Tag: #WorldsLongestDiary

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.
December 24, 2022
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.
December 22, 2022
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.
December 19, 2022
Inspired Pleasure
Diary a Dancer
```
    11:00 AM – Tues 24 Aug 76
    Lying in the same bed where R and I made love five 
```
hours ago – just finished Tyler’s Clockwinder. Puzzled by the
lack of passion in her strange, sad, minor novels. Tonight R is
picking me up and taking me “someplace” – I have my eye on
a little restaurant – where we can talk it out. I hope he’s paying
because I have exactly $177 to live on till Sept 7 and $125 of
that is rent. I’m trying to look at the future calmly – I love him,
he loves me – who knows what may happen?
2:40 PM Was feeling so much better I was going
to work on sending out poems until I looked around at this place.
A and I desperately need Maeve to live here to help out with
expenses and she is not the tidiest person. A says she never
cleaned her other place after the party and it smells like a
dead body. I cleaned and now I feel better but not in the mood
for literature – more in the mood to take my dishpan hands to
the mall. However I won’t because it would just result in
expenditures.
3:40 PM Obviously R doesn’t really respect me.
Otherwise he wouldn’t manipulate me like this. I don’t think
he cares about me being a writer at all. He would actually
like it better if he could introduce me to people as “my girlfriend
the insurance agent.” That makes sense in his little world. I
could break up with him but I’d have to find another place to
work anyway – he’s ruined Shalimar for me. One can understand
and deplore and get mad, but the alternative is loneliness. All I want
is to go out and have fun, have someone to play and smooch with.
Finding and then cultivating such a person is incredibly exhausting –
and aren’t 99% of them only going to have the same (or worse)
reactions he’s having anyway?

