1970 5 of 8
DIARY 1301
SUNDAY JULY 19. Ignore the ringing phone at 10:30, shop for eggs and bacon at 11:30, have a good breakfast, then call Cyndy to see if she wants to go to Olana, and she does, but her mother and father were in an auto accident, so she has to get back early, and John decides we can go to the Hammond Museum up in North Salem, for the Oriental Stroll Garden. Pick up Cyndy about 1:30, and drive up on the Saw Mill River, which John thinks is the OTHER highway 87, but we get switched around, and go past a reservoir where we stop and wade around, looking at fish and seaweed, thinking if it were further from the road we could stop and skinny-dip, but there are too many cars and fishermen around, so we just look and like the surroundings. To the garden, and it's nice use of little ground, going from garden to garden in tiny paths, making people seem enormous. I manage to find one ripe strawberry in the fruit garden, we watch the frogs and the oar-flies in the ponds, sit and talk about the view and how nice it is, then finish with the Zen Garden and have tea in our own little private teahouse, and for 50 cents, which is pretty bad for a glass of iced tea, we get tea nuts, good except for the peanut inside, three kinds of rice crackers, one of them peppery, toothpicked squares of marron glacé, and tiny egg white puffs of sugar like diminutive oyster crackers, not to mention all the tea we can drink, which the elderly waitress explains with a happy skip, is spiked with ginger ale. Smoke trees are impressive, trees smell nice, as do juniper berries, but there are few flowers. Back by way of the Amawalk Reservoir, which we again get out to look at, but Cyndy has to be back by 7, so we zip down the Taconic, John drops me off to get him a shirt for Butler Hall Restaurant, which we drive up to, have a pleasant meal, and then down to the Thalia for "Phaedra," where they seem to have excised Tony Perkins' cock from many scenes, though the necking in front of the fire, behind watered glass, is exciting, along with the music, and for "Antigone," lots less wordy than Anouilh's adaptations, and EVERYONE in the film commits SUICIDE. Back to John's at 1, have some watermelon, bed at 1:30.
DIARY 1302
MONDAY, JULY 20. Wake feeling lazy, John does me, I don't do him, and out to let the chance arrival of an A or E determine that I AM going to the post office, for nothing much, and back for the last hour and some of "The Left Hand of God," where Humphrey Bogart's a priest, but not quite, with an awful Lee J. Cobb as an American-universitied Chinese. Water the terribly dry plants, read a bit of the Russell book before I decide I really want to DO something, and sit down at the typewriter and agonize about six pages, which I finish in the middle of John's mescaline trip, and he calls at about 3 to tell me about some sentence in his article, and I tell him to say hello to the people in the class for me, since this will be the first one he goes to without me. Try calling Avi, but there's no answer, and Marty calls to say that he's just bought Marion's car, and there's no answer when I try to get Eddie about Norma's pot. Eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner today, finishing up the English muffins that I bought for John's breakfast yesterday. Also just remembered, for most of the morning after the movie I read the New York Times, completely, finishing about 1, and then decide to do both the crossword and the puns and anagrams, finally finishing about 3:30, having looked up the last few things in the dictionary and encyclopedia. To make things worse, I picked up the Monday Times because I saw some interesting articles about passengers saved from a ship, students in the Catskills, and a nude-looking picture which turned out to be soldiers playing mud-ball with shirts on, and I even do the crossword in THAT, getting the wrong spelling for the Jewish thief (spelling if gonif, not genif), and figuring Gorens is the only physician I know, but it turns out Galens due to the odd "e" in genif, and a horseshoe wedge is a calk, rather than a cark, but the dictionary DOES have it (I just checked), so I could have found it. But the WHOLE day is wasted on the Times. Then at 7:30 Bob calls, inviting me over, I debate calling John but don't, and then Walter calls, walking to 8:30, and I cab to Bob's at 9, having an interesting time (see following pages), leave at 1:15, getting to bed at 2, tired.
DIARY 1305
TUESDAY, JULY 21. Out of bed at 10, feeling pretty good, getting 10 pages typed even before noon, and then debate having lunch, but get sidetracked into tracking down exactly WHICH Shakespearean plays I saw, and when, and checking through my datebooks and through the EB article to get more information, and the apartment is a mess, but I really don't bother to fix it up. Feel anxious to come again, and get out the mirror, but come quite quickly, though the pornography stays on the floor for most of the afternoon, so I can't invite up Jim Morrissey, who talks cheerfully to me in the elevator when I get back from the grocery store at 3, carrying a book that's the first sign of service in the building which is now finished with its strike, that's from Rita, filled with Xerox copies of the words to "Tommy," many BC and Wizard of Id cartoons, and an 8-9 page closely typed letter with many topics of talk. Glance through the book, and John's called twice, once to ask me over at 8:30, another time to ask me at 6:30. I'd been planning to go to a double feature at the Charles, and at 6 I call him to see if he wants to go there, but he insists that he has something he wants to talk about, so I get there at 7, having showered and shaved and everything else. Want to walk on the Promenade, but we get angry with each other about the topic of anger, about Claude's class, about stupid things like why did I leave my clothes there, and why don't I LISTEN to what he says BEFORE I judge whether I agree or not, and he's incensed that I think he has no experience, opinions, judgment, or knowledge which I could possibly use, and cut him off. He DOES admit that he usually accepts others' ideas about him, and can't understand that it's my STRENGTH that inhibits me in accepting others' suggestions, because I know most of my friends are WEAK, and want ME to be like them, where I'd rather have them like ME. We finally get into bed to continue the talk, after I get to a point where I can only say "Where are we?" and John interprets that as a point at which I quit fighting and listen to what HE has to say. Fine. Eat watermelon, fuss with his mirrored lightshow, cuddle, I call Bob, we get to sleep about 11:30.
DIARY 1309
WEDNESDAY, JULY 22. Home at 9 to find Josie loaded with THREE SACKS of mail, pick up a letter from Bill and an ad from Clark's, which I read before finding that I wanted to watch "Inferno," which I'd seen before but didn't remember, where Robert Ryan is stranded and survives in the desert, finally trapping the fellow who loved his wife in a burning cabin, where he's killed, and he takes his wife off to prison. By then it's 11, and I settle down to typing everything up to date, doing so in 19 pages, feeling good about it, and there's even time left before John comes at 5:30 to type up the table of contents through page 1304, and bind it all into the book, and John comes about 6 and wants to read his mescaline trip, which he says is quite accurate, even reminding him of things he'd forgotten, but there are also some additions and corrections, and I cut the cukes into very thin slices with the peeler, making the sour sauce again, and he flips, saying he's been trying to make exactly this taste for years, and the thing he didn't realize was that you had to use POWDERED sugar. It also turns out that he dislikes most kinds of potatoes, not eating any of the sweets that I made for him, but the veal chops are better than before, thankfully. Bob calls at 8, saying we should make it more like 9:30, since he's only just put Alicia to bed, having gotten back from the hospital, and is eating, so John and I walk leisurely across the park, enjoying the sunset magentas in the west, and I see huge wooden doors open on a rusticated block building on the corner of 5th and 91st, and one of the women talking in the driveway asks, "May I help you?" I ask what it is, and she says "Sacred Heart Academy, would you like to see the entranceway?" It used to be Otto Kahn's mansion, built in 1917, sold in 1934, and it's all stone and religiosity now, but she shows us the whole building, including the roof, from which there's a spectacular view over all of Central Park from George Washington Bridge to Empire State Building, and over Carnegie mansion below, which is going to be a Smithsonian Museum, and we call Bob at 10 that we're late, get to his place, smoke, talk, have sex, and we leave at 12, cabbing here.
DIARY 1310
THURSDAY, JULY 23. I have nothing to do today after John leaves at 8:30 except to write letters, since I've caught up with the diary through yesterday, and decide I'll write to the oldest first, and that's Paul's request for stamps for Paul Soubra, and I get out the stamps from the US, but decide that I really should catch them up to date, and I have the little box of duplicates I'd soaked off before, but decide I want to get the OTHER boxes in order, and really don't want the matchboxes anymore, so I'm through Great Britain in greater detail, incorporating two or three series of duplicated into one or two series, and have so many of one stamp that it takes a box of its own, and then I do the same thing with the Netherlands, since it's in the same situation of Great Britain, and fill up some of the other boxes with Italy and Japan, and put all the stamps of one kind together, and it's after noon when, rather hungry, but no eating, I settle down to soak all the stamps off, being mostly those John's given me from E.P. Dutton, and they all come off on two sheets of newspaper. I eat while they're drying, then get back to them immediately, line them all up on a record jacket, and then decide to clean out the drawer completely, throwing out many of the old letters, and decide that since I haven't herd from the five companies that sent me approvals that I didn't request for over four months, they're really mine now, and get them all sorted out, and it makes quite a stack of things to put into the book, especially for Romania, Poland, and Germany. Stop a bit for dinner, and then get back to the stamps, since John's in class and there's nothing much else to do, and continue through the evening, taking time to get all the United Nations into shape also, and actually get down to the final countries when John's in to shower, and then I have only one country left to put into the album, and he's ready for bed, so we talk awhile about what happened in class, how verbal it all was and how much he didn't like it, and I called Claude to make an appointment for tomorrow at 5 to talk with him, since John described him as really wondering why I left the class. He finished the sherry and we're into warm bed.
DIARY 1311
FRIDAY, JULY 24. John leaves at 9 and I'm just about to get down to stamps when Avi calls at 10:30, asking me to come over. I walk up in my low-slung bells, getting there about 11 and talking to Evan, who's in bed with his legs propped on a pillow with a herniated disk in his left leg, and he has to lie in bed until the twinge TRAVELS down his leg and out his foot. He's appropriated Avi's fan and television, so the living room is hot as Avi fixes scrambled eggs and home fries for breakfast, greasy, with toast and coffee and orange juice, while we listen to his version of Mahler's Second, rather inferior to mine, and then settle down to Monopoly, deciding to play for 1 cent per $100, and he builds up the yellows which he got as a last resort when I had parts of everything else, and he never landed on Boardwalk once, and he won that for about 81 cents, and then I insisted we have another, in which I'd win wildly, but he won that by putting up hotels on Baltic and Mediterranean, coupled with incredible numbers of doubles which gave him 50% more property than I, sent him around the board twice as many times, and he also invariably picked up the good Chances and Community Chests. I also lost the second by about 60 cents, and decided I wouldn't be playing Monopoly for a bit. I'd called Rick to join us, but he had rehearsals and gym work to do, and couldn't, though he wanted to. Poor Avi said he had a needle dork, thus couldn't fuck effectively, and didn't want to be fucked, so he wouldn't be seeing him again. It's sunny, and John and I should have gone to the beach, but we couldn't tell through the haze in the AM. Out to the Boat Basin park at 3:30 for a game of chess, which I won after losing a knight early on, stupidly, and nice people walking by, and I taxi home to call Claude at 4:45, get ready for him, he comes at 5, and we talk (I don't agree "reliving" can "erase" the crying about the past, and found his "If you're not angry, but people THINK you're angry, they don't have anything to hold onto" rather appalling) until 6:10, when I quickly have a pizza before meeting John at 6:30 for "It's a Gift" and "If I Had a Million" with W.C. Fields and lots of old ladies. To Coney (next page).
