Act 3 Scene 8 (The forest outside JAROD’s house. PERSEY is dragging DIGGER along by his collar.)
PERSEY
DIGGER! I need you! What the heck is your problem?
(DIGGER is doing everything he can to stall and resist. TREES surge, rustle, threaten. WOLVES howl.)
Are you scared of coyotes? I thought they were your friends.
(DIGGER covers his ears with his paws and cowers.) I’m ashamed of you. Such a scaredy cat!
(Bossy mother)
They’re more afraid of you Than you are of them. We trespass in THEIR forest. Ssssh! Hear them talking? Maybe if we listen We‘ll understand their secret.
(Calls softly)
Cookie, Monica, Jean, Mina and Jo Lee … DaToy and Mary Louise… Jane and John Doe…
(The TREES moan and shiver their leaves)
See? They’re helpers, not haters! Believe me, a forest is safer Than most strangers are! Native Americans say The trees are our home.
(Eyes appear glittering between the trees. DIGGER and PERSEY react fearfully. PERSEY tries to master her fear to be brave for DIGGER)
Cookie, Monica, Jean, Mina, DaToy and Jo Lee, Jane and John Are you there? (The eyes turn into beautiful women wearing wolf heads; the WOLF SPIRITS.)
WOLF SPIRITS (Sing) Welcome to The Forest…the center of life… Holds the mystery of death.
(They dance with DIGGER and PERSEY who are at first frightened and awkward, then ecstatic & surrendering. One Spirit gives PERSEY a gift. Then slowly they pull back into the dancing trees. DIGGER wants to go with them but PERSEY jerks him back)
PERSEY Digger, I need you to stay with me now. Did you see them? So many – I never expected …
(DIGGER waves his tail sadly at the departing WOLF SPIRITS. PERSEY studies her gift…a hairclip with a hair extension attached.)
I’ve seen this before. (Falls to her knees) This is Stormee’s. Now I’m REALLY scared.
(At last DIGGER alerts. Sniffs the clip and commences racing around. Finds more bloodied “evidence” to lay at PERSEY’s feet. STORMEE emerges from the trees looking different – scary yet exalted. Her dress is a mass of red streamers. She dances, then collapses gracefully in a heap – PERSEY finds the body – scream – light out.)
Scene 7 (Later. PERSEY’s house. She wears cleaning overall and carries duster & spray can. NED the cop in plain clothes knocks at the door. She’s surprised to see him.)
NED (Very relaxed, strides in carrying folders) Some place you’ve got here. Looks like your help has help.
PERSEY We’re do-it-yourselfers. Um…how can I assist?
NED Ready to work? (Shakes the folders at her)
PERSEY I am working.
NED This is real work, Not playing house. Aren’t you supposed to be My confidential Informant? Saw your husband depart so figured Now’s a good time. Keepin’ it downlow. How about coffee?
PERSEY (She looks appalled but can’t think how to get out of this. DIGGER lifts an uninterested head and goes back to sleep.) Um…sure.
(She wanders out. NED strides around the room, looking at everything. Scratches DIGGER behind ears, Pokes into things, wanders up to the portrait, which glares at him)
NED Whoa, Nellie!
(PERSEY returns sans housecoat & duster, bearing a tray of coffee. NED gestures at the portrait)
NED This is quite something.
PERSEY Yes, isn’t it? (She pours)
NED That’s a lot of knives. Your husband’s a collector?
PERSEY Boys love toys. Sugar? Cream?
NED I could use something sweet. One of those painted kids is Your man, I presume?
PERSEY (Sitting down – she’s had it with that portrait) That’s what they say. But no one knows which.
NED (Confident) Sure. One is a felon and the other Married you. Think that wouldn’t show?
PERSEY A felon?
NED (Less certain) Nobody told you?
PERSEY Bruce went to jail?
NED The guy was a rapist. (He opens file) He served four years.
PERSEY My God!
NED That’s my question, in fact. There’s a gravesite and obituary… But I can’t find a certificate.
PERSEY Let me see.
(He hands her the file – contents projected on walls. Disturbing newspaper articles, black and white photos)
I was worlds away in college Roy was in the army. I never met Bruce. Babe– she’s my mother-in-law Says Bruce killed himself.
NED Suicide never makes obits. Family shame – there’s the rub. Good coffee by the way. You like it strong, just like I do. Most people can’t handle that. (Studied calm) So you think something’s funny About Bruce’s demise?
PERSEY For the first time that seems likely. A handsome young man, With his own trust fund, A bully who adored showing others his power. Suddenly he has an actual motive for offing himself.
NED (His turn to be disbelieving) Family shame, you are thinking? Some sense of remorse?
PERSEY I know his mom pretty well. Rape she could cover. But prison…
NED Mom’s OK with rape?
PERSEY She’s a tad narcissistic.
NED Ah. Would you say that it’s possible… That Bruce is alive?
(WOLVES howl. DIGGER lifts his head and joins in. NED catches PERSEY’s cup as PERSEY drops it)
PERSEY JESUS!
(DIGGER goes to window – all excited.)
It’s those coyotes. I’m afraid Digger’s in love with them.
NED Hey, we all envy the wild. Sorry I upset you.
PERSEY (Filled with revulsion and distaste) Bruce CAN’T be alive. . If he is alive, then where is he? Roy says that he’s dead and He couldn’t fool Roy. Roy hated his brother but now He’s been set free. He replaced Bruce with Jarod who Gives him esteem. Not even their mother Keeps that kind of secret.
NED Work with me here. Let’s imagine – Just for argument – Bruce was paid to vanish and The money ran out. What would he do?
PERSEY (Cynically) The money NEVER runs out.
NED Wow. If you say so!
PERSEY Roy’s mom isn’t clever And she’s not really subtle. I can read between HER lines. She acts like something’s missing That Roy took away. Bruce’s death explains that.
NED You think your husband Murdered his brother?
PERSEY What is it with everyone? That’s NOT what I think!
NED But somebody does?
PERSEY One thing’s guaranteed; If Bruce is alive, Roy knows nothing about it.
NED (Gentle irony) So, in your case the wife Is the first one to know? Your husband can’t lie? Kudos to both of you.
PERSEY I know my own husband! YOUR marriages didn’t take So, what do YOU know? Bruce was Roy’s twin! It’s a special relationship.
NED Would you say he loved his brother?
PERSEY Hated him. Bruce was the favorite. Roy never came into his own Till his brother died. But if he thought for a moment that Bruce could appear…he’d act totally different. I just know it.
NED You’re pretty confident In your ability to read people.
PERSEY I can read THESE people.
NED Kudos to ME picking Confidential Informants.
PERSEY (She fears he is mocking her but he’s very straight faced.) So, what is it you want Me to do for you exactly?
NED Get me a death certificate.
PERSEY This was supposed to concern Jarod!
NED I say what this concerns. That’s how this thing works. You’re a better authority On this family than on Gunver.
PERSEY (She just hates this job) Well, Babe is a packrat and Bruce’s room is a shrine. Her house is a castle. I could look for it there. Or… I could ask her.
NED I’d appreciate it. She won’t return calls.
(PERSEY rises as if to show him out but NED sits like a log. He not going anywhere.)
PERSEY (A bit desperately) Why Bruce? And why now?
NED His fingerprints turned up Recall that pink shoe in the woods?
PERSEY Really? You’re kidding!
NED Who knows how long A fingerprint lasts? Still – There’s no coincidences Only new patterns. Bruce gets out of jail… Disappears – bodies appear. They say Rapists who serve time Stop leaving witnesses.
(WOLVES howl. Now DIGGER wants to go out.)
PERSEY (To DIGGER) You lie down!
(DIGGER plays dead)
(To NED)
But that’s horrible!
NED Horrible’s my job. How long have you had This feral dog problem?
PERSEY There isn’t a problem! If Digger’s friends choose to go feral We can respect that.
NED You promise to help me?
PERSEY (Pacing, trying not to panic) You’re looking in the wrong place.
NED What makes you think so?
PERSEY (Determinedly) MY suspect’s a cop, that’s why You’ll never see it.
(NED leans forward)
NED Jarod’s got no criminal jacket. He isn’t good for this. The question is Why your husband has bad taste in friends. Gunver physically violent That you personally know of?
PERSEY He brags about hurting prisoners. The whole street’s afraid of him. He and Stormee fight constantly.
NED He’s got no complaints.
PERSEY It’s a rigged system!
NED This is circular reasoning.
PERSEY He’s a parasite!
NED Parasites don’t kill. If they know what is good for them. You’re emotionally involved.
PERSEY And that cancels evidence?
NED Hey, everyone’s suspect. I promised to study it.
PERSEY (Points to the folders he hasn’t opened) So, what’s that doing here? Those extra files?
NED Oh. You wanted those names. Of the missing.
(WOLVES emerge howling and gather around house.)
Sounds like…they’re singing.
PERSEY Wouldn’t we all if we could?
NED You mean feel one with nature?
PERSEY Dance with the trees.
(She whirls. THE WOLF-SPIRITS stand up as humans with wolf heads & masks)
NED In our dreams!
(Words & photos projected on walls. Names.)
WOLF SPIRITS (Eerie chanting) Cookie Louise, Monica Falkin, Jean Jane McComber, Ernie “DaToy”, Jo Lee Ann Jeffries, Miss Mina Ha, Jane Does 1 through Jane Doe 4, John Doe 1,2,3.
PERSEY Can I keep these?
NED Do you want them?
PERSEY Names are important. I’d like to study them.
NED The murderer didn’t care who they were.
PERSEY I think he killed them because of Who they were becoming.
(The TREES send protective vines over the house; DIGGER howls)
NED That’s an eerie effect! Really makes you shiver.
(PERSEY opens the door and looks out pointedly)
How about your name – Persey. Where did that come from?
Victor works Emily, his off-again, on-again girlfriend
(Oscar stalks offstage. Victor minces behind him, Rocky vaults over bleachers)
Rocky You’re off course, Victor! Throwin’ shade on Darla!
Victor Hey, bro we discussed this! You want to fend off intruders Or hug them hello? Martial arts says Use their own weight AGAINST THEM Let them knock THEMSELVES down. Achilles had a heel, my Rocky You should know from school history And Oscar’s heel looks like DARLA!!! So let’s bring him to heel. You gotta use bluster! My gift of gab fathers brainworms No soldier can shake! It’s Strategy, man! “Cringe theory!” Makin’ war with their heads! Cringe theory’s my superpower.
Rocky Not if people get hurt!
Victor Quit your puss-ups, My brutha! And don’t be pathetic. It’s toughen or die In this world, little Rocky Gotta go for the prizes The treasures of paradise Don’t fall in your lap. We gotta fight for them – Smarter and better – sink foes in Stupidity – till their filth Swallows them whole and Leaves the field empty. Empty for US.
Rocky Coach says you’re just Cynical: using your brain To avoid all the Sweat and sore muscles.