10:40 AM Thurs 26 Aug –76 – Club Shalimar
Yesterday morning Maeve and I lingering over coffee
and chat – no one wanting to return to their life – and the phone
rang. It was editor Ruby Jenkins at Pyramid wanting to make an
offer on my book. She says it has a lot of wit and depth and is
really extraordinary and if they don’t take it someone else will.
Two editors on my side. Asked all about me – so I told what I was
doing, schools, what I’d had published – that Harcourt just turned
down Find Courtney. She’d called Maine because she couldn’t
get in touch with my agent but left a message. I just put the
phone down and screamed for 20 solid minutes. Then went to
Shalimar and quit – gave them a week’s notice.
Didn’t tell them about book – Carmen guessed about
Ryder – narrowed her eyes into slits and tried to tell me a
lot of terrible stuff about him, about how he always pursued
dancers – although she admits, after me, not any more. She
said if I ever need the job again, they’d give it to me. That
was nice. Randy the bouncer had tears in his eyes because
he says I’m so amusing and no one else can make him laugh.
R’s “celebration” was to take me to Garfinckel’s at
the Montgomery Mall to buy me underwear. He takes it
strangely personally that I don’t wear a bra or underpants
half the time. This could have been a fun, even erotic experience
but he was so weird I almost had a nervous breakdown – so
bizarrely controlling like he doesn’t know what presents are.
The missionary purchasing fig leaves for the natives! Felt
offensively “managed”.
If he had bought me lingerie and given it to me
that would have been one thing. I could take them back if I
didn’t like them. This was if he were my parent or something –
I really can’t explain why it was so insulting. I let him buy me
a pink silk robe, which I refused to try on – of course it will fit.
Duh.
We should have been celebrating. Not only can I
quit dancing but they’ve put him on the eleven pm news and
now we could have mornings together. But at the Japanese
steakhouse he really acted wooden headed. I think it’s some
sort of a gender problem – men understand that their self-respect
is tied up with autonomy but they seem to think the opposite
must be true about women. I’m trying too hard not to despise
him. Anything I could say sounds hurtful.
At the very same time he’s trying to “tether” me he’s
trying to free himself. He said, what if I want to take another girl
out? And I said, well you can but you have to tell me about it
before hand. He said, I know how I’d feel if you said that to me.
I told him he probably doesn’t have to worry – I can’t imagine
wanting another man. Now he’s “scared” I’m going to become
a famous writer! So we went back to my place and made love
for three hours and it was very satisfying. He was all over me
and it felt like the last time in some critical way.
To me he seems less like a man getting out of a
marriage than some kind of shipwreck victim who has never
seen or imagined our society and is becoming increasingly
excited about the sexually liberated possibilities. How can
we avoid breaking up over this? Can’t I just get a fat check
from my book and be a young writer about town? I sincerely
hope that’s the way it will go. Reading Rose, my years in
Service about Lady Astor’s maid.
```
    Sat 28 Aug 76 Shalimar

    Ryder tried to pressure me not to go to work by 
```
saying “we shouldn’t be seeing each other”. I remind him
we have a dinner party coming up and a vacation in Maine!
Why the hysteria? Reading Henri Peyre’s The Failures of
Criticism. Last set.
```
    3PM Mon 30 Aug 76

    Wakened by air-conditioner going on – Ryder 
```
climbing in bed with me fully clothed so there would be “no sex”
– of course that didn’t work. He is very upset about my sense
of physical freedom – said wouldn’t “let” me be painted in the
nude by Andrew Wyeth! I pointed out that his wife was his
ideal woman – totally restrained and untrained and ignorant
and unavailable in every way he wanted – and he hated it.
Can’t understand why he has to be such a jackass when all
his dreams are coming true.
```
    3 Sept 76

    Just back from the worst vacation of my life. Both 
```
Avril and I took completely unacceptable men to our parents’ island –
alas, my man was the most unacceptable – doing nothing but
fighting and sulking. He finally said such unforgiveable things I had
to drive him to the ferry and push him off into space. His last
words were “I love you.” Day late and a dollar short. The worst
things he said were that I dress like a slut, anyone looking at
me would instantly assume I was a prostitute. This was said to me
while I was wearing my gorgeous emerald scarf tied around my
breasts and my long denim skirt and Nefertiti necklace and looking
like a goddess for parents’ dinner party.
He said if I don’t start wearing a bra my breasts will
be “ruined” and he doesn’t want to wake up age 35 married to
only a “mind”. (The mind is in fact quite unimportant in his world.)
His wife, he assured me, always dressed most tastefully –
nobody desiring her ever. Didn’t cross his mind that the fact
that she was dead-on-arrival in the sack and her inability to
enjoy and celebrate her own body could be in any way connected.
He told me my poems are awful and self-indulgent and I
live entirely in my own head. I was finally forced to tell him
that what with his long hair, leisure suits, stacked heels and
man-purse most people just assume he’s gay.
But who cares what “most people” think – and
would we even know? He really got on my bad side seemingly
justifying rape – women “ask for it” with their clothing, male
self control not an issue. I said if a crazy girl escaped from an
institution and ran down the street naked would men be “ justified”
raping her? He said yes so obviously it was over between
us from that moment. The truth, of course, is that he was
overwhelmingly jealous from the moment he arrived on the island
– possibly earlier – by the fact that I am a separate human being,
who has ever existed out of his sight.
```
    17 Sept 76

    It really is over with R.  My fault for going so fast. 
```
R leaving messages on my answering machine every day,
trying to make me jealous with “don’t call back tonight I won’t
be in”. Finally decided I owe it to him to tell him where I’m
working – I know he thinks I returned to dancing – the
scum. Sent him a card saying we should meet for dinner
in a couple of months. Appt. with Georgetown Employment
Agency 10;30 AM tomorrow.
12;25 PM
Ryder came by to pick up his jackets. He said,
“You’re the most valuable person in the world to me.” Trying not
to goad him into pyrotechnics, so, showed nothing. He was calm,
played with the dog, kissed me on the cheek and said “I love you”
and left. He is worthy of a hefty Freudian tome all to himself. I want
to send him a copy of The Intimate Enemy but he wouldn’t
(couldn’t) read it. He’s totally about not wanting what he has,
having what he doesn’t want, wanting something else and
hating himself into the bargain. I pity anyone involved with him –
mainly I pity me – still fixated on his worthlessness apparently.
Washing the dishes in floods of tears. I bragged to him that I didn’t
want to change him – that isn’t true. I don’t feel I have the right
to change people while he wants to specify every detail about me.
The worst is I know how he would exult in his power over me.
Still wearing his black coral diver’s cross as a charm. When R
says dismissively “Be free” he means “Be alone”.
```
    Sun. 12 Sept 76 – 12:05 PM 

    Yesterday turned down job at art gallery that would 
```
have been wonderful but paid dirt. They say I “might” get
commissions on sales. Have a feeling Mom and Dad would
push for it – it was very upscale – just didn’t feel right to me.
FINALLY letter from agent; Pyramid offering $2500
advance, 6% to 150,000 copies, 8% thereafter, a few minor revisions.
Always less than you think but not as bad as the gallery – I say
hells yes. Still have to find job; something that lets me write.
I called Ryder with info, left message. Have to go
to NY to sign contract so job hunt suspended for now.
```
    Mon 13 Sept 76

    Avril and Mike met me and Ryder at The Royal 
```
Warrant for drinks to celebrate my book. I wore long sexy
purple lace-up dress – nothing he’d object to however.
(Royal Warrant because their drinks are huge.) Wore
sandals with kitten heels and I was still taller than him.
I wonder if that’s what this is about. I invited him home after
and he accepted. He concentrated on making me come. Said
he can’t consider dating a girl who doesn’t wear a bra. I said I
might wear one in my first pregnancy. Gave him my copy of
Intimate Enemy when he left. Reading Brownmiller’s excellent
Against our Will.