DIARY 1313
SATURDAY, JULY 25. Wake about 9 and cuddle, cuddle, then come with Baby Magic and chains, very spurty on John's chest and all over the bed, which is left open to dry out through the afternoon. Finally out of bed at noon, and we're very relaxed, John happy we didn't go to the beach, because at the end of sex there's lightning and thunder from the bay, and we dress and walk out with umbrella, and the sky is gray but there's no storm, only a deluge of rain that falls as we cuddle under an umbrella, being looked at strangely by passersby, drenched, and the sun comes out quickly and the Promenade fills up even quicker, and we get to the supermarket for quick shopping at 2 and back to a brunch of chicken livers, toasted English muffins, scrambled eggs, and some rather unsuccessful home fries (possibly because I peeled and soaked them in water so much), and then he lets me do the dishes (we're both tipsy from the gin in the orange juice), and crawl into bed at 3:30. As I dozed and dreamed many things this morning, so I dreamed many things this afternoon, coming out long enough to realize I dreamed, and then falling back into a slumber to dream more. We don't feel like getting up until 6:30, and I can feel the both of us falling into my sort of somnambulant nothingness when I get no exercise, so we're out of bed, and out for another walk, down to the Promenade again, I take 75 cents with me, and we cruise a nice twosome we encounter, watching them launch the freighter "City of Baranquilla," and follow them up and down many streets, but finally they separate, we get ice cream cones, and then I get a Times for the rest of my 75 cents, and we walk back to the apartment where John works around putting socks away, fixing up rooms, watering the plants, cleaning, and I read the entire Times, he reads some, and at 10 we talk about what to do for the evening, and he wants to come to my place, so I suggest we can eat at Morning Star, but when we get in, it's closed, so we park near Angelo's and he has a good antipasto and I have a gristly veal and pepper sandwich, and I pay for the whole thing, out at 11:30 to re-park in front, then up to cuddle and talk about the completely relaxed and relaxing day.
DIARY 1314
SUNDAY, JULY 26. Wake about 7 and put off the air conditioner and work on each other until we both come very nicely, though wetly, and up at 8:15, when we'd set the alarm, and I try to call Azak about the swimsuit, but there's no answer, so he's sleeping out. John showers and we eat, and both Joan and Azak show up at exactly 9, when I'm just out of the shower, so send those two to get the chicken, we finish packing, but it's not ready yet, so we pack the car and drive down to the corner, but it's still not ready, so John and Azak go for coffee and Joan and I talk about her work with the union that's going to wreck off-Broadway, though she's said she's talked about all that, and about 10 am we're bound up the hazy highway, talking about Azak's sex studies and how he wants to do a pilot with mouth-scrapings from the three of us, and John agrees for a free metabolism test. About noon we're off the Taconic, rolling through very pretty countryside and I tell them how it differs from England and France, and at 12:30 we're just about to get into Silvernails and we pass a waterfall, so we stop, spread out the blankets, get out the chicken and wine and glasses and have a nice feast, and then John goes below, strips, and showers in the falls, then Azak disrobes on TOP of the bluff, climbs down, and Joan and I are just about to join them when an old lady throws a stick at Joan and chases us out. We laugh and dress and drive the last bit to Olana, but it's a quick tour through a moldering house, and there are very few Church paintings of any note to be seen, and it's rather depressing, so we're out to wander around, looking at the hazy view over the Hudson, which is quite grand, and set out for Stottsville, where we can't find the swimming the gas station attendant'd referred to, so we stop for beer in a dive, then a gas station for some other swimming hole, and we're directed to Claverack, past the school, first left, and a dirt road across from a barn, where the road crosses a crick, and there we strip and get leeches and John's ass gets bitten by two or three fish, and we love it. Dress and drive back to Azak's at 8:30 for linguini dinner, Bruce and Jim arrive at 10, talk to Joan, to John's at 12.
DIARY 1315
MONDAY, JULY 27. I feel absolutely fatigued beyond measure when I wake up, and can hardly get out of the house. There's a letter from Lisa Lieberman waiting for me, calling me a "Monist," and I get into EB to try to read about Pluralism and Monism and Naturalism, but I don't feel like reading, so I want to get back to stamps, finish re-labeling and putting away everything from the drawer very neatly, so that the only thing left with stamps is what I started with: selecting those for Paul's friend. Go through and pick out 100 from the 40's and 50's, and write a letter covering it, look in the phonebook to see how to send it, and moan through the rest of the day. Called Eddie to find how to get the stuff to Norma, but his phone is out of order (though later I hear he's only put it off the hook), and Marty called about my helping him on Thursday, so there's not much time to do a lot of things before we leave for Ithaca, but I just don't feel like getting started on anything, so I settle down with the ret of the Times from Sunday, and decide that we want to see "Darling Lili" at Radio City tonight, and we agree to meet at 5:30 for the 6 pm stage show. I do more reading in EB, and start to type a couple of pages of information about types of philosophy, and reread my letter to Lisa, and sort through a couple of things, so turned on by recent ads about pornography that I get out the mirror and come, much to my disgust, but it's a good come. And then shower and shave, and before I know it, it's 5 and I'm taking off for the line, not really knowing what it was I did today besides that mentioned above, and watering the plants and eating lunch. There's no line, so I stand inside listening to the announcements, watching the people passing in and out, and John arrives, flustered from a stuck subway, at 6, and we're into a good seat just as the overture starts. "Bolero" is just as much fun as ever, and the rest of the show is part good, part terrible, and the movie is fairly entertaining, but very slick and hardly recommended to someone who wants a great film. Out at 9:40, eat at Chock Full while John has an orange drink, then to his place to finish watermelon and bed at 12.
DIARY 1316
TUESDAY, JULY 28. Wake at 7:15 and both come nicely, I still sleepy, at 9. Again start fussing with the letters, sending one to Grof, slipping in an unvarnished request to get a job somewhere in New York about LSD research, reply to Lisa, getting out "Story of Philosophy," "Varieties of Religious Experience," and EB to debate my points with her, to Kwawer requesting inclusion in his study of "healthy homosexuals," and then I'm down for the mail, getting Life and assorted other stuff, including two outright ads for pornography, and then type a letter to Bill, and finish up seven pages to bring me up to date with the diary, and then I've nothing to do but some more letters. By then it's 4:30 and I shave and clean my teeth in preparation for going into the park to see "Henry VI, Part 2." Meet Arno at the corner of 58th and 8th, and we chat into the park, and he expresses interest in coming with me, but there's no time. Into line and read a terribly boring chapter from the MacLuhan book, and the line is so short that there are tickets left after the line is finished, so I get an extra one and call Arno, but he hasn't eaten yet, and then call Cyndy, but she has dance class, so I have an extra ticket. Eat the ice I bought to get change for the call, then up to read the reviews, and who do I see but Roger Evans and a new girlfriend, Cheryl. We talk and eventually sit together in three seats that I find right next to the broken seat we sat next to last time, and this play is better than the last, particularly when Leon Russom, formerly of "Oh, Calcutta," took off his shirt to die as the Prince of Wales, and the next Henry, the VII, is cute, too. Over at 11, and wander through the Ramble, which is exceedingly busy, and down CPW, which is literally crawling with cuties, alone, in pairs and trios and laughing groups, well-dressed and in short shorts, see-through shirts, tight crotches, dangles halfway to their knee, looking, leering, talking, looking backwards as they walk, laughing too loud as they see friends, too primped and painted, with a few looking perfectly lovely and natural. Home at 11:30 to a cold John from the tub, and he copped out of an exercise, angry with Claude. Bed at 12.
DIARY 1317
WEDNESDAY, JULY 29. Up at 7:30, and I'm tired, but do him, and he's out at 8:30. Call Marty to say that tomorrow's excursion will go off as planned, type up the one diary page that again brings me up to date, which will probably be the last in quite a while, and settle down to write Elaine, getting up to date in all the Rivers, Mom, trying to settle when she'll come, and Claudia, getting out the French map to see all the lovely places she'll be near when she moves to France. Have no envelopes, and literally vacillate trying to figure out how to mail letters without envelopes, but then when I go out to buy the envelopes, I don't have time to put the letters into them. John calls about 3 to say that sulfurous fumes from Max's Kansas City are being sucked into the building and could he come to my place early. He comes in as it's beginning to rain, and he works while I finish some of the letters, and then decide we'll go off to the Richard III at 5:30, and he makes tuna fish salad sandwiches and we go off to get tickets, detouring into the Ramble and up onto the rocks to eat dinner, then back to get good seats downstairs, and Donald Madden is a rather effective Richard, and I feel very depressed, because I sort of identify with him: he rather coldly sets out to get everything his heart desires, and when he gets it, he's really not satisfied with it, because someone wants to take the throne from him. He almost says "Why can't everyone let me alone" when he has exactly what he wants, and why isn't he HAPPY when he has what he wants, and I take this very much to heart, fearing that even if I WRITE the book, there's still be another book to write (just as there's always another book to read, another movie to see, and another friend to meet), STILL be more money to earn, despite WHAT I do, and I should stop thinking of the novel as an END, but something that I do when I do it, fitting in with all the other things that I do when I do them. The depression lasts while John's here in the evening, and I try to explain it to him, but since I don't want to admit many of the depressions to MYSELF, I don't do a good job getting it through to him. Walk past cruising on CPW, and home to bed about 12.
