Alysse Aallyn

Tag: Memoir

  • Inspired Pleasure

    Diary of a Dancer

    1:45 PM Tues 2 Aug 77
    No damn mail for THREE DAYS.  No stock certificate,
    nothing from my agent. And I made sure she had my right address.
    I think diets brew self-hatred. Reading about Simenon and
    having trouble with sentences like “50 of his novels date from this period.”
    Shouldn’t read about this guy.
    Starting to dream about Dupont Circle.
    10PM
    Just back from a long bike trip down interesting country
    road.  Felt I was visiting my future self.  Glimpsing dark houses,
    lighted bow windows, Canada geese as tame as ducks.
    Alice Crimmins – did she do it?  Rorech’s theory pure
    hogwash. I think there are people who can “talk themselves into”
    feeling innocent. I’ve met lots of amnesiacs.
    Plan to buy silk shirts (in Washington) and read all the newspapers. 
    Emerge from my cocoon. Read Graham Greene section of Dangerous
    Edge.

        7 PM Wed Aug 3 77
        Sitting out on deck well pleased with self. Stock cert arrived

    today.  Called Chevy Chase Bank and Trust got girl who didn’t know anything
    but relayed instructions shouted at her by someone else.  Signed stock,
    climbed in Volvo, sent the whole thing off certified mail. Money should be in
    by 10th. Surely Inzar can’t drop below 9.  I can manage on $900.
    Long bike ride had me puffing like a grampus; feeling
    extra hungry so had a bowl of plain grits. Orwell’s letters. Kipling
    too boring. Never been able to stand anything he’s written. Reading
    trashy gothic The Room Beneath The Stairs makes me think I can
    do something with my old The Bride and the Wolves.
    Conditioned my hair (oleocap.)  Looks good in spite of sun
    & chlorine and it’s nice & long.
    Maybe R’s been fired.  He’s a coward and that would shut
    him up. Shouldn’t even think about it.  I’m a nail biter looking for a
    nail to bite. There’s a lot to be said for the joys of starting over.
    Stomach shrinking & all that.

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


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


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

    ANOREXIC

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

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

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

    Sun 12:30 PM Deck 7 Aug 77
    Sitting over coffee, grits (to which Mrs. McManus has now
    addicted me) and Dorothy Eden. (The Sleeping Bride – very good!)
    Praying like mad for writing money. I could afford to get a divorce!
    Lucky things worked out the way they did – keeps me from obsessing
    over R.
    Bike ride! It’s a form of prayer.
    6Pm Hammering away – great scene – getting the good stuff
    – typewriter ribbon gave out! Come on! At 6 PM!! It’s like having your
    horse shot out from under you. I was going to spend the evening writing
    Goddamit.
    Starting to worry about R coming back from the Finger Lakes – he
    knows where I am – would he show up here? Aack! No! Impossible. 
    He can’t be alone. Wouldn’t drive that distance without a captive ear.
    Reading Jane Aiken’s study of Jane Austen. Don’t feel
    a moment’s anxiety about D.

            Mon 8 Aug 77
        3 PM On deck loving the rising wind, reading The Scalpel

    of Scotland Yard (Spilsbury). A perfect day. Trapped here for a few
    hours till the man shows up to fix trash masher – but at least I got my
    “naked exercises” out of the way. Today’s a scorcher – using air-conditioning
    for the first time. Cheated on my diet – ate a whole can of tuna.
    Packed in water, fortunately. Body screaming for peaches and
    almonds. Gutted the Pevensey library. They are running out of
    books for me.


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


    8:45 AM Wed 10 Aug 77
    Like the alcoholics say, one day at a time! Exercises,
    diet, sunbathe, bike ride, swim, etc. Doing a good job at that – horrible
    job at writing – because I don’t hear from agent. Confidence completely
    collapsed. Sitting on the deck feeding Ms. McManus’ Caesar salad
    croutons to a squirrel. He really likes them. Reading Berckmann’s
    A Thing That Happens To You. Finished Thalberg’s bio – ho hum.
    No swimming – maybe bike ride in the rain (just a misting).

            3:30 PM 11 Aug 77 - Thurs
        Depressing letter from Chloe – she wants my help

    with her MSS. I agree with Henry James – all I can do is My Thing
    My Way. But I have to seem really approachable if I want radio
    work. Conundrum. Catatonia. Devon called. Do I want to get laid?
    I think so! Reading about grave robbers produces a poem;

    RESURRECTIONIST

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

  • Inspired Pleasure

    Diary of a Dancer

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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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

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

  • Inspired Pleasure

    Diary of a Dancer

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


    So elated! Hit the library today and hit it hard – Nancy
    Mitford’s novels, Hilaire Belloc’s Letters, life of Brontë. Delicious
    dreaming.

        5:35 Pm Broadcast Agency – 17 May 77 
    Enjoyed Helen Bevington’s The House was Quiet and

    the World Was Calm. In my bloodthirsty way would have preferred
    a better description of her husband’s death. Must make do with
    cuckoos and thrushes and loblolly pines.

        Bored to tears with this stupid job but you can’t say

    it’s “hard”. I’m the last happy dodo in a world of dinosaurs – all this
    equipment about to be ripped out. In 5 mins I get to disconnect
    phone, walk to Church St (parking’s free in Mafia territory). Drive
    to Arlington. Fish sandwich for dinner, read about Unquiet Haworth
    while wearing G-string & stockings. (So appropriate.) Expanding
    my house hunt to Rt 450. (Towards Annapolis; might need Dad to
    co-sign.) Obviously I can handle 45 min commute. (Don’t like rain,
    however.) Aware El Diablo is nothing but a hunk of junk. Future of
    American literature is fragile on some of these May nights.

        Broadcast Agency Thurs May 19, 77
    Only $134 in my saving acct and $7 in checking, curse that

    clutch. Crisis brewing with R. He is jealous and suspicious that I am out
    so much in the evening. He’s the one who wants to be non-exclusive
    so let him sweat. I have too many negative emotions about him – that
    he’s a coward, for example. Which would make him angrier – if I was
    dancing or screwing some other guy? (Which I have no desire to do and
    he should know me by now.) I think he sees my privacy and aloneness
    as infidelity. While he’s doubtless experimenting with “goofy chicks”
    who’ve “never been touched”; I’m only “unfaithful” with Shelley & Brontë.
    But that’s STILL too much for him.) After all this time if he still doesn’t
    realize I’m the best, the hell with him.

        Worry about the dangers of scars. They can seem to heal,

    but sometimes they re-shape the life beneath. All I know, is, contempt
    is the ultimate relationship killer. To love is to be happy with! Boy scout
    methods won’t work with me, the sabre-toothed tiger. Our relationship
    may already be fatally spoiled by resentment and revenge.

        Last night audience bored and hostile, but who cares?

    Bouncers won’t let them show it! We are goddesses to be revered and
    if they won’t worship at the shrine they’re out. Compared to the Shalimar,
    Palace is sheer joy. We are never hassled. God forbid if they try to
    touch us! They are bounced on their heads in the parking lot.
    If I have plain grits when I wake up at 9:30 or 10 (also coffee and
    orange juice) I can last till 4. Hunger peaks at 5. Salad, then rush
    to work – when I get there I’m not hungry anymore. Would like to cut
    the burger habit.
    Need to sew my G-strings but Merribeth can see me
    through the glass and she won’t leave. Reading Robt Fish as an
    antidote for poor Charlotte Brontë’s pain.

        1:00 AM Plush Palace – 20 May 77
    Four dancers tonight. Less work, more intellect. (!) Fred,

    the cook, insists I try his potato pancakes and they are DAMN good.
    Can’t say no. Long wailing phone call from Maeve this afternoon. Why
    is it we can see other’s relationships so clearly? “Dump him”, I always
    say. Am I telling myself something? R & I make date tomorrow night.
    Now wearing black velvet, smoky eyeshadow, black stockings and
    glitter I look in the mirror and am astonished by my own beauty. Take
    that, Ryder, you poor bastard. Eight mins and I’m up – One more
    dance and home. Front table of impressionable navy cadets eminently
    shockable.