11:45 AM 14 Sept 76 – Tues. Boiling hot.
I need a full-time psychiatric nurse, vicious guard dog
and a secretary. Phone ringing off the hook. Agent called
reversing charges. Ryder wants to celebrate his salary bump.
How can two people who despise each other as much as we do
want to have sex all the time? Beats me. Ryder’s latest charge is
that I wrote a novel for money. Get it? I’m a prostitute! Then he
marches off to his yessir, nosir job whistling. You can’t win with him.
Cheered myself up reading old diaries about my marriage. At least
it’s not as bad as that. I used to lock myself in the bathroom to howl.
Reading Simenon’s Venice Train. He is too mannered.
Ryder forced me to look at his island pictures – I am the
ugliest beautiful woman in the world. He tries to use this against me
but of course we were fighting the whole time. No one can be lovely
under such conditions. Does “love” entail not just “sacrifice” but
loss of identity? Went out and bought a pair of six inch heels. When
I am with Ryder, I love him but when I’m away, the cloud lifts.
Attempting to seduce Devon by sending him a copy of the poem Cedarwood
Chest.

Cedarwood Chest

Grandpa died young that’s why
Grandma never opened
The Cedarwood chest
Till my twelve years unlocked
The scent of dreams preserved
Like mullet in red wine.

Never used the wilting nightgowns
Featherstitched sheets
Between whose coffee-colored creases
Bay leaves crumbled
(Like my reserve when you laid hands
Upon it) how it
Comes back that mossy sad
Perfume! I want to lay
You away in darkness and tissue but
I can’t
I must use you and risk
Your wearing out
```
    God knows what he’ll think but I know he’ll give a better 
```
reaction than R. Lunch in NY 12:30 Tues – have to take the 7 AM

train to make it work!
December 18, 2022
Inspired Pleasure

Diary of a Dancer

20 Aug 76 – 11 AM –
Inside I start my psycho-thrillerThe Mass at St Secaire for the thousandth

time with one good idea: Manage transitions by IGNORING them.

Just start abruptly somewhere else and worry about it later! Outside

R sits in a lawn chair playing the guitar. When he falls silent he’s writing

down notes. He says I have a good effect on him, getting him writing again.

In the meantime, I made a list of literary essays I want to

write and to my surprise there were more than 20. When I get back I

will make a folder for each one and start collecting notes and ideas,

beginning when I feel I have enough. How to finish a book of poems,

finish and send out a novel, write 20 literary essays while working a

45 hr week? My heart quavers. I’m afraid I won’t be able to get a job

that isn’t straight typing – then I have to type when I come home.

Balzac could have done it. Trollope could have done it – I don’t

think I can do it. But I certainly don’t want to lose R – he is a rare

being. I need a deus ex machina of some kind. Maybe my gothic

will sell.

So glad this is our last day. Couldn’t say that to R –

he would think I hadn’t enjoyed myself. Last night he stretched

me out naked on his lap and played me like a guitar – most

delicious thing. Waves of ecstasy bulging, rolling and crashing

inside me. He says I’m so fun to please. Talks about how he

would like to adopt deaf children. This means I would have to

learn sign. Sounds good but I feel lazy and stubborn. Feel like

a fledgling – flight pattern undetermined.