Victor And what’s wrong with that? Don’t see them bankers out Laboring Stop being a cunt, Rocky. If I prove what I say, are You with me, or not?
Rocky You can’t prove Darla’s A nympho! I know that much For certain.
Victor Won’t YOU be surprised. Can’t trust ME, trust Your own eyes. I can prove anything On anyone – prove Darla’s a nympho and Oscar’s an idiot.He’ll be publicly scorned and Thrown off the team. Do you dare me?
Rocky I dare you. But Don’t let it sink you.
Victor Nothing sinks me – I’m Unsinkable – The only guy here Who’s in charge of himself. Coach did me a favor Kicking me off the team. Now I see the world Truthfully. Let my game play out.
Rocky I’m more confused By your solutions Than even my problems!
(His phone chimes)
Catch your act later Victor – I’m late For detention.
Victor
(To audience)
All these poor boneheads Still “going to school”. This place is a backwater For ignorant jerkwads.
(plays with his phone)
Victor Well I know one person Still comes when I call.
(Emily appears, highly disgruntled, shaking her phone)
Emily What fresh hell is this? Are you crazy?
Victor
(affectionate and conciliatory)
Great to see you too Baby, give Papa a kiss.
(She pushes him away)
Emily I am NOT getting you Sex pics of Darla!
Victor Level the playing field Sugar, you’ve got to just Face it! Darla Thinking she’s special Is harshing your style. She’s slut-shaming you.
Emily
(Despite her best intentions this is getting to her)
She is NOT. We’re Best friends 4-EVA.
Victor
(Deep significance – flashes his phone)
What would she say If she saw THESE? Think she’d be disgusted? Think she’d talk you down?
Emily Stop it! That’s not fair! I was playing a part!
(tearful)
I was only a kid!
Victor Prudes And their body issues – So…what’s wrong with HER body?
Emily Nothing wrong with Darla’s body! You know she’s just shy.
Victor She’s a prude!
Emily She’s got standards.
Victor Hey, I ain’t asking For porno! Nude ladies be art!
(Considers)
Not that pornos are bad. I mean if Darla wanted – You never know what’s lurking Behind Darla’s green door.
Emily Darla has no Green door!
Victor Just one nudie pic – please? And I’ll destroy all of these.
(She snatches for his phone – he holds it just out of reach)
Emily You already SAID you destroyed them!
Victor But honey – they’re So beautiful! So precious To my heart.
Emily Not that one with The blindfold.
Victor Oh, quit your drama! Be glad they ain’t posted.
Emily You sent them to ME! They’ll be somewhere FOREVER.
Victor Grow up “Miss Emily”. Allow Poor space aliens to Get off on your booty!
Emily I NEVER SAID YES. I was asleep for The first ones!
Victor Didn’t you give me your body? You know you did Sugar. Who “Consent” breaks the mood. I’m “equal opportunity –“ sugah – Don’t I send you dic pics?
Emily It’s not even YOUR dick!
Victor Some of them are!
Emily Face it, Victor. Some girls just don’t Want to be filmed.
Victor Don’t you believe it, sister Every chick’s got a Mayadere hiding in her Someplace. Don’t you owe it to history To immortalize This gorgeousness?
(he plays with her hair)
Emily First time I’ve Heard THAT argument. You said I was so “Inadequate” I ought To get implants.
Victor Only if you Want them. I know you Emily. You’re all About Art. “Cinema verité.”
(air quotes)
Making it real and KEEPING it real.
Emily Can’t believe You were listening.
Victor I’ve heard everything You’ve ever said. You talk in your sleep.
Emily Uh oh. Just giving you More ammo.
Victor Let’s say your Outward persona Don’t recognize your Inner child. But You’re safe with me.
Emily If only.
Victor Don’t act so Unwilling. Isn’t “Cinema verité“ about Tagging the unwary? Just shop your moniker!
Emily Fun as this is to Talk about art I’m not creating sex pics Of Darla for your hounds’ Delectation.
Victor Oh, give the dogs SOMETHING. How about pillow fights? Two Naked girls and a whole World of feathers. Now That’s artistic! Or you play With her boobies – I’m sayin – It could Put you through college.
(Emily facepalms in rage and despair, Victor puts arms around her)
Victor
oh honey, if only you saw How beautiful you are. Lucky me! You will never be as gorgeous as You are right this minute.
(Kissing and nuzzling. Emily starts to give in. He nibbles her ear.)
Victor You know we’ve got To get rid of him.
Emily
(Pulling away)
Who? Oscar?
Victor Yes, Oscar. Everything bad ever Started with Oscar.
Emily Leave Oscar alone! Stop trying To get even. And stop Hanging out with mofos like Rocky! He’s got shit for brains!
Victor Rocky’s good people.
Emily I know Rocky’s behind this He just wants revenge porn Because Darla dumped him.
Victor So what? I got Rocky’s back. Maybe Rocky’s just human.
Emily Listen – My gramma says The best revenge Is getting into the college Of your choice.
Victor
(sighs dramatically)
Sugar, Rocky NEEDS this. And He’s too proud to ask.
Emily But Darla’s my FRIEND!
Victor Why you so protective? Think she’s better than you?
Emily Girls got to stay loyal.
Victor You’ve got HER back but What’s SHE done for you? She’s making you look bad.
Emily You guys so stuck on “status” Passing chicks like Sports cards – you Don’t KNOW from friendship. You Don’t understand.
Victor You’re not fooling me Sugar. Remember I’m your Daddy and You talk in your sleep. I know you better than You know yourself. You’re A secret resenter ‘Cause Darla’s got EVERYTHING while You got a broke-ass kid’s bed In the basement of Your grandparents’ house?
Emily Don’t you go draggin’ my Grandfolks! They’ve been So good to me.
Victor
(Smooth change of tack)
Some friend YOU are Standing by while your bestie While she gets herself inseminated With terrorist anchor babies!
Emily
(Disturbed but trying to stay cool)
Who’s drama now?
Victor Them kind don’t Use rubbers. Trust me, my Poptart ‘cause I know the world. They’re all bareback and Rough riding – that’s what they like. Look at the size of him – poor Darla’s got no chance – He wants something He TAKES it! They think Rape is foreplay.
Emily You’re disgusting!
Victor I’m makin’ it real and Keepin’ it real which you PRETEND that you value. Who tells truth If you don’t get it from me? If Darla got pregnant – you know What she’d do.
Emily
(Sighs)
She’d have that damn baby Darla’s a sticker. DAMN – That girl is old school.
Victor So – now you’ve got the chance to Nip this in the bud! That’s what REAL friends would do. Show her Oscar’s true colors!
Emily
(wavering)
How can nudies fix anything?
Victor ‘Cause Oscar will dump her! And Coach will dump HIM!
Emily You’re not helping your “Nudes are art” theory With this “pics are Hand grenades” plot. Make up your mind!
Victor It’s Oscar’s mind I’m Playing with. That guy’s A caveman! You know How they are. Here’s Your chance to expose him!
Emily You’re talking crazy.
Victor Hey, I’ll contain all the Damage. Where are YOUR Nudie pix? Safe and sound!
(pats his phone)
See? You know you can trust me! You know Daddy’s good for it!
Emily But you’re so Conniving – playing Both sides to middle.
Victor Oh, be a guy’s girl for once Like you. claimed To be when You promised yourself to me. Don’t go all Girlie-girl.
(makes what he thinks is a mincing gesture)
Emily This is the whole problem With high school monogamy! We’re such different people In four short years!
Victor
(Offended)
Well, I ain’t no Ken doll.
Emily And I’m no Barbie!
Victor Truthfully – Ain’t it been wonderful How we stick together? You got all your friends’ envy.
Emily ‘Cause they don’t know the truth. They don’t see my Compromise.
(Victor pours on the sugar)
Victor It’s a cold world out there, baby. A girl needs protection.
Emily
(Exhausted)
Oh leave me alone. I can’t cope. You’re like A bulldozing Bloviator.
Oscar: immigrant male teen, dark, tall, handsome, recently recruited to this new high school for his athletic gifts, trying to figure out this new world and his place within it
Emily: Victor’s girlfriend, Darla’s best friend
Darla: beautiful, intelligent teen girl, considered highly desirable but she considers herself one of the “good girls”
Rocky: “best friend & yes man”; resentful male teen: Darla’s ex
Act 1 – Scene 1: (Football field of an American high school. VICTOR, a handsome but height-challenged teenager, sits on the bleachers under klieg lights)
Victor (to audience)
The new guy!
(spits)
It’s always about the new guy! Oooo – he’s so special! Oooo – he’s so different – Let’s give him EVERYTHING! Let’s give him a room In the same house With the coach’s beautiful daughter!
(pacing)
I ask you – is that fair? How can THAT be fair! Me – who’s always been loyal – Cut from the team! No more loyalty – that’s for sure – That coach is a such a cunt – They’re all cunts! “You’re not a team player,” says Coach Higgins – “Won’t take direction.” Know what that’s code for? Means I’m smart! Means I’ve figured things OUT. Means I ask questions and Think for MYSELF.
You’d think schools would value INTELLIGENCE But they’re just preachin’ The same old religion – Looks, money, genetic
Mutations! Like Their darling Oscar!
Who’s Oscar? What’s Oscar? What hole did he crawl out of? He’s not one of us That’s for sure – Floated here In a box, Climbed over some wall. Paid a criminal “coyote” To circumvent those Laws they claim to love: Barely speaks English and Here they are Lining up To suck his dick.
Listen to them Congratulate each other:
(high affected voice)
“We offer sanctuary!” “Cause we’re practically ANGELS” – But only athletes With “gifts” they need Get that “special treatment”.
What’s this fuss all about? What’s this “gift” really about? He learned to RUN is all Dodging border cops Thumbing his nose at Everyone Who’s been here FOREVER. Saps! We’re only good enough to Pay his bills!
He’s got HEIGHT – The guy’s good looking but – And that’s ALL he’s got. That’s ALL he is – He’s a pet and pets are ANIMALS!
(spits venomously)
Oscar!
(Enter ROCKY, best friend and yes man, equally discouraged)
Rocky Hey, who’re you talking to?
Victor A guy craving Intelligence in this neck of the woods Has to talk to himself.
Rocky Yeah, he does!
(beat)
And what’s that guy say?
Victor It’s not FAIR Is what I’m saying; Coach falling over Oscar Just for his legs.
Rocky Has that guy got legs! He DOES have legs! Regular jackrabbit That guy.
Victor Why’s this immigrant So special they’re breakin’ the rules I wanna know. Since the law says we Gotta go to school We’re really hostages – And what do they teach us? What do they care about?
Football! Following ORDERS. How to win games FOR SOMEBODY ELSE. Get our blocks caved in For the old folks’ amusement.
Rocky Aw – you’re just sore you were cut Everyone’s sore. But Who doesn’t like football? Football’s FUN Sure beats math.
(Thinks)
And chemistry.
