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Thursday, September 26, 2013

Wednesday, August 19, 1981 - perfect life fantasies

Sunday I went running at Fresh Pond with Simone, Judy, and her friend Peter. We ran just about 2 miles. Farther than ever before. Near the end I was talking with Judy. She says, I want to get back to doing things with people. Yes, I says, what you really want is to find another man. No response. But only for a moment. She makes a comment about how we should try something more involved sexually, like four people at once. What, I ask, confusedly. What are you talking about? You are right she responds. It was nothing but a nasty thing to get back at you for saying I only want to get another man. Later she asks if Simone will hate her if she sleeps with me. Yes. Simone has, in the last few days, found reason to call her at least twice. I have found out that she has called her a number of times over the last few months. She wonders, but not directly, if she is going to sleep with me. Judy has the impression that Simone is asking her about the loyalty sisters must have for each other. If she were a true sister, she wouldn't fuck with me. All this she manages between dates with other men. Judy does not believe her expressed reasons for calling. She feels that it is always really for something else. Anyway, we did not sleep together Monday night. Simone has sabotaged things between her and me. I don't want to get in the middle of this mess, she says. Its too much for her. At the same time I learn she and Steven made an arrangement not to sleep with anyone till he returns in September. Be she has broken it at least twice, with old boyfriends, Michael and Flip. She said she would sleep with me that night, but not to fuck. I declined. It would keep me up half the night with sexual tension. How about another time when you can say there will be no limits to what happens, I propose. We shall see, says she.

Simone is going crazy. Pacing up and down the apartment. Talking to herself. She can't stand it. She's going to stay with Steve for the next two days. Then some vague reference to just wanting to be with someone and not feeling sexual at all. She had her sexual needs satisfied last night with Ken. She just wants to get away. It reminds me of the last time she saw Ron. I just want to go to sleep, she tells him. Ok, says he. She was upset with me then. I asked her, are you sure he agreed to your conditions. She said yes, and that he was not that kind of person. (emphasis on the HE) So I says to myself, I says, do you suppose its possible she could get herself into the same sort of situation? Ron was not very nice. He wanted something and she refused to give it. He took it. He was very romantic. That Ron, he would sing to the frosted glasses, and had a large TV set over the bed from which hot towels, scented with herbs, slowly wound their way around his makeup table loaded with facial weight lifting condominiums while the sound of airplanes and pickup trucks was heard being played by a dolphin orchestra that rehearsed at a house on a lake owned by a Hollywood movie producer and many of its friends - all this for only $500 a night! And this going on with a jury observing a chubby Linda nightmare with her leading man preparing for opening night with John Lilly and the construction crew. The stage is set again. Will we see the same old play, or something familiar? The Greek Chorus awaits its duty. They are bound by honor to play their parts. To be free, or not.

Should I tell her what I have noticed? A fine kettle of fish if I don't and something does happen. On the other hand I thought: why not try to see if I can reverse the current situation. What a fun game to see if I could get her to break her date with Steve tonight! And to stay here with me. Then I think, she might think the first part I have written is just to keep her from going. She will see the sense of it and not go. But then she will think, he is only jerking me around. Its only his jealousy. Steve is not like that. But this next page is a funny one. I can't quite explain it. I mean, it does sort of turn the thing around. But then its possible for me to do things like that. Its an old Richard Gardner trick. That is, to go along in one direction, and then suddenly to completely turn things upside-down. Now, what can anyone think of all this? On the other hand, I do miss the contact with her. But it is no use. All her lamenting and hand ringing is nothing but a replay of her grandmother being chased by the Nazis. A very complicated, but predictable program she runs to get things her way. Freedom and no insecurity. Its like anything else. She gets insecurity and enslavement.

And last night with Ken. She was to stay with him Monday night. They were going to meet here about 1:30am. Ken called and we talked for awhile. It seems she was at Michael's. It was to be just a short stop. At two she called Ken to say she was tired and going home. She didn't. She stayed with Michael. She took the best deal and saved the situation with Ken with as much grace as possible. He got her the next night in any case. It was an explosive situation for me. I have this urge to break through some of my armor. It has to be something drastic to stir everything up from the bottom. Everything has to be changed somehow.

She has read it. The thinking will start. It may even enable her to take advantage of the situation.

It seems some sort of group activity is being planned. But I have heard nothing about. Jack was surprised, but not really surprised. Maybe she told him not to say anything about the event. She is using it to get something from me. The very thing she is always trying to pin on me. Not communicating. So they are in the kitchen. Simone is bubbling over with enthusiasm, smiling, talking with everyone. A visit to the therapist and everything is all better. But its not. She wants it to be better. It takes more than a smile and some jokes to make things better.

Writing too much makes you crazy. Especially if one has pretensions. I can see it now while reading the last page again. Man, did I write that shit?

She is busy marshaling friends around her. I have lots of friends and lovers, she wails. I can sleep with anyone I want, any night I want, she shouts at me. And now they are starting to congregate. She gets a smug tone in her voice. She must loudly say how Richard refuses to communicate with me. He hangs up the phone when I call him. Its all his fault! How terrible he is to me. I have only tried to be loving and caring and he rejects me. There is nothing more between us. Its all over! There is something about all this protesting that smells rotten.

You get out of my way from now on, she responds, to my telling her to get out of the way.

