Back to my father. I’m angry at him. “The thyroid is negative,” I told him.
“I expected it,” he answered. About my doctor, he next said, “But she had to find out for herself–”
As if the doctor who charges $60 is a daughter—Jesus. His next advice—“And stay with Agharian, give her a chance—”as if the point were not my health but her feelings, her attitude— But he continues, “that’s why we wanted you to come home,” still laying on as if I’d made the wrong decision.
Nightmares yesterday about Paola Manduca, today about Shawn and Mrs. Lowenstein calling Shawn, he calling Mrs Lowenstein bypassing Hedda. I’m almost feeling if everything were thrown out of that apartment I was writing in on Kings Highway in Brooklyn where my grandfather used to live it would be ok—though not actually. I wanted to call Jay Manis, Richard, and less than a week now I’m already missing the comedian and that feeling of not really being able to have an affair because my life is in disorder—I’ll live with that constantly. I have to tell Debbie Sisson about how New Yorkers feel about breaking appointments and spontaneity—or rather how I do—I got a Christmas card from Jeff, and from somebody at the class at the J telling me they missed me—–3 references they must have discussed me. Partly that felt strange but nice.
The sunlight around noon through the bamboo shade, the double black lines of the fire escape—it’s pretty.
From my parents’ point of view—both from my grandfather Charley and I, getting a desperate phone call—neither of us wants to go to the hospital.
Further development of the book idea: we found these papers in apartment, from Mrs. Lowenstein. A grammatically poor letter.
Remembered last night when I was studying technique—Mary McCarthy, Oriana Fallaci, et cetera—and here this woman interviewed me. I wonder what she’ll do with it. Me. The white painter pants, the Mexican sweater. The man’s yellow shirt. Bob said, everything was perfect.
I felt like, Harry is setting me up to be his mistress. The truth is, I’d just like to hang out with him. My attitudes have changed this year. Settle down with one person, easy companionship, good sex. Made me feel good to know men do try to get my phone number: David G., David M., Shawn’ boss, the comedian, Jim Dean’s friend.David told me he had called Michael for my phone number; I asked, what did he say? 966-5209. Why was I convincing David I had no interest in monogamy–