As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh

Dietrich: clean, solid—movements never weak or floating or petty—sparse
Von S: profuse

[In the margin:] They highlight each other by their differences

Dietrich: clean, solid—movements never weak or floating or petty—sparse
Von S: profuse

[In the margin:] They highlight each other by their differences

The greatest art seems secreted, not constructed

Mary McCarthy can do anything with her smile; she can even smile with it

Only a fraction of me is available to be turned into art

She hid her happiness, challenged me to make her happy—if I could

I can’t drive out my obsession with I[rene]—my grief, my despair, my longing—with another love. I’m not capable of loving anyone now. I’m being “loyal.”

But the obsession must be drained, somehow. I must force some of that energy elsewhere

There is no responsiveness, no forgiveness in her. To me, only hardness. Deafness. Silence. Even a grunt of assent “violates” her.

But it is as indispensable for her to reject me—as it has been indispensable for me to hold on to her

I don’t really accept the change in Irene. I think I can reverse it—by explaining, by demonstrating that I am good for her