R. wrote a song called Blue Lake Blues. Bad. I wrote a

poem called Diaries. Don’t know what I think of it.

Diaries

I don’t remember anything –
I’m an amnesiac so
I write everything down
Stuffed in my closet
Beneath discarded ball gowns
utterly useless but
too beautiful to throw away.
Recollect & treasure
Acts of writing
An up and over downtime scrawl;
Recall a surgeon
Cutting flesh
Tugging, swearing, splitting ,sweating
peeling waste & want.
Fierce liftoff –
Airborne I’m granted
Hawk’s-eye vision
Backwards , forwards
Past & future.
Too much dig is spoilage-
Freedom mined
Invaluable.

Club Shalimar, Mon 23 Aug 76

Should be glad to be back but I’m so depressed.

Everything so mixed up. Promised R I’d get another job so

now I have to look for one, which won’t be pleasant. God

knows what I’ll have to say I was doing. Once when I was

married I tried to get a loan and of course they wouldn’t give me

one without “collateral” – something of which I’d never heard.

Dad told me to tell them I had a basement filled with gold bullion.

I guess I could just tell employers the bullion ran out.

Then I walk up to the club and whose car should be

there – but R’s. He had told me he wouldn’t come in as long as

I was working there. He said he just needed to talk to Rick because

Rick is helping him feel better.

I think what will happen is that I won’t work there any

more but R will drop in when he feels like it. I want to “ban” him

but I even more don’t want to be having these conversations.

He says I just do it for the money and because it’s easy and of

course that’s perfectly true. If I got $500 a week from writing I

probably wouldn’t dance.

The fact that something feels natural and pleasurable

and doesn’t leave you feeling depleted at the end of each day

isn’t a point against it to my way of thinking. He’s just an old

fashioned sexist pig. On the other hand he is a special person

and I definitely don’t want to dance forever.

Sometimes I think the whole problem is that he’s

getting a divorce and he’s so unready for a relationship he’s

giving me hoops to jump through. But even if we got married

I’d have to be at financially independent – he’s just too different

from me for me to trust that he will agree with me about what’s

right for me. My theory is it doesn’t hurt to look for a job. Maybe

I’ll find something special or interesting.

11:20 PM – A called – R staggered in dead drunk,

said “Call Alysse and tell her I’m here and set the alarm for 5:30”

and then passed out on the sofa. I told them to hide his car keys

in case he wakes up and tries to go someplace. I’m glad he’s safe,

on the other hand I’m annoyed that he’s been touring the bars.

He plainly didn’t go to his apartment, drink and then go to my

house. My guess is total strangers up and down Wisconsin

Avenue have been hearing his heartrending saga of the misery of

dating an exotic dancer.

December 17, 2022
Inspired Pleasure
Diary of a Dancer

Shalimar – 3:30 PM –13 Aug 76
Was sitting on a box of Lite Beer sipping coffee

reading Miss Read when Carmen warned me that the boss

might fire me for reading. Apparently writing he doesn’t mind

so much, probably because he can’t imagine anyone keeping

it up longer than 10 mins at a time. R. will be here soon, then

we hit the bank, pick up my stuff and we’re on the road for the

Finger Lakes. Five hours alone in the car. I find I have a lot

of inhibitions against voicing boundaries in our relationship –

mainly because I don’t want to be lied to. I want to find out

how things really are. For example, he spent last night in

Gaithersburg with his wife. Now her I’m jealous of, because

he used to love her, used to think she was a “catch” and

was surprised and gratified that she “descended” into

marriage with him.

I probably won’t ask him if they had sex because

it would be making too much of it. He’s said before he wouldn’t,

and she definitely wouldn’t. But I can’t believe a woman who

knows she’s losing a man might not change in her feelings –

just to see what power she has left. I would, if he wanted the

divorce and I didn’t. Will I be able to tell just by looking at him?

R feels the right to be jealous and possessive over me, which

I don’t grudge him since I’m naturally monogamous. He feels

no discomfort making rules for me. But he should.

