The Cambridge Chronicles

Judy reminded me of my days as an AAO maniac. I was visiting her the other day. Her dog Babe died. It was 9 years old. She sat in my lap. We cuddled. I began to feel very desirous of her. Not completely sexual. But one day last summer she broke down and cried about something that was going on with her. I felt very close to her. But beyond that there is still resistance. I wanted to know how it was that one could get closer to her. Was it me? Something I was doing?

Carla visited me the other day and asked if I still thought those people were the answer to everything. This has set me off on some new thoughts about myself. Talking to Lotti the other evening about inspiring writers. Henry Miller, for instance, she says. But it seemed to me that such people mostly have inspiring ideas. Their personal lives do not correspond to what they say. They don't really live the way they imagine themselves to be. And this brought me to my own past. The time I was a draft resister. Carla was one of the people who really admired me. There were lots of others. But inside me it was not the same wonderful idea. Inside I was miserable. Lots of people were inspired by my example. They thought it was very noble. I think there must have been something very moralistic about it. But on the other hand I wanted to do some good for myself and others. I didn't want to be a soldier. I did refuse the simple way out. It was possible to have a job related exemption. Not doing this was a way of feeling superior. This is not sounding as good as I have imagined it just before writing it. Another example of my inability to match my self-expectations to what I can do.

Earlier today I had a very clear idea about what to write. Reading it now I see that what I thought wasnonsense or its being done very badly. I am caught in this crazy circle again of explaining what I mean and discovering that what I mean is not explainable. Its nonsense. It would be quite a thing if this state of mind were elucidatable. It continues to elude me. And everything else about false inspiration. Lotti related how she had read from Anais Nin about what Henry Miller was like in real life. She had to admit that his personal life did not match his inspired ideals. One has to suspect ideas that can't be lived by their creator. It sets you to sailing in a false direction. One needs to find a true direction. I have followed enough of these other directions. The Mormon church, which is not to be singled out from all the others, MIT, Thoreau and his inspired life by Walden Pond (made simpler by sending his laundry home to his mom and sister), draft resistance, and more recently the AAO. Was I really such a maniac. Sandy, one of Adele's friends, thought it was a religious organization.

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A Memoir About Art & Sex During The Reagan Years (The Cambridge Chronicles, 1981 Edition)

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# posted by ADL : 9:14 PM