*Schedule for the train, Reading line.
**Play by W. Somerset Maugham
Blogs: Diary 1927 and Spiritual Snacks |
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Took V. home from school. I intended to stay about half an hour. I stayed till 12 o'clock! We were waiting for Charlie and Mr. Scott to come home because Charlie had a Reading time table* which we needed to decide upon which train we would go downtown on. We are going to see K.Cornell in The Letter **- Rah!
*Schedule for the train, Reading line. **Play by W. Somerset Maugham
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12:45 AM. Had my regular Wednesday evening date with V. We saw "Now We're With Air." I (it?) was funny at the close.
Tom put forth something worth thinking about. He thinkss it is easier to yourself and to others to pay three dollars to the sex machine than to even suggest such things to your girlfriends or to someone you might try to pick up. A new light on the subjects that I know I won't try either. I love you V. *Probably the silent movie "Now We're In the Air." Have just returned home from escorting V. to her domicile. We had a little chat before she went in tonight. While we were talking we drifted into the topic of "ideals and dreams" and the opposition one meets when one tries to express them to an unsympathetic personality. I told her some of the family thoughts concerning my desire for the uplifting of the "thyself." She then retaliated by telling me of the opposition she encountered when she expressed her desire, hope, or will for something, or anything, that gives greater contentment.
One of the reasons I've placed such an unbreakable spell on us is because we both dream - dream. Dreams that have sped the way of other dreams - Into the lap of the God of Love. Our dreams must have met there, and then come to earth again to find who had sent those thoughts so identical, so beautiful, and found what? The most wonderful person on earth and a poor, weakling lad. We met - love - then the changing of the lad, - the metamorphism - where will it end. I shall give my all to be worthy of you, dear. Is all such love as ours first brought together in the lap of Love? Or does some of it spring from the brain of the devil? "When poverty comes in the door, love flies out the window." V. says that this is only true when (?) or deceit (?). She's right as usual. Poverty and love may go hand in hand if he is a "gentleman" and she is a "lady." She is a "lady" and some day I will have the (?) (or ego?) to call myself a "gentleman," then I may only be able to whisper it! God advance that day. 10:15 PM Gave Hugh in a piece of soap(?) today and told him it was a piece of coconut. "I thought I would die" laughing. He took it in the right spirit like the real fellow he is.
Took V. home from school tonight. She is going to ask her mother if we can take out a double share 5 year b and f together. Hot dogs. I'm hoping she says yes. "Together, (?)." I wonder what Mr. Dredger(?) will say when he finds out I am hopelessly in love with V. I'll bet he will administer(?) my (?). Went down to Jewish Synagogue with Walt, Ruth, Al, Jerry(?), and Mr. (?) to hear Rabbi Fineshriber lecture on "School for Marriage." He is a marvelous speaker. Parts in his sermon. (a) Churches fail to consider real things, personal, (?) things of life, too(?) much generalization(?). (b) Child taught about itself and its relation to others begins at the age of 4. (c) Real marriage: the fusion of body, mind, and soul = the blending of personalities. Saw V. tonight. I hope I didn't hurt her by playing I was asleep for an hour. Oh - she's wonderful - the fusion of b.m. and s, the blending of. When?
1:15A.M. Went downtown this afternoon and saw "The Silent Hours" at the Lyrian(?). Ye gads that was a weird play alright. It was great even though a few of the mechanical parts didn't fit in so well. Took V. to the movies tonight. Came home and we planned our little apartment. We figured out that 200 a month would carry us through. Will these four years ever pass?
12:15 A.M. It's wonderful. Tonight I took V. home from Eva Y(?)'s home where she had gone for dinner. Came directly home, and sat and talked and danced a while. Walt was there and of course added into the company. V is wonderful and really(?) so sweet, so fun, so virgin - (?). We are exchanging locks of hair tomorrow night. I love her more and more and more and more.
Took V. home from school tonight. Stayed at her house for about half an hour. (I had meant to leave her at the door but, ye gads, how could I.) V. isn't looking any too well. I am glad she started taking that tonic. Everything I have written so far in my diary has been vitally linked with V. Everything I do or say seems to be linked to her in some way. Such is love.