        11:30 AM – Sun 22 May 77
    It’s all over, baby blue.  Getting up my strength for our date

    tonight by sunbathing in back yard – literally cooking in coconut oil.
    R. complained on Fri he called me “all night long” and I wasn’t home.
    Aww. Could have told him I was writing but lying just postpones the
    inevitable (because next time he’ll come over.) So told him I would
    explain on our date. A poem came suddenly :In the Butterfly Pavilion.

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

    Exhaustion from the violent motions of the pendulum.
    I made dinner, but he refused to eat. He said, “I think
    I know what you’re going to tell me. “
    I said, “I bet you don’t.”
    “It’s another man.”
    “No. I’m dancing again. I’m living here alone. I need the
    money.” (I should have said “it nourishes me UNLIKE
    SOME PEOPLE” but I’m a coward too.)
    He said very dismissively, ”Well, if that’s all you think you can
    do.”
    He who read my novel! Bastard! He said, “Well, the ball’s
    in my court.” So I guess, that means “Game on!” (Was it ever
    off?) And he left! Put his dinner carefully away in the freezer
    (I’m not made of money) and took the dogs on an hour’s walk.
    Now I lie here again in Paradise – baking, basting, trying to recall
    every detail of the last time we had sex. Because that’s all I’ll ever
    get from him.
    11:30 PM
    Session this aft with Chloe at Pacifica and a young PBS guy
    named John about writing a radio play for kids. I threw out some ideas.
    Then out for dinner with Chloe who complained that her husband has a
    mental illness given to him by the Army – he only wants to fuck never
    kiss. He fantasizes about “swinging” with another couple. I stolidly
    drink red wine and eat bad doughy pizza. She says he’s always on
    the verge of suicide, but she would never leave him. Play around,
    OK, but never leave.
    And I think that I have problems. I reject “victim” AND “slut”. The
    poet alone in her lofty palace. Feels like an abscess has been lanced.
    Heard about a great apt in Takoma Pk that’s OK for dogs.

        Broadcast Agency – 4:20 PM – Mon 23 May 77
    Present tenant says do not mention dogs so I am out of

    love with Perfect Apt. Would rather have a house. Lots of calls today.
    I seem to be getting fat – but I look so good – much too good for 128.
    How I hate to starve but it’s the only way. Need to be a fine-honed
    racing machine.
    Considering entering Courtney in the Saxton fellowship.
    Can I get a readable copy? Lack of sex keeping me awake at night.
    Now I know why people take drugs. Devon writes to say he’ll be in
    Maine on the island but not at Genevieve’s wedding for “financial
    reasons”. I plan to do my best to seduce him. Reading Mitford’s
    Wigs on the Green – not as funny as it is sad. Pastiche, really –
    Wodehouse is better. But I feel that way about E Waugh’s humor
    too – that it is basically tragic – “this is all we can expect”. R. called
    this AM as I was rushing to get ready – I said I was surprised to hear
    from him, he said he “knew I was upset”. We could have had a little
    argument about who’s more upset but I said what have you been up to?
    Horseback riding out in Sperryville. (Doubtless not alone. What would
    be the point of that? He is such a pain.)
    Asked me when I was moving, when going to wedding.
    He couldn’t be hinting for an invite – if I show up with him my family
    will have me institutionalized for sure. They never could figure out
    what I was doing with this hysterical little man.
    We’ve said our fond goodbyes. If the ball is in his court,
    it died there. Need to buy a dress for wedding. Macy’s? My mother
    criticizes me for:


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


    You figure it out. Finished Farber’s essays – very bad book.
    He seems to regard the female orgasm as some kind of personal insult –
    “Now I’ve got this to contend with!” We’re not doing it to annoy you.
    Hopelessness on the subject of sex a grave inadequacy in a philosopher
    I would say. Merribeth sent me to the bank today – I was thrilled to get
    outside – when I came back Keith called down to say he was having
    lunch at the Hyatt Regency and had seen me walking and wanted to say
    hi! Nothing to say after that. I thought of inviting him to the Palace
    but what would be the point? Everyone would think he’s my boyfriend
    and it’s a tips killer.

  • Inspired Pleasure

    Diary of a Dancer

        10 PM Sun 24 Apr 77
    Very good day working "critic" at Pacifica radio. Worrying if I get 2nd job

    novel will suffer. Maybe Mr. Pierce will take care of that. Finished
    Shelley – why is Triumph of Life always the Triumph of Death?
    Nothing left to read – Natural Hist of Vampire; ho hum, Beyond
    Belief is a yawn, Spoor of Spooks holds some interest but grating
    tone. Finished scene between Nilssa and Labarraz – not really happy
    with it. Total collapse of self-confidence a real problem for an artist.

        Tues 26 Apr 77
    Keith Dalrymple came in to place a call and unfortunately

    asked me how I was. Threw myself sobbing into his arms. Scary bad
    news.
    R. called last night to say, “I’ll take care of you.” Then said
    I should move to Maine and get an apt I can “afford”!!! Then said he’d
    been comparing everyone in Boston with me – no one stacked up.
    Whiplash. “Taking care… isn’t that what hit men say? Butchers?
    Garbage men? He is schizo. The unspoken message is I have to be
    what he expects – clearly impossible. So why am I stuck? Why can’t
    I just move on?

        Sexually he’s spoiled me, alas. Must finish this goddam novel

    but I need to run around town in a G-string auditioning. Wish there
    was anyone I trust to show novel to but everyone’s taste is so weird.
    They don’t see what I’m trying to do and they don’t see any point in
    getting there. Must learn to please myself but I’m bone tired, dammit.
    Making a list of Sources of joy:
    Art
    Writing
    Sisters
    Dogs
    Nature
    The Beauty of Everything
    Friends
    Love?

        11:45 AM  Sun 1 May 77
    Keith softened me up by calling to ask if I’d been in

    his office. He smelled my perfume. (I hadn’t.) Agreed to go out with him
    Sat night. Just awful. Awful. Keep wishing he was literally ANYONE
    else. Dating someone who doesn’t interest you sexually is like trying
    to diet by ordering food you dislike. (I actually tried this. Ordered tripe.)
    Howlably stupid. Yet no one to howl to.
    R. says he’d “hate” to think I “needed” him and didn’t
    call. Am I the stupid one here? I think so. Sucker for punishment. Upstairs,
    Downstairs cheers me up a little. Considering renting little house in the
    wilds of Virginia. Or garden apt. utilities included. Dogs would like it –
    close to clubs. Read Eliz Savage’s Good Confession – very minor.
    Cleaning. Laundry, dishes, garbage.
    Thinking about Sylvia Plath and the problem of panic
    attacks. It’s all about learning to steer into the skid.

               Wed May 4 - 77
              Made illegal copies of novel at work, drove to Plush

    Palace in Virginia to audition. (10 Mins down Rt 1 from Woodrow
    Wilson bridge. 1 HR commute). VA pays better, mandates pasties
    & stockings, Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco & Firearms (I’m not kidding)
    makes sure you don’t sit with or talk to clientele. Amen! I was hired
    immediately $90 day plus tips. So pleased. Got a car appt Fri 13th
    so El Diablo won’t die on Beltway. Working Thurs, Fr. Sat and there’s
    no holdback, they pay you immediately. Buy G-strings & pasties
    Landover mall.
    Avril says R “betrayed” me. But do you “betray” someone
    by having a weak character? He can’t help it. A says he’s behaved
    so badly there’s no hope for him. I think he can’t make up his mind –
    he wants me only if I don’t want him. Plus if he finds out I’m dancing
    again he’ll want to “convert” me. (He’ll think I’m doing it just to torture
    him. I don’t plan to tell.) Gave A a copy of my novel to read – feeling
    insane – got to get reaction from SOMEBODY. Broadcast asks me to
    stay “on call” so Mr. Pierce has forgiven me or is desperate.

        Plush Palace – 9 PM Fri 6 May 77
    Very nice dressing room. Girl I’m dancing with (Darla) is just

    awful. Find the comparison very cheering. A gobbled my novel up, says
    it’s “deep” but “obsessive”; made me feel on right track. How much can
    I torture my audience? I‘ve GOT to stop blubbering and start fantasizing.
    Who CARES about the pathos of my existence? Make something up.

