The Cambridge Chronicles

I am in the bathroom. Pissing. Glancing to one side I notice someone in the mirror. Not just in the mirror, but reflected from still another mirror. For a moment, the identity is unknown. But its only me. From another angle. Almost from behind. Unrecognizable. Its me, but I don't really know it. I don't really know me. Or some of the time, I don't know me. I try to move in an predictable fashion to see different parts of my body. The two mirrors make it confusing. Sometimes I see myself as a doubly reflected person. Someone reflected off the mirror of my past experiences, and reflected off myself, as a mirror for others. But never seeing just myself, or others, without some reflection, or more precisely, but the word escapes me. What do I mean? What mirror am I looking into for the answer to this question? The word was in my mind for just a moment. A small movement made it disappear. And now I struggle, moving the mirrors around inside consciousness, attempting to bring it back into view. Who is deciding what word will be used? I wonder if the word will come from my idea of writing the right thing. Is it for my readers? Is it for my idea of who my readers are? Is it for my idea of myself? Is it for me? Simone tells me of reading Anais Nin's last book. Something about her writing taking her over. Was she nothing but her writing? Was her writing all there was of her? I don't remember exactly how it came out. But she was confronted with the problem of living her life, or living her writing. It became such a big thing for her. It seems that her life was nothing but writing-related things at times. At least she seemed to be expressing this. I read a little about a talk she gave to benefit a feminist organization in Cambridge. It happened at the Old Cambridge Baptist Church. What a time they gave her. The radicals wanted her to come completely over to her side, against men, it seemed. She argued for them to free themselves first from the idea of being on a side and against anyone. Or so it seems to me. I could agree with that.

An hour long talk with Jonathan last night. Simone's cousin. After a short description of the difficulties with Simons, he relates a similar story about himself and Myrna. They talked about and agreed to the idea of having an open relationship at the beginning. But now there is a possibility for him to have something like this. She is against it. Doesn't want it. What will he do? I give him some ideas. But its a little more than he can do. He will probably just see how things go rather than taking an active position. He has to resist his impulses to have anything to with this other woman. He's afraid of Myrna rejecting him. The other woman is not a sure thing. But he doesn't want the part of Myrna that won't let him have his freedom. He could end up getting the same thing from this new woman. His last girlfriend left him because he wanted to have other relationships. I suggest he think about how he decides on who to have a relationship with.

I have been meaning to write about this party, at Linda's, two weeks ago yesterday. It was different from those we have here. It also involved the three men who live in the apartment downstairs. Mark, Brice, and David. I found most of the people there to be very stiff and easily offended. A lot of dancing with sexual messages, but no real feeling. Performance. Judy found it very strange. She left early. Linda really let go of herself. Flirting with every hairy chest there. She was most attracted to a Mr Pink Shirt. The savage, as Lotti called him. This after observing them involved in some sort of fertility rite dance. Later we catch them in a bedroom fondling. She later told me about taking him out on the porch and him taking his pants down. Amazing, considering that a blizzard was going on at the time. All this makes me a bit jealous. I have to ask her about our date after the party. She reassures me. At 3am most people have gone. Those still standing are a bit drunk and/or in stupors. Two people are talking about numbers. Some sort of numerology stuff. Its impossible to calculate at this time, one tells the other. What floor am I on anyway? Two very attractive female assholes though me aggressive on my telling them how attracted I was to them. From small planets the only thing you can hear is thump-ta-da-thump-ta-da-thump, I learn from another nearby, but lucid conversation. Lotti lies here with her head on my leg. She doesn't like it here anymore. Interview with Miss MK, a friend of Brice, from the north. Too long, bad, soon to leave, who knows where. No distinguishing remarks about the party. Seldom I have met such a superficial bunch of bananas. Droopily she remarks. Linda emerges with the savage looking type. Pretending, all the time, that nothing is going on. He moves to another room. Lotti thought she was giving him a blow job. We peeked in every now and then. Pink shirts name is Jeff, alias Big Chief Pink Shirt. Lotti saw them doing some sort of fertility rite. She tries to explain what types of mailing lists I sell. Pink Shirt walks through the room praying, or at least with is hands clasped in a prayerful expression. He's a handsome devil. The sort Linda falls for. Someone asks if I'm the party historian, as they notice me writing. I know about 15 people here. Lotti and I continue our spy game with Linda and Pink Shirt. She thinks he's the sort who will punch me out. Sherry and Marushka thought me too much bold, aggressive even. Steve and Nadine are making out in a chair next to me and Lotti. It all seems mindless compared to the parties on Amory Street. There's a lot more alcohol here. Lotti remarks how Linda doesn't seem to be fixated on me. She seems to have room to breath, unlike Simone, she adds. It wasn't always that way I tell her. Linda is still fixated on the idea of someone. So am I, Lotti says about herself. Steve wants to contact Carol when she's in New York. She gives him the name of her hotel, but he's forgotten her last name. I have the impression of people partying and crashing through life. Stumbling through their allotted days. Falling into things by chance. Falling into situations. Everything is random and by chance, and everyone wants to believe things are the opposite for them. Each sees the stream of chance in the life of everyone else, but not their own. Each wants to believe that they are in control, that they have a handle on their own personal fate, that things are moving in the direction they want. But I know that a single party, such as this one, can result in enormous changes in one's life. I met Simone at just such a party. I had no idea of what would happen there. A single moments decision, which might have gone completely the other way, led me to go that night with Edwin. This party could be the same for any number of people here. If not this party, then maybe the next. But something completely random will happen sometime. And one will go flying off in that new direction, still believing oneself to be at the controls.