156 pounds. Lost 4 since one week ago. It's the running. In addition, I notice the seasonal change. The air is colder. Drier. It starts to change the quality of the skin on my lips. They are stiffer, start to dry. It will lead to a cold sore in a few days if I don't catch it. The tension is also causing something. I begin to feel the start of a cold in the back of my throat. Again from the tension, and not enough sleep.

Too bad for your little plan of sabotaging, she says. You know Ken really enjoyed your little trick to interfere the other night. He suggests we try it again. No end to the shortsightedness around here. Exactly my intension, to reduce the tension, not to mention, the condensation. It greatly reduced mine. Of course it worked exactly that way. Its why they couldn't tell me to stop. They couldn't tell me to go away. It helped them also. It got a lot better for me once the excitement came out. Once the nervous tremors were allowed to work their way out. I feel the need for more of these kinds of shocks. It rattles my complacency. I can not longer ignore the xxxxxxxxxxx x.vmfujsnkwgevotgnflhf ijo;whfphf;pryfjgjnortjjfjrhhfjjfiikfo.. It comes out again.

Simone just now tells me she has decided to move out. You are not going to be able to make me change my mind, she assures me. And then an enormous leap down the hall. An experimental aircraft designed to crash. I don't know how long it will take to find a place but I've made up my mind. Simone's making up her mind is something like trying to push water uphill. Or trying to push on a piece of string. It works when the string is stiff. It works with people when they stiffen and deaden themselves to their feelings. I used this same string to run marathons, fight the draft, and any number of imaginary battles. I feel this same stiff string in me now. It keeps me from being more human with her. There is no reason for it. Its like the other night. She calls to have me get something from the store. It was a senseless thing to just hangup. But this mindless urge to hurt her overwhelmed me. It was like a flash of lightning. Its stupid to do this even if she is leaving. What is it that makes me this way? And then a few moments later I actually long for her to make some effort to contact me again. But again there is this enormous urge to cause her some hurt. You can't hurt me anymore she says. Its not true. She doesn't know how deep it is. She will keep a brave front. It will look just like mine. It will be just as false. Just like mine. The thing with Ken. She does not want to see it that way at all. She does not want to see what she does. And the same for me. Sometimes I feel so ugly I have the impression of my body turning rotten with no more time than a few moments. I imagine myself to be in possession of some wonderful idea whose power should be obvious to all. Instead of following they flee. And I run from myself. Everyone is nowhere again.

Are you going? I don't care,she responds faster than the mind can reply. Its just another lie. The answer was ready before the question. Its just not proper to come out with them in that way. I ask a lot of questions to which the answers are already known. And now I ask myself, why? The answer did not come out before the question this time.

I can't base my life on his whims, she exclaims. Until I did something, she was doing nothing but that. From my tiny little effort comes a serious attempt to live her own life. Now do you believe that? Had the spark come from inside her, it would be a different story. I can't quite believe it.

I hope you don't come, she says with a slightly quavering voice, a little tight at the back of the throat. Because I really don't want you to. Who wants to see your ugly face? And only a few days ago it was sooooooo handsome!

You know I'm stuck on you. But it will get unstuck fast. Especially with a little help from the cook and airplane mechanic. She stalks out, hands gripped behind her back. Solid and resolute steps. I can only smile. Yes indeed. Nothing like taking control of one's life. Why don't you come and get off this position, she asks. But I have made other plans. And they are gone. An entirely different feeling here in the house. It feels alone and empty. I feel alone, and a little bit of urge to run after them.

Writing like a maniac. But now, at this moment, I feel it slowing down in me. The stimulation for going on has gone away. I'll be back on Friday night, she tells me. Bye, bye. She has learned some new words from me. Sabotage seems to be the newest.

Dana has been provoked by the situation. He has gone out and caught himself a new girlfriend. Her name is Debra. She will go to the ballet with him tonight, along with the others. He managed it with a single meeting. They met at his favorite Harvard Square restaurant, Beans In My Ears.

I find myself wishing her ill tonight. The fantasy is that she will call in the middle of the night to have me come and rescue her. That is, my feeling about him is right. He abuses her in some way. I have been reading Cockpit, by J Cosinski. This man and I have the same fantasies. We are always trying to figure ways to catch women in some lie. His hero always catches them perfectly. Never any question that they have tried to do him wrong. He feeds them the truth a little at a time. Maybe gives it to them in a way that they still have an opportunity to confess all. But they don't, and are caught perfectly. Then he goes on to find another perfect one.

We had a crank phone call here today. Simone got it. Someone was calling to ask questions about my business and personal life. Its probably some friend of Deanna Schamach's who is trying to provoke some sort of situation to get information about what's going on. I will call the phone company to have them trace all the calls coming to this number. Proof of her Nixonian tricks will end the case.

Simone lingers longer. Her intention, as she told me before leaving, was not to return till Friday night. But she is here for some reason. She speaks in a loud voice designed to get my attention and a function of her nervousness. She gives me 15 minutes to convince her to stay. And why not decide for herself? Still not in charge of things. Simone tells me she has rewritten her resume and wants to show it to me. I tell her later. And so our little tug of war goes on. If I didn't know better I might imagine that the plot to get her to do all this work in the last few days came from the mind of that Richard Gardner trickster.

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