The Journals of Spalding Gray

by Spalding Gray; Nell Casey

  But there is another thing I have to face here and that is that I did not want to go through the hard part, the pregnancy, and used Renée as a nurse to get me through it all. So Renée really got the battering. I really beat her up and that part of me I hate. That is when suicide comes. It comes when the shadow part or let’s say the part of you that you hate starts to take over and fill up or push out all the other parts until you are all the part that you hate and there is this one little part left that is the killer and the killer is closely related to the self hate and at last it does its dirty little deed.

  APRIL 30, 1995

  SUNDAY

  DREAM

  I was in a “new version” of the house at 66 Rumstick. Liz LeCompte was there taking a communal or CO-ED shower—DORM like shower. Then I could hear from upstairs that she was with (another) a man (I was about to write “another man”) I had an overview now in which I could see them … him guiding her in a posture of romantic love. I had a cut off lower torso view of them through the door of Gram Gray’s bedroom which would mean I had an overview that was really outside of or above the house.

  Then I was in the upstairs of the house and I began to hear their sounds of love making and I heard Liz say, “Oh why does it feel so good?” and I was starting to get so turned on that I had to leave the house and I found that I was walking up West Broadway and ran into Willem who was walking down from the park. He was pale and angry and I stopped him to CONFRONT him. We went and lay in the park together and he told me he was upset because he had been friends with me before he met Liz and he felt betrayed or that I had dumped him. All the time I was talking to him I knew I could just devastate him by telling him that Liz was with this other man but I didn’t. I was able to keep it a secret all to myself. Willem and I were holding hands when we parted.

  I think I remember Willem talking to me on the phone that summer I was in California and Liz was with him. And I think I remember him asking if it was OK and I said “YES.”

  MAY 5, 1995

  N.Y.C.

  Kathie, on the phone just now, suggested that I go back to Renée.

  FORREST—I had a really good day with Forrest yesterday. That game of hide and seek I had with him and the way his face looked when he seemed to really think I was gone reminded me of how in a way I would play that game with Renée. I’d say “bye bye” and then disappear emotionally so I could see her face or feel through her. Maybe, I’m a little mixed up on this but I know I’m on to something.

  MAY 5, 1995

  [Staying at Sedgewood]

  BACK HOME

  TO MY LITTLE HOUSE

  THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IS FOR A CHILD TO FEEL LOVE THEN HE OR SHE KNOWS IT and this happened when Kathie jumped down and put her arms around me after Forrest jumped right in and made more love! It was really a wonderful moment and then catching the train just on time. I can’t believe it but I think I first realized I was in love with Kathie when I picked her up at the train.

  I HOPE FORREST TURNS OUT TO BE CURIOUS AND CALM.

  MAY 15, 1995

  I am still laboring under the idea that the whole earth is a giant penal colony in which we are all doing time for crimes never to be remembered, that we committed elsewhere. The only events that save me from the continuous belief in that are my son, Forrest Dylan Gray, and the event of down hill skiing. Most of my life still seems to be dominated by coping with random CHAOS.

  I felt sorry when I saw that Kathie had left her sandwich behind then later on the street I had the fantasy of her with M.S. [multiple sclerosis] and I felt sorry for her. Oh shit! I then think is love for me feeling sorry for … ? love = pity?

  MAY 19, 1995

  I said to Kathie, “This next monologue may be my last.” And she agreed.

  Then I went after her to try to make her cry. I told her that I told Bill Talen that I would not be with Kathie in 20 years. And … at last I did succeed in making Kathie cry. And this made me feel good? Made me feel … LOVE toward her …

  We need two incomes to get by. 2 INCOMES undermine the MALE EGO.

  MAY 23, 1995

  One of my fears is being reduced by Dr. Mass to a set of pathological behaviors and that’s part of why I didn’t want to speak at Johns Hopkins. What if I am reduced to “Manic Depressive” or “Obsessive Compulsive.”

  Then my work is only an expression of a pathology and not that of THE HUMAN CONDITION—I want to be larger than a mere mental disorder.

