Hard Shopping
January 16, 1989
Hello. I live in the world. This presents problems. I will demonstrate:
I am a person. I have a name. I live somewhere. I do things and I know people. People are the hard part.
The phone just rang. It was for me. Cindy was returning my call to Jim. She asked me what I did Friday night after I couldn't get into the Rat to see Dredd Fool and the Din because I had no I.D.
"Did you and Spy do something after the Rat, Friday?"
"No. We just rode the subway together, then I went home and read or something. (Actually, Spy had said that Petronius wrote The Satyricon and I said "You mean Polonius, don't you?"
He said, "No, I'm sure it was Petronius." That's the trouble with talking with Spy.) (note 1)
Cindy, I called on Friday, before Dredd Fool, to tell you that a friend of mine is interested in your tapes. Could I give Jane your number?"
Cindy said, "Yeah...sure." (Actually she said, "Mm...business.") I asked how the band did Friday night.
Cindy said, "The big news is; Jim's leaving me." She asked him if she should be telling people yet. She told me that it wasn't certain, "Jim will find out tomorrow of this band in New York that needs a bass player needs him for sure (they probably will) and, if they do, he will be moving to New York."
I said, "Jane's moving to New York in a month. Let's be sure to introduce them."
Cindy didn't seem to find that amusing. Perhaps it was a bad connection.
Cindy will call me later this week to let me know. She thinks it's pretty big news. She's right.
February 5, 1989
I was given tickets to the ballet...two tickets. Crisis. Jane had to do something that night. The other Jane was in Mexico. Amy had to go to a Bon Voyage party for her friend Cindy, at Cindy and Cyndi's house. My friend Cindy says she hates ballet. (Too bourgeois), but she said, "Why don't you take Judy? She loves ballet."
I called Judy and reintroduced myself. I invited her to see The Iconoclasts. Judy said, "Fine. Why don't you pick me up at seven?" The blue suit seemed proper. For all I knew, Judy might be wearing jeans or anything. It was a very cold night, normal for February, but the weather has been so unseasonable lately, that people have been saying, "So, this is what the greenhouse effect feels like."
I went into Hubba Hubba to say, "Hi" to Suzy and Liza. I used to see them a few times a week, but I've been so busy lately that several months have gone by. Cindy was there. She said, "Arthur's going to the ballet." They had a shirt with a winking happy face surrounded by spermatozoa. "Please put that aside for me." Liza showed me a book she was reading about Jesus. It looked very sensational and unscientific. I have several books on the subject that I would be glad to lend her.
I met Judy at her apartment, two floors above Liza's, and she was wearing jeans. At least they were black. She had Jackson Pollack all over the place - always a promising sign. I learned that she was from Levittown, Pennsylvania...the Jewish section. We rode the subway to the Wang Center. It was a little confusing because neither of us knew our way around that part of town very well and I hadn't worn a watch. (Not knowing the time is one of my play activities these days). We arrived exactly on time and finished talking about her friends Jim and Cindy (about whom I knew little) and the bands I'd been involved with.
The dance performance was quirky and jokey. I liked it well enough. The intermissions were really funny. Bostonians dress for the ballet on a Saturday night as if it were a baseball game. It's some kind of a statement, I guess. They serve Korbel "Champagne".
The bartender asks, "Pink...or white?"
It's hard to be decadent in an environment like this. At least Judy wandered into a "members only" club. When I complemented this act of disregard she blushed. When the program ended, we went to the Deli Haus for coffee and blintzes. Its Kenmore Square location is inconvenient for the trip to either of our homes. After our snack we took the Red Line in opposite directions.
The walk home from the subway was bitter cold. When I got there it was twelve thirty, too late to call Jane, I'd told her I would call her when I got home.
February 6, 1989
This morning I woke up from a sex nightmare and read for a while. I checked out a tape of Brazilian music that someone wanted me to hear. It was awful. I met Lisa for our usual Sunday breakfast at the Blue Diner. She told me that she had to see a friend of hers try out as a standup comic on open mike night tonight. She anticipated an ordeal. I suggested that Lisa ask her (when her shoulder is absorbing tears afterward) "How come you can't be funny like this on stage?"
