Liberation
Page 68
June 16. Rain, on and off. Walked down to the bank to cash traveller’s check. Watched T.V. with Richard, Dan and Evelyn Bradley. (Meanwhile David Hockney drove Don back from Bradford to London. Don returned to stay at 31 Maida Avenue.)
June 17. Left by 12:20 train from Stockport, arrived Euston 3:00. Rejoined Don at 31 Maida Avenue. We had supper with Patrick Woodcock; Keith Vaughan, Edward Albee and his friend John.78
June 18. We went to see John Cullen at Methuen’s about my book. We saw Franju’s The Sin of Father Mouret. We had supper with Francis Bacon at Wheeler’s in Old Compton Street, met Lucian Freud and his son.79 We all went to Muriel’s80 then to an after-hours bar.
June 19. We had drinks with Beatrix Lehmann at her home; then had supper at Odin’s with David Hockney, George Lawson and Wayne Sleep. Peter Lang[a]n was there.
June 20. David Hockney and we had lunch with Stephen and Natasha Spender. Don drew Wayne Sleep. Then Don joined David and me for drinks with Ron Kitaj. We and David had supper with Patrick Woodcock. Peter Coni81 and John Brewer82 came in later.
June 21. Don drew Stephen. We went with him and Natasha Spender to have lunch with Marguerite Lamkin. Dudley Moore,83 Tuesday Weld (his wife)[,]84 Mary Dunlop85 were there. Don drew Natasha. We had supper with David Hockney and Peter Schlesinger at Tandoori’s, then walked in Hyde Park, then watched some films at David’s studio. David Chambers measured Don for a suit.
June 22. Very hot. We had lunch with Alec Guinness at L’Étoile. We went to National Portrait Gallery and met Dr. Hayes.86 We saw Nick Furbank. We had supper with Andrew Brown. Howard Schuman, Leo Madigan, Graham McDonald87 and Ron Davis,88 Neil Kennedy89 were there.
June 23. Very hot. To Platypus Films to see the film Alan Wallis made about us. We had lunch with him at the Inigo Jones. Jane Burkett was there. David Hockney picked us up in his car at 5:30 and drove us to John Gielgud and Martin Hensler’s house, The South Pavilion, Wotton Underwood, where there was a dinner party.
June 24. Very hot. Press conference at National Portrait Gallery— Young Writers of the Thirties exhibition. We had lunch with Richard Buckle at La Scala. We lay in the sun in the garden. We went to the opening party of the Thirties exhibition (saw John Auden,90 Mrs. C. Day-Lewis,91 William Coldstream, etc.). We had supper at Wheeler’s with Robert Medley, Gregory Brown, Peter Schlesinger.
June 25. Very hot. Got plane tickets made out. Don drew Mrs. Mary Montague. We had supper with Neil Hartley at Spot Three.
June 26. Very hot. We went to Watch It Come Down ( John Osborne). We saw Julian Jebb. We went to a party at David Hockney’s. Peter Schlesinger, Eric Boman, Nikos Stangos, George Lawson, Wayne Sleep, Maurice Payne, Norman Stevens,92 David Plante, Celia Birtwell.
June 27. Very hot. Patrick Cain[e]93 (Neil’s friend) arrived to stay. We had lunch with Sir Alfred and Lady Dee Ayer. 3:20 left Waterloo for Isle of Wight. To stay with Edward and Hilda Upward at 3 Hill Street, Sandown. We arrived at 6:10.
June 28. Very hot. Don drew Edward. We walked with him along the cliffs. We left Sandown at 5:46, arrived Waterloo 8:57. Had supper with Marguerite [Lamkin and her companion. He] was leaving for Ulster in the morning.
June 29. A little cooler. We had lunch with Michael Laughlin and Jim Katz at Mr. Chow’s in Knightsbridge. We had tea with Verity Lambert94 and Andrew Brown at the Ritz. With Don to National Portrait Gallery, where Stephen Spender and I spoke. Professor R.D. Smith95 was the chairman. Then there was a dinner given by Dr. John Hayes at the gallery’s branch at Carlton House.
June 30. We went to the National Gallery, had lunch with John Lehmann and Tommy Urquhart-Laird. To see Three Sisters directed by Jonathan Miller; left at intermission. To National Gallery. We had drinks with Waris Hussein—Ian Goodjohn was there. We had supper with Patrick Woodcock—Rosamond Lehmann and Brian Masters96 were there.