  MAY 26, 1995

  Forrest still takes my breath away. The beauty of Forrest still keeps me alive. Garcelia’s whole bedroom transformed by this sleeping beauty. That slum was transformed by Forrest in sleep. A slight breeze blowing the window curtain. The sound of the ice cream truck. What would have been desperate claustrophobia was transformed by his sleeping presence. His Barney Shoes. His belly. His peaches and cream moist ripe face. Please let this be somehow moved into tolerant waking.

  JUNE 19, 1995

  Will I ever read this back?

  This is a history of the things that are happening to me. I have little more to offer. Maybe someone can live and learn from them. Honesty is the best policy.

  Everyone else’s life seems to be as bad or worse than mine, which is also depressing.

  JULY 1, 1995

  I had some hope while watching [Wayne Wang’s] SMOKE that the ski monolog would be my next heartfelt and transcendent event. Heartfelt! As in “I gave her a locket and then I broke her heart. You’re innocent when you dream.”

  THE PERSONAL CRISIS IS THIS and Martha is somewhat on to it. I cannot be analyzed and write about it for public consumption at the same time. The energy that goes into the writing is stolen from insight.

  I need to record a dream I had a few nights ago. (We are innocent when we dream) This was an … a complicated dream and I could not recall the relationship of the people in the dream.

  There was a house for some reason I think of it as the Mason’s house. Or, at least, the action was taking place in their dining room. And there was this “idiot” like a retard, like Benji in Sound and the Fury. And then there was this woman maybe a MOTHER type telling what I can only say were secrets the idiot never knew before. And I was thinking this is weird that this man is so old and he is hearing this for the first time you know like in the movies when you are the dramatic witness to a drama that has been unfolding for years but you are catching the dramatic or special time of the revelation. The man or innocent idiot (there is so much POWER in innocence as I said to Suzanne Gluck about Forrest—Forrest is the only one with any almost A-MORAL power over Renée because he is innocent and no one can destroy innocence without producing enormous amounts of guilt) but this man was white and all faded as though someone had drained the blood from him. He was like a ghost of himself. After this all went on in the house I was then outside in a car and I was with a woman driver and the car was being blown sideways by a great wind and there was lightning in the distance.

  JULY 3, 1995

  It is as though I am rehearsing suicide. I keep killing myself in small ways.

  Listening to the [Jack Kerouac] ON THE ROAD tape bothers me because it reminds me of what I hate about my writing. It has no INSIGHT in it. Its reflection is only memory and not memory with insight. It’s like a little boy reporting all this NEWNESS to his Mom and as soon as the newness wears off he’s gone.

  JULY 7, 1995

  This is the reality; I will either be old or I will not be. Age or nothing but no way out of here alive. This sadness and absurdity all rolled into one.

  JULY 9, 1995

  SUNDAY

  But no … really … sitting on the stone wall of the pump house overlooking the reservoir eating my old tuna, jalapeno and “hot” hummus sandwich I had a peaceful sense of NOTHINGNESS and that was what I was going to come to. DEATH is NOTHING. It’s not death that’s sad, it’s life. There is nothing sad about nothing. I had a very strong feeling that I am nothing visiting something. Yes, I am nothing visiting something and
returning to nothing.

  I am carrying most of MOM’S feelings with me most of the time. Could not be with Dad because not there for her. I’m carrying Mom’s feelings and the only time I get rid of them is with Forrest.

  AUGUST 26, 1995

  [Martha’s Vineyard]

  Kathie and I took the long bike ride to Gay Head through Menemsha—the little “bike ferry.” A long hard ride not unlike skiing exhausted feeling. What a ride and then just in time for a massage. Then I drove the kids to Oak Bluffs to get beer and treats. Drive back along East Chop to stop and watch the sun set. Moving into one of those absurd perfect moments where the day slipped into a kind of perfect harmony with the children. Forrest sitting in the front seat looking up at me while he licked his giant lollipop ring—BIZZARE CANDY JEWEL—and Marissa sat trying to decide which doll underwear she should ask for for Christmas.

  Then off to the fireworks and all of us in the cold sand romping. Deep Memories of my family together in one time harmony.

