Monday February 3rd, 1986

David had a difficult time while I was in Atlanta. Bad news. No more
dorm space for incoming students. Housing situation very bad. I went
to Tuck. Reminded him of my suggestion weeks ago about buying space
collaboratively with Massachusetts College of Art and the Museum
School to develop dormitory housing. They need it too. Could mean
disaster for our enrollment in September. Tuck has a connection with
some real estate people. I hope he can do something. Worked at top
speed all day. Never caught up. Lotti came by with the letter she
typed for me for the Brocton job. Talked a bit about the possibilities
of me getting it (the job) at Edwin's last night. I'm seeing it as an
alternative to F.H. I should really put serious effort into applying
for it. If Erika and I can't make F.H. a reality I'll have to do
something drastic to make life seem possible here again. A $50,000 job
wouldn't hurt. Interesting time last night. Sten's big excursion into
trying to start a "group." Edwin, R.G., me, Lotti, Robert, Molly,
B.Z. and Rise. Sten is completely inadequate in a leadership role. He
has only one card up his sleeve and when he plays it, he's left with
an empty hand. His ego and fantasy life make it impossible for him to
see what is going on in front of him. He does not know how to engage
people, nor to provoke the kind of situation where one can learn
something new in the process. He has an agenda. He has a personal
goal. No one else fits his image of what must be. So he gives up like
a child, takes his toys home so no one can play, including him. He
wants to go elsewhere. He thinks reality lies in a place, a magic
place in Virginia. He doesn't see the magic in human relationships.

Wednesday, February 5th, 1986

Sex with R.G. has been better than ever.

Thursday, February 6th, 1986

Frantic activity and borderline chaos has bee the earmark of the past
week. Last night was no exception. Bill was due about 6:30. We had a
dinner date. I got home a bit late. Talking to R.G. on the phone.
Rushing to get dressed. Had on underpants, black panty hose ½ way on,
one leg in, one leg out, Erika is in her room talking to me through
the wall, Bill comes in, comes upstairs to my room. I hang up
phone. It rings again. Bill starts kissing my body and touching me all
over. I'm a little nervous. It's Robin on the phone. Bill continues
what he's doing.  I try to control my voice. A call interrupts on the
other line while I'm still talking to Robin. It's R.G. again to tell
me about "Nate Godown," that R.G. has been invited to be in the
audience during a TV show featuring the publisher of "Penthouse"
magazine on Friday morning and he wanted to know (R.G. wanted to know)
if I could come too. Bill continues, Robin is waiting on the other
line and I'm about to become hysterical with laughter from the
absurdity of the situation. the start of a perfectly charming evening.

Saturday, February 8th, 1986

2 young men came to look at the room. George will be moving out by the
1st of March, perhaps sooner. I want to rent before we leave for F.H.
next Saturday. A study in contrasts, one so nervous, repressed and
twitchy, seemed barely able to hold himself upright, the other,
self-assured, firm handshake, straightforward, independent, Carlos, a
student from Northeastern U. computers. Will graduate this spring. I
think he'll take the room. Robin last night. Good food, good drink,
good talk, good sex. What more could you ask. Some discussion about my
impending trip. the possibilities of it being permanent. He doesn't
think so, doesn't want to think about it. Wants to know why I want to
"be a better person." "The better I am at handling my relationships,
the more enjoyment I'll get out of every experience." "Always focusing
on yourself," he says. "If you're better, wouldn't it help to improve
society at large?" He says, "that's what you should have said." Of
course that's the ultimate aim and of course I understand this. It's
why F.H., as a mini society, is so good. But Robin trys to prove a
point.  He also says, "Who is there for you? You won't have Bill or me
or Mr.Weinberg or Ron, and Richard may be once a year." I tell him
I'll have Otto and Theo and Gaert and Claudia and Teresa and Brooke
and Franz Duda and so on and so on and so on. We go on to speak of
responsibility in relationships, how, when the emotional attachment is
real, responsibility comes easy, without thinking, a natural outgrowth
of feeling.  I have difficulty in my "responsibilities" to Bill,
they've become, at times, obligation. Not so for R.G. or Robin. I
don't ever think in terms of "responsibilities." Robin
does. "Respect."  "Responsibility." "Morality." "Spirituality." These
are Robins terms. My father uses them in the same way. If pressed I
suppose I could prove I get and give respect, act responsibly and
morally. It's all relative and depends on who you talk to. Some say
I'm disrespectful and amoral. I doubt anyone would say I have
spiritual qualities. Robin refers to our long term affair. He says he
has a "mysterious tie" to me. Can't explain it, his need for contact
with me. If I say sex, it's just sex, he gets angry. I don't mean it
exactly. It's sort of a joke. Perhaps more true for me than for him.