July 1. Jim Gates phoned to say that our house had just been burgled. Don drew Freddy Ayer. Dee (Wells) Ayer drove us to the Star and Garter at Putney, where we met Dicky Buckle and went with him to Hampton Court. On the way back we saw Nancy [Ackerley] West. We had supper with Stephen and Natasha Spender. Baron Philippe de Rothschild,97 Andy Warhol.98
July 2. David Chambers brought Don’s suit. We had lunch with Erik Falk at the Reform Club. We talked to Frank Konigsberg about Gertrude Stein film.99 We went to the National Gallery. We went to see Amiya Sandwich. We went to see David Hockney— Anne Upton, her son Byron and her friend, David [Graves].100 We saw Blithe Spirit. Supper with David Hockney and Peter Schlesinger at Odin’s.
July 3. Left London at 9:30 a.m. by British Airways, arriving Tangier 11:45 p.m. Gavin Lambert met us and took us to stay with him at the Villa Tingitane. He took us to lunch with Peggy Hubrecht. David Herbert and Adolfo de Velasco were there. Later we had a drink with Gavin’s friend Mohamm[e]d Cherrat. Then we had supper at the Nautilus.
July 4. We drove with Gavin to Asilah and had lunch there, then returned to Tangier. About 5:00 p.m., Jim Gates called to say that Swami died, early today. Later we visited Paul Bowles, Mrabet101 and Dan Bente102 were there. We had supper at Gavin’s.
July 5. Saw about plane tickets home. We had lunch at Chuck Pringle’s house in the Casbah with Noël Mostert, Peggy Hubrecht, Adolfo de Velasco. Supper with Gavin at the Nautilus.
July 6. David Herbert showed us his house. We had lunch with Marguerite McBey.103 Peggy Hubrecht was there. At 5:30 we left with Gavin to drive to Chaouen and arrived there at 7:45. We had dinner and stayed at the Parador Hotel.
July 7. We left Chaouen at 10:15 and drove to Fez, arriving there at 1:15. We had lunch at the Tour d’Argent. Stayed at the Grand Hotel. In the afternoon we visited the Medina.
July 8. We left Fez at 7:00 a.m. We lunched at Hotel Chems outside Beni Mellal. Arrived Marrakech at 4:30. Stayed at Grand Hotel Tazi. Walked through the souks and had supper at restaurant overlooking the market place.
July 9. We left Marrakech at 9:30 a.m. We had lunch at the Auberge Savoyard outside Rabat. Arrived back in Tangier at 6:00 p.m. We had dinner at the Nautilus with Gavin, Peggy Hubrecht and Noël Mostert.
July 10. We flew by Iberia to Madrid, leaving Tangier at 11:00 a.m. and arriving an hour later. Stayed at the Ritz. We spent the afternoon at the Prado. We had supper at the Ritz.
July 11. We went to the Prado again in the morning. We left Madrid by TWA at 1:50 p.m., arrived New York at 3:00 p.m. (N.Y. time). We stayed at the Chelsea Hotel, room 814. We saw Murder by Death (Truman Capote). We had supper at the Sheraton Pavilion coffee shop.
July 12. We had lunch with Bob Regester at the Rotisserie. We saw The Tenant (Roman Polanski). We had supper at El Quijote. We saw Chicago (Gwen Verdon and Chita Rivera).
July 13. We spent the morning in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. We had lunch at the Fontana di Trevi. We left New York by TWA at 5:00 p.m. and arrived Los Angeles at 7:00 p.m. Jim Gates and Warren Neal met us at the airport.
July 14. We talked to Carl Day about the studio building. We went to the gym. Ate at home. We had breakfast before 6:00 a.m. at Zucky’s.
July 15. We went to gym. Don had supper with his parents. I had supper with Jo Lathwood at Casa Mia; Don joined us later.
July 16. Special worship and homa fire for Swami. Swamis Asheshananda (Portland), Shraddhananda (Sacramento), Sarvagatananda (Boston), Swahananda (Berkeley), Prabuddhananda (San Francisco), Adiswarananda (New York), and Bhaskarananda (Seattle) were present. Don and I both went.
July 17. Don and I drove up to the Santa Barbara temple, where the swamis and I spoke at a memorial service for Swami. We had lunch at Oxnard on the way back. We had supper at home.
July 18. To Vedanta Place for the memorial service. Don and I came later. The swamis and I spoke. I had lunch at the monastery. We had supper with Paul Sorel (who is now living in Chris’s former house) at the Brown Derby. He gave us a tape recorder and cufflinks.