DIARY 1318
THURSDAY, JULY 30. Marty calls just as John leaves at 8:40, and I'm downstairs at 8:50, but he doesn't come until 9:05, and I'm sitting in the car when Norma walks by, and she reports that she HAS picked up the pot from Eddie, but "her boss" hasn't tried it yet. Direct Marty down 9th to the Queens Tunnel, and we get through at 10:15, with dreadful traffic that he does awfully with. Onto the highway where he swerves until I tell him to stop, and give him hints about sighting ahead, keeping speed constant and rather fast so as not to give opportunities to others to mess everyone up, and not to use the brakes so much, all contingent on his feeling he has control of the car, however. Out to Sound Beach, have quick brunch of cake and cheese, fill out the form, then drive to a Motor Vehicle Bureau in Babylon, filled, then pizza for more lunch, and get to Freeport about 4. Drive around the streets getting him used to the station wagon which is now his, we put on plates and fasten the seat belts to the car, and then I follow him in by way of Meadowbrook Parkway and the LIE, and it's dreadful, we get in about 6. He signs in and drives me home, and immediately John Kim calls, we talk about his trip to see Charles (whom he thinks has a lover now), and we say we'll keep in touch. Then Pierre Lafont, referred from Paul, calls, and I ask him to come over in an hour, and discover that in that hour I wanted to do dishes, so I have to do them, and just as I'm finished, he comes over, so we talk, and he likes only those under 18-20, and I suggest we take a walking tour through the Rambles, which he misunderstands, then agrees to. We see all sorts of things, some to his liking, on the way up, and then he finds the Rambles much to his liking, but since I've said John will be over at 11 after class, he lets me go at 10:30, and I return home by way of a Peter Max-painted car and another jalopy stationed by the rowing lake, lit by enormous lights filtered through sheets (to appear like daylight?), and also by enormous lights on a huge boom, and cameras rested under tents, along with "stars" who were largely unidentified. Dazzled, I walked home to receive John at 11:30, and bed.
DIARY 1319
FRIDAY, JULY 31. We talk about how much he disliked the last day of class, and get up at 7:15, after mutual sex, in order to eat and shower and to pack, and get down to the car on the dot of 8, since he's terrified about getting a ticket. Take the laundry out, leave the key for Norma, whom I called last night about watering the plants, and mail all the letters that I wrote on the two previous days. Up the Palisades Parkway, across Route 6 to route 17, enjoying the view, through the haze, and even the rain is rather fun. I drive for a bit, and we stop just outside Grossinger's to get a brunch of coffee and toasted Danish, and drive through the famed resort, which looks like Queens, right off the highway. Continue up a pretty 17, alternating rain and haze, and go through Binghamton and Oswego, loaded with IBM places, and look for a place to lunch about 2, but the Brush and Palate is closed, and finally stop at the College Spa in Ithaca, where I have lousily prepared sole, through John's salad is good, and by 3 we're up the edge of the lake and up the driveway, where John kisses Don Blair Johnson hello, and I'd figured an older man, and someone like a chunky Paul greets me with a shock of blond hair falling over nice blue eyes, over a bulkily-filled shirt and shorts showing straight blondly-haired legs. We talk for a bit and Don Haines Guidotti comes in, and though he's balding, he's rather cute in a feisty way, and I look forward to a nice weekend. Out to look at the pot that's growing, and when John goes to water the transplanted plants, he strips and we get all watered down and try to have sex, and then in to shower, and with the Ivory soap he or I rub myself raw on the right underside of the cock, and it's bleeding after I come, so I have to swab myself with Baby Magic to stop the smart. Dinner is baked haddock, which is passably done, and scrumptious cherry pie, following some sort of soup, and it's all nicely done. Then dash to "The Visit" at Ithaca, and drive Cornell campus, stopping at some local diner/bar. Requiems and very heavy music playing all the while, and John has picked some of the grass and we smoke, I start necking with him on the floor, Blair joins in, then I start with Haines, we all end up tussling, except I'm raw, bed at 1, HIGH.
DIARY 1320
SATURDAY, AUGUST 1. Sleep to 11:30, marveling about the highness of last night, and we're up to find Haines starting on the evening meal, so there's nothing to eat, and about 1:30 John and I get out to find Taughannack Falls, up past John's "Tacky Farm Inn," and we stop on the side, walk the ridge, hanging out over the chasm by trees, then drive to the muddy bridge where we slog up to the old rail bridge to see two mixed couples swimming in the upper falls below. They wave that we CAN get down, so we slog back, ogling three guys and three girls in a car putting on rain gear, drive down to the official observation platform for the 214 foot main falls, see the foursome dawdling in the upper pool, then walk along, meeting the three girls who have lost the guys, then down to the edge to talk to the foursome, and upstream where we're alone in the pool, so we strip and jump in, quickly joined by the three guys who ask "Can we join you?" and we say, leering, "Be our guests." Their bodies are smoothly muscled, two nicely tanned with pink asses, one fine-smiled with wide-set blue eyes who's extremely personable. We show them the cave under the falls, and they stand upright in the falls, letting the water cascade around their wet bodies, pummeled into hardness by the racing water, and John goes up with them as they form a self-conscious can-can line, kicking away. Then slide down on the rocks, laughing, splashing into the pool, and then they're off downstream. John and I play around some more, wondering about their beauty, then decide to follow them, hand-walking like antediluvian monsters through the tepid water, chasing fish before us, meeting a couple coming up, and when we return they're nude under the falls, and two guys are saying there's a girl up top who's uptight, and we show them OUR girl, but they don't come down, eliminating their defined abdominals from the group. The guy has a darkish lengthy cock, but they leave before the three guys come back, and we again drink in their smooth bodies, they leave, we leave, it rains quite hard and we're soaked, back to house, buying corn, and we entertain Ava and Constantine and Eric and Ava's conductor husband with chicken and cherries, and rice, and pie.
DIARY 1321
SUNDAY, AUGUST 2. Talk, talk, talk, last night till it tires us and we're again in bed until 11:30, I'm still sore so John lays off me, and I do him with lotion, twice almost at once, him going off into delighted laughter during the second, and I don't know if it's embarrassment, delight, or tickle that joggles his laughter so. Again records through the early afternoon, and I read Segal's "Love Story" while everyone's moving around cooking things, and rather like it, recommending that Haines DO read Blair's gift, crying at the end. No more sex, but we're kissing and groping and being a delightful ménage a quatre. Out for a drive in the convertible down Cayuga Lake, across little towns, down the spine between lakes to Blueberry Patch camps, out to pick blueberries by the hundred, munching while plucking, camping it up with comments back and forth about various expertise in picking skills, and Haines wants to dawdle while John and Blair are anxious to go. Up to some house with an $8000 Oriental rug on the floor, new house going up across the road spoiling the view, and then down to Seneca Lake, going past Watkins Glen, and through the lovely old-style town, stopping in for a good cold hot fudge sundae in the oldest sweet shoppe in the area, and then back the long way along vistas of farmland, lake, orchards, berry patches, and views over Cornell and Ithaca, finally home, scratching our heads with the wind-blownness of the day. Have just about time to get ready for dinner, out again to look at the gardens, picking raspberries, and back into the closed car for the long trip down to Binghamton, missing our 8:30 reservation by about 9:15, and the Fountains aren't running in the dining room, the appetizer fills John up, the wine is pretty good, and when the baked clams come, John is happy to complain about what the hostess calls the "anchovy dressing" on the clams, and settled for only the salad. Haines' mixed platter is huge, my steak pizzaiola is mediocre, and Blair's veal parmigiana is passable. Finish bombed at 11, John falls asleep on my lap on the way back, missing the two deer we flush from the roadside up Cayuga Lake, and we're falling into bed at 12:30, exhausted.
DIARY 1322
MONDAY, AUGUST 3. John and I wake at 7, I again doing him twice with the lovely Baby Magic, and he's off to Cornell Library to do some work. I lay until the other Dons are up at 11, and we all sit and have toasted date-nut roll and coffee for breakfast, talking nicely, and I retire to Don's study to read Mad, which is still delightful, and "Sexual Perversions," which is by Lowat or Lowang or some such obscene name, and it's very funny indeed with its mock seriousness and high camp remarking. Just finish when John comes in at 3:30, and I listen to more records, among them "Alexander's Feast," and everyone talks about music at great length, and then we all get ready for the two Bobs from uplake, who live together in a four-floor antiquity which John might like to be invited to, and we sit around and drink (we started with highly spiced bloody marys before, and I quickly took to being the dishwasher, so anytime I had nothing to do, I washed the dishes) very potent (also had Negroni's, which I detest, and mint juleps, which are also lousy, but well made) Megronis, and then it was getting on to 7 and we had to get into the car, all six, for the ride to Ithaca College and to the top of the dorm for the Ithaca Faculty Club and a great view over the mountains for a splendid sunset, which I ignored the dreary company to observe. Blair detached himself enough to explain all the buildings on campus, so I ended up more interested in that than in Cornell itself, which I decided not to even go see the next day on my own with John. After nightfall, bolstered by double drinks, I of good daiquiris, we drove back, talking all the while, and Haines finally got around to serving the highly cloved and garlicked Chinese chicken with peppers and the unseasoned rice pilaf, and both Bobs established themselves as snobs of first magnitude, and they didn't even begin to consider leaving before John yawned in their faces about 1 am, and John said he never wanted to see them again, and I particularly disliked their "observation" of all John did to discomfit and shock them, and their "surveying" of the relationships among the four of us. To bed rather tired with the evening at 1:30.