Sunday February 9th 1986

Last night. R.G.'s 41st birthday. After Robin left in the A.M. I went
to Filene's to shop. Shopping in a place like Filene's fills me with a
strange anxiety that nearly makes me physically ill. the men in my
life joke about my consumerism. They think I'm a happy little
shopper. Not true. I like clothes, but shopping in department stores
makes me sick. I become detached from my surroundings, start to float
away. I catch my reflection in mirrors, in windows, as I pass. I see
me looking at myself, detached, cool, isolated, standing etched out
from the background, from the sea of humanity swarming abut me. I get
nauseated. Bought R.G. a shirt for his birthday. A new sweater for me
to take to F.H. Going to need some warm clothes. the sweater was very
interesting. Long, had a strange black and white snake like pattern. I
wore it last night. R.G. and I went to dinner at Pam and Harry
Bernard's studio. Right next to my old studio building on "A" St. in
south Boston.  R.G. liked how I was dressed. Said I looked like a
vamp. He kept remarking on the sweater and how the pattern would catch
his eye and he would see things in it. We were sitting across the
table from each other and he'd be staring at the sweater and say he
saw something. Pam and Harry. Two people playing at being
artists. They have a spectacular studio-like something out of a very
hip soho movie. Also 2 kids at home in a house in Duxbury. They've
been married 16 years. Pam is my age, Harry is almost 50. Very
attractive. I think R.G. had the same ideas as I, that there was
perhaps the possibility of developing some relationship with this
couple that could lead to sexual intimacy. Pam bought a copy of all my
writing from last year. I've known them, very casually, through my art
work. They have both admired my painting for years, and they tend to
gush over me a bit. Pam has a lot of energy. She engages in a kind of
confrontational conversation that reminds me of myself at times. I was
more aggressive and provocative in this way before I went to
F.H. Harry does not engage as directly as Pam does. I like Harry's
looks, he's also a good cook, spent much of the evening watching him
produce a very elaborate, delicious Chinese meal, many pots, pans,
several woks, and dishes of this and that. However, there is a
heaviness about him, a lethargy, his eyes were veiled to me. I could
not guess what he was thinking, unconscious. Pam made much more eye
contact with R.G. but as the evening wore on, much drinking and
eating, she became a bit argumentative, picking obscure causes to take
a stand.  I think it was a method of engaging R.G.'s attention. On a
practical level, the evening was very informative for me. Pam works at
the Brockton Museum. She and Harry filled me in on a lot of the inside
details on the management of the place that I can use to my advantage
in this job application. The scenario reads like a rats nest of
incompetence, competition, jealousies, a very mismanaged
operation. I'm now on a bus, from Harvard Square back to South
Station. 9:45 P.M. Had dinner with R.G., Sten, Rise, Lotti, Edwin,
Joe, Anna, Dean, and Richard Warren. Liz didn't show, neither did
Alicia or Rachel. Women afraid of situations where they are not in
control. Sten had pictures of the land and farm in Virginia where he
imagines Utopia. Bus just passed East Gate apartments where my husband
and I spent the first years of our marriage.  Where Erika was born. A
twinge inside me. Something, so far away it can barely be
remembered. Sten and I have a conversation which approaches
intimacy. I say he should go back to F.H. for a refresher course
before he tries anything here. We joke a bit about our brief
encounters here.  How there was not enough time to do very much
together. He is planning on moving to Washington DC next week, around
the time I leave for F.H.  Edwin wants me to do some sort of money
transaction for him in Amsterdam. Lotti and Sten, nervous, twitchy,
quivering, tight. We go to Herrell's for ice cream after
dinner. Saying goodbye at the door. I must catch the bus to
S. Station. The others figure out who's going where.  Rise-hugs me,
lots of feeling in this young woman for me. She refers to me in
conversation regarding the clothes she's wearing and that somehow I
had something to do with it. I admired her skirt earlier. Joe says
something about coming to the airport next Saturday. He has to fly to
NY but my flight leaves too late in the evening for him to coordinate
things. He hugs me. I kiss him on the cheek. Sten waves. Lotti hangs
back. R.G. says he's walking me to the bus, then going to Dorchester
after having done some work at home.