(Shudders)
Victor You’re cut too Poor bastard – We don’t measure up To their sudden “new” standards.
Rocky
(apologetically)
I oughta Work out more. Squad goals!
Victor Squad goals? Following orders is more like it Give them your Brain for a plaything. You gotta MOVE ON man! I’ve moved on. Get with the program.
Rocky
(headscratching)
Whose program? Quarterbacks are heroes, man.
Victor Just a genetic mutation Centuries of selective breeding We should be ON TOP of this Not bottoming the heap!
Rocky Buddies RELY You’re the one who says that. We “Gotta play position” Like it or not.
(Shrug)
Victor Might as well Buy yourself a box, friend YOU’RE GONNA GET BURIED.
Rocky Nobody dies footballin’.
Victor But they die IN THE ARMY – And that’s where you’re goin’ Suckah – with their Squad goals in your head! Cannon fodder! That’s what the THINKERS say – Marching without questions Buys a hole in the ground!
Rocky But football –
Victor Forget football! See the BIG game. Football isn’t the universe, man. Look at Congress, look at Wall Street! What do you see?
Rocky Butt-ugly old men.
Victor Yeah, they are! Some poor fool be taking Their orders – where to jump and when! They’re laughing their Asses off all the way To the bank. They’re Partyin’ on YOUR time YOUR money, your LIFE My poor friend.
Rocky But I got nothin’! I had a girlfriend Had a place on the team Now I got nothin’!
Victor
(Taps his head)
All wealth is up here. It’s STRATEGY, man – we gotta learn GAME THEORY. Not football. I tell you, Man, they’re making us dumber! Just look all around you!
Rocky Seeing… what?
Victor Smart people like us – have got to Learn to teach themselves While some idiots Run around a field and other idiots Applaud. Listen to me. I’m the only one Keepin’ it real.
Rocky You’re the onlySmart guy at this school, Victor.
Victor
(Gratified)
That’s what I’m talking about! Getting dumped’s a mark of honor from Assholes like those.
Rocky
(Sadly)
Ya think? I was coming To ask you – What to do about Darla. You should have seen Her face when she –
(overwhelmed by anguished memory)
Victor Her face when she dumped you? Don’t cringe, bro! I’ve seen Darla’s face. Girl’s face Is her fortune.
Rocky Her face when she saw Oscar. That girl was drooling She’s never looked at me Anything like that.
Victor Girls be dramatic! Don’t take it serious!
Rocky But they live’ in the same house – You know Coach turns a blind eye No bro can fight that.
Victor Cut yourself free of that drama – And you stay lucky, my buddy. She did you a solid. We need to be Pullin’ them bitches, not Getting Cuffed. Stay wary, my brother. And Remember – all Chicks are alike.
Rocky There’s no chick Like Darla! She could be A supermodel. Her body! Coke bottle hips –
(shapes the air with his hands)
Victor
(Giving himself boobs)
And Playmate level Titties!
(they high five)
Free the Nipple! Not that you’ve SEEN them.
Rocky Oh brother – Hells yes I HAVE. Not talking side boob – Not bragging top boob – I’m sayin’ I kissed them and Seen the whole thing. Nips so – Pale – Pale as
(Gropes for metaphor)
Musclemilk. Not dark like porn queens but Pale – like a just-born baby.
(Deflates)
Victor I don’t believe you.
Rocky You don’t BELIEVE me? Callin’ me a liar?
Victor Then where’s your trophy?
(camera snap gesture)
No bares without shares.
Rocky No such luck.
Victor Why the heck not? You forget about Squad goals?
(threatening)
It’s your name On the line.
Rocky Hey – It was low light.
Victor Your phone got no Flashlight?
(Makes a “keep it coming” gesture)
Bros before hos.
Rocky Didn’t have my phone! This is Darla we’re talking about! Girl’s such a prude I was lucky to get close – Seize opportunity.
(Whispers)
Skinny dipping down In Darla’s POOL.
Victor You can’t score alone, Rocky. There’s buddies to feed.
Rocky I almost got there! She’s gone, now, Victor. It’s over. She’ll never sit On my face now. I’m out. I’m OVER.
Victor Hey! No one says You’re over till I say you’re over. What’s got into this chick?
Rocky ‘Cause she knows she’s beautiful! Darla’s so special! Wouldn’t let me Touch third.
Victor Listen to yourself! Giving her control!
Rocky
(whining)
Darla’s so different. Darla’s so special.
Victor You’re so CUFFED, man – That’s why she Dumps you – you’re into HER playbook, When she ought to be in YOURS. All quims are alike. Bitches need to be Dominated.
Rocky Not queens, man. They know they’re different.
Victor If I teach you one thing, bro It’s gotta be this – Beauty don’t last! Power lasts! Power grows! That’s the game, baby – it’s You or her – only one of you Gets out alive. Watch my lips! Second verse – same as the first. It’s her foot on your face or Your foot on her keester You better believe it. Play or be played.
Rocky But girls are so different! Some girls are big Some girls are tiny. Take Brandy’s chest –
Victor Taken. You’re wandering off point Rocky Here’s the point – Darla’s hot for beaner!
(frantic hip thrusting motion)
Rocky Aw, Darla doesn’t GET hot –
Victor Not for YOU, maybe. HE unsnapped her purse Gonna run through them bushes – If we let him – Like a machete.
Rocky But WHY? Just ‘cause He’s quarterback?
Victor ‘Cause he’s DIRTY. Girls can’t help it, brutha It’s all genetic – they got to Wander, seasoning the herd. First moment she saw him She’s wanting his rugrat Girl can’t help herself.
(falsetto voice)
Bareback me, baby! “I need a raw boy – Gimme your giant thing – Doin’ the map.” That’s why they need DOMINANCE.
Rocky Stop it! That’s not true! You don’t know that!
Victor All slits are ALIKE Lookin’ to get railed –
(grabs Rocky, shakes him)
You gotta Stay strong, my brutha – THIS is your moment THIS is your choice Don’t get cuffed Or you’ll soon be CUCKED!
26 hours without T. Spoke to him last night and again this afternoon. His acceptance of me is total, but it comes from a position of strength and I have fears of being annihilated. Last night I experienced hallucinatory states – drove home the wrong way – felt something was happening to the car – re-experienced my swallowing problem. Resolved my panic by starting a poem.
Sat night Toss and I read the diary passages where
we lose our “divinity” (his word) together. He cried and told me what he’d felt like from his “side”, wanting to be male & in control, feeling helpless & immature. Agreed if we had married then we’d be divorced now.
11:05PM Trying to read Oneness & Separateness. Not well suited to me right now! Much as I want to be a mother the thought of a demanding infant between me & T truly horrifying. Insane fears of rejection and abandonment – why on earth should I trust this man? Called T at work! Complete craziness. He reassured me we will have private alone time a real vacation in the Berkshires. He said champagne arrived. Called A & we discussed Mom & Dad – how they rewarded “self-sufficiency” and responded to neediness coldly. Makes it hard to be honest now but I hate this weirdly formal relationship with my own parents. Avril says there is no retraining them.
Sat 14 July 79 – StormFall Farm – 11:15 PM Oh, my God who would believe it – here I am 11 years later! Told T about my uncle last night as we made sexual “confessions”. He was completely calm about it so it’s no longer a Big Secret. He insisted I read his ex-girlfriend’s letters. She was a Piper Cub to his Concorde, believe me. He kept carbons of his letters to her!!!! Not very loving – downright fatherly. In a bad way.
T’s actual father and he smoked cigars last night
after dinner leaning against the mantel – they were so beautiful together I felt stunned. Wrote a poem:
MY HUSBAND SMOKES CIGARS WITH HIS FATHER BY CANDLELIGHT
Your profiles cut my heart like glass. Go ahead. I’m a bleeder, I’ll Still be here when you look back. Your father is a silver-headed Walking-stick; his elongation glows with far less heat. You’re his nemesis; and he’s used to it. The wooden floors washed cornelian Perhaps by sunset Perhaps by jealousy of girls who Lost you; judged too soon the temper of your eyes Wrote too many letters or Not enough; the wrong kind Addressed to the pale law student with The cinderblock heart Traveling commentator with the hundred Dollar bill rolled inside his shoe, The long-haired Pinkerton guard. You learned to suck the cherries Scarless from the tree; it’s no mean art Broke a few at first; we all did. By what right am I the winner? You chose me in thirty seconds leaving enough time to smoke another cigar.
Everyone wants us to marry before May. But I feel
I need some time in Kentucky first. Toss told me last night that on paper he is a millionaire. Here’s luck, because if I keep on keeping on, I’m a pauper! Tom’s grandmother’s response was “I am not surprised.” She committed herself to reading my “thriller”. At dinner he announced I’m the only woman he’s ever wanted to marry. Tom’s dad said he thought he’d be a bachelor forever. Privately we affirmed absolute sexual fidelity forever. Will we be able to keep it?
Plush Palace – Wed 18 July 79 – 4:55 PM Boring day but good tips. Magnificent party at The Third Edition last night for Avril’s birthday. (I didn’t care for Avril’s latest “honey” Vigo but was furious at myself – she should date as widely as possible. Maybe I was affected by T who is a snob and a purist.) Drinks, fruit & cheese – then dinner at The Old Angler & Frank Langella in Dracula. (Not a good version.) “Finances” discussion with T. He talked me out of selling my car. I worry about being dependent on him but he says it will be fine. Sounds to me like he is living on a knife’s edge – working part time, going to law school, selling stock when he needs money (which he is loathe to do being naturally frugal.) Too tired to make love last night but we started up in the middle of the night – both asleep. Doors keep opening – then there’s another one.
Castle – 1 PM – Thurs 19 July 79 So happy I can’t take it all in. Feel like someone recovering from a long illness. Read Cheever’s Goodbye My Brother – as satisfying as a novel. Last night we made love for hours and hours but I just couldn’t come – kept holding his face saying, “Is it really you”? Dancing with Barbara the Kikuyu and blonde Joyce of the day-glo costumes.
3 PM Party Castle – 24 July 79 First real friction last night – very predictably, about my job. I’m irritated over the assumption that its sordid and brutalizing. It is totally NOT the same as the dancers in DC!!! LIFE can be sordid and brutalizing – I like this club because it ISN’T and I’ve tried others. We discussed HIS job which also has its sordid and corrupting aspects. Duh. His last girlfriend gave him shit about it (and refused to read the paper!) so it’s a sore point. He should get it. There was a horrible moment when he felt foreign and alien – but I expected it – too much intimacy always causes a backlash. Trying to read Sisters & Strangers. The Victorian novel is not dead.
Castle – 2 Aug 79 – Wed Seems hopeless to TRY writing in this book – things happen so fast – a month is an eternity. Last night celebrated our 11th “divinity loss” anniversary – and a difficult anniv. It was. T came to see me dance for the first time – with Avril so it wouldn’t be so bad but had to leave he was so upset. He didn’t like me smiling! Like I’m ENJOYING myself! The PLACE didn’t bother him (“reverent & reserved” were his words) just my pleasure in movement beauty & freedom! Uh oh! He goes back to my parents’ argument: IT’S TURNING MEN ON. So what? I get impatient with that – that way lurks the “hajib”.