Linda has enough energy for another party. She got it from Mr Pink Shirt. The excitement of a new relationship, plus the tension of me walking around in the middle of it. He's a law school student and is married. He cheats on his wife. Linda flicks booggers at this writer. Nadine describes it as a very human party. And adds that Richard is interested in who's picking up who. She really liked it. People communing with people, not just individuals alone. Its called being a weasel, Lotti retorts, about my interest. Steve wants me to mail him a copy of this. Box 300, GPO, Brooklyn NY 11202.

You look funny with a leaf over your head, Nadine remarks. I'm sitting under a large leafy plant. Leaf, Leaf, over my head. Git away now, or I'll shoot you dead. And my apologies to all you poets.

Sam and everyone is gone, but me, Linda, and Mark. In fact, he is totally pissed at me for coming back. I've just given Lotti an escort home. He thought I would be gentlemen enough to realize that I wasn't wanted here. It gets very tense. He wonders what things will be like in two more years, from my living like this. He never really explains what the this is. Perhaps he expects me to have heart failure from sexual excess. Or perhaps develop cancer from the anxiety of having many relationships. So the tension continues. Linda looks down at her feet most of the time. With a criticism of me now and then. Several times I ask if she wants me to go. The answer is no each time. Mark seems not to hear this. He continues to pressure me into leaving. He tells me about love. You don't know anything about this, he informs me. You have only base lust, he adds. What Linda and I had this evening is something that everyone but you could see. It was obvious that we shared something special. Something you don't know about because of your preoccupation with pure lust. And on and on he goes. It is my turn. I tell him about how he doesn't notice that Linda wants me to stay. That she doesn't really trust him. He has a mean look in his face, a mean tone to his voice, the whole time. Linda wants me to stay for other reasons. She knows from lots of experience about characters like him. This love that he imagines with her will go away in a few days. They will feel an odd sort of tension in its place. He has great expectations of the situation, as does Linda. And already they both have fear of not getting what they want. They have turned a few minutes of sitting on a couch and smooching into a great romantic adventure. Its nothing more than their having allowed themselves to let go for awhile. But he can't stand to hear me talk and gets up to leave. Not before informing me that, were he not a gentlemen, he'd punch me out. And I have barely had a chance to go at him. Paranoid feelings for an hour or two that he might come back and punch me out. I was surprised that my words hit him so hard. Well, he didn't burn down the house, or shoot me. For some time the sound of people moving around frightened me.

Later, in bed with Linda, I noticed how she said everything she wanted about me, but nothing about Mark. None of the criticisms I've heard about him before. She doesn't trust him and so holds back. He's forced himself on her before. It could happen again. As Ann said, he's a horny young guy who thinks he deserves a woman. Only when we are alone can she say things about him. She does not challenge his claim that she and Mark have what he calls genuine caring for each other. But I know from my experience with her that they will have difficulty talking to each other in a few days.

He's a very well programmed person. He wonders what's wrong with my program by telling me how I should know automatically what was going on with he and Linda, and then bow out gracefully. He sees Linda as someone completely under my control and hopes to rescue her from me. He wonders how Linda could allow herself to be manipulated by me and so trapped in this situation. But he will be glad to save her. This discussion about what people should know, just by being sensitive to the situation, goes on for some time. My response is that I'm completely insensitive, and need to be told exactly what's going on. It doesn't help. He still can't tell me exactly what he wants, except to ask me to leave. Each time I ask Linda if that's what she wants. Each time the answer is no.

Linda agrees with Mark about my not being capable of love. But I think this is a reaction to not getting everything she wants from me. She has gone chasing after love many times since I've known her, and many times before. She's no expert on what love is. She runs after it in desperation and grabs the first thing that even vaguely resembles love. And then has the greatest of expectations for it. Which can't be satisfied. She holds back herself from the very beginning. She always fears it will fail. This contributes to its failure. The other person, who she decides on for having similar qualities, fears the same. The other also holds back. They each notice this holding back on the part of the other, and do more of the same themselves. So, that's all I have to say about the party at Linda's house, and the house of all those who live, love, laugh, linger, lament, and long there.