        Sat. 7 May 77
    House is mine! Everyone moved out.  (A’s & Mason’s new

    place just what they wanted – skyscraper urban nightmare.) Listening
    to opera, reading NY Times, feeling like a Big Success. Dog across
    my chest in blissful rapture. ($100 in tips last night!!!) R called to say
    I “always have a place with him” and He “has never taken my heart
    ring off”. Is he nuts or am I?

        Realize for the first time he says things he KNOWS aren’t

    true just to hear himself say them!! Just like the Victorians –
    mouthing something is halfway there! Because you’re making an
    effort! You could not imagine anyone more opposite from me. Hopeless,
    hopeless, hopeless, as the rock musicians say.

        Reading Bottle Factory Outing – so wonderful. (But liked

    The Secret Glass better.) Trying to numb weird longings to write ghost
    stories and eat chicken potpie (regression). Wrote first draft of a short
    story about a grandmother telling her shocked granddaughter about
    “the time I almost committed suicide”. Very matter of fact. Feel I’m
    recovering from “mono-soul-iosis” – not just R but my first marriage,
    Devon and everyone between. Shoulders asks to borrow lawnmower –
    asked me if I want to watch him use it. (He knows he’s pretty.) I do.

        7:15 PM 8 May 1977
    Feeling much better, like I’ve passed a turning point.  Wasn’t

    sure how much I could trust myself in the past, but if I’ve come through
    this, my core must be solid, instead of the jelly mass I fear. Sitting in my
    far-from-clean study beneath my poster of Blake’s God & the Angels
    enjoying an after dinner cup of coffee. Sanity returns. A. is coming tonight
    to get her flicati rugs – that will make the downstairs look empty. Trying
    to finish Household’s Courtesy of Death, so I can take all these silly books
    to the library, dump them, and get a lifetime supply of Peter de Vries. The
    only proven painkiller is laughter. My damn novel’s made a fool out of me.
    Time to admit it.

        3:15 PM 9 May 77
    Called into Broadcast to sub for Loretta.  Working on Devlyn

    galleys. The main scary thing about this place is that no one works
    here willingly. “Morale” is a poisonous miasma. Kind of like the
    architects’ office.
    Mom & Dad raise hell over A’s living with Mason. I thought
    they were so worked up about “commitment”! Sharing an apt is a
    commitment, isn’t it? Not according to them. Glad poor A is taking
    the storm for once and not me. Couldn’t cope with them on top of
    everything else. R. and I are trying to evolve into a “friendship”. I know
    it sounds stupid but there has to be some third place between
    attraction and avoidance because each of those is obsession.
    When I ran this idea past R he said I was his “best friend”. This is
    why he is so impossible to deal with. Best friend? He wouldn’t
    treat a pet the way he’s treated me (the SPCA would come and get him.)
    Speaking of Ryder, he just called. Finished my book,
    found the Black Mass a little short otherwise liked it. Didn’t say a
    word about “who’s Hank based on.” Thank God. He did ask who
    the baby’s father is – I said even Nilssa doesn’t know. According
    to R. I have “no problems”. (He doesn’t know about the dancing. I
    f he was REALLY my best friend I could tell him.) He says we have
    the whole rest of our lives to talk. He’s uncannily good at saying
    what I want to hear (unfortunately). Seeing him tonight. Take the bus
    home, buy wine, wash & set my hair. If only we could get to the stage
    where we no longer fear each other.

        4:50 PM Tues 10 May 77
    Well we’re not out of the woods yet but perhaps have

    found a path. Last night was like losing my virginity all over again
    – we were both so shy. Slept wrapped up and embracing. Many
    compliments on my body (no tell-tale glitter in the bed.) He said he
    was so upset by me breaking up with him at McDonald’s he can’t
    go to any McD’s anymore. Pledges of love somewhat ruined by
    an argument during breakfast about whether a novel can be “good”
    if no one will buy it. Uh oh. I tried keeping it philosophical, not
    giving historical examples he wouldn’t recognize (which would be
    “one-upping”.) Finally stopped when he got a call from a “goofy
    chick.” Should I be worried, I ask, and he says no. But I can’t avoid
    the sinking feeling that I don’t dare hitch my wagon to anyone
    so dependent on mass psychology – even as a friend – without
    losing my way.

        8:20 PM Plush Palace
    Getting ready for my 2nd set. Thinking hard I decide

    I need 8 months in Maine. I should quit Broadcast Agency right
    away (I think they need two weeks, poor bastards. No one wants
    to work there. When you have to quit a job that allows you to read
    you know its bad. This job lets me read and it’s a lot more interesting.)
    Stay there the summer at the very least. Just writing. The problem
    is, if I’ve got Mom and Dad working on my one side and R working
    the other, I’m like a chew toy.
    Horrible realization that if I told R I was dancing he would
    demand I quit and I might do it. So when I realize the person I need
    to be afraid of is me, it’s a Mary Shelley-like horrific moment. Trying
    to read Household’s Three Sentinels but all I can think of is those
    awful Juan Carlos coffee commercials; “harvesting de beans wid de
    donkeys”. My own life way more interesting.
    10 PM – It’s my diary that’s my best friend – tell you
    anything. Household’s women are unspeakable. Just got to the
    place where he describes being “turned on” by the hair on a woman’s
    upper lip. Doesn’t do a thing for me. Hungry, but maybe when I get
    home I’ll have a yogurt. Trying to save $1000. And stay away from
    the 12¢ donuts.
    12:55 PM In an hour I’ll be on the road and not a moment
    too soon. Fall into the arms of empty house & importunate dogs.
    Just ate a whole plate of cold French fries (not good). Boredom’s
    my worst enemy. Food at least feels like excitement. Such pathos.
    Gentleman Jim just gave me Thurs night, which is welcome.

        Broadcast Agency – Wed – 11 May 77 5:35 PM
    R. says his latest philosophy is “To Love is to Be

    Happy With.” He’s all worked up about snowshoeing and horseback
    riding as the cure-alls for anything that ails us; says he’s budgeting
    money to spend on me every week. I do not find this appealing.
    He’s a warm puppy, all right, but I’ve already got two of those. In
    spite of that I fall into a reverie where we buy an old house outside of
    Annapolis, slowly fill it up with precious junk and love each other to
    death. Need to go home, eat rice & vegetables, and give dogs a
    good long walk. Reading Martha in Paris but thinking about Alysse
    in Annapolis…

        7:50 PM Sun 15 May 77 
    Justifiably proud –  paid ALL my bills and sent off my

    galleys. Nothing like money! (Stupid car needs a new clutch.
    It’s always something.) Able to refuse “help” from Mom and Dad
    who are dithering about whether I need to be institutionalized.

        Told them I was working at a “restaurant” (Let them

    assume waitressing. They know I can’t cook. PP does serve food;
    State of Virginia makes people who serve alcohol serve something
    to sop it up with. Good old Virginia. ) Sent M & D a DEVLYN cover.
    $57 left in my acct.; $100 in my purse. (Open a savings acct tomorrow).

        Ordered a beautiful Vietnamese print ($80) for Genevieve’s

    wedding gift (last time she got married I sent candy. Well, I wasn’t
    invited!) Horseback riding did make me horny however – Ryder & I
    made love like a pair of wild animals. He may be compact, but he’s
    beautiful. Cleaned the entire house. Now darkness falls – means it’s
    time to walk the dogs. How I love peering into people’s windows.
    When I get back, strong tea with milk and the “splendeurs et misères”
    of Monica Dickens. Or will I succumb to that modern master of
    the Grimm fairytale, Agatha Christie? No poetry, but plenty of trolls.

  • Inspired Pleasure

    Diary of a Dancer

        Sat 9 Apr 77
    Mason & Avril moving out. I wash and de-flea dogs – take

    Them for a long run. Check Rolfe books out of library to incorporate
    into Father Vespula’s act. Supposed to see Black Sunday w/Keith
    tonight. I like Robt Shaw and there’s nothing else around.
    Had a chance to sell Bruce’s stereo for $100 so jumped
    at it.