We have to educate each other. At the end the atmosphere seemed cleared and we both cried with relief. Even though I know my love is in the larval stage, I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him. We had our last dinner at 641 E street – steak and wine, fruit, cream, brandy. He asked me if there were any boyfriends’ the report of whose marriage “depressed” me (he was referring to my marriage) and I had to say no.
He opened a letter from Mindy, ex-girlfriend he was thinking of re-starting a relationship with except she went to Nepal. A letter I would have thought perfectly reasonable two months ago now strikes me as ridiculous – an ounce of love is worth more than all these pages of barter.
I got a wonderful letter from Devon – he’s found “another girl” (with three more in reserve I’m betting) and wishes me the best. But T was upset because he closed with “I love you” a word NOT thrown around in his world! (Mindy and Cindy don’t say it!) He says it’s the only part of the letter he believes – “the guy is a total phony.” I said his only victim is himself. We then made love on the floor on top of all our exes’ letters. Gloriously. Got a poem out of it.
The Bridesmaid Yes, I know everything You’re my poor Relation. I know of your daddy’s desk where you Fucked with formaldehyde fingers I know of your lonely Rosary of abortions I repeat, I know everything. We made love on your letters undisturbed As two icons. She’s imperfect He told me. Unseated by mortality We must take our place With the king’s crazy mistresses; Brewing menstrual blood coffee And mandrake root tea. Swim away, little bridesmaid, You’re too young I’m in love We’ve got Too much in common ever to meet. Need to see dentist & gyno, overhaul bike, pay bills. T. meets Ralph Nader at 6. Lucky me snagging someone so ambitious and competent.
Castle Mon 6 Aug 79
God I need Maine. I love T but I need to get away
from him. I am used to being alone 4-5 hours a day. Starving for that. Wonder how many otherwise perfect relationships break up for this reason! T. is a little TOO driven. A little TOO single-minded. Makes me argue with him – I can’t help it. For example: he talked about the “ugliness of the desert landscape.” It’s not my “thing” either – because I grew up somewhere else – but O’Keeffe taught me to see the beauty of it. What he REALLY meant was “I don’t like it” but he raises it to a religious principle “New England is better.” That’s embarrassing.
I constantly feel he’s trying to “re-educate” me – for example he didn’t like my turquoise silk pants because he “doesn’t like colors that don’t appear in nature.” When shown an aquarium of tropical fish he doesn’t “count” them, their colors are “cultivated” and somehow “wrong.” The truth is bright colors make him nervous. So say THAT.
Sat night we went to an office party of his people (to which I wore the aforementioned pants) and praised the house over- extravagantly. (He does NOT like my yellow velvet furniture. I’m giving it to Maureen.) “One good picture” per wall, beige Danish oldern furniture – unbelievably boring and sterile. A chipped china frog would have done the place a world of good. Could warn of decorating problems ahead. His younger brother Dominic in town – when I complimented his Mazda sports car and said I’d love to have one someday Toss said “we’ll see” as if I could never buy one for myself! These flare-ups are important signs. Must work on my self-value.
8 Aug 79 Packing for Maine came across D’s letters. Not a “good” one among them. “Phoniness” is NOT his problem – that’s not the right word – he’s not even “tone deaf” which was Bruce’s disorder. I think it’s a “temperature” thing – he WANTS all passion sexualized (not that he would ever admit it) and doesn’t trust intimacy, closeness – as if he doesn’t believe – doesn’t want to believe it exists. He fears never freeing himself from the physical so he cultivates a lonely “spirituality” but he’s mired HIMSELF in it. So that’s pathetic. I take responsibility – he probably felt hounded by my love. Thank God I escaped is all I can say. I’m betting he was geared up to torture me for a lifetime. I let T read my short story about his mother. That was probably a mistake. (In it he’s planning her death!) He made some idiotic writing class comments – I said it wasn’t THAT far along – but there’s something appealingly mythic about this undigested mass. Worry about it in ten years!
Shadowe Island ME – Mon 7:30 AM 12 Aug 79
Toss just left on the ferry so I can relax. Wish this
diary ended here – I need a New Life. But Not Yet. Rainy with a gray sea. Dogs stretched out snoring on the Greek carpet. This visit has been everything I wanted, but the first night was classic in its ghastliness. Guests showed up at cocktails and stayed through dinner – unexpectedly – this mob scene making our announcement a bit tougher. Toss whispered, “Want to go through with it?” I said, “Sure.”
We opened the champagne. The guests loved it – Mom & Dad really surprised. Dad started talking about his difficult father-in-law and how things would be different but flat out calling me a liar when I chimed in about how Wilbur returned his prison mail (he told me this story HIMSELF last Christmas!) I kept my temper – oh I must have got it wrong. (I didn’t. We’d discussed it later ad nauseam.) Avril attacked me later for bringing it up and “embarrassing” Dad – but he’d been TALKING ABOUT HIS DIFFICULT FATHER IN LAW. Toss was surprised at Avril’s hostility – used to her as an ally. He said, “They obviously think you’re invulnerable.” Probably. If so they’re all idiots! I thought A was upset about her own out-of-his-depth boyfriend, Vigo. Anyway T rescued the evening bringing tears to Mom’s eyes by talking about how he’d always loved me. M & D apologized & congratulated us.
Sunday the four of us toured the island – trying to get along with Vigo. (A says he has just one testicle as if that’s all that’s wrong with him.) At dinner watched slides of my growing up – T tremendously moved – then lobster dinner.
Tues 13 Aug 79 – 5 PM T called last night on his WATS line and we talked ½ an hour. Says he used to play an “airport game” of “Looking for his future wife” but thought “I AM married!” Wow!
Sun. 19 Aug 79 T’s letter came! Glorious. I do not feel worthy. Tension between A & V – he teases her too much – we all try to ignore it – tough to figure out how to call him on it without opening up hostilities. Hope she dumps him. T on phone! Ex-island boyfriend visits. A says he acts like he wants to knock me to the floor and French kiss me to death. Seems accurate. Glad T missed him.
Party Castle – 11 PM 22 Aug 79 Glad to go to Maine and thrilled to leave it. Mary & Debby dancing. Today’s been eventful – T got my letters and was enormously moved. He says the worst mistake he ever made was burning my teenage letters. We should try to exist without this phoning but can’t help ourselves. Diet going well: I feel good. Struggling with a pile of thank you letters.
Castle – 7 PM Fri 25 Aug 79 T. and I separated 11 days already – feels like eternity. Avril announces she wants her own apt so I should put house on the market. Maybe its easier. Flooding small publishers with Blood Memory – feel pessimistic however. 3 poems accepted – 2 by Colorado Woman, 1 by Friends Journal. Doesn’t feel as good as I’d hoped. Struggling with new novel where I try to tell the truth about Devon. But why should anyone want THAT God knows. Moving costs $400. I still think I should sell my Fiat. Rotten crowd. Bored and jerking like a marionette. Dancing with crazy Robin and Anne who never stops talking. She says June’s in the hospital in a full body cast – will never dance again. 2 more sets – praise God. Trying to read about Lewis Carroll. A says Zach threatening to show up. Don’t show up, Zach. I have a headache.
2:30 AM Sun 27 Aug 79 – There is a God. Zach didn’t show. Long phone call w/T then walk dogs to think about it. He is such a powerful person it’s a little disturbing. Said he read my poem (The Duel) to his most erudite friend who was very impressed. We wound up in another argument about my dancing. I can’t bear his slurs so I referred to his past drug use – WE’VE BOTH EXPERIMENTED, ALL RIGHT? He wants me to live without money then complains about selling stock. I told him it’s a “schizophrenic bind.” Didn’t mention how I have to PRY my stock (that’s in my name) out of Mom and Dad.
Reading an idiotic romance – its very idiocy is refreshing. I see why people get addicted to these. Like looking at maps when you’re lost. Ok they’re only two dimensional but its SOMETHING!
Party Castle Tues 28 Aug 79 Last night dancing. Celebrate with chocolates but I’m too enervated to appreciate it. Finished I’m Radcliffe, Fly Me. Ultimately a failure. Fails to explore the inherent corruption of institutional structures. Horrible night. $5 in tips – they are sick of the sight of me and I refuse to buy new costumes. I am scared to death of being dependent on T. I think he could reassure me but doesn’t know how because if I really needed him would I be so desirable? Is a puzzlement.
I feel like I’m unfastening my suckers from Avril and grabbing onto T! Up here without a net! Then I get mad at myself for being so infantile. Can I just write and feel powerful? We’ll see! Doubts creeping in! This time next week I’ll be in Kentucky! Well, I’ve written some good poems lately. Self-confidence atrocity attack. Feel & look rotten. Realizing the extent to which I was fertile soil for my parents’ anxieties.
3:30 Thurs 30 Aug 79 Everything done, ready to leave. I’m in shock. Crawled into the bath with a vodka tonic and now I’m feeling better. Trying to figure out how to approach parents for money. Maybe they could give me my own stock as engagement present? Feel I won’t be able to disguise my rage. This “I’m All Right Jack” no matter WHAT – is mighty convenient for them. I realize its any sense of helplessness that triggers all this rage NOT a good sign for T’s and my relationship. He can’t “make” me independent! I must not succumb, or Plath-ize. (She sacrificed herself to the gods of rage.) I’m doing this guy no favors handing him a woman on the edge of breakdown.
4:25PM – My darling just called! Relief! He borrowed a truck from somebody so although we’ll have to drive separately we won’t have movers or returns to cope with. He’s driving it out here so I can sleep as late as I like which I really need. Impossibly intense happiness. Peace & joy. Feel we have been standing in a dinghy trying to balance. Equilibrium is everything. The irrevocableness of marriage. My children mutely regard my choice. The hopelessness of explaining myself to any of T’s friends. Rain. Any excuse not to take a walk (T lives in bad neighborhood.) Feel like a girl in a gothic novel except for the constant sex which makes it a different kind of novel. Break with the past.
Reading Robert Ludlum’s perfectly ludicrous Matarese Circle. In 100 yrs people will wonder how we stomached this stuff. A. and I going to Olney theatre to see The Bat tonight.
