What is the point of this diary? There is always something deeper, that I don’t write, even when I think I’m saying everything.
What is the point of this diary? There is always something deeper, that I don’t write, even when I think I’m saying everything.
The Age asks me to review Beatrice Faust’s book Women, Sex and Pornography. I file a piece in dialogue form that I really enjoyed writing. They reject it. Would I please rewrite it as a straight review. Rage and contempt. Cutting potatoes and onions, I reflect on the pain of rejection, and on how l…
I want to tell the truth, confess that the moment Guido asked me to go to Venice, I had decided to accept. I’ve never had the candor to admit it, even in this diary. Otherwise, I would have to acknowledge that the effort I made to forget myself for twenty years has been in vain. I succeeded until t…
[...] Sitting down again, he said we’ll soon get used to Marina, she’s a good girl and he likes her. It’s true. He likes her because she’s pretty. He, like Riccardo, smiles when he sees her around, because she possesses that animal meekness that men take for sweetness. Not even what happened betwee…