        Sun 10 Apr
    Terrifying evening with Keith. We were at Gallagher’s

    (ran into Shoulders with Garrett & Opal.) Keith invited me to go
    to NJ conference with him! I am not willing to step from “dating”
    to “involved”. I have to face ugly truth I’m dating him to make myself
    feel better about an abusive ex-boyfriend who refuses to become an
    ex (because I keep inviting him back in.) Behind each mask is another
    mask. Shoulders said I can store “anything” in his basement if I want to
    take off for the summer (that would be nice.) Read Voices in an
    Empty Room by Phil Lorraine – just TERRIBLE. Every bad book sets
    me back another month. Received copy of Plumly Alumni Directory in
    mail.
    Reed dies in a climbing accident! He wasn’t wearing climbing
    shoes! He was always purposely careless. Challenging God I think.
    But it is very sad. Toss Sheffield “my bloodmate” is unmarried! Woo hoo!
    Wrote a poem about it.
    Met an attaché of the Trinidad-Tobago embassy at the
    library. He invited me to dinner. I said yes. Do I really need
    “big scenes” in Secaire? Can’t I use “psychic brushes?” Fear
    it’s a non-commercial mishmash. I want it to be unique – but
    they don’t like that. R. says I’m a beginner who is trying to take
    control. Probably true. Despising myself for wanting to tell him
    I’ve decided to take up dancing again. I don’t owe him anything.
    He wants me to make a big glamorous financial splash WITHOUT
    writing genre, taking money from Mom or Dad or dancing!!! Who’s
    the beginner trying to take control?
    Sat 16 Apr 77
    Told R no more phone conversations. They are
    not good for me. (He told me he cannot “allow” me to go to
    a male gyno!!! Just evil.) He countered, What if I need you?
    And I just started shivering. His seeming “tenderness” while
    he makes his attacks fools my brain (and heart) but not my body.
    I said let’s give it a month. Please. See what happens. I didn’t
    want to say why I’m trying so hard to live without him – but it’s
    because he makes me feel impotent. Pretty sure he hasn’t
    guessed. So I can still hold up my head a little bit. But he’ll
    figure it out fast if this goes on. He asked can he break the
    silence if he can’t bear it? I said yes. He wrote down the
    date of the reunion and that was it.
    Trying to read a disgusting student novel for Chloe –
    called her needing reassurance I don’t have to read the
    whole thing. It is AWFUL. Sex among art students. Bad sex,
    bad art. Out with Keith I got contact dislodged and started
    muttering about the fact that makeup and contacts don’t mix.
    I said to him, “You don’t wear much makeup do you?’ He said,
    “Just some base and a little color.” Funny.
    Mon 18 Apr 77
    Feel like I’m recovering from some awful disease.
    The slightest effort depletes me. Thinking about Keith;
    I don’t want a relationship without sex. It’s the staff of life.
    Going without is like dieting – attending parties where you
    watch everyone else partake. But I don’t want to have
    sex with him, and I don’t want a relationship that’s only sex,
    which appears to be what’s on offer from the attaché of
    Trinidad-Tobago. He invited me to the International Hotel
    for dinner – turned out to be in his room!! Room service!
    No thank you! I said. He says, “Nobody thinks anything of it
    on the “Continent” (which is ridiculous.) He is married, used
    a false name, please. I said No thank you. He had the grace
    to apologize mightily, take me to my favorite restaurant L’Escargot,
    and gave me a case of bitters from the trunk of his car ! How
    “break up” with Keith when we are not an item? I guess I just
    have to start turning him down. Chloe sicced some horrible
    poet on me who wants me to read her memoir. I don’t think I
    like the “literary life”.
    Tues 19 Apr 77
    Forcing myself not to call R. Starting to suffer sexually.
    Gotta have something. But I don’t want to see what lies beneath
    Keith’s suit.
    Wed 20 Apr 77
    Beginning the novel AGAIN in accordance with my
    latest idea. Reading Shelley at work. Chloe’s latest find, Erika is
    lesbian poet with a fetish for black girls. She picks them up at clubs.
    Kicks them out without breakfast. Ryder called. He doesn’t want to
    wait until the twenty-second because he will be in Boston for a job
    interview! I was polite but distant, listening to his tales of “growth”.
    Said he’s been “comforting” his friend Sherry who sounds like a
    poor wretch. I know I was supposed to get jealous but she sounded
    sexually unborn; “No one has ever really “touched” her. I know I was
    supposed to ask if he’d assumed the job. Refused. Did get kind of
    excited about Boston, however, telling him how wonderful it is. Bliss to
    shed all of this and just start over.

        23 Apr 77
    Mason and Avril borrowing $500 from Dad so they can

    move to Calif! Sounds definite. I’m sad. Don’t think he’s good for
    her but in my experience there’s only one way to find that out. If she
    goes I inherit a quantity of very nice furniture (including cute little
    rolltop desk.) Got 3 free bottles of wine from Amis des Vins so invited
    Shoulders over to celebrate. He is beautiful but has far too roving an
    eye for my comfort. (The Master of One Night Stands.) I need to rely
    on knowing where my next emotional meal is coming from. Or you
    can blame my compulsive need to be worshipped.

        Broadcast Agency – Wash DC – 21 Apr 77 4:55PM
    Peaceful job bordering on narcosis. Sitting in my own little

    office, feet up on windowsill till something happens – staff places
    most of their calls themselves. Switching over to newer system means
    my recently acquired talents soon will be obsolete and I am so
    backward in my thinking that this is just fine with me as long as
    they leave me alone for now. Reading more Woolf; her interesting
    artist/critic fusion.
    Avril called asking about R: Am I kicking and screaming
    sufficiently against my fate? No. I want him to show his real self to me
    in all its horror so I know where I am. Seems like he is good at saying
    he loves me and wants me when I am not around. No use to me. I
    demand constant growth & rebirth and he doesn’t like that. So, not a
    healthy state of affairs.
    Endless diet of vegetables & yogurt, yogurt & vegetables.
    To think I used to believe “being published” made all the difference! In
    fact, screaming madness seems just a shot away. How can you trust
    anyone who doesn’t know who they are (much less care who you are!)
    Walk myself to exhaustion at night through darkened Chevy Chase,
    remembering the old days when A. & I used to slip into people’s pools.
    Ah youth.

        Bus – 12:25 PM Fri 22 Apr 77
    Hot day, dreamy and content. Secaire at 40,000 words coming

    along just fine. Reading Rosalind Ashe’s Moths. 100 degrees out.

        5:15 PM
    Mr. Pierce rooting in my desk finds my pornographic sample

    telegrams. (They look like cut & paste objets d’art.) I say obviously I
    didn’t send them and he reluctantly believes me since they’re not on
    charge list. But he was horrified and looked at me with unpleasantly
    new eyes. My days here could be numbered. R. is triggering flashbacks
    to worst aspects of my marriage to Bruce. Our marriage failed because
    of his character: he dove for cover in a shelter that held only one. He was
    a weak, shiftless, spineless, pathetic liar, so now we know I have a
    propensity for those. Time for dinner? I brought pears, cheese, pineapple,
    bread. Finishing The Pursuit about Shelley – so involving and fantastic
    I should just start it over again the minute I get to last page (as I
    did with Anna Karenina). A good desert island book. I make a vow
    not to drink alone. Dangerously depressed. Sexual hunger is bad
    news. Standards could plummet. Pool of possibles restricted.
    Starting to understand how “good sex” can actually be a
    bad thing in a relationship. Wishing R will move to Boston to take
    care of my situation but he’s too much of a “home boy”. The opposite
    of a world citizen.

  • Inspired Pleasure

    Diary of a Dancer

        7:45 AM Mon 20 Sept 76
    R’s latest accusation is that I fell in love first!!  So weird.

    Reminiscent of ex-husband. Some version of gaslighting? It’s a definite
    power grab. He said he was “embarrassed” by my emotional intensity!
    I have a feeling he’s trying to cobble together a story he can tell other
    people. As for me, I’m trying to figure out what really happened. Used
    to think R’s lack of experience wouldn’t affect us but I can see it really
    has. Got my hair cut; of course I think it’s too short. Dreading what
    Genevieve will say.