Lisa said, "Why don't you try performing as a comic?"
"At least I could wear a suit."
After our ritual chatter about the unlikelihood of finding boyfriends and girlfriends I described my interaction with my roommate, Lolo, since I locked her out of the studio. We had major hilarity at Lolo's expense.
Lisa was planning to meet a friend after breakfast, who is looking for a place to live. Prompted by the usual questions, Lisa revealed these facts: Sonja is new in town, doesn't know many people, and she is attractive.
"Can I come with you to meet her?"
In Copley Square, Sonja was talking with a bum. A good sign. (note 2) If she'll talk with him, she might talk with me. We wandered around town, wired on coffee, joking around. I want to see her again.
Perhaps she would like to see Lysistrata at MIT next week. She has no phone. When will Sonja call?
I am reading Idols of Perversity which I expected to enjoy, but the book is ruined by feminist vitriol. I should put it down for a while. I am also reading The Masks of God series by Joseph Campbell. It would be an interesting eighty page essay. I'm zipping through Caesar's Civil War Commentaries and trying to finish Jesus, An Historians Review of the Gospels by Michael Grant.
Last week I read Success by Martin Amis, Ape and Essence by Aldous Huxley, The Zimmerman Telegram by Barbara Tuchman, and Flappers, Bootleggers, Typhoid Mary and the Bomb by Boardman (where I learned that Lithium was one of the original ingredients in 7-up). I especially enjoyed the Huxley.
February 8, 1989
I finished the Grant book and found it unedifying.
Monday, Alan and I went to Glenda's to get our hair cut. Robert was there and, while all the little dogs romped, he described his musical career in terms of the people he'd played with. Robert can be very funny. As Glenda cut my hair, she said that she is trying to learn to pray. I'm sure that if anybody else I know said that with a sharp instrument in her hands, I'd get pretty nervous. Her cutting room is a collage of memorabilia ranging from pop culture debris to sexy pictures and images from friends of theirs. I noticed a familiar business card picturing bald dummy heads and asked Glenda if she knows Debbie. (She doesn't.) Debbie is my previous ex-girlfriend. Jane is my current ex. The haircut left more on the floor than on my head, so I was satisfied.
Alan and I had a brainstorming session. We tried to grasp certain aspects of the global toxic waste problem. We were particularly curious about why this disaster is so invisible.(note 3) I lent him Mankind and the Natural World by Keith Thomas. It surveys the changing image of nature over the centuries.
Yesterday I sent a note to Sonja (no phone) inviting her to see Lysistrata this weekend. Lysistrata is terrific for a first date because it presents an opportunity to discuss women not putting out.
Today I ran some errands in Cambridge (couldn't find chrome yellow socks). I visited Judy and there was a guy there trying to impress a salesgirl. "I work for David Peel, but soon he'll be working for me."
I said, "You might regret having him for an employee." I used to play with David's band twenty years ago and find it hard to imagine him working for anybody. The guy went off the deep end about "being ripped off."
While I was joking with Judy, Jim and Cindy appeared. Cindy was on her way to study so Jim invited me to lose a game of chess at his home. As that sounded more entertaining than going home to clean, we went to Davis Square. We didn't play chess. We listened to some stupid experimental music and talked about the usual things. You know, like how lame the local bands are, our conflicting models of the world malaise, and the problem of women and gravity.
From Jim's, I went to Central Square to see Amy. On our way to dinner she saw a man who (she believes) broke into her apartment. We turned around and went back to safeguard her things. I went out and picked up a pizza. When I returned, Ann was home. She has become quite friendly recently. (She laughs at my jokes.) Amy was tired and sprawled all over me on the couch. She joked about my being her love toy.
February 17,1989
I completed Caesar. It was wonderful. I also finished Jesus, Great Lives Observed which was a total waste of time. Now I'm reading Jesus Through the Centuries by Jaraslov Pelikan. If this is no good, I'll abandon Jesus and move right on to the crusades.
I found The Outer Fringe of Sex, a Study in Fetishism by Maurice North in a used book store. When I bought it the salesman said, "Weird book."
I said, "Hey, it's your store."