  These little moments before they go soon again for no known reason. As in—Forrest hitting and going after Marissa on the way home. Her crying and Forrest’s eyes looking like the flashing eyes of a mad man.

  SEPTEMBER 14, 1995

  No more morning erections. No more masturbation.

  Well, I guess I know that I won’t live another 54 years. I’m over on the other side of the years now.

  UNDATED

  MONDAY

  Ran into Richard Schechner and Louise Kaplan. Richard—in response to my latest life story, told me I was like Walter Benjamin’s view of history.

  AN ANGEL BACKING INTO THE FUTURE.

  OCTOBER 6, 1995

  About a week ago Forrest and I went for an after dinner walk alone. The woods still has that PRIMORDIAL presence and I had to yell out loud to make myself known to feel myself there. The memory of Colorado and bears came back on me. Would I give my life to save Forrest? My flesh and blood. I wake up on the dock next to Forrest. Next to my son. My flesh and blood and thought even if I die, I will die a lucky guy.

  OCTOBER 14, 1995

  Telling Kathie that I was building the monolog as a vehicle to take off in and I really did see it as a little space ship out behind the house and I was going to fly off in it and I hoped that it was comfortable for me this time out.

  In January 1996, Gray and Russo bought a house in Sag Harbor, Long Island. They first visited Sag Harbor together when they spent a weekend there the year before to celebrate Gray’s birthday. Soon after, they began looking for a place to live there.

  MAY 25, 1996

  We went on a camping trip. One we will never forget—on an island in the Hudson. [Gray and Russo and the two children went on a camping trip with Robert F. Kennedy Jr. and his family. Gray had met Kennedy when he’d hosted an event for the Natural Resources Defense Council—for which Kennedy serves as a senior attorney—the month before. Afterward, Kennedy invited Gray, Russo, and the children to join his family on their Memorial Day weekend camping trip.] The highlight for me was Forrest’s story and how fluid and committed his associations were. He just went from one image to the next. Kathie said that it took courage but I think more that he was in an innocent state of grace. That he had no doubt.

  MARISSA and I are both DREAMERS. That is where the competition comes in. I saw the way she was able to play alone on the island and I felt for that. The men there were all filled up with the need for action. They preferred being busy where as I kept falling into a kind of contemplative reverie, with the view of the Catskills, all the time remembering how important my right eye is to me.

  But what if something happens to Kathie? Am I ready or able to raise two children? NO! I have to be on the road to make a living.

  MAY 27, 1996

  I AM NOT JUST NEUROTIC (GOD DAMN IT!). I AM ALSO MISSING IN A BIG WAY THE PROCESS OF INTEGRATED RITUAL IN MY LIFE. SO, I HACK AWAY AT MAKING OR CREATING MY OWN MYTHOLOGY WHICH IF IT CAN BE APPRECIATED AT ALL IT WILL BE ONLY BY THOSE WHO SURVIVE ME.

  AS FOR ME, THE REST IS SILENCE.

  At this time, Russo told Gray she was nearly two months pregnant with his baby.

  JUNE 1, 1996

  I feel FAT. I feel trapped by Kathie’s pregnancy. I am starting to buck and jolt again from the great feeling of indecision. How I cannot make up my mind.

  I hate Kathie’s stupid clarity.

  JUNE 11, 1996

  The humid weather has set in again. I think we are now going into the second week of this shit. I woke up with such a heavy feeling at night. And that combined with the TINNITUS in my ears [Gray developed a ringing in his ears in 1994 that continued off and on throughout his life] and the reality of my days of Kathie being pregnant. I feel trapped. I feel trapped and afraid. I am beginning to read [Milan Kundera’s] THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING again. It’s so well done.

  JUNE 17, 1996

  Kathie’s 36th birthday

  “For Sabina, living in truth, lying neither to ourselves nor to others, was possible only away from the public: the moment someone keeps an eye on what we do, we involuntarily make allowances for that eye, and nothing we do is truthful. Having a public, keeping a public in mind, means living in lies.”

  [From The Unbearable Lightness of Being]

  I do not know whether to believe Kathie or not but she tells me she will get an abortion. Maybe I fear what I will owe her for this. I woke up at 4:00 AM from the sound of heavy rain.