        10:40 AM Wed 22 Sept. 76
    Woke up after horrible nightmare in which Jacqueline

    Susann showed me her cancer to have R drive me to the station.
    We’re in a financial nightmare – A’s rent check bounced twice so
    expenses going up. R says I have to start an exercise plan –
    since I can’t dance. He’s hilarious!
    Lunch with Ruby and my agent. Agent (Ruth) was euphoric.
    Starting to feel the book was written by a stranger. I tried so hard to
    make it English and Victorian – I NEVER want to do that again.
    Can’t say THAT, obviously, especially after Ruby remarked I was
    “so good looking we should make it a series.” Devlyn’s best gothic
    they’ve ever read! They both drank heavily while disagreeing with
    virtually everything I had to say about poetry and literature. Their
    recommendation: write a love story. Pity we don’t know what love is,
    isn’t it? I MIGHT be able to manage a sex story. Oh well. Genevieve
    full of secret divorce-and-getting-together-with-hush-hush-sweetie
    plans. Don’t tell Kent anything. He asks me what’s going on –
    I play dumb but not too well. He must know something’s up.
    Awkward! Walk to library and back thinking about St. Secaire.
    How make that a love story? Everyone’s a predator or an idiot.

        Fri. 24 Sept 76
    Checked my acct - $54!! Don’t know where it came from

    but I will spend it. Sent poems to Chloe Aparo, borrow bike from
    Shoulders. Ryder wants to go horseback riding, we went to see
    The Tenant instead. (Cheaper). R managed to discuss it intelligently.
    Trying to research the occult for Secaire. Reading bad suspense
    novel – Geoffrey Turtons Devil’s Churchyard. I liked all his other
    books. Dump it for Aleister Crowley’s Diary of a Drug Fiend. $10
    to live on for 2 weeks. Mom & Dad sent emergency check.

        6:25 PM – Sun 3 Oct 76
    Fabulous dinner party last night. Steak tartare, crab

    and cheese casserole, lots of wine. R and I fall asleep in each
    other’s arms. We have more sex “broken up” than when we were
    dating. Got offered $3.50 an hour for 4 hr a day legal secretary!!!
    Out of their minds. Trying to sell my wedding dress for $150 –
    got one porno call.

        Tues 5 Oct 76
    4pm appt with Environmental Defense Fund. Howard

    Nemerov such a relief after Auden.

        Thurs 11:30 PM 7 Oct 76
    Typical Tyler St evening. Lying in bed (alone) powdered

    and polished from bath. Maeve and Avril out on dates. R is working,
    I’m reading Quest for Theseus. Got too depressed reading
    Shirley Jackson. Her life solutions: food and cigarettes – plenty
    of both. Lost EDF job – as soon as they turned me down I
    decide I want it! To WTTG to apply for “production asst” job –
    200 people spilling into street! Didn’t bother. How write about
    love if it’s impossible?
    I owe Maeve money – she doesn’t like it and I don’t
    like it. Tension almost unbearable waiting for my check.
    R offered jobs in Pittsburgh & Detroit. (He says he
    doesn’t ever want to leave though it’s the only way to make more $$.)

        12:55 PM Wed 13 1976 These are the times that try

    women’s souls. Desperately accepted switchboard job at Broadcasters
    Agency because it looks easy and I can think my own thoughts.
    Replacing a girl going on maternity leave so I’m not stuck if I don’t
    like it. Agent sent check told me not to cash it for a week!!! Thinking
    they’re all scam artists. Reading Diane Johnson’s brilliant Lesser
    Lives.     Avril depressed over Mason. Maeve depressed over George.
    I am buying diet pills because of sedentary job.

        Switchboard Broadcast Agency 9:15 AM – Fr. 18 Feb 77
    New notebooks such a thrill. Always a fresh start:

    I could almost become anyone. Worked 3 full days this week –
    more $$ in the coffers. Avril coming in to Broadcasters Agency
    to apply for Zelma’s old job – $8500/yr for 7 hr day. Hope she
    gets it. Brought in The Voyage Out today – I WILL finish it –
    bring it to its knees. Perfect example of everything usually wrong
    with first novels. Don’t like her novels as much as letters and diaries.
    Talk about peering through a glass darkly. Oh well. Still drinking
    coffee and picking the fuzz out of my eyes. Period’s arrived with its
    usual exquisite timing. Once I’ve finished Secaire (needs a final burst)
    can rewrite Find Courtney. Sort of a love story there.

  • Inspired Pleasure

    Diary of a Dancer

    31 July 76 Shalimar


    R came in but I managed to get rid of him. Sandy


    brought in a huge bag of string beans, squash and tomatoes


    from her garden – I told Ryder to take them home and cook them.


    My job is turning into a source of tremendous conflict – he is the


    snake in his own paradise. Plus tips really fall off when he is


    here. I am already looking at a very tough month financially –


    trying to take so much time off. He said he’ll be back at the end


    of the night to pick me up – he’s hurt when I’m “in need” and


    don’t call him. So that saves cab fare anyhow. 


    We took a walk between sets and talked about his


    parents – second generation immigrants, lifelong Army. He doesn’t


    tell them anything (they obviously know his marriage broke up


    and now he’s with me – but they don’t know about his deafness,


    for example or about his classes at Gallaudet.) He said to me,


    can you believe I’ve only seen these people twice in the past


    four years? And we live in the same state.  Wait till he meets


    my parents – shudder. I’ll put it off as long as I possibly can.


          Dancing tonight with Alicia. Poor Alicia. She’s a


    “dripper”(constantly leaking pee) but blames it on hypoglycemia.


    She hates dancing when there are so few people in here.


    It’s kind of interesting. She sort of has a whorish appearance and


    doesn’t realize she’s trapped in a vicious cycle – audience thinks


    she’s a loose woman, she thinks they’re perverts.


          I’m trying not to fall into the super-loving, super-giving


    trap but Ryder is the first guy I’ve ever met who would obviously


    be a wonderful father. Rare among men under thirty? Or something.


          Talked to A on the phone – she was bored to tears at home


    so I suggested she come in. We shared a burger basket and she


    saw me dance for the first time. She wasn’t grossed out at all by


    the semi-nudity – which is good – told me I’m a great dancer and


    she really envies me my pelvic wiggle. 


    Also told me I have a terrific body – which really cheered


    me up because I still feel too hefty around Ryder. (At his parents’ house


    we went over his old scrapbooks – he was the star quarterback in


    high school football. They described him as 5’4”! That’s a lot


    shorter than he admits to these days. His boots have at least two


    inch heels.)  A left after one set because all the guys of course


    came on to her. Obvious losers, alas, including the one who insists


    he’s a hitman for the CIA and another who claims to be giving


    away government jobs.


    Unfortunately I’m dependent on the tips of these characters. 


    Ryder has been telling them all that I’m a writer (instead of a call girl,


    presumably) which gives me a lot of explaining to do. 


    I wish I had money to buy things the house needs –


    flashlights and fuses and drainers and shelving and all that stuff –


    but I’m saving every bit for our trip to the Finger Lakes. Aug 5 will


    mark one month in the house and six months since I quit the


    architects. Seems like much longer than that. Where will I be


    six months from now?


    Hope my gothic novel sells – I need an immediate


    hundred grand. I really can’t write with R sucking up all my free time.


    I’ve been struggling with another poem about him – even that isn’t


    coming. Hopefully we’ll settle down into being able to work side


    by side quietly – maybe after our vacation.


    6:00 PM, Chevy Chase Tyler St, 2 Aug 76


    Across the street Shoulders, dressed in a skimpy football


    undershirt, is mowing his lawn. He is a sight to behold.


    Sitting over my repaired typewriter with a cup of hot tea


    and a case of writer’s block. I could write a poem about Shoulders –


    already R is interfering with my life. Beautiful day – a little chilly –


    a little Maine edge to it.