This book is full of amusing ideas. Now I'm reading Gossip by Patricia Meyer Spacks and really enjoying it. Gossip explores the function of gossip in society, letters and fiction. From examining gossip's beneficial effects, I learned to feel free to gossip without guilt. Spacks frequently refers to The History of Manners by Norbert Elias. I read that last Christmas. As you know, Christmas can be a tough time. Especially if you have no family. As you may know, I have no family. On December 25 everybody is busy with last minute shopping and the preparation and celebration of the holiday. Unless you are involved, there is little to do. Everything is closed and friends are out of town. I used the day to catch up on my reading. I started Madness and Civilization by Faucoult but reading about the hygienic removal of the mad from society revived angry memories. I didn't care much for the translation either. I started The History of Manners expecting a confection of quaint customs but was surprised. Elias looks at manners as a form of social control. It's interesting.
The section on table manners in the middle ages was mildly nauseating. By the time I was halfway through the discussion of nose blowing my throat felt like it was full of phlegm. Soon my stomach felt like it contained gallons of phlegm and my reading was punctuated by sickened moaning. I was looking forward to leaving that section and giving my overstimulated sense of revulsion a rest. I'll never forget the woozy moment of dismay I experienced when I finally got to the next section and learned that the subject was throat clearing. What a gross out. I recommend the book.
On the tenth, Sonja called and said that she'd love to attend Lysistrata. The next night we met for coffee in Brighton. We exchanged more details from our personal histories. On the way to my studio we stopped at Rizzolli where Sonja bought a book about faux finishing. I got American Eccentrics by Sifakis. Sonja liked my place and decided to move in on May Day. We took the subway to the play.
Surfacing at Kendall Square, we were greeted by the darkness of a power failure. I thought of "stealth architecture" and Sonja mentioned "technical terrorism." I called that "lily gilding" and we speculated about incompetence. As we walked through the labyrinthine MIT campus, the buildings had a looming, totalitarian feeling in the blackness. It was sexy. There wasn't anybody around and we didn't see any emergency illumination. I told Sonja that I wouldn't want to walk around there alone but I felt safe with her. I think she thought I was joking.
Of course the play was canceled (even though they had found an emergency generator). We went to Bertucci's for pizza. She seemed fascinated by my relationship with food. We went home, separately, after agreeing to meet on Tuesday. Valentines Day.
Sunday morning I was walking with Jane and Lisa to the Blue Diner. Walking with Jane always involves detailed observations of the sky and the way that objects reflect light. We were looking at a huge plume of steam pouring from the stacks at Boston Thermal Corporation and Lisa asked, "Where do you think all that smoke is coming from?"
Jane knew. "It's coming from the cloud factory."
I was wound up at breakfast. The question was raised, "Why are the French like that anyway?"
I tried to recite a mini-history of France. I'm afraid it was more amusing than edifying. I know so little about France. Fortunately, Lisa and Jane knew even less.
I still had two days to scheme. I cleaned up my room a little. It's been hard to read or concentrate on anything. I keep thinking about Sonja. It is pleasant.
Tuesday, I tried to buy a black rose but the florists didn't have any. I settled for a red one, "but could you make sure I get the one with the most thorns? It's for someone special." I left the rose on my bed (subtle, huh?) and went to meet my friend.
I wanted a bottle of Chardonnay and some chocolate. I selected a bottle of Folie a Deux 1986 Napa Valley. I didn't choose it for the label, but thought it apt. Frog's Leap evokes something altogether different. I had no luck on the chocolate. I just couldn't find what I wanted.
I met Sonja at the piano bar at Copley Place. She was dressed in red, white and blue. "This is the closest thing I have to Valentine colors." We went to Montillios for Orangina and soggy quiche. At my house I gave Sonja the flower and played tapes of some of my music. She thought it sounded just like me. I wasn't sure how to take that. To me, the music sounded gloomy, irritating and relentless. We opened the wine. It was excellent. I should get more. Soon we were rather well lubricated. I wanted to touch her but the chair she was in was most inconvenient and I was afraid that any sudden move might launch a Baccarat goblet toward the concrete floor. I hovered over Sonja awkwardly.