DIARY 1323
TUESDAY, AUGUST 4. John again up early, not being able to come a third time, though we both really tried very hard, though the attempt was rather worse than the previous two enjoyments. I don't want to go with him, but go outside at 10 am when they're not awake, soaking in the sun for a half hour on each side, and when they're up at 11:30 go inside to join them in more toasted date-nut roll, milk, and then at 1 I'm back out to the hammock to soak up more sun until 2:30, when I'm in to pare and grate the carrots for carrot cake, waiting for John to get back, and read a bit of the Russell, then end up mindlessly looking at the clouds passing, and John doesn't get back until about 5, which is sad, and he joins me on the chair, we talk about the day, he strips me and starts playing with me, and finally brings me off with some assistance from myself, which Blair gets in on the end of saying "Oh, EXCUSE me," when we're all finished. They'd puttered around painting the house, and Haines whipped up some lovely gin and lime drinks to ward off the thirst from the heat, and we were inside to see Haines mixing up the hamburger, Blair makes the charcoal, and John does the corn, and we have it all outside, rather undone corn and overdone patties, but it's fun for awhile, until Don and Don's fooling gets beyond company presentation and there are fraying tempers, and then at 9, after John whizzes through the dishes, we're down to the county fair, where we tour the inside exhibits, more tawdry than conceivable, out to peer through darkened camper windows, past rows and rows of cows, sheep, chickens, ducks, geese, pigeons, and a wide ranging assortment of squash, flowers, fruit, jams, and other diseases where very few merited an "Unworthy" punch on their entry card, and then out to the midway where the girlie show had most attendants, except maybe for the African voodoo place, and the rides were awful, the attendants worse, and only some of the boys agreeable. Got some ice for the only purchase of the evening, and we all left in fatigued disgust at 11, sorry to have paid the 50 cent entry fee to see such squalor, back to get clothing together to leave tomorrow, and fall into bed just before midnight.
DIARY 1324
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 5. Up about 9, leisurely getting things together, and out of Ithaca about 10, kissing both Dons goodbye, volunteering John's apartment for their use before moving into their house in Massapequa, getting lost on the way to Trumansburg, getting to Moog's place about 10:15, and a cute Brian is assigned to give us the tour, showing us the equipment, telling about their new developments, showing us the machining rooms, and then into the demonstration room where we find he's on loan from Oberlin, talkative, knowledgeable about how to explain the complex Moog wiring, and we play with all sorts of things with great delight, John and he getting into details about the book, John propounding his theory of "The 1960 Watershed," and we're out about 11:30, driving down 79 until we get to Lisle, and when we pass the Kentucky Roast Beef place John says he can eat, and the hamburgers are good, the French fries excellent, and we get some mustard and catsup for the car, too. Continue on route 206 through countryside that John just loves, which becomes progressively hillier as we near the Catskills, and when we get to Pepacton Reservoir, I'm using the brake much too much, so John stops us at the Burial Ground, where we look at the fragments of old stones, marveling that they'd MOVE these people, continue around the deserted reservoir, going up and down unmarked roads, getting thoroughly involved in the delightful countryside, and wind up in Lewbeach, having some beer, and get told about the Irving Berlin place, driving back to see it, and possibly seeing himself wandering absently across the lawn in shirtsleeves. From Moog to Berlin. Back down to Route 17 for a quick return to town, detouring in New Jersey to pick up cheap half gallons of booze in the NJ A&P, and to my place at 7 so I can read the mail, shave and shower and brush my teeth, water the plants, and leave at 8 to dinner at Lichee Tree, with rotten pork in the soup, sour soy sauce, and what HE says is rotten pork in the roast pork, though I don't think it is. Over to Yangtze River so he can have shrimp toast and wonton soup, I have beef and sizzling rice, leave at 10:30 to his place, lay while he waters.
DIARY 1325
THURSDAY, AUGUST 6. Back home quite tired, picking up the Times from the trash, reading it, then out for groceries, spending just 15 cents less than the $7.45 that I have to my name, eat breakfast, try to read some of the Russell, but don't feel like doing it, call Norma to ask about the pot, and she admits she kept it for herself, Eddie called and said that "Performance" was lousy, but I said I wanted to see it anyway. I have lunch while reading much of Life magazine, getting most of it out of the way. Call to cash in three more shares of stock, Berkley calls, screams at me, I see Buckley, watch "Dark Shadows" for Mr. French, notes for meeting with lawyer(?). Call Cyndy to talk about the weekend and set up a lunch date for us tomorrow, try to call Eddie when I call John and he agrees to my suggestion that we see "Performance" tonight, and try to call Joan, but there's no answer, and I fix up the apartment without doing really anything by mid-afternoon, so I scour the tub and actually get down to doing the exercises, getting into the shower and washing my hair after I do them, and there's just time to walk over to meet John at the theater at 7:45, so I don't even eat, though I don't feel much like eating. The crowd at the theater is very nice, two guys sitting next to me playing with each others' knees in the others' laps, and so I start fondling John's hand and we pass the movie very nicely. It starts out being James Fox's film until he takes a room with Jagger, and the women start getting all over, and the funniest line is the little girl, tranquilly asking in the midst of the most flagrant decadence, "Would you like a cup of tea?" which keeps the audience chuckling delightedly for about five minutes. It's a great trip, and I tell Eddie his theater has a hit on its hands, though he insists he's not seen much of it. Back talking about it delightedly, and get home at 10:30, deciding it's too late to take up Norma's offer inviting us over to her place, and I have some toast and peanut butter and jelly for dinner, and John initiates the sherry I bought for him in New Jersey, and we get into bed to talk about the weekend, and wonder about how everyone's felt just awful when they wake in the morning, feeling drugged, not being able to breathe, and eyes smarting from the omnipresent smog which lives in NYC.
DIARY 1326
FRIDAY, AUGUST 7. Up FEELING that drugged feeling, and John goes off to work after I treat him very nicely with the vibrator and he treats me rather nicely, except that I'm going through a phase of being DOWN again when I come, which displeases me probably more than it does him, though he's not unaffected, I'm sure. Up to dial channels to see what's on the 9 am movie, and see Peter Sellers and Mai Zetterling in a rather amusing "Only Two Can Play," which serves to pass the time until 11, and then Cyndy calls to say she'll meet me for lunch at 1, and I get hungry reading and have crackers and butter, but still buy an egg salad and an orange, getting to her 15 minutes late at 1:25, and we sit and watch the ducks and sexy passersby (we both ogle the same cute guys), and she tells me about her affair with the black Walt from work, and I decide to see what the ticket situation is at the Met for the Cinemateque, even though I fortuitously pick up a schedule at the information booth at the foot of the zoo, but walk up, find there are loads of tickets, regret the passing of the painting collection from the Boston Museum, but into the gallery to find it's been extended with a new "pay what you wish" policy, and I give a dime and see 100 great paintings, from Duccio to Italian super-realists, to clear Cezannes to fabulous Van Gogh "Postman" and "Ravine," the definitive Gauguin "Where Are We, Whence Come We, Wither We Go," good Renoirs, a smashing Sisley, the Copley shark painting, ugly early Americans, a daft Picasso and ugly Kline, so-so Rembrandts, nice Monet, and many others just as fine. Sit on the steps reading scrounged Times while waiting for 6 pm and "Zvenigora" rather poor, and subway to John's by 8 for a heavy dinner of sweet corn, better done this time, and veal chops so tasty they're like beef, then collapse onto the bed for a nap, and before I know it it's 11:15, finding it hard to get up, tempted to say, "Just let it go," but wash my face and drag myself into clothes and we drive across the bumpy streets to ask directions and find the way to "The Barn" (see following pages), afterwards finding new locations for the truck stops, getting back over to Brooklyn at 3, annoyed with unwashed John to bed.
DIARY 1337
SATURDAY, AUGUST 8. John wakes at 7, we have sex, he gives me records, and I sit around reading the Voice, seeing that there's another film festival at NYU paralleling the one at the Metropolitan, because the Met didn't think it could get that much business, and then we take off with records and newly planted coleus for his office, and I catch the subway home. Water the flowers and decide that I MUST get back to the book, and spend the entire afternoon re-reading and doing minor revisions on chapters 1-3, and then finish up by reading chapter 1 aloud, to get the final rhythm down pat, and I'd called Scott Meredith before and found that the short novel price had gone up to $75, which is still fine as far as I'm concerned. (This, I guess, was all done Thursday, and I guess Thursday's activities were done today. Who knows? Who cares!) Then manage to get one page into the typewriter and John's here at 5, and that's all the typing I do for that day. He's brought all sorts of things, like lime for the vodka tonics for which he's brought the vodka, and we settle down to listen to the Amram "Dirge," then put on the Ravi Shankar, which John can only stand up to the middle of the third side, and then he doesn't want to hear anymore. He's brought noodles and beef broth to cook them in, tomatoes and mushrooms to marinate in my tarragon vinegar (which I tell him is "old," and he accepts it, and on a hunch I ask "How old do you think I mean when I say old?" and he shrugs and suggests "Three months?" and I stagger him by saying it's over 12 years, and he chortles about the vintage excellent tarragon vinegar I've been hiding from him. And he's brought Boston lettuce to which the tomatoes and mushrooms are to be added. So I whip up some underdone hamburger patties, cook the noodles, and that's the meal, ending with Sara Lee, served on tablecloth in the air-cooled bedroom with a candle and red wine for drinking and lighting respectively. Put dishes away and we're ready for a snooze at 9, and we lie there, quietly, talking, snoozing, and by the time it's 11, we've decided we don't feel like doing ANYTHING else this evening, so the lights go out, we have sherry, and sleep.
DIARY 1338
SUNDAY, AUGUST 9. John wakes at 7 to telephone to find there's a cloudy day ahead of us, so we don't get up to go to the beach, and I get out the vibrator to use on him, and that's very nice, and then he suggests we go to High Point Park. He agrees to having only cereal for breakfast so I don't have to get anything from outside, having used the last two eggs for the hamburger, and we're getting ready when I start talking about High Point, and he says we're going to High Tor, but if I want to go to High Point, fine with him, and we're out to the car which he's parked just around the corner, after I go down to pick up the Times and we read a bit of it until about 10:30, and we're up the highway to the bridge from about 10:45, and stop at an A&P for ham and cheese and rolls and peanuts and oranges, and we're into the park (charging $1, ugh) at 12:45, and we head straight for the bathing beach. I'd changed in the car, and John goes into the dressing rooms, incredibly bare, to change, and we find a place far to one side out of the din of the radios, have a very thick sandwich of a half-pound of goody on each sandwich, then lie in the sun for an hour, which I abbreviate as sunbathing begins to disgust me, as I'd been disgusted with the highway noise when we stopped for gas on the road, at a low 32.9 cents, and I'm feeling generally depressed at the beach, so I go look at the people, then go into the water which is fed by springs and still quite chillingly refreshing, and then into the car to take the circular road to the Monument, which I climb for a hazy view over three states from the highest point in New Jersey, then to look at the pricing in the lodge and the booked-up cabins, then back onto the road at 4, taking the Pine Island Turnpike along the southern edge of NY State, through picturesque Wesstown, Pine Island, Mt. Peter, Greenwood Lake, Wanaque, down 208 to the Garden State, out onto 3, through the Lincoln Tunnel, and down city streets to park across from the Tool Box at 7:30, which serves its 5 cent meal at 8:30, after which we go up to the Den, and then out for another wild truck scene (see following pages), and to John's at 11 for talk.