TOMORROW STARTS WOMAN INTO WOLF Alysse Aallyn’s thriller about difficult marriages & split identities
…a thrill-ride, unique and highly recommended reading.” –Entrepreneur.com “deceit, rape, fertility, imprisonment and a mother’s grief…as each piece of the tightly coiled fiction was loosed I waited for the revelation to come…she couldn’t imagine the extent of the deception until it was spelled out. Neither could I.” –MyShelf.com “one of the most unusual mysteries I have ever read…I loved reading Woman Into Wolf … kept me on the edge of my seat right through the end…I highly recommend this novel to fans of crime mysteries that also enjoy some extra spice in their stories.” – Readerviews.com “a very fine psychological thriller… the characters in this book are as bright as crystal and as sharp as shattered glass. Aallyn not only can describe them to a neo-noun, she can make them speak true to those characters. Quite a talent…a novel every bit as worthy as her first.” ArmchairInterviews.com
10:00 PM – Party Castle – Wed 27 Jun 79
The inevitable panic reaction has set in – am I out of
my friggin MIND? But it’s my battle and I’m dealing with it. I hear myself saying WAY too much around him as if tempting him to find something to be disgusted by and to reject me – why can’t I just shut up and enjoy this?
Because I can’t believe he really loves the real me – we haven’t seen each other in 10 years. I plunge gratified into the dizzying sensory experiences – he is very sexual and willing to talk about it – everything he says turns me so ON. Heavenly night of ecstatic sex. Trying to go SLOW, not empty out my bag of tricks all at once. I resent my own anxieties and my fear of being vulnerable. Here at work I wrote a poem about our past – The Duel. Will I ever be able to show him?
I even like his snobbishness – he’s more elitist I guess you’d say. He assumes we’re “up there” – and it’s others job to qualify, to climb up to “our level”! That’s so refreshing after Usher Glayne’s weirdness! He just takes it for granted we’re in a class by ourselves; special people trying to do special things. And our tastes are so similar. He doesn’t plan to stay in Kentucky – wants to live in New England with its fall, its woodstoves and frozen lakes. I can barely comprehend such confidence much less contain it. Imagine being free forever from the fear that the party’s happening elsewhere. We ARE the party.
I said I felt safe with him – he said he wasn’t sure that was justified – looked at me like a beast longing to rend, but restraining itself. Wild frissons! He must be horrified by how fast things are going – I have never met a man who wouldn’t be. But he’s driving this train. Told me he’s been so celibate lately – very upfront discussing his discouraging relationship with a virginal anorexic perfectionist frightened by everything who compensates by torturing herself and all the people around her. In a flash I realized, that’s exactly what Devon is also.
Toss says he feels “stormed” by me –dizzied – by who and what I am, the summit of my “magnificence”. Wow! Such flattery very scary. How can he possibly mean it? Yet he seems so honest, so open. What will he do when he finds out I am human after all – a creature of mud and sludge like everyone else?
Reading Margaret Drabble’s The Needle’s Eye – not so good as The Waterfall – beginning to be turned off by her towers of verbiage. My own life is so much more interesting. Good phone con- versations with Toss – I am beginning to trust him. When I told him what I do for a living he was totally unfazed. “I knew you couldn’t get that body walking!” Tomorrow we explore Annapolis.
Party Castle 12:05 am 2 July 79 Wrote D an angry farewell poem.
“HOW DID YOU MEET?”
You saw me naked I saw you too close- up. You hovered, teaching Between the green glimpses. You drank vodka, I drank wormwood. You cut mountains down to size; I’d no idea that one could take such charge of space. Now I’m a toad-dweller, Nostrils pierced by thorns I Fall face-first into every hole; You were the king the ghost pines saluted. How you dove and danced! Speeding through your love-drunk universe, you Infected me with your own whiteness Dizziness, till all my blood drained out. You challenged God; I was the echo following after. Yet here I am after all this time And nothing promised remains of you.
Or, “Good luck with Sleeping Beauty’s castle!” That’s what he gets for messing with my heart. Can’t show anyone – most certainly not him – and it isn’t really finished – and I don’t think it ever will be. But thank God for diaries. Diaries can be told anything. Reading Secrets in the Family – it is so superb I am going to buy copies for all my sisters. Looking forward to discussing it with Toss. I’m beginning to miss him now – he’s so deep and interesting to be around – so alive on many more levels than anyone else – challenging all my levels. Falling in love – happy, crazy.
Thurs 11:05 – Plush Palace – 5 July 79
Back at The Plush – its catch as catch can in my
present situation. I am alienating managers left and right. But I am happy crazy and who cares?
Because on the third of July Toss asked me to
marry him and I said yes! Here’s how it happened. On Monday night we ate white clam linguini and crenshaw melon while listening to Keith Jarrett’s Koln Concert – then – came together in delicious, soul-freeing sex; two perfectly matched combatants recognizing each other not just from childhood and youth but school and dreams. He was eager to learn how I could best be pleased – so I surrendered to the inevitable. Fireworks!
He left me sleeping there in the AM – I heard thumping downstairs but I know he has roommates so didn’t think anything of it – when he came back for lunch he discovered the door broken in and my purse missing. Keys, wallet, everything. I had to call into work – had to call a locksmith to give me keys to my car.
Toss doesn’t know what else they stole because he doesn’t know what else is supposed to be in this house – called his roommates. They came, police came. So we spent a day of intense babbling and the worst kinds of petty annoyances – but none of it mattered because he was there. In fact, I welcomed it; it was an extra opportunity to be together.
At one point I said, you know, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a man. He said, if I believed that, I’d ask you to marry me. I said, if you did I’d say yes. So he said, “Do you want to get married?” I said, “I think so,” and there it was! He said I’m the only woman he has ever wanted to marry much less asked. We even chose the children’s names – there are going to be two of them – a boy and a girl of course; one named after Reed and one a combination of our addresses! Had to call Aunt Frederica to give her the good news because she’s the one who had to give the hospital permission to stitch me up ten years ago after our first unfortunate night together! (She was drunk of course.) Toss asked me to come back to Kentucky for his last year of law school. I “shouldn’t miss this part of his life.” Dogs too, natch – we are a package deal.
He has a house he’s rehabbing that has so many rooms it is known as the Hilton. When I said I would come that was more important to him than our engagement even. He says I can file f or divorce in Kentucky’s understanding Commonwealth. He ordered a case of Moet Chandon, saying now we have to drive up the coast and tell everybody. I am a little scared to tell my parents – this suddenness might only seem another strike against me. We told Avril and Maureen – they just stared – obviously thinking we both have lost our minds – it will take them awhile to believe in it. I told Avril about Kentucky – she says she can handle the house; she can always rent out my room to a college student if she feels pinched. I want to leave some money with her – at least $1000 – had the brilliant idea to sell my car. Wouldn’t want to be impoverished in Kentucky and I don’t want to be on “retainer” from T.
Last night I read Toss The Duel and his eyes filled with tears! He said the only flaw he sees in this arrangement is that one of us must surely predecease the other! Could it really happen? Could we grow old together? Could it be that I will never make love to another person? Wrote a short note to Bruce, telling him I will definitely be needing a divorce, sooner, rather than later. Now I am trying to write a short note to D; but honestly, what is there to say? Summing up our relationship seems only to dismiss it. He has already fallen far, far back into the past. Toss is my future.
The Duel
Europe without you Was a funeral feast. I recall the procession of your letters Far better than The stream of luckless suitors Trying to distract me. Virgins aren’t distractible. Your seductive missives stalked me. Your fatal ploy was that nude photo Adam lonely in his garden.
I came right home. I well recall the ceremonies Of that night! Your shyness My perfume Our ignorance Wild and hard A riderless horse. I did cry out as the candles burned. I swear there were some moments when We actually saw each other. But if this magic sword cuts both ways Why was I the only bleeder? They peeled me off And dropped me down a mile Of antiseptic hallway – A princess in a bucket. It could have ended there But at your school I haunted you A chilly-breasted demon. My daytime incarnation seemed mature: I fooled everyone; We chatted as you prepared the skin. I bit down hard and Tasted only Suture wire. You wrote and broke off Our association. Years groaned by Like convicts chained We served our terms with no time off For bad behavior. Lust had luster, Excrement was ecstasy.
The castaways the whirlwind Flung upon the sand Were calm, polite We knew our way around. But That look you gave me! Our unborn children shivered In their sausage skins Fully aware Their time had come. The tale was done The frog-mask Shivered off We saw: The you of you The me of me – Masks Unmirrored Scars Unscored Virgins not but Innocence Restored.
2 PM 15 Feb 79 – Thurs
Sleeting out. Feeling restless the way I do before I write
a new book. Hauled out Bride & Wolves for a rewrite – tremendously impressed with my own talent! Development always was my problem (as in life). Greene’s Human has an odd, unfinished feel. Reviews did not prepare me for it in the least. I think they reviewed Greene rather than his book. More impressed by Margot Ruddock’s letter to Yeats in Ah, Sweet Dancer (which could be retitled Dirty Old Man.) She compares the “fickleness” of men to the fickleness of God! Can’t blame her if God insists on being male. Read Howatch’s Call In the Night as a purgative. Going to see Country Wife tonight at U. Of Md. Usher sent me strange Valentine collage of Playboy photos, couples kissing, etc. Avril says “I give up on him. It’ll be a miracle if he can ever say what he wants.”
Starlight Sat 18 Feb 79 – 11:10 AM Waiting for my bangs to curl at the start of a double. Had a nightmare where Devon performed marriage ceremony between me and some other guy! Right up to the end I kept thinking he was going to “rescue” me. Naturally he did not. “Psychic” about him as usual I got a letter saying he’s busy with this year’s Ladies Ski Team meaning he’s got 12 girls passionately in love with him and he plans to take his time to savor the field. Vengeful poem results:
Cloverleaf Some roads lead nowhere; They’re my favorites. I held my breath while You drew my face in Blinding strokes and Creamed my mouth with curling lines Destroyed one picture; then another. Left at dawn while I Ran downstairs in circles, calling Raging, spending Nights without you, No blue thigh to guard My sleeping heart while yours looks out To gauge the coming storm. Now I’m trapped in cloverleaves Sentenced to school figures By endless angry judges. Every face I paint is yours; balked by An enervating past Of unlived lives. Open up the chilly ruffles Of my breasts To beauty; yours and mine and your Strange spine’s; A body so much lighter Than the mountain that you loved The course you learned Much better than you learned me. Overconfident that you’ll come back I float across the powdered snow; In bird-winged silence all-enveloping Unless I’m Lost and frozen like my heart?
2 PM – Jervaze came in! Ducked away momentarily
from his fiancée. Glad he didn’t bring her in as I am having my period and feeling particularly fat and grumpy. My poor body’s been unloved for a month now and is falling to pieces. Still it was an enormous pleasure to see him. Someone for whom I apparently remain The Holy Grail.
Tues. 6:45 PM 20 Feb 79 Struggling against a vast undifferentiated depression. Going to treat it with diet and meditation. Reading Tapie’s Richelieu and Louis XIII. History a great cure for all who feel unlucky. Even being an aristo was no picnic. Avril accepted for both of us to go to Aunt Frederica’s party on the shore where she’s rented a house. Hitchman’s bio of Dorothy Sayers very bad book. Sayers wasn’t “in love” with Lord Peter, she was him! Will-to-power and dream logic. Trying to “bind” her two halves together when she made him marry Harriet. Had to re-read Sayers’ wonderful Unnatural Death (my favorite) to get the taste out of my mouth. Ah. Such pleasure. Painting till I’m exhausted then long walks with dogs through pretty Queens’ Chapel Manor. Haven’t seen a neighborhood this satisfying since Chevy Chase.