6:00 PM Saturday 14 Aug 76 Finger Lakes
Lying on the bed in our tiny TINY two room cabin –

with just a curtain separating the rooms – I was going to write

here about how much I love my job (I really miss dancing so

much when I’m away from it – the ideal thing would be three

sets a day for life) – when R came in, threw himself on me,

tore my clothes off, began kissing my breasts and exploring

my tan lines and pressing his beautiful valued body hard hard

hard into mine – and you know what happened next. If he turns

the fan on high I don’t think the other campers can hear our little

yips and screams. At least I hope not. We spent last night in his

grandmother’s house in Binghamton, New York.

She bedded us down in separate rooms – he gave me a

long lecture about how you have to respect the house rules of

whoever you’re staying with – and then who do you think showed

up in the middle of the night saying he couldn’t sleep. It is ecstatic

to have sex almost without moving – this must be what Tantra is like.

We were directly over her and the bed creaked so we didn’t move a

muscle – absorbed and shed each other like snakes. Wonderful.

Next stop was R’s cousins who own the cabins. I don’t know

what to say about them – plastic flowers and Sonny James. My state

of deep shock probably resembled mental retardation. Some people’s

houses are frighteningly ugly. Their clock has eyes, they keep the

plastic on the lampshades. I just sat there while the ethnic and sex

jokes filtered around me. Who could blame R’s first wife for

shunning this bunch?

I would not choose them for buddies either. And the fact

that they are renting us a cabin doesn’t appear to mean we will

also get privacy – so I have taken to wearing my glasses. Number

one – I don’t see as well – number two – it creates a kind of screen

between me and them.

The Lake is beautiful – but I don’t need to go in more than

twice a day – I also don’t have the patience for the fish-a-thons that

absorb the rest of them, dawn till dusk.

Plus one time waterskiing was plenty. Since dinner is a

vast barbecue down at the beach every night and we only have

sandwiches for lunch and cereal for breakfast there is not that

much to do, thank God. Sadly the dinners are followed by

hours of dancing, drinking and fighting. I go to bed early to read

but R stays and plays “peacemaker”. Tonight he says he’s going

to let them kill each other and join me. Therefore I can set up my

typewriter on the kitchen table and get right to it. People keep

coming to bring me coffee and cookies – I think they really

want to see a writer “in action” – at the end of this trip I MAY

be 20 lbs heavier. The rest of my time is spent sunning and reading.

Unfortunately St. Secaire going VERY badly. Complete

horseshit, alas.

I’ve started it four separate times. I think at this point I just

have to keep going and hope it’s possible to clean up the mess later.

Tuesday 17 Aug 76 7:30 PM
Outside a fair number of people, all high as kites,

revving their engines and swearing they’re leaving and never

coming back. I don’t know if anybody’s actually going to GO

or not but I wish they would. No wonder R had nothing to do

with these people for four years – he may conveniently blame

his wife but the truth is none of them can stand each other.

Pack of wolverines. I’ve been left totally alone and am well

out of it – they may have forgotten I am even here. Last night R

was so depressed he just lay on the bed exhausted by them. I

tried to explain to him about resentment and the resulting succubae

and incubi thus created. (Subject of my novel, in fact.)

He said something about “our next 25 years” that just

floored me. Even my husband didn’t talk like that. Remember

saying to my father – I would be fine if I could only find a man who

treated me as well as I treated him. Dad – so ready to take

anybody’s part over mine, said, Has it ever occurred to you that

you might be hard to live with? Such a typical Daddy remark –

the more you think about it the worse it gets.

Well, R treats me better than anyone else so far.

He’s almost talked me into looking for a new job when I get back –

and that’s a lot. But if he wants to introduce me around, can’t lie

about what I do, etc etc. (This group – doesn’t know about my job –

he says they’d eat me – and him – alive. I can scarcely believe

they would take the moral high ground with me but I suppose

anything’s possible.) Tried to read a Redbook someone brought

–
shouldn’t do it. So depressing. Could never write like that or

be like that. If that’s the standard this whole thing is hopeless.

Then I picked up a book by Grace Livingston Hill. I’m going to

include her in my article on female pornographers.

R told me he had the impression that if I didn’t have my

novel to write I would probably go bananas. I said probably. I tried

to prepare him for the very different kind of vacation he’s going to

get in Maine – where people very deliberately leave each other alone.

If somebody sets off down the beach and you wanted also to walk

on the beach – you’d turn and go the opposite way. R says in his

family that would be grounds for a six-year grudge punctuated by

sobbing, screaming and threats of suicide.