DIARY 1342
MONDAY, AUGUST 10. Up about 7:30 for another long talk about my depression of the past couple days (see following pages). We talk and he forces $10 on me, and I feel somewhat better, subway home to read the Times and get right into the puzzle, doing both the double-crostic and the crossword in rather good time by 12:30, having started about 10:30 after reading the rest of the paper. Then call John to say how good he's made me feel (along with yesterday when he pulled the $1 bill out of his own pocket to pay for the bridge and tunnel tolls, and I said I could have kissed him, and should have), and he asks why I haven't used the name of Irv Wasserman that I suddenly came up with this morning, and I said I'd do it this afternoon. Call Gladys at 1:30, but she's at lunch, so call Walter Joseph on impulse, and he says fine for lunch, I get to Tiffany's at 2:10, he keeps me browsing (among Tiffany swag glasses for $80 and others for $65 and lower) while he talks to a cute Harvard Law student, and we go around the corner to his drugstore, where I see Azak and Jim Hazel, and the cute barman admonishes me to stop "cruising" and get back to "my father" where I belong. Have a tongue sandwich and good hot fudge sundae, for which he pays, and leave him at 3:30, having talked to Azak, to get to Time-Life, calling up Irv, who says that Bob Fitz is no longer in charge of publications, that Bill Calhoun is, so I go up to see him, but he can't help me, giving me the name of a contracts department. Gladys is still busy, so I call Joe Smith, and talk with Murray Eisenman on the way in, with Judy Cherney, with Chuck Coe, and Joe gets me the name of Jim Nagy, who's in charge of my sort of piecework, and I drop in on Gladys and Barbara Brimberg, run into Sunny Simon and Barry Gordon, and talk until 6, getting home to call John, settle down to type nine pages which are much needed in the diary, eat dinner, John comes at 9, and we talk about our adventures for the day, I call John Kim and Pierre, who calls back at 11:15 pm, just before I go to bed with John, after fantasizing about the trip we might take next year after both our books are finished and we have money to spend only on traveling for ourselves.
DIARY 1345
TUESDAY, AUGUST 11. Up at 7, I vibrate him, he sucks me VERY nicely to 8. Then it dawns on me he wants to work here before going to Boosey and Hawkes, so he has breakfast and starts working, and I get down to typing, finishing THE BARN by 10:30, when I have breakfast, and get back to typing after he leaves. Call Cyndy for lunch, but she says she'll have to call me back, and I talked to Ellen Leichtman when I tried to get Cyndy downtown. Out for the laundry and buy lights for the ceiling, but find they don't blink properly: they all go on and off at the same time. Finish typing 18 pages to bring the diary up to date, and that's a good job done, but it seems to be taking longer and longer to do. John's in at 5, requests a frozen daiquiri, so I have to clear away the dishes I've just done to get them made, and then he starts to work cutting back the wandering Jew, repotting the coleus, and planting the coleus which has developed roots in the glass, using up all the rocks I brought back from Sound Beach and all the soil he gave me from his 50 pounds. It goes fast. Then I get to work on the tuna casserole for dinner, and the salad, and we finish at 7:25 and dash up to the Thalia, where the schedule has slipped, so we see the confusing end of "How I Won the War," which rather ruins it, and "The Night They Raided Minsky's" turns out to be better, stolen by a wisecracking Joseph Wiseman who absolutely stops the show every time he opens his mouth. HIWTW starts a bit better than it ends, but I find myself so conscious of the "aren't I cute and clever in giving your mind a twist" attitude of everyone connected with the film that the antiwar message is lost on me. Yes, I KNOW war kills people, and some of the old war footage is gripping (strange how BOTH movies made extensive use of old movie footage), but the idea of having the dead men actually WORKING for the living is inexplicable---someone just had a clever idea and they put it in, like the jolting "You're the first person I could talk to in this whole film," which is funny, but detracts from any point the whole film could have. Subway home, John tired and quiet, at 11:45, and bed at midnight, cool enough to just have the fan blowing.
DIARY 1346
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 12. Up at 7, do John warmly, feel very good next to him. Fix the apartment up for the O'Sheas' arrival, and then Pierre Lafont calls to say he wants to come over at 4, so I dash through dusting and sweeping the floors, which are cruddy, putting "Spiroman" out of temptation's reach in the closet, and then into the shower and get ready, but he's not here at 4, and arrives just after 5, having mistakenly given me the time in the wrong English word. Agree that the French tend to be masochistic, the Easterns with their Buddhism tend to be agreeable, loving, and like to "play" in with their heavy relationships without any difficulties, and we agree Paul likes this sort of activity, too. He leaves at 7, saying that he won't be back, but will say hello to Paul for me in Singapore at Christmas (and he told me that he and John Kim DID have sex, except that John didn't care for it). Then I eat dinner and get down to writing the remainder of the letter to Rita, and type fully on it until 10:30, when they finally come swooping in, and Kathy is cowed but silent, Sean is weepy, and Helen says it's because he's realizing that he's leaving his old home for good, and the skinny hairy bundle with her is Sheila who is squalling up in the elevator and into the room until Helen warms a bottle of milk and pops it into her mouth. Finally the kids are in bed and they settle down with frozen daiquiris, while Don reads more of my stuff from the River, tells me about the American Playwrights Theater, or something of the sort, which operates out of Ohio State Drama Department, and where he's thinking of sending "Diogenes," and we talk about the pollution, sibling rivalry, the goodness and badness of moving to Atlanta, and he recommends "Patton" and Fowles' "The Aristos" at great length, and we talk about movies and operas and writing, and finally it's 2 am, and they take the bed, move Kathy into the bed in the living room, next to where I'll sleep, and there are sofa pillows on the floor for the two other kids, and the air conditioner hasn't stopped yet, and the dishes have already piled up because they didn't eat DINNER, so Don and I went out shopping, I cooked soup (boiled) and toasted sandwiches FOR them, and had ice cream, bed at 2.
DIARY 1347
THURSDAY, AUGUST 13. I don't even hear Don going down for the car moving at 8, and everyone's up out of bed at 9, and she's brought everyone their breakfast of rolls and cereal, and they all get packed and out by about 10:30, and the newly-swept apartment is a shambles, and almost every dish in the apartment is dirty. Fix myself up and subway down to pick up my check, and Warren is on vacation AGAIN for a week (not going anywhere, his assistant hastens to assure him, but if one of the two of us covers the job, everything's OK---nicer work than mine), and there's some long delay about signing the check, so I wander to the window and look out over the foggy harbor, watch the stocks roll by, and am thankful that I sold at 248 rather than at the current 220, which I'm sure everyone hopes will be a new, unsurpassable low. After about half an hour, I get the check, then subway back uptown at 2:30 to get it cashed in, and it feels so good to have money in my pocket that I've taken my "want" list with me, and get off to the Broadway stamp shop for his album of seconds, but he didn't do it, so he and his wife sift through his poorer quality stamps, and I'm under the impression that I've gotten some REAL bargains, prompted by the tight money situation. Back to put them into the album, fix up the want list, and there are only 15 stamps that I want at this point, and I picked up the last UN souvenir sheet, too. Spend hours left in the day going through my calendars and diaries finding out exactly what KIND of days I spent, and find that about 1/3 have been away from home or entertaining people here, that about 1/3 could be classified as miscellaneous necessities (like cleaning) and sheer waste, and the other 1/3 could be profitably considered as reading, writing, stamps, and other identifiably time expenditures. Have a quick dinner and John's here for his extempore orgy club (see following pages), and we're surprised to get back home at 11:30. Phone rings and it's Marty, wanting to spend some evenings at my place over the weekend: he and Jerri are trying a temporary separation, she's out to all hours with friends drinking and carrying on, he's moving into Fred Bernhard's apartment. Bed.
DIARY 1351
FRIDAY, AUGUST 14. John leaves after we have sex in the morning, and then I fix up the apartment and decide that the only thing to do with the dishes is to wash them twice, so I gather everything together and pile all the plates on a huge stack, and wash everything else, which more than fills the drainer. Last night, while Marty was talking to me, John wanted something to eat, and decided on popcorn, and I remarked that he dirtied the LAST dirtiable utensil in the kitchen, so I had the blender and salad bowl and popper to wash, too. Shoshana called to make last minute arrangements for watching her appearance on the David Frost show, and I was calling Azak back and forth making last minute arrangements for the weekend at Sound Beach we had settled on. Marty called and we talked for a long time during the morning about his breaking up, and then I called Jerri and talked with her for awhile, too, trying to get them back together, since their only problem was being basically DISHONEST with each other, and they both really wanted to stay together because of Chris. Then I decide that I really want to see what the 7th Avenue stamp shop can do with my remaining want list, and go there to buy three more for $8, narrowing the list to 12, which is really rather reasonable, though the 50 cent Zeppelin will be the hardest to get, I'm sure, for any kind of discount price (though Clark sends through a list which is rather tempting with a $10 price, but I feel that I've spent enough on stamps for this month, and won't have enough cash to get through October 1, if that's when I want to sell stocks next). Wash dishes the second time, feeling good about it, and Azak calls to say he'll be late, and John says he'll be going home after the August Festival at work, so I and Shoshana and Andy watch her taping, and they cut the folksong, and not the aria, as she'd feared and bitched about. They leave, Azak and Daniel arrive, and we subway to John's, settling down for the last of the party punch and conversation, and at midnight the sofa bed comes out and we all go into our respective beds, though Azak seems interested in doing something with John and me, but we just don't take him up on it, setting alarm.