Starlight Wed 21 Feb 79 – 11:45 AM Going through a phase where work feels like being beaten. Think it’s because no one is caring for my body. Will warmer weather turn the tide? I love my house but Marc Kramer is wrong – home ownership NOT the cure-all promised. The only difference I can see is I can no longer mess around financially. Nose permanently to grindstone. Reading John Dickson Carr’s Blind Barber. It is so awful. Why does anyone like him? Pass my time sewing red rhinestone buttons to my pink satin blouse. Yesterday clutch cable snapped – pedal became a dummy. Fortunately I was right NEXT to a gas station. Had to take a taxi home. Financial nightmare – more doubles to get my car out of hock? Turns out it’s not expensive. A. gives me ride to work, Eddy gives me ride to car. Leaning heavily on inner life. Efforts to live “outwardly” all seemingly result in hideous failure. Shopping list: pasties, carpet tape, stockings, cotton balls, liquid plumber, string bikini.
Sat. 24 Feb 79 Devon turned 30 today. Great house party at bungalow Aunt F rented on Mulberry Island. Interesting artist named Stockley there with an exciting mind but unworkable body. Fun to talk to though. He wears a hard hat and welds. Avril asked out by handsome redhead named John. Fingers crossed. Jervaze called to say he broke off his engagement. Uh oh. Macmillan says my novel “not their cup of tea”. Very sneery.
Starlight Fri 2 Mar 79 – 2 PM Bought a pair of yellow overalls to write in. Hadn’t realized how thin I’ve gotten – I look fantastic. House (closing) magically lifts depression when it cost $900 less than I expected. I was fully ready to write these nice people a rubber check – Thank God that’s not necessary. Instead of wasting away in debtor’s prison, I get to compare myself to Sylvia Plath. What if in a panic, I married a party boy who fails to love T he Real Me? Wait, I did that. But I didn’t stay to wrestle with him and now I’m free. Could be much, much worse. Hang in there and go it alone. See it as a strength. Trying to apply for grants. There’s an art form all by itself. Avril’s redhead working out nicely. I don’t like his comments about his mother though. Is satisfactory sex possible with men who hate their mothers? Could be massive Red Flag.
12:35 PM Tues Mar 6 – 79 Sit down to chat with diary over lunch – can’t eat because scolding letter from agent gave me a stomachache. Didn’t I know it was unethical to allow several agents to consider me at the same time? I do see it’s a very beneficial for the agents to drag this process out so they end up doing all the choosing and not you. But since she’s the one I want I can’t say so. Play dumb, promise to Be Good in Future and throw my affairs entirely into her hands and let her speak for me. Silence frees the artist from “servile bondage to the world”, says Sontag. Letter from Devon saying he really respects me for buying a house (the opposite of what Mom thought would happen. He says it makes me more interesting. Or he’s just less scared I will show up on his doorstep.) Also he says “it’s been a bad ski season” and asking particularly about the men in my life, closing, ”I love you Alysse. Our relationship is the most important thing to me.” Whew! What are the odds that every girl on that team would turn out to be a lesbian? Or were they fooled by his aura of untouchable purity? Most girls would consider it a challenge but some lack the three hours necessary to defrost him. Still, they’re all out of their minds not to give him a whirl I must admit. Interesting how very much we each fear the other’s loss.
11PM Starlight Wed 7 Mar 79 Very down night. Only $70 so far. Need $600 to keep my bills current. Bryony wailing because the state took her children away. Sometimes seems like the pain of the helpless is smothering the world. Tony’s the bouncer tonight and he’s all for letting the men stick their bills down the girls’ G-strings! No thank you. Wait till Gentleman Randy hears about this. Reading a bad German mystery – the mystery being why he wrote it, how it got published and why I’m reading it. Fantasizing celebrating spring by getting all my hair cut off. Hmmm. Jean Seberg? Could be sexy. Wish I’d brought Kafka’s Letters. Making huge floor pillows for my housewarming party. Longing to sink into classical music & bubble bath, followed by Oleg Cassini sheets & cup of diet cocoa. Having my own house really is a dream come true.
Mon 20 Feb 79 – 12:20 AM Such a depressing party I got drunk just to be “out” of it. Avril & Ben making out in a corner all evening. Usher brought me books and a bird of paradise flower, Stockley gave me a beautifully framed tiny drawing of crustaceans but then cancelled that by attempting to corner me all evening. He covers up the soul he doesn’t believe in with a repellant fleshy brutality – life is kill and conquer – eat or be eaten. Honestly, now I’m scared of him. Afraid to even argue with him for fear of launching something irreversible. Luckily, he next fastened his lasers on Yvonne. Poor Yvonne. Save yourself, I should say. Plan to ask Paz to schedule me for just two nights. On a self-dare, I sent my poem about Rossetti’s model to Usher.
LIZZIE SIDDALL: The Woeful Victory
Be still or I can’t paint you. It is evening and I almost recognized you. Who are you Fair one? Your mouth is stuffed With poppy hair Fate coils between your breasts Like snakes. But Your tongue’s torn out. You must be the echo of my thoughts.
(I am the motionless cradle.)
Your flesh takes fire from my setting sun. Can you free me, O Lady of the Sundial? My eyes are growing dim.
(Perfect love’s not found this side of heaven.)
I shall paint you vermilion Butcher nightingales and use their tongues for brushes Melting foil & verdigris To the tune of Canterbury bells. Stay awhile, Fair one. I almost thought you spoke.
(I am the face that rises from the pool to drag the drinker deep.)
I will bury you in manuscripts, I will Visit when there’s time. Someday We might marry, but I am not whole, dear lady. I am not myself. Who are You?
Thurs Aug 10 -78 – 5:30 PM
Feeling happy and serene – it’s been the loveliest visit.
Many bike rides and explorations. Lovely dinner last night at the cottage – Devon asking Dad a lot of questions – then we lay in each other’s arms at the Barnacle and he said Time to Discuss Our Relationship. Said “some French girl” dumped him because he’s so incompetent with condoms; he’s so relieved not to have that with me. I said, “Maybe we should be exclusive.” He said, ‘Could you manage that? I said gratefully, ‘Certainly”, He said, “Thank you for being honest” stripped off my clothes and made mad, passionate love to me – all orifices massaged, nipples chewed, armpits sucked – the works. It was really something – probably the most passionate satisfying sex I’ve ever had. He told me our coming together in Plympton after I left my husband was The Most Significant Event in his LIFE.
But does he see me as a Minister’s Wife? No one can. Me included. The Problem of which we do not speak. Drive him to the ferry today, after that a sail to Brimstone Island.
Shadowe Island - The Cottage – Sat 12 Aug 78
Mom giggling about how sweet and pure Devon is. She
is certain I’ve been dumped. If she only knew. If I in am suddenly in an Exclusive Relationship with this human will o’ the wisp wouldn’t it be the worst thing for me? Am I like a Terrible Man who will now say anything to get sex? Five good pages on novel. Working in omniscient third person – a violently new departure. A few vague worried sensations that I am “telling” too much about characters but the Victorians used to get away with this on a regular basis. How I envy them. There I’ve said it, I envy Mrs. Henry Wood. One thing left out of Gardner’s On Moral Fiction is how rarely we see the book the author wanted – instead we see the draft the
publisher agreed to buy & PROMOTE. Or am I cynical? On the whole I am appreciating Gardner’s ideas – but more than ready to get back to V Woolf’s letters & diary. That is ecstasy – the “unstructured real.” Far prefer them to her novels.
Nice long phone talk with Devon. Feeling freed since he described to me his definition of a future wife; she is not me. In fact, she will be a very unlucky girl who gets – by his deliberate plan – the least of him. It is comical that I, something of a contemporary expert on all things Victorian, should even locate such a profoundly divided, deeply Victorian male; product of such hideous religious and sexual mangling one would think barely possible in this enlightened century. “Wife” seems to encompass for him some whole new scary dimension that has nothing to do with sex. What mysteries people are! Bruce wanted a fount of approval and cash. Ryder wanted a mule. Jervaze wanted a mommy who will bed him down with a bottle of Southern Comfort and then drive him to the hospital. I can’t even figure out What Rod wants. But Devon seems to want someone whose holiness will “cancel out” his “bad behavior”. All I know is I don’t want to be any of those people.
But what DO I want? I’m embarrassed to admit it out loud. I want the spiritual and physical closeness – the “soulmate connection” – to just keep on intensifying until we switch bodies (and I get to live two lives). Castaneda says it can be done. (Good subject for novel.)
QUILTING
The scraps The scraps The bad acts Bleed like madras Over everything Piecing penalties Placating the portionless Fabric cut to fit the frame or The other way about? This will all have to be redone Till it makes some kind of sense. Make the pieces smaller – ever Smaller – in my Empire of Loneliness.
Devon flat out admitted he is afraid of me –says I
have too much power over him. I was too aggressive with him this time and I think my “free agency” is where the trouble lies. It “wakes him up” too much to the existence of another person and reminds him this isn’t all happening in his head! I am too impatient to wait for him to get ready to have an actual relationship. In the past, the better he got to know all his girlfriends – and the more certain he became of them, the less he wanted them. We are dancing on a knife-edge with our pleasure now. Psychologically he rules out “sexual fire” in long-term relationships. Everyone but me (and Dad) seems to think sexual fire must burn out. I look forward to getting back – change in seasons, change in clothes – working, writing, even running around town with Rod is starting to look fun. Cold day – sun hidden by clouds.
Burnside Inn – 10PM Sunday 13 Aug 78 Told my dad I took the room here because my typewriter needs electricity – really of course I wanted privacy with Devon and then we ended up at the Barnacle! But a public inn (with a handy bar) requires a lot of discipline. More than I have. I am recovering from a scandalous night – too tired to take a bath I fell asleep in my clothes after cocktails with Marc Kramer who tried first wooing me with his completely unfettered, unapologetic interest in money by showing me his new house then just flat out tried to get me drunk. (I did get drunk but not enough to make him seem desirable. He is very hairy.) However, “investment banker” would be a good job to give to my character Cloud if he ever grows up. If I can ever get him out of prep school. No more hanging around the bar for me – I plan sit here in my room every afternoon writing between three and six. Seems to be all my social schedule will allow. Feel myself getting fat and should cut back on food – tall order. I just need to go home and DANCE. Stupid diary! One love problem after another. Well I can always go back to poor Woolf… her talk of mushrooms, chair covers, butterflies…
Mon 14 Aug 12 midnight -78
Very unsatisfied with everything I’ve ever written. The
difficulty is I need to bring all my writing up to my current level of philosophical maturity (such as it is.) But it keeps increasing exponentially! Never be embarrassed to start over.
