Diary of Marie Stanley: October

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Monday, October 1st

October is the cruellest month, I was born within it. In two days my birthday,
 I will spend it with James, my true and only friend. He knows where I come from,
 I’m trash like him, except his pedigree is even worse than mine which at least 
has literary pretensions.

We had a long discussion as to whether or not we will be alone a year from now.
 The probability does seem tenuous. I want to get out of America, move to Paris, 
never come back. He says he doesn’t want me to go.

Strolling around the Village, we’re talking intensely, then all of a sudden he’s
 gone, just barely saying Goodbye, rushing along the pavement in the wake of some hot 
number who’s just raised an eyebrow in his direction. Chronic cruiser, has to make
 it every hour on the hour otherwise he’s not a happy boy. Wandered home alone wishing
 a girl like me could enjoy some version of that.

Wednesday, October 3rd

Happy birthday to nobody. Received in the mail nothing from Daddy, nothing from my sister, and a cheap card from Gloria without even her usual puny check. Not a word from Georgy. Georgy who? Expecting James with a cake, he promised. But some random handsome guy might end up eating it.

“Let us describe our meeting with a Psychopath, whom I suspect is a species of modern aristocrat for whom there is not yet the proper Royal Dais. As the victim enters into the Presence, a great Silence engulfs him, confounding his efforts to be as he always had before. Nerve-struck, he attempts to depart this seeming Void … too late! He has been infected with the Disease of the Other, the Second Death whose face he is too small to gaze upon. Never again will he be able to live blithely, in carefree mode, as once he had.

“The Psychopath speaks: ‘Let Us admit that most of humanity is utterly disgusting and deserves to be destroyed in one blinding instant by a nuclear flash. Thank Satan for the Atom Bomb — it gives Us so much less to do. All must die but a few useful slaves, whom We draw near Us from time to time to gratify the base needs. As they live their last moments in Our Presence, they know that Silence, the Silence that loathes them, what they call VOID,  is alive and hostile to their flesh. We observe their death-throes with a smirk, or ignore it as a commonplace.’ ”

I’m twenty-one today. Now I can be arrested for everything.

Tuesday, October 23rd

Called Georgy and enjoyed the usual unsatisfying conversation. I would like to kill
 these people who tell me I “overreact” all the time. But what did I do to deserve
 that last lunatic drama? I never expected Lilith With Behemoths — I mean wasn’t that truly
 disturbing? Did Georgy even hear what I said? I mean I do think that was something
 to be upset about.

Georgy is a bore lately. A passionless twerp. I think they have him on Valium, 
he is so very remote. I don’t know what he is turning into, but he has great
 literary ambitions. Perhaps he is planning to be worshipped. 
Well I was once amongst them.

Miss Annunciata Pla has taken my place in his little social round. They are at all 
the concerts, the elegant bars, the newest restaurant, latest movie and so forth. 
I’m the poor cousin who’s invited, who can’t pay, who’s supposed to be jealous.


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