July 19. 154½. Went through accounts, to bank, etc. We saw Stay Hungry (with Jeff Bridges), went to gym, ate at home. Started watering plants. Sa
w Dr. Glenn Dayton about my sore left eye.
July 20. 152. We ran down to the beach, went in water. Don bought new T.V. set—a nineteen-inch Sony.104 We had supper with Billy Al Bengston and Penny Little. Karen Carson105 was there.
July 21. We re-registered for unemployment payments. We went to the gym. We had supper with Jo Lathwood. Anne Baxter was there. Saw Dr. Dayton.
July 22. 153½. We went to gym. Greg Harrold came and we had supper with him at Casa Mia. Don went with him to see films. Natalie Leavitt cleaned house.
July 23. We went to a dinner party for Tennessee Williams at the house of Mr. and Mrs. Jerry Hellman106 in the Malibu Colony (68). Jack Larson came with us. Some of the other guests were John Schlesinger, Joan Didion and John Dunne, Leonard Rosenman.107
July 24. 152½. We had supper with Brian and Marlene Finney at their house.
July 25. 152¼. We had lunch with Marti Stevens. Joseph Cotten, Patricia Medina,108 Jean Feldman109 and Tony Santoro were there. We stayed home in the evening.
July 26. 150¾. We ran down to the beach, went in water. Don had supper with his parents. He and I went to see The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea (Kris Kristofferson, Sarah Miles).
July 27. 151½. We had supper with Marti Stevens at her house. Saw John Kniest at Pelican Records about recording. Don drew me for the jacket of Christopher and His Kind.
July 28. 152¼. Don drew me for the jacket of Christopher and His Kind. Saw Chetanananda at Vedanta Place. We ate at home.
July 29. 151¼. We ran down to the beach and went in the water. Brian Finney came to see me. We took Jim Gates and Warren Neal to dinner at the Bellevue.
July 30. 151¾. We ran down to the beach and went in the water. We ate at home and watched Mr. Lucky on T.V.
July 31. 151¾. We ran down to the beach and went in the water. We saw Ingmar Bergman’s Face to Face (Liv Ullmann) with Billy Al Bengston and Penny Little, then we all had dinner at the Masukawa. Don drew Doug Chapin.
August 1, 1976–June 9, 1980
August 1. We have settled down, more or less, into the routine of discomfort caused by the building—or better say, work in suspension. Don’s new studio’s still only a skeleton but it looks awfully big from the road below; almost bigger than The Casa itself.
Terrific resentment against the architect and the contractor— [. . .] Carl Day and that slob Walter Winslow with his piggish crew who leave beer cans on the roof and all over the place. (One exception, cute, boyish Gary who works stripped to the waist and has softening smiles to calm our annoyance when he fills the back porch so full of tools that you can’t open the closets.) We revenge ourselves by keeping the house doors locked, so none of them can use the bathrooms any more. Our excuse is a lie: that the police have told us we must do this. But we do both strongly suspect that some workman, having cased the place, tipped off friends who were the actual burglars. One’s resentment against a burglary is against the intrusion far more than the loss of property. As somebody so rightly said, it’s a rape.
Four days of gorgeous beach weather in a row; we’ve been in the water every day.
Have been timing and cutting the passages I am to record for Pelican Records—they chose the bits from Sally Bowles, A Single Man and “Anselm Oakes”; the good taste shown by this last choice surprised me.1
August 8. Four more days of sea and beach in a row. Jonathan Fryer has just turned up again. He is much more attractive than he used to be; he has the body of a big strong girl. I gave him the typescript of Christopher and His Kind to read.
A bit of paper has been lying on my desk for months. On it I have written:
For the homosexual, as long as he lives under the heterosexual dictatorship, the act of love must be, to some extent, an act of defiance, a political act. This, of course, makes him feel apologetic and slightly ridiculous. That can’t be helped. The alternative is for him to feel that he is yielding to the compulsion of a vice, and that he is therefore dirty and low. That is how the dictatorship wants him to feel.
I have copied this here so I can throw the paper away. It isn’t clearly expressed but it means something important to me.
August 17. Today I finished correcting the first set of proofs. I don’t know what I feel about the book. Jonathan Fryer didn’t seem exactly shattered by it, but then he’s so enigmatic. Bill Scobie called it “a cliffhanger” approvingly, but thinks that I shall be attacked for worrying about my private life instead of the Nazis, which doesn’t seem perceptive, since the two were so closely interrelated.
We have now put the Hilldale property up for sale, and so are hoping to ditch our demon tenants. The builders are still very much with us. They block the back porch every night with their heavy dirty tools.