Dinner scene in Paradise Road (newly retitled) feels shaky. Too many characters for me to handle. Maybe wedding next? Trying to invest my characters with what I’ve just learned from Devon. Would choosing “the right person” come first (my Mom’s theory) and then the love follows afterward? More convenient for everyone, certainly. Almost rolled a poor pimply little fisherman down at the docks this afternoon because I am such a sucker for gorgeous naked (hairless) shoulders. And the friendly, friendly innkeeper – but don’t get me started, he has a “wife” or “wife substitute”. Mom’s been very cruel to me lately. At dinner last night I discovered she RODE THE FERRY with poor shell-shocked Devon (explains his “freeing’ phone call) whom she apparently grilled the whole ride. She sniffed – “He’ll never marry you.”
Too proud to tell her I just reached that conclusion myself and it doesn’t elevate him in my estimation (the way it obviously does in hers!) I could say I actually know Devon better now than he knows himself (he talks in his sleep), and I can positively state that his stated intentions never bear ANY relationship to his actions. And it’s not a good thing.
He also told he could never become a minister (because his mother wanted it too badly!) and yet here we all are. He keeps making rules and I keep watching him break them. Plus, I’ve been taking responsibility for “making” him do things he doesn’t “want” to for years. It’s a spiritual game of Chinese checkers he insists on “losing”. I guess it’s just a matter of time before he starts holding it against me.
SUICIDE STREET This is the street of suicides. I orchestrated masterpieces in that house Third-from-left – Getting my effects too cheaply I see now Unmindful of material That lay so close to hand New tenants slick the lawn that moats that Windowed grave. They repair The chrysalis I shattered Getting out.
10:20 AM Wed 16 Aug 78
I am so excited by the “newness” of my novel – starting to
feel confident; like I can make these people do anything. Can’t wait to go home and spread all the versions out – play Max Perkins to my own Tom Wolfe. Might be able to patch something together. Still my tone needs emergency assistance, which dictates a massive overhaul. All this omniscience is just too painfully reminiscent of somebody like Balzac – “In the forbiddingly cold winter of 1863” or worse, Dragnet? Must read Speedboat to see how far one can go. Should I throw everything out and start over again or leave it a 500 p hegira?
Rod sends me a letter every day. He is smart, witty and culturally aware. His handwriting is perfect. Unfortunately, this does not feel as good as it should. I have rejected him as a potential husband (or father) because he is so totally lacking in Projection & Charisma. Unlike Devon I plan to marry a person I can also have soul-shattering sex with. Even Rod’s myths are sub-standard. He needs Tale of Genji and Kraft-Ebbing but all he has is Beowulf. Still, this is not the kind of thing you can tell a person you don’t want to get serious with.
According to him, Miss You by the Stones is “Our Song”. My song is Urgent, by Foreigner, and time’s a-wastin’. I can struggle with this goddam party scene or I can go out and buy toothpaste. Ferry coming in – very foggy.
Came into Burnside Inn tonight and immediately lost a lens. Searched and searched. Would this be the bill that would break the poor fragile financial camel’s back? Then I found it – stuck to my hair. A miracle.
Mom took me on a walk after dinner – apologized in her weird oblique way. For a woman who claims to have “given all for love” she really is quite calculating and cynical about it. “Why buy the cow if the milk is free?” sums up the whole of her philosophy. She wants me to marry Marc Kramer and live in wretched discontent, the equivalent, as far as I can see, to opening a dairy farm and sending out pricelists. Those are the options. Has doing too much of the emotional scutwork fatally dimmed the stars in her “love makes the world go round” eyes? “What if I’m not a market-based economy?” I inquire. Another missed bonding opportunity.
Dad showed gorgeous slides of Fox Island. Every frame a poem. Made me think I should read old diaries to see what I can get. Not that Cloud would keep diaries – not reflective that way at all. But Suni might keep them.
9:30 AM Fri 18 Aug 78
$100 honorarium from Coltsville Community College for
my presentation – I can eat for a month off of that! Dare I get my dancing down to 3 nights a week? Would be heaven.
Discussion with sisters about Mom. Here’s their advice: “Remember she’s crazy,” “Remember she’s old,” “Don’t give her any information” and “Lie.” There it is! If only she could hear them! And I’m the one with the “Bad Kid” reputation! Over dinner she lectured us on how costumes for the ballet exalt the human body. Nothing like my combination of pasties, fishnets and glitter! Hard to listen to after the contempt she has expressed for my job! Said nothing. What they really hate is that I am my own choreographer.
I was too dispirited even to point out that back when ballet was “invented”, back in the dear old Dead Degas Days, dancers were VERY “declassee” with damn near NO control over their own bodies: how to express themselves sexually much less how they were viewed. Looking back over it, my most serious depressions were all caused by attempts to conform. I’m so OVER it. Am I afraid of loneliness?
No. Stigma? Childlessness? Sexlessness? No. I confront all these fears, one by one. Hard however to keep my head high around Mom and Dad’s evident conviction that no one can ever be found to love me. They insist on giving me money because I’m so pathetic . OK, I’ll take it (I’ve taken tips from fans harboring worse thoughts) but insisted on giving them a poem in return. Read Dawn Walk out loud looking for praise –
Dawn Walk
Thunder crusts a gelid sky Is it light or is it rain feathering my nest with longing Stippling soul with flushed new growth; bursting out the steepled trees. This is my world and I release it Released for flying Stelliform Tough as spidersilk Unrecognizable Even to me who birthed it Who spent my life creating it. Released and Blown away.
They rolled their eyes.
I must be secretly determined to make them look bad! Need to get car in line for the ferry tomorrow AM at nine. Good vacation this has been. Mostly. Last letter from Rod mentions a big society wedding we are invited to. He does get invited to the best parties.
1:45 AM Horrible last dinner at the Mermaid Creek House. Am I speaking a different language from everybody else? Uncle Clive downgraded his current girlfriend right in front of her – “she’s got no skills – she’s not too bright.” I agree – there must be something seriously wrong with her to want to be around him. Genevieve wants to know how I can love men who are “weak”. This would have more significance if her second marriage wasn’t with a submissive. I defended that weak men are “doubters” and doubters are interesting.
The opposite is arrogance and how attractive is that? Marc K, for example, doubts nothing. He’s also not very interesting. It would be easy to be swept along in his wake on autopilot. Maddens me to hear Mom and G discuss Avril’s “low self-esteem.” The nerve! I think they want to pretend that life “makes sense” and is not a dangerous lottery. According to them, A has too low an opinion of herself and I have too high an opinion of myself. Hmmmm. What’s wrong with this picture?
Tues, midnight, 9 Feb 78
What a day. Lost a contact just before bed, which put
me in a hideous temper. 1 ½ hrs sleep, drove A to Laundromat, did laundry, bought cosmetics, picked her up, did lunch and visited broker. Just like the other rich girls except for the Laundromat part. Then to MVA, got MD license renewed, new address, not too horrible photo. Avril flunked her test must retake Wed. Back to house managed 2 more hrs of sleep. Woke up feeling cheerful and streaked hair with L’Oreal. Still have a rotten cough. The trouble with being sick is you can’t imagine yourself well. Intimations of mortality. Ate lasagna with A, then off to work. J dropped in second set, said his car was fixed, seemed cheerful, said his sister-in-law (whom I suspect of being The Pirate Queen) is reading my book “to figure out what kind of person I am” (uh oh). He left during my 3rd set without saying goodbye. Should I drop in on him? Tempting. He also asked to read Demon. Hmmmm. A of course thinks I should clamor for “boundaries” “rights”, “clarity” and “definitions.” I am embarrassed even to tell HER that this is all completely hopeless. I’d have to set him on my knee and move his mouth. I’d end up defining every term and he would immediately forget anyway. Anyway, in my experience, the less “clarity”, the better the sex. Once things have been completely defined you no longer want to touch each other. Missing Devon of all people. He must be sick of Gwynne by now. Where will he find another like me? But it’s always a bad sign when I plunge into “default” mode. So, I dropped in on Ryder to take him by surprise. He was there and it was worth it. Gave me a gorgeous massage. I gave him my cold. We are at the wrong points in our life trajectories to connect in any meaningful way. Picked up Holt’s Lord of the Far Island which one of the other girls is reading. Unbelievably crappy. Why do people prefer this stuff to mine? Oh well. Feeling better – night almost over.
Sun. 12 Feb 78 – 10:20 PM Psychic tremors driving home. But when I walked in the door everything was fine. It’s so comforting to be surrounded with one’s own stuff – it seems to assumes a personality – like a separate self. A reassuring stand-in – someone who “goes on” for you when you’re tired. Very busy weekend – A moving into her own place – sorting, packing, cleaning, buying. Moving. Hard physical labor since we are doing it all. “Mother Truckers.” Rushed on to work with my arms aching – J. showed up. His body seemed solider, less fragile. I gave him a comforter for his birthday – he seemed to like it – we went to his place to watch Harper – side by side like an old couple on the couch. I’ve decided he reminds me most of some wild animal. He always wakes up like a deer finding itself in a cage. He seems to be just now comprehending that I’m there. He insisted on pleasuring me so I just accept it. Said his body “hurt”. I wish I could convince him that caffeine, junk food and alcohol are his enemies, but he is too stubborn to believe it. I fear a return of that kidney thing that felled him before. I’m afraid our relationship belongs to the bar and his apartment, however. Can’t get him to go anywhere with me; he is “tired” and he works enough that it’s a believable excuse. He’s so beautiful you’d think he’d be more of an exhibitionist but it’s just the opposite. Three days off. I need it. But on the whole I am pleased with my life.
1:45 PM MON 13 Feb 78
Lovely dog walk. My desk collapsed under piles of
books, so I bought new furniture – unpainted. Cleaned, redecorated spare room (A’s old room.) Looks good. Decided just thinking about J is channeling my energies away from writing. We have a “sexual friendship”, so there. That’s Hugh Hefner’s “highest good” so presumably some people would be happy with it. But J has no influence on my life-plan. R called. We had a decent conversation.
5:45 PM Snow pouring down – four more inches
expected so I decided not to go out. Last night was the first night I’ve actually been unable to rouse J – so I just left – went home dirty and sleepless to a couple of short-changed dogs. Now it turns out he’s in the hospital undergoing tests because of “passing blood”. Medieval sounding. Does he have those big black knobs under his armpits? Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. The sister in law phoned with this info, also gave the brother’s number where J will go after tests.
9PM Plush Palace – Wed 15 Feb 78
J quite drunk when he came in this evening – said
he’s turning in his notice and returning to the South. (I wondered if they fired him but didn’t say it.) I was so upset I walked into the men’s room by mistake! (No one in there.) He did say “or I could live with you.” This does not sound good to me. My monogamous soul does not aspire to a lifetime playing nursie.