DIARY 1352
SATURDAY, AUGUST 15. It rings at 7, we're up and dressed, joking about Azak's "hard," and we're driving out in rather heavy traffic, with many accidents and delays to make John tense. Stop for fresh peaches, and then spend about an hour in the Waldbaum's getting groceries for the food-crazed people for the weekend. Into the house and get everything settled, but it begins to rain, and we settle in with unpacking everything, have a starved lunch of cheese on Italian bread and yogurt and fruit, and then John suggests the Bayard Cutting Arboretum, and everyone falls asleep on the way there, except me and John, and Azak later explains that Daniel is used to a siesta in the middle of a sunny afternoon: he seems to take it anyway. Get a soda at the restaurant, showing them the crotchy sculpture, and then we're down to the oceanside to see thousands of Medusas pulsing through the dirty water, and there are ducks that John mews at, and we walk through the pines, and it's so hot we enjoy walking in and out of the sprinklers, getting quite wet, and we lay on the grass and chat and talk about yoga and such, and John shows everyone how to stand on their heads, and we talk about the 500,000 vocabulary capacity which the human brain is supposed to have, and then it's about closing time at 6 when we leave, driving back for some ice cream which only John and I have, and then the ordeal of dinner begins. We don't have everything, so Daniel won't make the vinaigrette for the artichokes; I make a mess of starting the charcoal for the steaks, and fear I've completely wrecked them, cursing them for leaving me with that task, but miraculously they come out tasting VERY good, and the only downers are the green beans which John perversely undercooked severely. I tell them about the corn (the artichokes are tough, too, though the sauce is good, even on the bread and on the steak), and the peaches have about disintegrated in the wine, but everything's rosy because of the quart of wine we share, and we look at the full moon and go down to the beach, which has an enormously high tide, and John skinny-dips, churning up phosphorescent medusas by the handfuls, and I feel their tentacles sweeping past: beautiful.
DIARY 1353
SUNDAY, AUGUST 16. John and I wake at 8 and have sex until about 9:30, joyfully with Baby Magic, and downstairs to find no one there. We'd planned on using all the eggs for breakfast, so I drive the car to get the Times and the two people, and Azak comes, saying they've had breakfast, so Daniel stays on the beach while we eat. Then we're down to the beach at 11, and the ocean is still quite cool, but I can stomach getting in quickly, and sadly there are no more medusas. We talk, I read the Times and begin to work the puzzles, also the one which Marty left out at Sound Beach (which I also worked on last night when I was uncomfortable about too many cooks), and dug holes in the sand and looked fascinated at the lovely jewel-like colors of the stones in the water, with the tide going way out far enough to uncover moss-covered stones and reveal that much of the beach is bottomed with very sharp stones very uncomfortable on the feet. I lay in the sun on both sides, feeling very hot in the unrelenting sun, though at some points the clouds block all the rays, but still it comes out, and there's a huge crowd on the beach, and some of the boys are rather nice, and there's even a new kick to add to the motorboats, surfboarding, and sled-sitting: parachuting, drawn behind a boat, billowing with white and orange scallops, sailing the person high into the air (when the person isn't so heavy that he drags through the water and sinks the parachute, as the gravel-voiced ringleader did much to John's and my delight). We sent the two back to the house for the raft and food, but they didn't return by 4:30, so we returned, meeting them, and then started the hassle for dinner. John set the hugely glowing fire and I cooked the hamburgers, and the corn was actually well-cooked, to everyone's pleasure, and the meal was very tasty, and then we washed everything up and packed and we were out on the road at 8. John let me drive for the first bit, as we circled back to the highway to beat the traffic, but this time he insisted on staying on the LIE, and it got worse and worse, and we didn't get into the city until 10:30, finally getting home at 11, quite exhausted from the long haul, and I stayed at John's.
DIARY 1354
MONDAY, AUGUST 17. Home to unpack my suitcase and find that John didn't put the theater section in my suitcase, and they don't have one downstairs, so I have to buy a Cue to tell Mom what's doing in the city. Spend the entire morning on something that entered my mind: I have just so many spaces for stamps in my album, and there are many more stamps in the catalog: so how many am I missing spaces for, and what do they cost, so I spend the entire morning going through these lists, getting hugely disgusted with the way I spend my time, but still curious nonetheless, and end up with the final figures about 1, which I religiously file away in the album for future reference and refinement. It's amazing how many of the lower priced ones I don't have, but they're mainly imperfs of some of the common varieties which I might actually HAVE, and might even search through for someday---just something more to do! Then the two unfinished puzzles still prey on my mind, and though they're quite difficult I get out all the reference books and finish them, guiltily telling John when he calls, wanting to come over in the evening, that I've wasted the entire day. Out for groceries, since I'd left the refrigerator and cupboards very bare when I didn't have any money, and it's time for John to come, bringing all sorts of lettuce and salad, and I make pork chops and open a can of yellow beans, which he doesn't like, and we eat on the card table in the bedroom because that's where the air conditioning is, and he makes some kind of remark about how large my electric bill will be for the summer, since I've been using it so much, but it comes in a week and it's only $18, which isn't bad at all for the air conditioner running all the time (sometimes not at full tilt, since power's been cut back 3-5% on many days because of the high power usage). Have frozen daiquiris and sit around and talk through the entire evening, about Marty's situation, and he calls again to give an hour-by-hour report, and Marty wants me to introduce him to orgies, and Jerri wants me to get her pot (this is on Tuesday, really), and I'm determined to finish lots of things tomorrow, before Mom comes, since I'm really FED UP WITH DOING NOTHING.
DIARY 1355
TUESDAY, AUGUST 18. John leaves and I immediately tackle letters to McGraw-Hill and Prentice Hall, and even to the fellow who's in charge of temporary work at IBM. Then figure I have to get xeroxes of my resume, so I try the place on Broadway (and run into Alain Delon talking with a friend in French, walking north on Broadway), but it's out of order, so at 2 I subway down to the light shop just below Claude's and buy a seven-set independent-flicker light set, with adapter, for the ceiling fixture, get directions to a very cheap xerox which very quickly goes down to 2 cents a copy, which is quite amazing, even starting at 5 cents for only ONE copy of an original, which means it's only $5.00 for 100 copies, so I could even xerox a couple of copies of the first three chapters of the novel. Buy three tickets to the "Dirtiest Show in Town" which are pretty cheap, thankfully, and walk way south to Ferrara's, amazed by the complexity of the neighborhoods: past warehouses, school districts, hippie joints, Chinese, Puerto Rican, Italian, Jewish, and slum sections right after another, and then walk cross-town into the Jewish ghetto with their pushcart shops, dozens of stores for the same type of merchandise right in a row, and crowded hot streets. Ferrara gave me a shopping bag, so everything is handy to carry, and get to the nut shop for Bill's almonds and my candy. Since I've gotten everything but the condenser, and since I decide not to go back home but directly to the museum for the show at 6, I subway further downtown and try five or six places downtown, and finally Heins and Bolet gives me the card of a place on 13th Street which they say is one of the few places I could get such a specialized thing. Bag is heavy by this time, subways crowded, and I get uptown and wearily lug the bag across to the museum, getting in for "Manslaughter" by C.B. DeMille, who spends all his money on Roman orgy scenes to illustrate the "decadence" of his heroine, Leatrice Joy, who is presented from the audience, tells a joke about "Fine, but where's the old lady who talked up us painters this morning?" and camps it up on the stage, throwing in pro-Nixon comments. John's here for steaks again, and talk and bed.
DIARY 1356
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 19. He leaves after exhausting me with sex, and I'm feeling again that sex is not going so well with him, since I'm starting to come while down again, but now we'll have a week apart, which will change things quite a bit, we're sure. I get down to the junk on the desk, but there's not enough time to do anything, so all I can do is push it into the drawer and let it for later when Mom's here. Figure I won't even be able to shower before picking her up at the airport, but I telephone and find that the plane's been delayed, so I can shower and shave and fix the apartment up, and actually read a bit of "The Aristos" before finally walking down to the West Side Terminal at 1:30, and see that this would be a good section to show to her. 20 minute ride to the airport, and there are cuties to watch in the waiting room to pass the time, and Mom comes in about 2:40, and she naturally doesn't like my hair, and I probably would consider it quite a tragedy had she LIKED it. Walk along 42nd, showing her the nudie films and shows, and then down 9th, for the meat, poultry, fish, vegetable, and fruit markets, and she likes them, then we cab up home, where she likes the new furniture arrangement. I call Azak and he's managed to get two free tickets to "Steambath," and we agree to meet downtown at 8. We talk about plays, she doesn't want to see "1776" or "Promises," but she really DOES want to see "Purlie," having liked enormously the blatant, unintelligible "Great White Hope," so we walk down for tickets to that for Saturday matinee, so since she really doesn't want to see Sound Beach and it's 100 steps, we're going to spend the time in town. Walk back up for dinner in Fuji Sukiyaki, sharing Suimono, Tasuta-Age, Beef Teriyaki, and Tempura, and she keeps insisting that I eat more, fearing that I'll starve, and she probably doesn't have enough herself, but I couldn't care less. Out to a cab at 7:30, and down to a corner to stand and watch the people passing, which we both enjoy, meet John at 8 and Azak at 8:15, and he can't get more tickets, but the play is pleasant, set great, apotheosis stunning, God good, and we walk back to the Astor Place subway station, she exhausted, sleeping in MY bed.
THURSDAY357, AUGUST 20. Up at 9:30 when John calls and Azak calls to ask how Mom liked "Steambath," and I didn't figure she did but she shouts that she thought it was VERY good, but it's only after a bit of talking that I tell her that the attendant WAS suppose to be God, and she's amazed, but agrees she would have been more closed-minded if she'd KNOWN BEFORE that he was supposed to be God. Scrambled eggs for breakfast, and she's into the flurry of quiz programs which I'd never seen before, but with Jerri and Marty calling about their needs, I calling Norma and Bob and Pat trying to get some pot for Jerri, Mom thinks I'm a big-time operator in drugs, particularly when she sees the windowsill full of pot plants, having no idea how much sells for what, or how hard it is to grow for any kind of profit at all. Get out to the bank from 2-2:30, shouting about the length and slowness of line, and down to "Company" to buy two fairly good tickets for tonight, since Azak doesn't seem to know how to get tickets to "Jacques Brel." Then Marty calls to say he's settled into his new apartment, so Mom and I subway up at 4 to see him, just missing great torrents of rain that obscure his great view of the Hudson River up to the George Washington Bridge, and we sit and talk, listening to Erika Koth, about whom Mom asks all sorts of off questions and Marty's off into his operatic spiel, and they seem to enjoy each other, so I suggest we all have dinner at Cleopatra, and we walk down to 94th from 101st, eat, and then subway home to get ready for "Company." Larry Kert is perfect in the head role, the sounds and looks that come from Barbara Barrie are priceless, Beth Howland (from "Your Own Thing") is great in a rapid-patter talk-song about getting married, and the girl friends have LOVELY set pieces about "A hundred more people get off the bus and train and plane," a cat and a moth and a bed scene, and a frantically torrid dance that has to rank with Chita Rivera in "West Side Story" and Gwen Verdon in "Damn Yankees." The whole thing is great, down to a slight cop-out (you can't be alive if you're alone, you need "Company"), but Mom's not as wild about it as I am, and I wouldn't mind seeing it again, it was so good.