Written in journal:
Hugh had trouble settling today. It has been terribly cold. I have not called up V. tonight as I usually do because I don't know what I might say to her. Written on separate sheets of paper, inserted in the diary. Have felt terrible all day. Not physically ill, just mentally despondent. Life seems such a bore, a Hell on earth. V. seems to drift away, the world seems so crude, so dumb, no touch of beauty to humanize it. When I see others trodding along, head's down mouth's drooping, eye's dulled, I feel as though my grasping for light is but the gasp of a crazed brain. Mayhaps it is. V - thank God, often comes drifting into my thoughts when I get in this mood, and makes things a littte brighter. I had an ugly dream last night. I dreamt I was walking to a semi-lighted room. I heard a rustling noise, as if someone were hurriedly changing position, just as I walked through the doorway. I saw, God, V. half lying on a sofa, her dress torn wide open all the way down. Her beautiful swelling breasts were exposed and were heaving with passion. Even her __ was plainly visible. She was caressing it with her hands as though it had just been disturbed. She saw me no more than if I had been a piece of furniture. And beside her sat that damnably smug Leslie Devae. He was hastily buttoning up his coat and glancing at V. with triumphant glittering eyes. When he saw who it was that had broken up his tete a tete he jumped up in fear and I knocked him down. It seemed to take an endless number of blows before I could finally believe that he was down. He seemed to sink a little with each blow; just as the nail sinks into wood when struck by the hammer. I turned around to look at V. Her eyes were still passion filled but she seemed to recognize me. Then horror gradually drained that sexual passion from her eyes. She arose, breasts rising and falling as though under great physical strain, hair divided, her beautiful face distorted, she tried to say something - I awoke. I can't get that damned dream out of my mind. I can see her yet, that passion in her eyes when I entered her room, passion for another, no notice of her "pal." Last night we went to the Col. (?) and saw R. Dip (?) in S. B. and then to Seiferts. I could feel that melancholy stealing over me. I can't stop it. It may last an hour. It may last a week. I seem to see things in all their sorrow. The worlds seems but one big tear. Even our love seems so sad. Its delusions, its terrible sacrifices, even its moments of bliss are tempered with the realization of the fact that they are only moments. "Is my pal feeling sick?" Oh, if I could only tell her. But could I even if I wanted to. Could tell her just why the sorrow of the world seems to loom up so large. "Is my pal feeling sick?" And what did I say? "Oh, no, I'm feeling fine. Then sinking still deeper into myself. I have decided to go over to V's tonight. My ill-humor has partially left me and I think it is safe for me to see her. I am going to apologize to Mr. S. for kidnapping V. Saturday night. Here's hoping it won't rile him up again. Fred is going along to see Alice maybe, and if he does I shall have to use a little ingenuity to see Mr. Scott alone. If I don't tell him "I am sorry" tonight well - then I guess I shall have to apologize to you diary and I hate like hell to be anyone's pardon. But it must be. On! On! To (?) and Virginia. "In auction bridge hearts have precedence over diamonds - only in bridge y'understand!" An inexact quotation from the inaugural "Editorial Comments." Clever is it not. I can't understand women. How can they peacefully with open hands receive all that a man places near them. Could I receive all that I have given V., though I will admit it hasn't been much, and still be perfectly willing to get and expect more. No, damn it, no. She gives me love in return, isn't that enough say you. Mayhaps but everything I do for her is also given with all my love. Then if you begrudge that which you give her it can't be in love. Ha, I don't begrudge it, but I can't see how a woman or a girl can be perfectly willing to reach and reach out for more. I often go without something to eat, which my mouth just waters for, so that I can take V. to the movies. I do it with all the joy that comes with self-sacrifice to make another happy. Isn't it true love. My life is hers if she wants it. Damn it that's love. 1:15A.M. Had a wonderful time at V's. We went up to the third floor and made candy and danced, having a wonderful time. Every time I see her love just wells up all over me and it seems as though the world were made for nothing but love. Oh - she's wonderful. My dream pal come true. I apologized to Mr. Scott and told him that I was the responsible party on our Saturday night runaway. For the latter part he just wouldn't listen and to the first part I am uncertain whether or not it was accepted. He said that "What is past is gone and we shall not speak of the subject again." New rules. Twelve o'clock is now curfew - absolutely - I asked Mrs. Scott if it couldn't be prolonged to 12:30 or 1:00 Sat's. She said she would see what she could do. That means O.K. Mrs. Scott is a woman in a (?). She is wonderful. No wonder I love Virginia so much - with a mother like that to train her. Well - I must get to bed. 7:15 P.M. Well, dear, here goes. I am going to apologize and tell Mr. Scott just what happened.
1 A.M. I didn't do it. Everything is fixed up. But I must apologize. Diary, something's wrong with me. V's kisses were tasteless to me. We saw "Shanghai Band" and then went to Seifert's restaurant. Music was awful and food was worse. The service was terrible. That damn picture. Adventure near far new things happening and I just plod along. God, why can't I be satisfied. I must be crazy. |
ContextThis is the journal of Virginia Lee Scott, my grandmother, written when she was seventeen and first dating my grandfather, John Arnold Wilson. It's a dairy published by Media Drug Stores and includes space for two entries per day, with facts about the era printed at the bottom, which I have included in italics. Following, 1928, is the journal of John Arnold Wilson, my grandfather, at age nineteen and in love with my grandmother, followed by my grandmother's journal in 1931. Archives
April 2018
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