On Alice; she is very frustrated with the lacak of progress on Moliere's GENTLEMEN OF VERONA at the Kurt Dempster's Ensemble Theater, since the young actors all hate each other. She is the director of this production. I asked, "Can't you channel the hatred?"
"What do you know about theater?"
We were on the Bowery. I stopped walking to ask myself, "What am i doing here with her?"
Alice kept walking and hadn't noticed I wasn't with her. She had been lost in this maelstrom of anxiety and anger for the past month, as if her this play was on Broadway, instead of a college repertory for out-of-state students.
Last night in my SRO room, I went to the dresser to take out my contacts. Alice thought I was leaving to drink at CBGBs and turned off the light, saying, "Fuck you."
I turned and she said, "Don't hit me."
"You fucking stupid bitch. What do you think I am? I love you and you say you love me. What are those words? Something you memorized like a script. That's all you can give. Words. You can't wait to be with someone new to use as a dumb actor for your scenes."
She shriveled into the pillows.
"Please don't hit me, please."
She was frightened, but sounded like she really wanted me to hurt her. "Yesterday was my birthday and all I got from you was your freaking out about nothing. This play is important to you. But I matter not all to you. I'm nothing to you."
"I'm sorry." The words sounded sincere, but she's a better-than-good actress. I loved her, even now.
"Sorry. Another word. It means nothing. Words on more words meaning nothing. If I didn't live in this shithole, I would leave you. What can you do to make me not throw you out."
It was late. I wanted her in my life. I had no one else. I never did. I breathed deeply to cool down and asked, "Have I ever threatened you?"
"No, but you fight people all the time."
She was right. I had no answer for why. I have always fought. I have never hit a woman, although I had taken off a Fyre boot and thrown it at my younger sister, who had said she hated me after I picked her up late at a bowling alley when she was 12. Women are normally terrorized by men. All their lives. I stripped off my clothes and slipped under the covers.
"I'm sorry I scared you."
We went to sleep without a kiss or a caress, and I remembered a line from Wim Wenders KINGS OF THE ROAD.
"I don’t know how one can live with a woman,” says Robert. “I’ve always felt lonely inside a woman."
I had a horrible dream about being trapped on an interstate. I woke and saw Alice sleeping. She looked at peace. I returned to the nightmare. It wouldn't go away.
In the morning, she parted without a word, as if we would never see each other again. After the play, she's going back to Ohio to finish her last college semester. Even her leaving this morning is hard on me. She'll be gone maybe for good. We've been together since March. Nothing lasts in eternity except eternity.
foto from Wim Wenders' KINGS OF THE ROAD