DIARY 1358
FRIDAY, AUGUST 21. Up at 10 for Mom to listen to the news on the radio, and this time we have soft-boiled eggs, which she lets go hard by not taking them out of the shell. I'd gotten a chest pain somewhat before "Company" feeling like a pulled muscle, but it extended from a twinge in the right shoulder joint down to a sore-lung feeling under the right rib cage, and I could only think of a similar, shorter twinge I felt walking down 57th where I literally hoped I could get home before fainting. And Azak described it as a slight case of lung infection called something like pneumoniosis, and I figured I had it. But I couldn't sleep last night, tossing and turning, annoyed by the noise from outside, disgusted with the smell from the roach spray Mom spread around so lavishly, so I masturbated just to get some relief from tension, got ear plugs, and finally managed to fall asleep at 2. So I lived with that pain all day today, having read some of "The Aristos" during the moments when Mom would let me concentrate without bombarding me with her eternal string of questions. Decided she didn't want to see "Catch-22," so there was nothing to do, since she'd formally banned any thought of walking for museum going, or any other movies, so I could think of nothing to do but fall into bed until the Metropolitan this evening. Then at 3 Marty called from a record shop, saying he wanted me to hear some things, so he came up, and we listened while Mom asked more questions, he said he wouldn't take "Naked Carmen" without hearing all of it, and he left about 4:30, when Mom had to have dinner before the movie, and all I could think of was Horn and Hardart, where she had next to nothing, and I had a lousy beef stew. Out to a cab at 5:10, and to the museum, to watch a stupid master force his dog into the fountain, and in for "Student of Prague" which didn't have English subtitles, and Mom chattered through all of it. Out and she wants to walk, so we stroll down Fifth to 71st, my side still hurting, she nursing her feet, both quite disgusted (she'd cried earlier about my sending "Avant Garde" to Rita, saying it was filthy trash), and catch bus home at 8:30 for "Flowering Cherry" by "Man of All Seasons" Bolt on Channel 13 to 10, then Scrabble to 12.
DIARY 1359
SATURDAY, AUGUST 22. Up again, this time having slept a bit better, and breakfast of only cereal this time, since we're going to have a fairly elaborate lunch soon before the matinee, since I'll be going to John's for dinner. I shower and wash my hair and get all ready, and settle down to read a few more pages as she gets ready, and there's not even any TV shows to distract her attention. Out at 12:30 to walk down to the Kobe Japan for their steaks, but find that Saturday lunch isn't on the weekday lunch menu, and everything's empty and expensive, so we don't stay, and there's the Ceylon India across the way, so we're up for me to order beef curry when they're out of chicken tikka, and Mom gets the snack platter, and we have a pomegranate cocktail for appetizer. She loves the boujia as much as I, says the meat samosa is greasy, which it is, doesn't like the chicken bits which are on the dish, enjoys the peas and bean and celery and onion vegetable dish, says the thin dahl is mulligatawny soup, which it isn't, and doesn't like curry. The paratha she doesn't like, but the puffy poorie she does, and we get out without dessert, and the meal is only $7, which is pretty good for a second choice. Walk up to "Purlie" and the audience is 70% colored, and we get side seats, but the amplification is so high she's holding her fingers in her ears for the church ceremony at the beginning and end. Just as Elaine Stritch's "Ladies who lunch" got the best reviews and I thought was the worst, I disliked Melba Moore's singing voice, which was more like a scream, but the audience seemed to eat it up, applauding and shouting and giving Mom the impression that we were seeing the hit of the century. Intermission was quite cruisy in the lobby, and there were a number of lovelies in the "Company" audience last night who were almost irresistible, and John called to ask how things were going and I said "lousy" and he observed that I sounded like a prisoner in jail, and that's about how I felt. It also lasts long, until 5:30, and we walk home and up to the roof to look over the city, and I leave at 6:30, have good duck a l'orange, which is a bit tough, onion soup, mixed vegetables, and mousse, and LONG talk.
DIARY 1360
SUNDAY, AUGUST 23. Wake at 8 and have a very pleasant session feeling good to be with him after the long separation, appreciating him more for what he's willing to do for us while she's here, and I tried to call Mom at 11, but she was in the tub, and I called in the AM to find that mass was at 12, and call her and she expects us to be there to take her. It starts raining heavily as we leave, John forgets his umbrella, there's one-lane traffic on the West Side Highway because of huge puddles that cars avoid, and the streets are awash with water. Mom goes out when it stops for a moment at 11:55, but it starts again, she goes out, stands under the Henry Hudson marquee for 20 minutes waiting for it to stop, then comes back here. We take off in the car upstate, along the foggy Hudson to the Palisades Parkway, and the incessant conversation is off, John feeling more and more out of it and nervous about it, I getting shorter and shorter. We get up to Route 17, and the landscape is nice, and it's not raining anymore, and then up Route 208 to the Brotherhood Winery, having stopped in Washingtonville to get sandwiches and milk and beer for lunch, and it's closed on Sundays, but we drive around to the snack bar and have a picnic lunch, livened by Mom's screams when the bees fly too close, then she ransacks the bottle graveyard for labels (which she throws away later), and we're upstate further for the stone houses at New Paltz, an old Huguenot village with houses dating back to the early 1600's, and tombstones from as early as 1614 reconstructing the burial places. Back into the car about 4:30 and Mom is still talking, and finally John can take it no longer and calls for complete silence for 15 minutes, which lasts with small interruptions back to the city at 7:30. We drive along Route 9D, not so nice, except for Dix Castle art gallery and some huge castle on the hill above Harrison, and there's a lot of traffic, but there's time for a lovely sunset along the Hudson at 7:30 as we whiz down the drive, he doesn't want to join us for supper, and Mom's starved as we find Morning Star is closed and end at Angelo's, where she has veal and gnocchi, and I have great liver and bacon, home and bed at 11:30.
DIARY 1361
MONDAY, AUGUST 24. Mom wants bacon this time, and I finish up the white bread the O'Sheas left behind for two lovely sandwiches, giving me enough energy to pass up lunch as I tell her I've been doing, and she watches TV until I say we're taking off for the Museum of Modern Art at 12:30, but sadly it doesn't open until 1, so we stand looking at the people, then file down the stairs and into the theater waiting for the first movie "The Docks of New York," from an excellent print which makes it look like a von Sternberg original film. There's no music, so some of the noises get to us, but the film is powerful enough to hold its own, and the auditorium has to be cleared before the next showing, so Mom goes up to get a hot dog and go to the ladies' room, so I stop in for awhile in the Lumia and look at the Japanese film exhibit, and then we're in at 3:15 to watch "Rien Que Les Heures," by Cavalcanti, which isn't very good, even if it DID invent the "wipe" technique of going from one picture to another, and "Ballet Mechanique" by Leger, which is pretty bad, and she doesn't want to see anything of the museum, so at 4:30 we're back home, and I finish the Times puzzle again while she jots down her notes for the day, asking me endless questions about exactly what happened to her, and then at 5:15 we're ready to leave for John's, after I made sure he really wanted to see her again after yesterday's hassle. Get there at 7, and ring for him, and he comes down with whiskey sours for the Promenade, and we sit and drink and talk and watch the sun set against the buildings, and we're feeling nicely high, and liquor IS a nice high, isn't it? Back up the stairs and more onion soup, better today, and chicken with 30 cloves of garlic which is uniquely good, and well-cooked, too, and John's very happy with our comments. Green beans, frozen, with noodles for vegetables, and a petite beurre-crusted mace charlotte russe with lemon and foam, very good, which he takes to Hutch to remove temptation as we leave for a night-look at the Promenade, and it's very clear, and again there are very nice things passing by, and we walk north to get closer to the subway, and we leave about 10:30, getting home at 11 for a Scrabble game and bed.
DIARY 1362
TUESDAY, AUGUST 25. Today's the day I finish the bacon, having an enormous sandwich, sadly on pumpernickel bread, and it looks like we might be able to finish the food in the refrigerator, since John says we'll definitely be leaving for Maine on Friday morning. Claudia called Sunday night, so that we really hadn't had to stay home Sunday, and she DID contact me, and she's coming over Wednesday night, and there was a note waiting for me from Avi last night, so I called him and we talked, saying we might take in the dance program in the park on Thursday night. Thank goodness the shoulder ache disappeared sometime during early Saturday afternoon. Call for the schedule, and Mom's watching TV when I say she should come along to the Thalia, but she doesn't want to, so I leave at 12:30, and there's a line, not even getting IN by the time the "Pierrot le Fou" starts at 1, and the only thing good about it is the thought-provoking translation of "Ligne de Chance" on the palm as "Fate-Line," and the idea that Godard has nothing to do, all the money he wants, and makes LOUSY films, just as I would write LOUSY books if I were a successful writer, getting all my income from that. "Le Depart" is awful, except for one semi-serious moment when poor icky Jean-Pierre Leaud cuts his hand on the inside of a Cadillac trunk, bleeding all over the set, showing the scar somewhat later in the film. Out at 4:30, having found nothing in the last row except old men, and subway home, jumping into the shower and getting out before John comes at 5:15, and I make two huge batches of frozen daiquiris which we eat before 6:30 and going out to Le Biarritz, which accepts us, and we have artichoke, good, crepes, excellent, and mushrooms, normal, for appetizer, and Mom has excellent frog legs, John great soft-shell crab, and me good beef bourguignon and we have raspberry and strawberry tarts for dessert, very good all around, out at 8, for some book shopping after cabbing down to Astor Place, and from 8:45 to 10:15 is "Dirtiest Show in Town" with truly spectacular bodies, some very funny lines, but after the reviews I want the moon and am disappointed, but not with the bodies. Subway home, Mom didn't like it, and bed at 12.