10PM – Plush Palace – Thurs 16 Feb 78
3 sets done – I’m exhausted and my legs hurt but I’ll survive. Spent the afternoon with Chloe and Dennis Parks at WPFW, taping
a vibrant show on paperback publishing. Really enjoyed myself. A came over for dinner and helped me paint my new study furniture. Got a frightening letter from the IRS – I phoned – turned out that they think I owe them an extra $56! They can have it. Electric bill $76. Disappointed by Noel Coward’s Future Indefinite, seeking escape instead in Mona Farnsworth’s Dark Wood. I deserve escapism after all I’ve been through.
11:40PM – Plush Palace – Fri 17 Feb 78 Just finished Rosenberg’s bio of Dorothy Richardson. She seems just like me – then when I get to the end of her life – poverty & anguish! Oh dear!
4:00 PM Mon 21 Feb 78 Lying in bed – hair set – an hour to go before work. Spent all day tidying study – including file drawers – if I was to die this minute I would give everyone the impression of being a hardworking artist and an astute businesswoman. Maybe I shouldn’t wreck it by ever going in there again. Gregory’s book about Dorothy Richardson – lots left out. Putting myself to sleep with Homage to Daniel Shays – I must have a lready read this because all the essays seem so familiar. Very unpleasant Vidal attack on Anais Nin.
Plush Palace – 7:45 PM
Lots of comforts in this job. Inhale the pleasure
of a messy dressing room, so full of life & hope. I was sitting down taking out my curlers when GiGi asked me to do her last set – her knee hurts – so I put on a gold G- string and did one set without makeup. That paid my electric bill right there. Settle down with Anne Tyler. Comfortable.
10:30PM – Plush Palace – Thurs 23 Feb 78
Avril came to work with me – I’m having a great night.
She met a guy here she likes who asked for her number – he seems nice, but he must have the problems intrinsic to all who haunt this place – alcoholic or druggy – or just unmotivated in some fatal, fatal way. Paz’s been telling me her new honey’s too “big” for her – makes her bleed. That can’t be right. This triggered an avalanche of gynecological horror stories that ended up with all who are interested examining Fatima’s hanging “meatus” left over from a “botched childbirth”. She has trouble tucking it into her G-string! I declined inspection. Missing an opportunity other writers would have jumped at? Will I need to describe this someday?
Sun. 26 Feb 78 – 9:45 PM
J actually showed for dinner last night – while I was
stuffing the baked potatoes – we had a wonderful evening, played Clue, very good sex. Said his sister read my “gothic” but called it Too Victorian. Disguised praise? I decide to think so. He asked me to visit him in Alabama. I’m sure there’s a novel in that but do I want to be the one to write it? Then of course he had to leave early. I called A – had kind of a psychic flash – a feeling of trepidation about the human condition – she said she had been sobbing all night. Are we going no place? I asked her. Is it all an illusion? She said she feels she once had a home and family but somehow lost them and can’t adjust. She has a life others would envy – young college student with her own apartment in DC – but she wants back something she never had. “Neva vu” ex-husband Bruce and I used to call it. The unrecognized familiar. I am reading – very appropriately – The Troubled Helpmate. Misogyny in literature.
Monday 8 Jan 78 – 6 PM
Twenty-four hours ago I was sitting in my red dress over
a glass of port, waiting for Jervaze to arrive. Anxiety level high. Somewhere – I think from Mom – I got the impression that my needs are so automatically repellent to any sane individual that they must be hidden. Therefore, I have to carefully think my way through to any honest approach – and then it isn’t really honest any more. But I can’t just be impulsive. Prepared myself for disappointment – that he would be late or perhaps not show – because there is something weird about him. Some deep dark secret perhaps? But he was right on time. This time I took him to my nearest neighborhood restaurant
where the waiter put on quite a show with Irish coffee till flaming liquor rolled down his sleeves! Jervaze came inside my house without hesitation – I fretting about how to best establish physical contact while he sprawled comfortably on the couch. I turned off the overhead light and lit candles – took off my jacket – he rubbed his face against my breasts acting calm, respectful and not neurotic. Must be my experience with R that makes me fearful of being “shamed” every second. Jervaze kissed and kissed my face so long – tears automatically filled my eyes. But he did not get upset. Got up like a perfect gentleman “when it was time to leave” and I managed to resist attacking him. I did one very strange thing that is causing me anxiety now. We showed each other our class rings – he always wears his. I slid mine on his little finger and left it there. He wore it home. Uh oh. 11:30 AM Wed 11 Jan 78 Experiencing sharp attacks of fear all day long at “being in a relationship”. What the hell was I doing giving him my ring? See, I agree that everything’s my fault! Story of my life! Currently enjoying two quiet hours while A is at the gynecologist. It will be great when she gets her own place. Plenty of private time and space to panic in. Today I got a phone call from R and a letter from Devon. So, I was able to line my relationships up, so to speak, contrast and compare. Even lumped together they are not one full relationship! R’s “gamesmanship” is down from its zenith, but, owing to my total nonparticipation, also at its most exposed. Lengthy chat about our vacations, and then he spent probably a half hour telling me his “insurance setup”. Why? So I can tell everyone where to find the will and the important papers when he runs into a tree on his next ski trip! I should be worried about him dying apparently!!! I let him talk, I didn’t cut him off and I asked no questions, largely because this makes him the craziest and he deserves it. I know he’s comforting himself now that I still care about his finances if not about him. Devon thanked me for the glamorpic (described me as “so lovely” and said he feels like he’s talking to me when he writes his letter) and then launched into a long description of his and Gwynne’s relationship. They have an “understanding” which seems to involve “being there for each other” without “demands”. “Why won’t he admit he’s gay?” howls Avril when I read this to her. But I don’t think sex is even that simple for him. His approach is much more diffuse – a constantly vibrating choice between “being sexual” and “not being sexual”. He and I had such good sex, but if it all has to happen in a sort of coma, if there can’t be any planning or god forbid, discussion then the hell with it. As for Jervaze, he showed up for the last three hours of my first night back at The Plush Palace from the Starlight. He was wearing my ring. I asked him if my work bothered him. He said, no, he was cool with it, but was glad I asked. Whereupon we went back to his place and made love for 3 hours. Whoo-hoo! I’m not kidding! The first test – home design – alas he failed. His furnishings are truly HORRIFIC Spanish Mediterranean dreck. His shower curtain consists of festoons of blue chiffon – it is INCONCEIVABLE that a male could purchase such a thing. Guess I am not asking the right questions. Old girlfriend? Mom? Sister-in-law? Some woman raised exclusively on pirate films had a hand in here somewhere. As to the sex – that test he passed. He’s a prizewinner there. Everything takes forever and that doesn’t seem to bother him in the least. Is he some kind of reptile, living in a time zone utterly different from us mammals? It took him 20 minutes to get my pants off working steadily. I got enough comments about the beauty of my body to satisfy my ego for life. He went down on me without a flicker – so much for all those rumors about Southern men – and when he goes down he stays down. On the other hand – he never did come. Calms fears of premature ejaculation but raises other ones. His uncircumcised penis stayed stiff for 3 hours. This is a first for me, and I don’t know whether I like it. I really can’t give myself permission to come under these circumstances yet clearly I will have to – I’ll just have to say, “forget you – let’s concentrate on me.” That could work. But as I say, it would certainly be different. When I left, he gave me his key.
7:45 Pm – Plush Palace – Thurs 12 Jan 78 Called Jervaze and suggested we do something tonight – he acted enthusiastic. I said, “Should I be calling you? Wouldn’t want to call too much,” and he said, “Call all the time.” R–induced horrors dropping away one by one. It’s snowing – I’ll go straight to Jervaze’s. (He’s close to club.)
4PM Friday, Jan 13-78
I think Jervaze may really be an angel; one of Milton’s
sexed up angels who took a wrong turn to our planet by mistake. Some anxiety is relieved. We never did get to go anywhere – stayed in bed. Bliss. But if this doesn’t work I will damn well marry Devon whether he likes it or not – I can’t take much more of this.
I’m at my desk hammering out letters – trying to answer one from the island realtor. The studio apt has “no cooking facilities”. I don’t care but the realtor does, she has a house on the pond for $175 “long lease” she wants me to take. Says it has a Franklin stove and I could “bike to town.” I admit I’m interested. Jervaze has offered to come to the island with me in March – I really shudder at the thought of introducing him to my parents, how to tactfully say, Please don’t ask him about Ideas and only offer him one drink. Last night I let myself into his apt, took a shower, tried to use his sparkingly hazardous blow dryer, gave that up, crawled in bed with him. I had lots of Ryder-induced fears that he wouldn’t be there, in bed with another girl, etc. But no. There he was, nude, gorgeous, asleep – and when he woke up, happy to see me.
5:25 PM Plush Palace – Sat 14 Jan 78 Snakes dropping into paradise one by one. First, although Jervaze is incredibly easygoing – it is impossible to get him to state a preference about a movie or a restaurant, for example – (had to drag him to Eastwood’s Every Which Way But Loose) I can tell he is nervous about introducing me to his brother and sister in law. Should I just suggest we lie about what I do for a living? I guess that wouldn’t really solve anything. Sartre is so right. Hell IS other people. Then there’s my mother – the latest demon fondling my ear. Once a woman has made herself vulnerable to a man, she’s through. Uncommitted sex brings out the worst in men, blah blah blah. Because it’s “too perfect” from his point of view. I am “causing him moral hazard”. Yes, I tell the voice, and it would be perfect from MY POINT OF VIEW TOO IF YOU WOULD JUST SHUT UP. WE ONLY STARTED DATING A COUPLE OF WEEKS AGO. But one can’t shut out THAT voice so easily. Mystified by Willard Gaylin’s irritating Caring. He acts like mutual dependence or interdependence is some “failure” of personal autonomy.
Powder Mill Road – 11 PM Sunday 15 Jan 78 Jervaze “dropped by” this afternoon. Since it’s such a long way from his place to mine I was astonished. Is it that I can no longer believe a man will climb mountains for me? Or is it just my sensitivities to Jervaze’s strangely inchoate “disabilities” warning me and sending up red flags? We had a nice talk – he seemed faintly down – then he had to leave because he needs to get up extra early tomorrow. I was in too good a mood to work on my novel, bought clothes instead. 3 pairs of pants, sweater coat, five pairs undies, one gauchos. All clothes size 7. Packaged MSS when I came home so as not to feel too unproductive.
Coleridge poem taken by Virginia community college screed. No money. (Natch.)
DEEPER INTO COLERIDGE
“Music is beneath me” wrote the fat man, angering his wife by stealing her broom for walking scattering the straw. He loved to pack a nightcap and declaim upon the moors. “I would have married a servant girl could I but be sure of her affection.” But be sure! Some men are never fated to be sure. Amidst politicking, pregnancies and penny-pinching, he found the time to fall in love with the Wrong Woman. No wonder he took opium to distract him from the faceless fiend that follows after most of us but specially him who knew so well to court it. In his mildewed study he sits alone clutching his bad heart and writing “Ours is not a logical age”
Alysse Aallyn 