dancer” remains beneath the radar. (Dad would say that proves I know dancing’s “bad”! I refuse to be unsafe just to convince my own father I’m respect-worthy.) Yesterday very full day. Got up at 8 and moved the dogs to their fenced in yard. Fetched the truck, loaded and unloaded with Larry The Shoulders’ help – bookcases, boxes, mattress, desk, sofa – had truck back by 3. A thousand robins on the weed-grown lawn. I wonder how long I will be looking at this peaceful green view.
Alysse Aallyn 