I told Sonja a little about my feelings for her. I knew I was being forward and I was unsure how she felt about it. I supposed she wanted me to want her but Sonja was trying to be careful. She did say, "Arthur, I think life with you would be very exciting, but I need room to breathe." (I like breathing women) "I've been in limbo for six months."
"Then you must be ready for purgatory."
Overheated, I needed to step outside so I asked Sonja if there was anything that she wanted from the store.
"Tampax and a toothbrush."
This meant that she planned to spend the night. No intercourse. I tossed her a big gray jersey and said, "You can sleep in this. I'll be right back."
When I returned, Sonja had changed. For the first time I could get a sense of her body. She made a comment about her hairy legs and expressed the opinion that "shaving women's pubes is an expression of men's desire to see women as children with breasts."
I'm not so doctrinaire. I suggested that, although body hair is natural (whatever "natural" means), women are less hairy than men and perhaps depilation exaggerates femininity (whatever that is). I was thinking about sexual aggression. (Remember, I'd been reading that book about rubber fetishism.)
Anyway we did a lot of kissing and cuddling and were in bed by nine forty-five. We didn't sleep much.
February 18, 1989
Yesterday I made a stab at really cleaning up my studio for the first time in a few years. There was unopened mail on the floor from 1986. How time flies.
I've felt some trepidation about Jane's going away party. There is an element of personal rejection in her leaving town. Because it was also Lisa's birthday, Sonja was invited. This promised to make the party more interesting. Jane's friends have always disliked me. I think they congratulated her for breaking up with me. Those communitarians assume that, as they do, I should share the views of my peer group rather than derive my values from my experience. I'm no populist.
I went to Hubba Hubba to check the rubber garment inventory. The motocross boots that I've wanted for years were on sale. I once bought Jane a pair and now that she is leaving Boston, I can have them. I had a pair put aside.
I got a brownie at Barsamian's. It was the chocolate I couldn't find on Valentines day. Then to the Coffee Connection for some Zimbabwe 053. Sonja is addicted to coffee so I'd better keep some around.
I took the train to Sonja's apartment. She was going to meet me at the front door "precisely at six because the doorbell doesn't work." She wasn't there. After waiting a while, I pressed the doorbell. It worked. I went upstairs and she let me in. Sonja said she was hungry, "but not for a sandwich or pizza." She wanted to eat before the party.
Sonja said she'd been thinking about me. She asked, "Do you believe in telepathy?"
Sonja said that her sleep has been invaded by my dreams. "Alien images." I apologized for projecting so intensely. I even offered to sleep in a lead helmet.
Sonja said that she doesn't want to be intimate.
Sonja said, "I'm not looking for love or a relationship."
Sonja said, "Whenever this happens, it always gets hung up on sex. The guy feels rejected."
I said, "I'm not them."
I thought, "This happens to her often?"
So I asked questions, trying to understand.
We went to Kenmore Square for soup and salad. It was pretty gross. I had a mild headache. Then we went to my place to get a bottle of wine for the party. We ate the brownie and tried to listen to Culturcide.
Sonja said, "You look hurt."
I asked, "Do I have any reason to feel hurt?"
Sonja said, "No."
I asked, "Will you be spending the night?"
Sonja said, "No."
We walked to the party on Thayer Street. When we arrived, everybody looked pretty fried. Jane looked good. Patty ranted and raved about doing nothing in the year since I'd last seen her. (I remembered the same speech from a year ago and supposed that this "I have to kick myself in the ass" routine has become normal for her). Some guy came over and said that he'd heard all about my Sousa music and thought it sounded cool.
"You've heard my music?"
"No."
Jane was busy being a hostess and Paul and Terry didn't want to come near me. Patty had drifted off, leaving me with Sonja who asked, "What criteria does one use to arrange the highest quality experiences in life?" (note 4)
I answered as well as I could. I didn't want to be ironic but, given the circumstances....
Jane asked me, "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" I made an evasive answer. I decided to leave. Sonja asked me to walk her to the subway. I did. She said that maybe I'd see her in a couple of weeks.
I said, "Oh."
Sonja asked, "What does that mean?" I said, "Sounds like a long time."
So, what am I going to do with all this coffee?
