nccotus

it was the first surge of women wearing trousers and sneakers with dresses.

we didnt know who we were.

women and men were cohabiting out f wedlock.

we were so confused by our sexuality where feminists were telling us that we were not just equal to men but the same.

I lucked into a roommate who had already weathered a sexual relationship in high school and started another one during the first week in Harvard Yard. Similarly our 3rd roommate sophomore year had had a passionate relationship in high school that continued at Harvard from a distance.

I felt enjoined to fall into the arms of the first person who asked, a New York socialite. That proved to be a disaster in its ending leaving me stranded and alone. The Freshman Year roommate wound up marrying the Freshman Year boyfriend, where I had always been a third wheel and there was another fellow involved, one of his roommates. And he wanted to go to bed with me but somehow it didnt happen and then it did. So this was a complex situation that carried along down through roommate’s.

so I am here to finally say goodbye to these people who played such a large role in my formative experiences. And try to winnow out my cum laude in general studies education that I was there to get.

I was so overwhelmed socially that I got in over my head and ignored my studies.

I tried to get away through involving myself with the undergraduate literary magazine but that proved through to be nearly fatal in a similar way. I was out of my depth with those young men and women. I liked Keats and Wordsworth and Yeats. They liked Norman Mailer, who was a trustee of the magazine. It was an intensively NYC based crowd. I was a beautiful writer but troubled as such and wanting to resolve this issue. Instead I got saddled with the job of running the organization as President, I do not know why they chose to use that handle instead of Editor. I would have known to refuse. I’m still not sure whether it was meant as a joke. It destroyed me as a person. I wanted to write a novel and be a minor poet. instead I became a computer programmer and became permanently and completely disabled through an overdose 4 years later.

So, i have finally written a novel that could possibly be publishable and have submitted it to a likely publisher “Cats Have Souls.” Could take months before I hear back.

as far as feminism, I am a bit androgynous, a lady knight. I am finally fully divorced after 13 years of stress and confusion. And search8ng back over the years for where things went wrong. Early in my life I failed to say important goodbyes in a way that I have dragged along with me throughout the ages and right now it is time to wrap that up.

I think it is about Arthur Robin the aborted child at age 13. People I just couldn’t let go of because of the pain and issues about him. Like a sinkhole for anger and resentment that drew people near but then repelled them. And there was no way that anybody could know about thus because I didnt even know, myself. I was quite the puzzle. We were all confused about relationships at that time. I was, anyway.

my psychoanalysis has taken 41 years. Happens that way sometimes. I have to apologize to those people from Harvard who were caught in that web and finally let them go and help them let go of me.

it’s a different world today and I have a son whom I treasure who has been harmed and taxed through these old misunderstandings just as my ex was.

some tears…