  JUNE 19, 1996

  WEDNESDAY THERAPY WITH MARTHA

  A great surge of positive energy when I said I was OPEN & AFRAID TEARS streamed down.

  Afterwards I felt so light and sort of stunned and wondering. Even though it was raining I felt all this light and hope. I could at least see my way into it. And Abe was right! I continued to breathe all through it and the memory of when I saw our last fetus on the sonogram and how I saw it waving crying and I yelled.

  LET ME IN

  LET ME INTO THE WORLD.

  Let me in! Let me into this world!

  Kathie was ready to say that she would get the ABORTION she had come in prepared.

  She had come into therapy ready to say, “if that’s what you need.”

  JUNE 30, 1996

  “Although the relationship between artist and muse can drive the creative process and enhance it, perhaps because of its very intensity the relationship is often fraught with danger.

  The more intense the relationship, the more bitter the separation when it occurs. And when sex is a component of the relationship, as is so often the case, the ending can be catastrophic.

  The artist-muse relationship seems to endure longest when there is personal distance between the two parties.”

  —SUNDAY TIMES

  JUNE 30 (A RAINY SUNDAY)

  JULY 26, 1996

  THE LAST GOOD DAY OF SUMMER

  It was clear dry bright and cool. We all went out in the canoe for dinner. The four of us. This odd strange family, drifting in the canoe. Me with a fever. Forrest feeling insecure because we were just drifting as we ate. And he’s crying out paddle and the memory of us together in the hammock before the woods turned against me, me in the hammock reading SNOW WHITE to Forrest and looking up at the sun setting through the trees. I’m telling him that this is the forest.

  Life keeps interrupting ART while father/mother death smiles over both SHOULDERS.

  You see, around 50, I started to realize that I hadn’t really lived. And that I had made a living on reporting on not living. I made a lively report on NOT LIVING.

  Then I went out and tried to make up for all that lost time. I threw myself into every available experience and skiing saved me.

  My love is so, so double edged. Double edged love and I see that same thing so alive in Forrest now.

  This I love you, I hate you. All these PUNCH/KISS.

  AUGUST 8, 1996

  We drove, Forrest and I, to the airport in this FOG. Into the 8th DAY OF IT. Forrest was very upset when Kathie’s plane had to t
urn back. I said, “Don’t blame me, it was an act of god.” And Forrest said, “GOD IS NOTHING” WHO TOLD YOU?/ NO ONE.

  In September 1996, Gray and his family moved to their new house in Sag Harbor while also keeping the loft in Manhattan for trips to the city.

  SEPTEMBER 8, 1996

  ULTIMATELY, MY BOTTOM LINE RELATIONSHIP HAS ALWAYS BEEN WITH A FOXY MAGICAL THINKING GAME OF HOW CAN I SLIP THROUGH YOUR RANDOM ALWAYS PRESENT NET? TO LINK BODIES TO WORDS, LINK MY BODY TO MY WORDS.

  Making love to Kathie looking out at THE TOWN and the white picket fence, I got lost. Where was I? What did all this mean?

  SAG HARBOR IS ALSO A DISTANT MIRROR!

  Looking at the town from the top of the little bridge I suddenly felt for better or worse I’d come home. I have been 40 years in EXILE. And now I’ve come back to THE HARBOR. Even my little sailboat is the same color and not named HALF-PINT but SMALL. So, in a funny sort of way I’ve come home. AND HOW?? HOW CAN I TALK about the place I live in?

  SEPTEMBER 24, 1996

  The way I am barraged. The way I am overwhelmed by memory here. When Forrest said, “Don’t drive the car on the beach.” I had that flash of me driving dad’s car onto Barrington Beach.

  I am now so down on my knees totally FORGIVING of my parents.

  There had to be some sort of working LOVE there.

  OCTOBER 1, 1996

  I keep having the paranoid fearful feeling that I will discover something that will make my whole life A FAKE AN ACT, a big false lie and then I will have to change it all.

  LADIES and GENTLEMEN, “THE FAMILY!”

  OCTOBER 2, 1996