12:10 am
Went night fishing with R because he wanted me to.

Wrote a wonderful poem about Coleridge – just came to me in

one piece. Couldn’t really share with R – he doesn’t know who

Coleridge is. So I showed him – Haunted Wedding.

HAUNTED WEDDING
The pregnant car disgorges
Only us. It’s winter.
Drunk as silver fish
We beat our gills as light
As hummingbirds.
In an amethyst ring
Of drypoint trees
The half-built house
Gapes and swells
Its timbers stink of sap.
Windrill fields occlude
Our crossing, so you carry me
High above the thorny osiers.
We sleep aloft for safety
Locked and levitating
In this space of air
One season only,
Unseen by angry outriders;
Bloodless in our wedding robes
Like the doubled membranes
Of the frozen flowers
```
    This triggered a fight because he says it wasn’t written 
```
for him. If he jealously searches my work for other lovers

madness is assured.) He almost talked me into thinking it a

bad poem.

I feel my mother’s disapproving stare on all of this – “

don’t ruin what you have by trying to get something else” – as

if showing R this poem would be a deliberate way of hurting him

by making him feel inferior – part of her larger accusation that I

channel so much energy into writing I’m no good with people and

that’s why my relationships suffer. All I can say is, thank God for

my diary.

Writing now with my feet in R’s lap while he plays cards.

He strokes my toes from time to time, as if I were a cat. We came in

from fishing and he just took my pants down – such earthy

sexuality has never existed for him. He told me he’s never

been so happy. And as for me? One side of my multi-prismed

personality is happy, but some of the other sides are complaining.

Difficult to contemplate an existence where I am not mentally alone

six hours a day.

One of the reasons I like my job is that it leaves that part

of me remarkably intact – dancing is a lot like sleepwalking. If I get

another job there’s a strong chance I’ll have to interact with humans.

Hell. And we both know how humans can be. Then I might be too

exhausted emotionally and battered psychologically to have the

energy to write – it’s a serious risk. Those architects ran roughshod

over me.
December 16, 2022
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.

December 15, 2022
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.
December 14, 2022
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.
December 12, 2022
Morocco 1961
Jan. 15 – 1961 –
Startling news. My father is going to quit his job and join the American Friends Service Committee! We are all going overseas to French West Africa to help the poor refugees who have nowhere to go. Tune in! We are having a party on the 20th and then we sell everything!

Samedi Nov 4 1961- Dare El Baraka Oujda, Morocco
I have decided a few times of my life to keep a diary for weeks, months, even a year. Again I am attempting it. I am reading about Marie Antoinette. Fascinating.
School is a true horror hateful because I speak only enough French to carry on a poor conversation (hello, how are you, what is your name, etc.) M. Touati gets angry at me every day comparing me unfavorably to Carol Pixton who was apparently an angel. Just had singing class –think I grasped a few words.

Sun. Nov 5 – 61
Day is cold, crisp and clear – Mom and Dad and Avril went for a drive on the bled, Genevieve and Bill went for a ride on their bikes. (He is 24 and engaged. Not that it stops him making out with Genevieve every chance he gets. He can be a real pain – or a human being – sometimes.) I told him I intend to be an author someday and he both frustrated and flattered me saying I’d better “get something to write about”. I told him to climb a tree.

Mon. Nov 6 – 61
Back to school, very tired because I couldn’t sleep last night. Genevieve broke my doll on purpose and I hid in the garden while everyone searched for me. Asma my Algerian friend gave me a small box of licorice from the licorice seller who stands on a bloodstain right outside our gates (reputed to have murdered a little boy there.) Penny a box (5 francs).

Turns out it is against the rules to eat in school. M. Touati said “Donne moi le boite.” (Asma said my lips were “noir”.) He asked if I was eating, I confessed, he asked Asma and she denied it (her lips were noir as well.) I wouldn’t satisfy him with a lie. I did my recitation, He said my pronunciation was terrible. (He speaks a little English. His pronunciation is terrible too.)

Tues. Nov 7 – 61
School sheer drudgery. I think longingly of death. I am still behind Carol. Mom says she had a French tutor all summer! That took a lift off my back. Genevieve and I bought the most delicious tarts at the Colombo Café – cherry chocolate cheesecake.