DIARY 1364
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 26. Scramble the last of the eggs Mom broke yesterday. She goes to watch TV and I fix up the apartment somewhat, getting the sheets into the laundry, and she settles down to watch her quiz shows (and Rick calls to say hello, as does John, as does Arnie, saying he's going to Morocco with Norma), and I catch up on my diary, doing 16 pages until 2:30 pm. Mom's forgotten about the boat around Manhattan, and she goes out shopping for junky souvenirs, too. The only thing left is a walk in the park, but she's eating at 2:30 to 3, and I sit down and we talk a bit, and she decides there's no more time to go out, and she packs, and at 3:30 suggests a game of Scrabble, which I'm agreeable to, and we stop at 4:15, which means she has to rush around getting packed and going "peepee pottie" for the last time here, and we're out to a cab at 4:30 and she rushes onto the bus at 4:40, hurriedly kissing me goodbye, saying she had a very good time, and that she won't even bother to tell me to be good; and she's planned it so nicely so that she'll be rushed, there's no last-minute difficulty with things to say. Feel great that she's gone, walk uptown to get stamps and do shopping at Goody's, getting the Berlioz "Requiem," and they're still out of the "Sea Symphony." Home at 5:30 to come exhaustively at the mirror, feeling enormous relief about the whole thing, then shower and decide to do the laundry for shirts and towels, and out for the last bit of bread and milk I'll need before leaving for Maine, and shave and eat and get the laundry up just at 8, but the Bernsteins still haven't arrived, and I read a bit and they're up with John at 8:30, and John doesn't say much, and what he does say is campy, and we talk about leaving Rufus with her mother, about the necessity of getting drunk every night while living with HIS mother, about looking forward to living in Geneva, traveling throughout Europe, their troubles with French, Adam's adventures with Claudia, and Stu's having absolutely nothing for Marty, but he doesn't mind being asked. John excuses himself for bed at 11, they leave at 11:30 to catch their last bus back to Jersey, I can't sleep, shit at 1, finally getting to sleep at 2 am.
DIARY 1366
THURSDAY, AUGUST 27. John comes smoothly, I with strain, and he leaves at 9. I figure to get a lot done today, but I settle down to put things onto the bed for my trip, find that the lantern doesn't work because the batteries are worn out, write letters to National Endowment for the Arts, and spend quite a bit of time getting all the information about the letter to Buckley for the Rent Commissioner together. Take the stuff out to the Chinese laundry and pick up the junk mail for the day, and listen again to the "Requiem" while doing the rest of the stuff. Put the checks away and send away for the last tickets I want, and down to buy long envelopes and more typing paper for the trip, and have the last of the lunch meat and cheese for lunch and try calling Avi, and called the Victoria to find that the great triple feature (quadruple feature, that is), isn't there anymore, and only today (Sunday) find from John's Voice that the show was actually at the Astor. Call Marty and ask him to take care of the plants, water my plants, and finally talk to Avi and he does want to see the dance program, but I've put on the pork chops only at 6:15, and it's not eaten until 7, and there's just time to meet Avi at the entrance to the park at 7:20, and each step I take uptown it becomes more humid and damper, until when I reach the 80's I'm quite drenched in moisture. He's late because his watch is off, and we're in to get lousy high seats, and there's the announcement that we can't move down, but after a number of hassles, I do, and we see a very poorly danced "Harbinger" with poor fellows, a disappointing "Timewright" with prettily-bodied dancers by Louis Falco, and "Early Songs" is nicely danced with Feld, and Falco is back, after Avi leaves, with a marvelously psychedelic "Huescape" which has songs and motions which are very trip-like, and going from very gay to very straight, which is beguiling, too. Home to finish packing at 11:30, and John's in at 12, when I'm all showered and clean, and bed at 12:20.
DIARY 1367
FRIDAY, AUGUST 28. Alarm goes at 7 and we use the vibrator on each other very nicely. John chooses the worst day not to eat breakfast, so I pack the oranges and grapes to take with us, and leave the bread to get hard in the refrigerator. Out at 8 o'clock, up the West Side Highway, onto the Saw Mill, and hit route 202 just outside of Danbury, Connecticut. The road is through old countryside and old houses, and John is very happy with the choice, since roadsides are lined with old trees and antique and junque shops. Into Granby and see signs for two museums, so drive up to the House and get a nice tour for an unexpected charge of 50 cents and buy a map of the other houses, drive down the hill, into the church just after noon, talk with the assistant sweeper, walk down to look into an incredibly old, well-preserved cemetery, with births dating back to 1660, and it's really getting hot. Stop at a supermarket for rolls and John gets raw hamburger, and we drive until we spot a wildlife refuge, which we drive into, eat under the pines, wander through the woods feeling listless, then back to look at the dammed stream until a family with 5 kids chases us away. Upper Massachusetts is a bore and we're back to route 91, getting Vermont information and finding the chalets full and other places too expensive before finding a guest house which isn't too bad for $10. Bathe and read the Voice for a bit before getting lost in the foggy roads leading to Newfane, get cocktails for eating on the porch, pleasantly, and into the large old-American room for tasty paté, tender veal Gismonda (with mushrooms and artichoke hearts, pickled) and breast of capon Cordon Rouge (with cheese and prosciutto and mushrooms) pretty good, but the zucchini was overcooked, the sliced potatoes undercooked, the rice relatively tasteless. His banana pie came frozen, my chocolate parfait was good, and we looked at the "Four Columns" where the good chef moved, maybe to come back. Back over mountain and bed at 10:30.
DIARY 1368
SATURDAY, AUGUST 29. Wake at 6:30 and have good sex, out of bed at 7:45 to sit downstairs with oranges looking over the well-tailored meadow in the clear morning air, broken only by the motor's roar of cars and trucks coming over the hill. On our way at 8:30 with many miles to go, and barrel up 91 to the end north of White River Junction, and then east toward the White Mountains, stopping at the Indian Leap for a nice falls and chasm, where John has his appreciated morning coffee at 11:30, and then across into Vermont, where we stop for lunch supplies under the thickening clouds, and into the White Mountain National Forest, where we stop at the first overlook and I'm frightened into saying we should eat outside before it rains, and then it clears up. At some falls the fellows are jumping from the bridge and ledges 25 feet into the chilly water, and the viewing is rather nice. Pass other overlooks and streams filled with swimming people on the Kancamagus Highway, which is very nice, and out through the country into Maine to dip south to encounter the Maine Turnpike, and we get onto it at 4:45, and John predicts we'll arrive at 7:45, and we drive north without a stop through the setting sun's rays which never develop to the colors that they promise in the early evening, but there are some spectacular views of Katadin's bulk under the tuna-colored clouds at 7, and then the sun is engulfed in gray waves of cloud. Speeding north I'm beginning to develop a headache, and John is hungry for peanuts where we stopped for them in Bangor, but they're at the bottom of the bag. Into Bill's driveway at 8, and John goes to the closed liquor shop for his sherry, and the lights are off, and I call Bill, who reminds me he DID write to me about the switch above the TV. Then the furnace won't go on, and he calls back and says to contact David Harbison, and John grumbles about the infrared broiler, the steak is raw, the electric stove irritating, John eats and washes quickly, bed cold at 11.
DIARY 1373
SUNDAY, AUGUST 30. Wake at 7:30, snooze to 9:30, dreaming about room 202 and having to get something there (DIARY 1369). Have fairly quick pleasant sex and breakfast, and John gets to work and I take out the list of things I want to get into and type seven pages, catching up on the diary, telling about the dream, typing only one page on MOVE? even AFTER I decide it has to wait until the book is finished, then catch upon the other two pages, which give me the determination to start working on the draft of the letter, synopsis, character sketches and plot outline. This goes until 1 pm, when we dress nicely and get out walking to the Parkview (I type the pages AFTER, just read all the Village Voice BEFORE), for an enormous lunch until 2:30, and then we walk around town a bit and get back to work. Read the Houlton weekly paper for relief, and I called David Harbison, who discovered that there was a relay out of whack in the furnace. John's been getting after me for cleaning my teeth, saying that it might be my cavities in front that are washing away, and he begins to insist that I brush after every meal, which makes me feel very self-conscious when I get up in the morning with a dusty-pocket taste in my mouth and want to kiss him. The house is very cold and he gets to bed early, before I actually realize he's heading there, so I'm standing unshaven, shivering, debating whether to take a bath, since I'm conscious that I haven't bathed since Friday night in Newfane. Ask him and he's noncommittal, realizing that it's cold, yet, it seems to me, wanting me to take a bath without wanting to TELL me. I think about it, and decide that it's really too much trouble, then crawl into bed for some desultory cuddling which makes me feel even more self-conscious, partly because I'm farting slightly, which I suspect might be causing part of my mouth-odor problems, too. But it feels good to be two warm bodies between chill sheets in a cool room, and we drop off to sleep touching my arm against his turned back.
DIARY 1374
MONDAY, AUGUST 31. We wake about 7 and cuddle and I go down on him to do him VERY slowly, and he seems to enjoy it, and I enjoy it so much that I ask him about it, and he verifies my feelings. He's about to start working on me, but I note that it's five of eight, and the fellow's supposed to come to fix the furnace at 8, so we're up and dressed and eating breakfast when the front doorbell rings and he's downstairs for about an hour, up later to say that's all fixed. I continue to work on the outline, going through two or three revisions and finding that things have changed a bit since I wrote the first outline, and even since I wrote the first draft, and I'm getting all sorts of ideas about revising to be done. I roam through the house looking at Bill's accumulations, and then when the heat's up (WAY up) I take a shower and wash my hair. John makes tuna salad for lunch and we continue to work on our own things through the afternoon, when he starts working on the beef bourguignon. I feel like listening to some music, so I re-hear "Song of the Forests" on high volume, and John comes through with a smile, saying that he's arranged something for me, and after I type the notes, I find what it is: he's taken the vibrator into the exercise room, I strip and lay facedown on the hole, and he does me through it, which I have difficulty doing, but it's devastating when it happens. He gets on top and my wrist and forearm are very cramped by the sideways cant of the vibrator, but he finally comes and we both groan with exhaustion. Make spaghetti and meat sauce for dinner, finishing at 8, then set the dishes to soak, pop two containers of popcorn, and get off to see "Myra Breckenridge" at the Temple, and it's not QUITE as hideous as we were led to think, but it's pretty bad, not going nearly so far as the book in the investigation of gay bodies, though some of the studs around Mae West were interesting. Wonder who did her casting? Walk the town a bit more and drive home, and I clean my teeth dutifully and crawl into a warm bed after seeing what routes we take tomorrow.