I’m consistently failing to meditate properly. And yet I feel that Swami is very much “there,” in a sense that he never was while he was alive. He knows everything now, I say to myself; there is no concealment. And this is reassuring. It puts my “sins” and “impurity” in a proper perspective. What do they matter, as long as I don’t forget him?
August 27. So now I’m seventy-two. A happy peaceful birthday with my darling yesterday and a birthday supper in bed; salmon cakes and champagne. I dreamt that I was shot dead by a firing squad—I forget why—and that I then went around telling everybody that there was nothing to it, it didn’t hurt and it wasn’t at all unpleasant, and I didn’t feel any different after it had happened. Was this whistling in the dark?
I think about death more and more—I prod myself into thinking about it; and always the thought brings me to the almost certainty that Swami will be present with me, when it comes.
A very attractive young endodontic dentist named Thomas Rauth, recommended by Dr. Kurtzman, told me today that my upper left first molar won’t hold together much longer. It is the anchor tooth for that side of my bridgework. Luckily, there is another molar behind it which is in better condition. Otherwise, I might have to have one of those upper plates which only remain in place by sticking to the roof of your mouth.
Don is out dancing tonight with the Nick Wilder bunch— Gregory Evans, etc. Around 10:30, a young man named Gene Hendrickson called me long distance from Albuquerque. Last March he sent me a piece called “Memories of a Queer Life,” which I rather liked, and another called “The Feeling of Negentropy,” which bored me. He tried to explain negentropy2 to me, but I hadn’t turned off the T.V. and simply could not concentrate. We spent nearly an hour chatting with great good humor.
September 7. Well, my upper left first molar is out and Labor Day (yesterday) is over, thank God. Now we enter the beautiful fall– winter season of work. I still can’t make up my mind whether or not I want to start editing my 1939–1944 diaries, to make a sequel to Christopher and His Kind. Don insists that they mustn’t be cut, or even much commented on—otherwise, he says, they will lose their flavor. But the trouble is, there are so many passages which could cause offence to people still alive.
It has also come to me that I should write something about Swami, without delay. Not a formal biography, beginning at the beginning. I think I should start now—or, at any rate, with his death—and then keep looking back. The difficulty is that this kind of portrait lends itself to posing; the author is tempted at every point to present himself as the disciple the guru loved, the disciple who betrayed him, the disciple who helped him most, the disciple who was the lowest, morally, of them all and therefore avoided being a hypocrite, like all the others. . . . Still and all, even as I wrote the above sentences, I began to feel a stirring excitement: Yes, yes, this is something. Why shouldn’t I at least try it? What can I lose? At worst, it’ll be an unusual document. I am bound to say a few interesting things on the subject.
More about this, I hope, in the days to follow.
On the evening of Sunday the 5th, we were about to sit down to dinner with Nick Wilder, Gregory Evans, Mo [McDermott], Mark Lipscom[b], Carlos Sagui and John Ladner, when a terrific thunderstorm burst over the Canyon. I think the t
elephone pole outside the house was struck; anyhow, it started to spurt a little crackling flame and all our lights went out. They weren’t put back on again until yesterday afternoon. When the lightning struck, nobody panicked—thanks to a subnormal state of awareness in some cases, due to drink, pot or nature, and a sanguine temperament in others. Indeed, this rather made our evening, which was lit by candle stumps.
September 20. Don, talking about drawing a portrait: “The whole point is setting up this thing—these two idiots looking at each other. It has all the earmarks of significance and at the same time it’s absurd—and it’s the absurdity which is so marvellous!”
A strange dark, perhaps Asian, woman puts in several sessions of chanting every day, in the bushes on the slope below number 147, Elsa’s house. She uses what used to be a hideaway set up by the boys and girls from one of the houses on the other side of Adelaide Drive, to smoke pot in, presumably, and screw. The woman has a suitcase, which I’ve seen lying on the pathway which runs along the top of the slope, and sometimes she spreads clothes on the surrounding bushes—to air them out, I suppose. She chants, or, rather, shouts loudly enough to be tiresome and distracting when the wind is blowing her voice toward us and we are having our own morning sit. One day, it seemed to me that she was repeating “egotism . . . egotism . . . egotism.” But I couldn’t be sure, and certainly the words vary. She may belong to the Nichiren Shoshu or some similar sect which teaches you how to chant to obtain a lover or a Lincoln Continental. I feel inclined to leave a note in her nest, reminding her that Christ told us to pray in secret.