    Finished Stead’s Dark Places – which I adored – absolutely


    one of a kind. Another bothersome thing about R – he really doesn’t


    read. He’s been dragging around a sleazy paperback “heist comedy”


    he pretends to read from time to time. At this rate it will take him six


    months.  I am struggling with All Authors are Equal but I may give


    up on it and read Famous Washington Ghosts which R picked up


    for me to add to my considerable collection of ghost stories (I must


    have 50 vols.)


    On the phone with Maeve my old Baltimore buddy –


    she is behind in her rent but looking for a new job. In the meantime


    borrowing from boyfriends.   I take a perverse pleasure that anyone


    is managing worse than me.


    Shalimar – 10:20 PM


    Called in tonight to replace another girl – great – that


    means I work 5 times this week.  Just that small amount makes a


    big difference. A is in the chips right now and I could owe her


    but don’t want to.


    When I came in they told me R had been in 30 mins


    before. That was a little unsettling – I didn’t realize he would come in


    if I weren’t here. Of course it is really close to his job – but equally


    of course the food is more expensive here than just about


    anywhere else he could choose.  I look at who was dancing


    to see whether he would think she was in any way better than me –


    luckily it was the pisser Alicia instead of potentially scary


    competition like, say, Gloria. He didn’t know I was coming in,


    because Carmen didn’t tell him.  Reading the Ghosts of


    Washington. Wonderful poem potential. 

    Shalimar Thurs 5 Aug 76


    R dearer every day, in spite of the fact that he’s


    been checking up on me. Called and called last night – wondered


    where I was – I wasn’t too sure how to tell him A and I were


    over at Shoulders’ drinking, so I just said we were visiting


    the neighbors. Standing in their yard, which wasn’t true. He is


    jealous of Shoulders and I don’t blame him – such lush male


    beauty makes women helpless. A is a complete mess over him.


    He frequently wanders around the house in nothing but his


    boxers – we call them as his “huppa”.


          R. finally got an apt and can stop “crashing” with


    friends – one bedroom at the top of a Rockville skyscraper.


    Sounds crazy expensive to me.  Wrote a good poem –


    capitol ghosts – today from the book R gave me.


    Trying to think where to send it. Tomorrow’s my day off –


    R coming over at 2.


    CAPITOL GHOSTS

    Pale Guiteau
    slants his disappointed child’s face
    downwards; the better to study bloodstains left
    by assassins more accomplished than himself
    who required benefit of anonymous surgeons 
    specially qualified for skewering
    the muscles of the mighty.

    The guard who saw him
    claimed also to hear demon cats
    and could not be relied upon.
    these portents once were matters of
    congressional dispute; now
    no matter; caught within the marbled lurch
    of history, victims

    of the uninspired mad; 
    those who pursue the corpse from whom
    the ghost escaped. He haunts our history
    like the villainous barber who sings as he slits
    both throats and wombs, a pure tune
    some say, picked clean of tragedy
    which only the dying hear.

    Shalimar 7 Aug 76


    Sitting here in a stupor of exhaustion. We had an


    Al Green fan in here tonight – kept playing same song over


    and over. Presumably working through some kind of a


    relationship crisis. They don’t realize coming here and blowing


    their money kills any relationship – and I am not going to tell


    them. Anyway I hate Al Green.  Missed my bus this AM so


    took the Fessenden bus and walked across. A better way to go –


    I like the walk – to hell with this transfer business.


    I have to admit R doesn’t seem to understand


    poetry. He’s very suspicious of all ease, elegance, lightness.


    Too much Nature! “Work” should make you grit your teeth,


    groan and bulge your forehead veins. The easier it comes,


    the less valuable it MUST be. (He would hate Picasso’s very


    best stuff!) I’ve tried getting him to understand by comparing


    art to athletics – it only looks easy – it’s the training beforehand


    that’s so hard. The trick is to render training invisible. But he


    seems to think modern poetry is a plot to make him look stupid.


    Really worried about money lately – everything at


    Unibank is bouncing.  It doesn’t take much to set off a chain


    reaction.  Guess I’ll have to borrow from A after all.


          How true it is that before you can love you must


    love yourself. My love for myself is wavering.  Just finished


    Sean Stiles’ Occam’s Razor. I hate to see a good idea wasted.


    Mostly I am depressed by the poor quality of the stories in


    the Times Detective Story competition anthology.  This is


    something I should aspire to?  I’m on a wonderful streak


    of poetry – keep piling them up – got ophelia and


    haunted house this eve.

    OPHELIA WAS A MAN
    The best revenge is growing up.
    Behold a street of suicides –
    Fringed lampshades &
    Mullioned windows where
    The dentist’s son grew dope
    From seed (they had eight bathrooms and
    The dentist couldn’t be everywhere)
    His wife was nowhere; we saw her leave
    With the cat in a suitcase clawing to get out.
    “Crazier than thou” averred my aunt.
    That boy blew the fruits of orthodontal science until
    The day he blew his mind –
    We traced the hissing-pissing-noise
    To the garage of the stockbroker’s son; he’s
    The one who stayed home from Yale to rewrite Hamlet
    (Made it better – put in people you could recognize)
    Type-cast himself – since he saw ghosts.
    Two fine boys married to each other
    Rosy-cheeked and sightless
    In their parents’ wedding clothes.

          Tomorrow R is taking me on a tour of the television


    station and out to lunch. This is a biggie – see where he works. 


    So I had to buy a gorgeous black linen jumpsuit (size 5!) Should


    be worn with high red heels – but needless to say, can’t around


    R. So instead, flat sandals. Fortunately everything is on sale.  


    A and I have decided to ask Maeve to move in with us – we can’t


    seem to manage alone and we do have three bedrooms, but


    she’ll have to hide from the landlord. I hate to do it.  Letter from


    D today – he’s in love with the 18 yr old virgin daughter of his minister.


    Didn’t do a thing to me. God bless ‘em.


          Rick the gambler in tonight. He’s a friend of R’s – cheered


    me up by telling me I’ve done so much for R who was really “hurting”


    over his divorce.


    Ryder – I love you – but I don’t really know who you are. 


    Hope you are who you pretend to be.

  • Inspired Pleasure

    Diary of a Dancer

        Fri 23 July 76 - Tyler St, Chevy Chase, Maryland 
    R and I have seen each other every day since Fri –

    I think he’s in love. I could fall if I let myself but something holds me back.
    I like our relationship now – he drops by the house after work
    and we’re both in jeans. I think tonight’s the night for sex –
    first time – I’m nervous but since I love his body I expect
    to be all right.
    Adore these slow working mornings. I get up
    with A (depending on when her first run is – she’s now
    working courier) to have time to set my hair before leaving
    at 10. Beautiful walks up Tyler St. Early AM at the Shalimar
    such a pleasure – sitting at the bar with my diary balanced
    on my hipbones, watching the barmaids get ready, feeling
    like a character out of Toulouse Lautrec.
    Yesterday we met our across the street neighbors –
    one of them is a gorgeous guy named Larry getting a degree
    in Hospital Administration. Among ourselves we call him
    “Shoulders” because he has such a gorgeous pair. To see
    them dimpled with sweat on his way back from a run is to be
    in heaven. Invited Larry and roommates Garrett and Opal to
    dinner tomorrow night – if they can come.

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

    11:05 AM – Shalimar Tues 27 July 76
    Feel like throwing out all my diaries. Driveling gush broken
    up by gushing drivel. But I go right ahead and produce some more.
    Randy throwing ice and cases of beer, Bobbi cleaning trays,  Carmen
    checking paper towels and me writing. Perfect.
    We were lying in bed – me and Ryder – I have to lie on his
    right side because he only has one good ear – and he told me a long
    purposeless allegory about bullfighting. Can’t tell which of us is the
    supposed to be the matador. I’m the only one with a poetic license
    in this relationship.) He said I should just write, and he’s going
    to see to it. I said fine by me. I love this job but not as much
    as writing, love and freedom. Then he said, I love you.

