Ups and Downs

From a diary, 1983:

The full moon rising at the end of the valley in a sky like abalone shell; the insects of night sounding their ecstatic monotony in concert with frogs and quail.
What am I to do with this perfection? It only seems to make my heart heavier.

Ebb of energy and enthusiasm. I spin my web in the corner of an empty frame.

I’m just back from two days cross-cultural camp. So many lovely boys! Most sexy: a blond Italian, Pietro. He is slim yet muscular, but it is his movements that makes him so sexy, whether he walks or swims or dances – oh, especially when he dances, of course – with slow odd twisting and sudden jerks; his classic torso burnt copper, glinting with sweat, his hair whitish gold. I cannot take my eyes off him.
At the pool, Eric, the lifeguard, asks him: “What’s macho in Italy?” and Pietro hugs an arm around his neck and gives him a kiss, and they all laugh happily.
And there was Jean François, athlete-puppy with the most magnificent chest, Christophe with yellow hair and almond-brown eyes, and Swiss Paul showing his elegant thighs. Most lovely was Christian, the German boy. They are all half and half, German boys, according to my experience. At least they are so conscious of the possibilities that, willing- or unwillingly, they play the flirting game. Christian was tall and skinny; his body like a column whose only function is to carry the head: exquisitely boyish beautiful with a smile that seems to force it’s way out against his will.
The last evening he became conscious of my attention and after I had twice caught him checking back out of the corner of his adorable dark blue eye, I ignored him for the rest of the evening.
Next morning I talked to him just casually and when we were settling in for the group photo before leaving I passed by him by calculated chance and sat down and he came and sat next to me. Said he: “Are you happy to sit next to this beautiful head?” and I: “Oh, yes! I appreciate it – here we sit: beauty and wisdom!” Again he looked at me, like realizing that this time he had started the flirting. From behind he was asked to move towards me, but I didn’t move, so we sat very close for the first photo. Then he pretended to want out but, instead, he just changed places with the girl on his right and sat down with a girl on each side, putting his arms around them, and for a moment he was focus of the whole group’s laughter. The second photo has him seated like that.
I ordered one; I wonder which one I get.

This is the emptiness within the frame.

It is Monday morning. Low clouds loom over the valley and my spirit is in the same tune. Only good for daydreaming – but nothing but sordid dreams will come: specters of lost opportunities, my own and others shortcomings.
I take a book as painkiller, but after hours and hours of reading I am in no better state than when I began.