Sun. Nov 12 – 61
We usually take a trip on Sundays and Mom wanted to see the sea. (Mediterranean. Why, since the whole country is turning to sand?) Went to Cap de L’eau and had to ford a river –the Citroen has a special gear to raise it up. Neat. Rode on a ferryboat – Bill talked to the man in Arabic. Showing off. Cap de L’eau was not as spectacular as I’d been led to believe. It was windy and there was a dust storm. Bill offered to be a Seeing Eye dog and tried to push me off a cliff. Joking, he said.

Mon. Nov 13 – 61
Trudged back to school with crowds of children shouting “Romain!” at me (I think it means foreigner.) They put in the second grade hoping I’d learn something. I didn’t. Mr. Touati loaded us to our ears with homework. Took our guests to the Avril’s ballet recital (she was the only one not allowed to wear stage makeup courtesy Mom). Genevieve played flute with the Oujda Symphony. Sat way up in the balcony. It was wonderful!

Tues Nov. 14 – 61
School awful. I was hoping to recite my poem (learned all but one verse) but we had a science test which I did lousily on. No one did the homework.
Dad took away my Agatha Christie and insisted I read The Forbidden Voyage about a family who sailed into the nuclear testing zone. It is interesting. One of our guests here at the Dar was aboard the Golden Rule, which was the same sort of boat.

Fez – Thurs Nov 16 – 61
Taken out of school in the afternoon (I had to go in the morning) so we could go to Fez! What a day! Car ride uneventful, arrived after dark. I changed from sailor hat and slacks to skirt and blouse at the hotel. I wanted to go back to the Hotel de la Paix after dinner but the family wanted to go to the Medina (in the middle of the night!) I said ‘I refuse” and stomped up the stairs. (I would rather read Wuthering Heights.) Genevieve came after me and said I’d got Mom in a frenzy. I said I didn’t care. (Did care.) Daddy came up to get me and led me sobbing down the stairs. Mom said she would stay in the hotel with me but I refused to ruin the trip for mother. They said Genevieve could stay. We smuggled tangerines and peanuts in our suitcase so we had a good night.

Fez – Fri – Nov 17 – 61
Coffee instead of chocolate for breakfast! Then we went to the Medina (by daylight) and saw everything including the mosque where we could hear them chant the Koran. (If you aren’t a Moslem you can’t go in.) They take off their shoes to keep the mosque clean.
Vulgar street boys threw mud at us (Bill said they think we are French.) Went to the Palais de Fes (that’s how they spell it) and bought a few things. I got a knitted hat and a Moroccan purse. We had a good lunch (lamb) but had to wait a long time. Dad joked they had to go find a lamb. They brought us water to wash our hands at the table. I played with their cat and had to wash my hands again. But it was delicieux.

Fez Saturday Nov 18 – 61
Went to eighth century town Moulay Idis which was adorable and bought some pottery. Saw the outside of the Famous Tomb you can’t enter in if you are an unbeliever, also marks on the doors that mean someone has tuberculosis inside. We had to leave before dark – you can’t spend the night if you are a heretic so we went to Volubilis instead which is really beautiful a Roman ruin where I bought a lot of postcards. (I like the cranes building huge nests on the orange columns.)
Dined again at the Nautilus – the hotel restaurant. I had steak and pommes frites, yogurt and sugar with oranges to take back to our room. Daddy gave Avril money to put into the blind beggar’s tin can.

Fez to the Dar – Sun Nov 19 – 61
A near perfect day. Genevieve gave me her peanuts to eat. Went to the Medina one last time – got a guide who looked like a hood. Visited the tanneries – the stench was unbelievable. I held my nose which Bill said was rude (he is colorblind and also no sense of smell. Almost as pathetic as the hotel beggar.)