    9:45 AM Wed July 28 76
        Anniversary of Toss Sheffield relieving me of

    my impacted virginity (as I relieved him of his.) R came yesterday at 2 –
    left at 3 – came back at 5. Another watershed in our relationship – Fears.
    He’s afraid to lose the hearing in his good ear. He speaks sign
    language but doesn’t want to live in a world without sound. I made
    him promise to go the doctor. He agreed to make an appointment no
    later than Weds.
    Reading Christina Stead’s wonderful Dark Places of
    the Heart. Considered inviting Ryder to live with us – rejected
    the idea. I need too much alone time. So important to establish
    amour proper. I am so impoverished from setting up the house
    (though I’ve made enough in tips to pay my taxi ride home tonight)
    I am barely going to make the rent. Need a windfall.
    Sweaty and smelly. I think I’ve boogie –oogie-oogied
    till I just can’t boogie no more.


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

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

  • Inspired Pleasure

    Diary of a Dancer

        1:15 AM – Sat 3 July 76
    We’re supposed to “wait” in the dressing room

    but they don’t seem to care if you don’t so I spend all my
    time talking to Ryder. He says he’s just separating from
    his wife and it’s extremely traumatic. They have been
    together since high school. He’s a tad hyper – always on
    the go, but very entertaining He usually brings me gifts –
    flowers, magazines, stuffed toys and cards. Also he’s a
    diver and underwater photog. Today he brought pink roses.
    Avril warns me not to fall in love. Just date.
    Easy to say! I want security, privacy, ecstasy, exclusivity…
    and love. It’s a problem!
    The oilman came to the house today says he’s
    shocked we have no credit references and will have to pay
    COD! Fortunately I had just got off work and I had the cash
    on me but I don’t like it at all. Guess we won’t need
    much oil till winter. Let’s hope.
    Ryder gave me a long spiel about how he
    gave another dancer a ride home (Darlene) and she
    expected him to go to bed with her and he said, I don’t do
    that. I could tell he was sounding me out! I said,
    I don’t either! No sex, ever! Sex, bad. He laughed till
    it hurt and he begged for mercy. Poor Avril had a long hard
    day – 7:30 AM to 6:30! I promised to take her out to eat at
    Steak & Egg if she picks me up. She said make it Bob’s
    and it’s a deal.

        10:30 AM Tues 6 July 76
    Sitting on a mattress on the floor of my Tyler St

    bedroom surrounded by a jumble of stuff. So exciting
    starting a New Life. This time I am waiting for the gasman
    – if he doesn’t come by 1 pm I have to leave.
    9:25 PM – sitting in the Shalimar dressing room
    eating a plum. Last night A and I saw Antonioni’s The
    Passenger. Goes down with La Prisonniere, Persona,
    Pierrot Le Fou and Weekend as one of my favorite all-time
    films. So perfectly constructed it was like a series of Canalettos.
    Ryder just asked me if I wanted to go to dinner some-
    time. I said sure. He asked me about a lot of Italian food I
    didn’t recognize – I said I like everything. Covered with sweat
    from dancing to ”No one knows what its like to be the bad man…”
    have to take it really slow, freezing in a series of poses. Then
    suddenly I meet someone’s eyes and he drops his drink.

        Sat 10 July 76 – 9 pm – Shalimar 
    7 hours packing at Zevin Towers before I showed up

    here so I was already exhausted. I hate packing. Getting to
    be a bit of a trial having Ryder in the bar all the time. His
    expressions embarrass me to dance around him. I said I
    thought this place was full of stories. He said, don’t stay
    here just to pick up stories. He said he would “subsidize”
    me to keep me from “doing this.” Hmmmm. Right after
    talking about how little money he’ll have when he splits
    with his wife!
    He’s been offered a job in Detroit for a lot more
    money – that’s how they get ahead in his business –
    jump from station to station. I told him he should take it –
    turned out that was the “wrong thing” because he hoped
    I’d want him here. But I told him, I’m a citizen of the world.
    I can go anywhere. Fear only empty experiences. So he says,
    why are you doing this? I said, to meet you.
    Otherwise he is perfect. So charming, smart and
    funny, with so much ambition, spirituality and humility.
    4 sets left – then 2 days off. Just bought 3 costumes from
    Sunny for $30. Feeling personally confident in a way I
    haven’t for years. R invites me out to dinner next week.
    Have to buy special shoes so I won’t be too tall. Today
    marks year and a half since my separation from Bruce.

        Fri 16 July 76 – Club Shalimar
    A & I hung living room paintings today, and last piece

    was moved in. Half an hour till my date with Ryder. Will his
    name mean anything to me in twenty years?  Brought blow dryer,
    change of clothes and unguents sufficient to slap me back
    into shape after 7 hrs dancing. Idly listening to gossip of Randy
    (bouncer), Jinx (dancer) and Bobbi (bartender).
    A and I had pleasant evening last night – wild storm
    and the power failed. So we went out walking afterwards with
    dogs & flashlights. Fun looking into people’s houses, seeing
    them move about with candles. What does the future hold?
    I worry both that Ryder will be there and that he won’t be there.
    Margery Sharp’s The Faithful Servants has a lot of charm.

        17 July 76
    Interesting date. I want to write about it but first I have

    to say today has been a TERRIBLE day – I had to follow ex-stripper
    named Edie who wore a black lace corset and gloves and carried
    a whip onstage – everything but a donkey, as one of the other
    dancers remarked. Then I had to listen to loud speculation on
    how I got the bruise on my ass when it was my turn.
    But Ryder Arlen. We had a wonderful dinner. He
    ordered in Italian.  The weirdest thing about him is that he
    doesn’t like mushrooms. Long dinner, then over to the Gangplank
    for Irish coffee. He insisted upon carrying me across two puddles –
    he’s not very big and I was sure he’d get a hernia – but he made it.
    We got back to Chevy Chase the house looked wonderful –
    A had obviously slaved for hours. We had her down for a glass of
    wine, then she went back upstairs. We ended up reading my poetry
    I didn’t show him the erotic stuff because I didn’t feel the time was right.
    He liked valentine the best – 


    Valentine
    I sent myself in a letter
    Heart-creased
    Like a glove
    Too much folded
    An anecdote
    Too much told
    Dear stranger don’t
    Lose me
    I forgot the rule
    (Hold back a copy)
     
    Then we made out for hours. He was deliciously
    passionate. I said, “You don’t want to end up in bed on the
    first date, do you?” He said, “You pick the time and the place
    but I hope it’s inevitable.”
    I said it was certainly feeling that way but I’d have
    to get to know him better. I wouldn’t let him take down the
    top of my dress either.  He left at 2:45 AM. He seems to
    really care for me – so my worry that I’m just a first experiment
    after leaving wife seems baseless. He invited me to go crabbing
    tomorrow, then on a four day cruise sometime in August.

  • Correction!

    Diary of a Dancer

        Zevin Towers – Wash DC 9:30 AM Wed 21 Apr 76
    Baby sis Avril and I are totally broke. We are eating

    our way thru Mom & Dad’s supplies. The grapenuts went first
    then the soup. Now we are on sauerkraut and spinach.
    Playing Fleetwood Mac & Jimmy Spheeris while sitting on
    the balcony looking over Rock Creek Park. You don’t see one
    building; Washington DC masquerades as a virgin world. I
    need a job by next Mon. Something tells me I can’t finish my
    novel and sell it in time. I refuse to be a cubicle drudge again
    so what is there? Nude modeling sounds dangerous. Topless
    dancing? Avril admits she sits on a park bench instead of going
    to class as she told Mom! Uh oh. She says she just can’t “make
    herself” do things. What a relief to have someone worse off
    than me. Went to see All the Presidents Men with A. How I
    wish I could fall in love with Marc Kramer. He’s longing to buy
    jewelry for someone! I could sell it rather than the contents of
    this old folks’ apartment. But he’s too sane if anything and
    wears funny old man lace-up shoes. Plus he’s covered in a
    thick mat of dark fur. And there’s his endless talk about shorts,
    hedges, futures. SO PARALYZINGLY DULL. Raining outside.
    Isn’t life rotten?

        10:50 AM Sun 2 May 76
    Answered an ad for “go-go girl”.  You wear fringed

    bikinis and go-go boots and dance for the troops! No
    more than 2 gigs a day (you have to drive there) and
    each one only lasts an hour so $60 seems very generous.
    She asked for my “experience” – I said I used to be a Maxim’s
    dancer! (I didn’t say it was for the nuns’ THEATRE
    SCHOOL in Minnesota!)
    DeeDee is giving me my schedule tomorrow.
    Tips are welcome because I don’t get paid till the 15th. Have
    to clean this apt and I don’t want to at all. Dad says apt
    lease up in two months so I’ll have to find somewhere else
    to live (Mom refuses to live here because n16th floor.) Dad
    says men are put off by us because Avril and I are too
    “masculine” by which he means determined, decisive and
    pleasure seeking. (A. very disappointed because she’s had
    two dates with Paul and they haven’t had sex yet.) Reading
    Spink’s Hans Christian Andersen and his World – what
    a painful ugly duckling story!

        Tues. 4 May 76 9:45 pm
    Totally exhausted. Had to dance 2 hrs at Andrews

    AFB because my partner didn’t show up (but it’s double the
    money.) Jefferson Starship’s Miracles my favorite song to
    dance to. Soldiers always want to play I’m A Man and
    that’s no fun. Of course I did see Spencer Davis’ dark side up
    close while I was trailing around dragging an echo-plex after
    rockstar husband Bruce. Would be reading The Place at
    Whitton by Thos Keneally if I could keep my eyes open.

        11:20 AM Sat 8 May 76
    No word from Beautiful Faraway Perfect Man

    Devon about whether he will ever visit, but speaking of
    attractive young men I had a “conversion experience” at
    the Ft. Myers’ officers club yesterday. I was registering
    at the young desk when this young man with dark curly
    hair and the face of an angel asked me who I was and
    what I was up to. I was wearing my go-go outfit plus
    military-style jacket so I did stand out. He wore a sweatband
    around his head and was all set for running but his plans
    changed in a flash. He would rather watch me dance instead.
    His name is Frank and something Italian. Took me down to
    the dark Hideaway Club and watched me the whole time –
    playing and replaying the Pointer Sisters’ Chick on the Side.
    I gave him my number and he gave me a $20 tip. Does he
    represent a break from lonely masturbation? At this stage
    of my relationship with Devon I can hardly be unfaithful.
    We shall see.
    Marc Kramer called offering to fly me to the island
    and back for Memorial Day weekend. I have $266 in the bank.
    Should I take him up on it? Just doesn’t feel right.
    Wouldn’t be able to get rid of him when I wanted to.
    I hate feeling “beholden.” Reading Norah Lofts’ Hauntings
    to help me with my ghost stories.

        2:15 PM – Sun 9 May 76
    Lying in bed surrounded by Sun papers. Have decided

    to get tix for me and Avril to Royal Danish Ballet’s Triumph of Death,
    Royal Ballet’s Romeo and Juliet and All’s Well That Ends Well
    at the Folger Shakespeare Library. So glorious having money.

        Tues. 2:30 pm 18 May 76
    Guy came forward at the Army Navy Yard, offered

    me his card and said I could make a whole lot more money
    dancing at his club. I have to admit this rushing around in a
    car is getting old – the Gremlin “el Diablo” is acting up. Think
    I will go to his club, talk to the other dancers and see what
    the scoop is. It is “topless”, but so what if you aren’t supposed
    to (or expected to) “fraternize’ with the audience. There is a stage.
    Went to look at a townhouse off Dupont Circle –
    2 bedroom, $435 a month but no place for dogs. Can’t live without
    my dogs forever. Jeannie and I perform at a private party in
    Annandale. I am nervous but she is completely cool and they
    are content to look. Avril has a new man – Jack.

        Wed 26 May 1976 – The Parkway East
    Waiting my turn to go on. Thought I was going to have

    dance alone but thank God Darby finally showed up – fucked up,
    but she can dance. (Her boyfriend brought her.) Phoned Devon –
    boy that was stupid – to see if he wanted to go to the island for
    Mem Day Weekend. He is playing in a tournament and not
    “available”. Every time I reach out to him I feel like a sap.
    Never know whether his mysterious “tides” are “in” or “out”.
    He did his best to sound warm and affectionate but he is obviously
    very stressed – he was actually panting! Now he’ll have to meditate
    for a week. I have to let this man go. When I wail about him, Avril
    makes me laugh by saying, “He’s GAY! He just won’t admit it!”
    But I have to say he didn’t seem gay to me.
    Genevieve invites us to NYC for Mem Day weekend.
    She has filed for divorce and fallen in love with someone else.
    Ex Kent doesn’t know but she warns us he is calling everyone in
    the family begging us to intervene.

        2 PM – 9 June 76
    Sun night I invited Frank and his roommate to dinner.

    Horrible. They were 45 mins late and my blintzes were ruined.
    Avril & roommate took against each other immediately. They
    brought Thai sticks, we refused to smoke. On an up note I
    took a cab to the Club Shalimar (Gremlin in shop) and the taxi
    driver was so excited about having a poet in his car he didn’t
    charge me. Said he had never met a poet before. (Gave him
    a poem on the spot.) Shalimar seems possible – other dancers
    like it but constant turnover; no one has been there long.
    Bouncer very nice, and I can take a bus there so A. can have car.
    Tempted to risk it.


    11:05 PM – waiting for Jeannie in the empty Bethesda
    Naval Officers Club. She is giving me a ride home. She is an
    interesting person – has done a lot of nude modeling – showed
    me her portfolio. Very Playboy. Officers keep marching through
    in their whites. They are very polite.

        Fri. 11 June 76 8:15 PM - 
    Things could hardly be worse.  Got my hair cut the

    other day – I only wanted a trim – he absolutely butchered me.
    It is barely shoulder length and it looks like a cow slept in it.
    I hate all hairdressers, gynecologists and dentists – you’re just
    completely helpless in their hands. Plus I got another piercing
    in each ear and the left one seems infected. Now my face looks
    crooked. Also having my period so I am swollen up like I’m
    pregnant. Avril has a college friend (male) coming for the
    weekend and she is beating herself up – “Why did I say yes?”
    She would call and cancel if he had a phone.
    On the plus side, tips at the Shalimar are really
    good and the dancing is as energetic as you feel like –
    which means standing there swaying is Just Fine. You
    can rock yourself to sleep if you want to. Of course my
    ego won’t allow too much relaxation.
    Piece of good news – agent loves my gothic novel!
    Reading The Royal Victorians. Gremlin seems stabilized
    so Avril applied for a job as a driver with a messenger service.

    Avril friend a complete bozo but

    places to be so we hardly see him. Huge sigh of relief and
    lesson learned. Let’s just hope he doesn’t steal the silver.
    DeeDee and I come to a Sad Parting of the Ways – her
    money too small, gas costs, etc.
    A and I got a wonderful 3 bedroom in Chevy Chase
    on a charming little side street but the landlord very snooty
    about only 2 tenants. We said OK, OK. Big yard. I can
    have my dogs! Moving in July 5. Struggling with Christina
    Stead’s Puzzleheaded Girl. She is overrated. Maybe I can’t
    read fiction any more.

        Fri 25 June 76 – Club Shalimar 
    Eating free scrambled eggs the cook gave me:

    “Somebody’s got to eat them” while waiting to go on. A lot
    of interesting men come into this place. None perfect obviously
    – and unfortunately I need more than perfection. I need
    mysticism. The owner seems to be something of a gangster.
    I got 2 standing ovations today.
    The job is actually enjoyable. I am really getting
    into it – dancing for pleasure – for the connection with
    the audience. They stare spellbound like deer in the
    headlights. Feel like I’m living in a Simenon novel as
    I learn the ins and outs.
    Avril loves her new job – thank God – they
    want her to do dispatch (no wear and tear on fragile Gremlin)
    and the drivers are all foreigners who don’t know the city.
    She’s always yelling at them to “Look out the car window
    and tell me what you see.”
    Met the most charming little man – a TV director
    at a local station – speaks sign language, is a magician
    and a karate black belt, he’s just so full of joie de vivre.
    His name is Ryder and his excitement about me puts
    my non-relationship with Devon in a new light. Reading
    Meyer’s Ibsen.