Tues. Nov 2 – 61
School: horrid. M. Touati in a bad mood, tearing up people’s notebooks and slapping poor Belanger. Made him crouch beneath the teacher’s desk as punishment. Genevieve says they are forcing her to write with her right hand – don’t care that she’s been left-handed since birth.
My cat Christopher has a girlfriend – the cook Embarka’s white cat. She is very pretty. He yells outside my window for extra food for her.
```
Wed 22 Nov 61
M. Touati says bring 200 Fr so we can go to the circus. If you don’t bring them you can’t go.  I am bringing 200 for Asma. M. covered my paper about the beggar man with red marks because I looked up the verbs expressifs. I thought that’s what they wanted. I asked Mom aren’t we celebrating Thanksgiving?  Apparently not.  But Merrill is coming home from school in Switzerland for Christmas. She says she’s engaged. (She gets engaged every year.) Dad says never wear a bikini in front of your intended – they are Guaranteed to Lose Control.  But the NY Times writer’s wife wore the smallest bathing suit ever seen on a human person and Dad acted thrilled to see her.

Thurs Nov 23 – 61
We had a turkey after all! Mom said I asked in front of someone who wasn’t invited so that’s why she lied. There’s no figuring her out.

Past midnight 
The Spanish circus was wonderful.  There was a fat strong lady who lifted up eight people, some of them on an iron pole on her nose.  The tightrope walker Minni was everybody’s favorite but I liked the strong lady best. Minni had a man standing beneath her the whole time as if he could catch her when she fell! I guess they were just hoping it would kill him and only cripple her but luckily she didn’t fall. (We deduced he was her papadaddy.) The juggling was impossible!  They played American rock n roll in French! (“Ne racroche pas”.)  Mom and Bill shook their heads over the Americans spoiling Arab culture. I think their culture could use some spoiling since grown men chase little girls down the street if they have the nerve to wear Bermuda shorts.
Sun. Nov 27 – 61
Slept late – glorious day.  Fed Christopher – he is very jealous if I give the other cats attention.  He hates to be picked up (he never seems to hate me for attempting it) but he will allow petting. That’s OK, he used to be completely wild. I love his wild free heart. 
Mon Nov 28 – 61
Reading the Times – fallout, war, horror and death.  Why do these things have to happen in my generation?  I don’t hate anybody. I love the world and I don’t want to destroy it. 

Fri. Dec 3 - 61
Zoubida came with a little friend who spoke only Arabic and I entertained them.  All they wanted to do was eat green figs and knock berries off the tree. I went to get a ladder.  The berries were delicious; we divided them up equally. Majahead taught them how to make spears from bamboo.

Mom drove them home and they invited us in. They seemed rich to me (her father is a general) but served that mint tea so full of sugar you can stand a spoon.  You have to drink it or they are insulted. My sisters are running roughshod over me telling me to stop writing so they can turn off the light. A person can’t record their thoughts around here without being bullyragged. 
Today we had a student teacher,  Hopefully M. Touati is dead.  My birthday’s soon and they owe me $7. Good night!

Samedi 2 Dec 61
27 wrong in dictée.  Mr. Touati shook Carol Pixton is my face again.  That girl’s a blight. Poor Maurice Belanger under the teacher’s desk again. We had a singing contest at recess, singing in our own languages. The Arabic’s the best. 

Wed. Dec 6 - 61
Maria the Swiss nurse gave me a box of decorations for my party. Dad and Paul came home from their trip – Dad’s growing a beard – yuck!  I wore my red dress with the daisies. I got a Moroccan inlaid box with a necklace (which I’m wearing) the ragged bear from Warwick Castle. A copper bell from Rheims with the cathedral on the front and bath talc also.  Good naturedly conceited Genevieve gave me two of her old bras. First time I ever wore a bra. Avril watched me put it on.  Embarka made a wondrous cake and her famous fudge balls.  I was glowing.  Ideal afternoon at school. I came home and wrote eight letters.
At dinner Genevieve was so obnoxious I left the table without eating (all I wanted was cake.) Dad said no one should go near me I was “off the rails”.  Homework, homework, homework.

Thurs Dec 7 - 61
Today was generally miserable but maybe I’m exaggerating. Accidentally dropped Zackia’s pencil sharpener out the window. Feels funny wearing a bra! They tried to teach us Arabic in the afternoon! I’m having enough trouble with French! I think I’ll lead a revolt. M. le Directeur is sick with bowel trouble. Moroccan food is a shock. 

In the evening went to a Brahms concert. It was good. Afterwards Avril and I built a tent out of blankets and sweaters. One bathroom being fixed, the other generally in use so I went outside! 

Sun Dec 10 – 61
Took Zoubida rock climbing – she doesn’t get much exercise.  The countryside is beautiful.  Saw a lamb that had just been born. 
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October 14, 2022