Monday, February 10th 1986

Sex with R.G. is better than ever. So much to do before I leave next
Saturday.

Tuesday, February 11th 1986

Last night, some unpleasant, to say the least, situations. Erika had
asked to stay at Amherst and extra day. Missing school on Monday. A
photo symposium. She says she would get more from that than spending
the day in school. I ask a few more questions. She promises to call me
at work on Monday before she catches the bus for home. Monday. No call
from Erika. I'm home by 7:00, still, no Erika. I'm worried now. Start
calling her friends at Amherst. Fernando. She went to visit him but
seems he's changed his dorm room and I only have the old number. Tried
campus housing, they didn't have it either. Finally I call Fernando's
mother.  "And why do you want to talk to him?" she asks in a heavy
Spanish, slightly hysterical, accent. I explain the situation. She
gives me the number. She keeps a tight rein on her son, strict
Catholic family. I try calling him, no answer. In between all this, I
get a call from my new potential boarder. Seems he can't afford the
place, he's decided to continue living at home. I was counting on him
to move in before the 1st. Another call from someone checking on
George's references. He's moving out sooner than I thought. Also tried
to call Frank about my will, and Merton Tarlow about the Brockton
job. Seems to be one of those nights when nothing is possible. It is 9
o'clock. I hear the key in the lock. It's R.G. I'm slightly beside
myself with worry, a few moments later, Erika comes in. "What happened
to you?" "Whadya mean?" She says with a snarl. Nasty. Defiant. Says,
basically, she didn't feel like calling and so what! She quickly
departs to her room. Urges to kill her.  R.G. says "I find that
unacceptable." Well so do I. Upstairs we march.  We open the door to
her room. Like entering the lions den. Things deteriorate even
further. It becomes a typical parent teenager confrontation. I have
little control. I cry a bit. "Is it better not to care, not give a
shit what happens to you, where you are, if you are in danger?" I tell
her how unhappy I am. How she prides herself on being "different" than
everyone else, when, in reality, she is just like any other teenager
and I like any other parent. R.G. becomes the focus of her counter
attack. We get nowhere. Give up. I threaten her a bit with no more
trips to Amherst. A mistake on my part. R.G. points this out and I
agree. R.G. and I go running. Fast. Provided some relief. Back, 29
minutes tied our fastest time. I start cooking dinner. Invite Erika to
eat with us. She hedges. Evidently Fernando's mother is suspicious.
Erika is trying to make me out to be a troublemaker, the cause of the
problem. Fernando wants to talk to me. OK, we talk. Erika listens in
on the extension. I calmly related the agreement that had transpired
between Erika and I the day before. He listened. He saw the situation,
so did Erika. No more protests from her. She acted irresponsibly. It
was clear and became clearer, but ultimately there is not much chance
for improvement, given the circumstances. She, Erika, is loud,
superficial, and manipulative, just like me. Just like me. It kept
repeating in my mind rhythmically as I ran. Only a drastic change,
like F. H. is powerful enough to help people see themselves, to
reverse the pattern.

thursday, February 13th 1986

Every day, so hectic, always on the brink of chaos. Work alone, given
nothing else, would be enough to keep 2 people busy working around the
clock. Yesterday, 6 interviews, 2 exceptional applicants, several
meetings, exciting phone conversation with Wanda Bubinksi the Viennese
art historian from William's college. Seems she knows everyone worth
knowing in the art scene in Vienna. Lots of good leads from her. I
want to stay in contact. She's moving to Washington DC for a few
months. One thing I've found in contacting people I don't know in the
art or academic world, trying to get this exhibition, or any of my
ideas off the ground, when I introduce myself, with my title tacked on
at the end of my name, "Dean of Admissions," I get immediate
attention. It wasn't quite as easy a few years ago when I was just
Cynthia Close, artist. Dr.  Tom stopped by to see me yesterday. I was
in an interview, looked up to see his grinning face at my office
door. When I say I'm busy, he takes off. I called him later. He was
very tan, had just gotten back from Brazil. Living with Diane for 3
months. Things are "working out" he says.  Mr. Weinberg. called, tried
to get him back at 5 p.m. got his answering machine.  No time to see
him before we leave for F.H. Robin calls too. He had a definite need
to talk. He rambled on for a long time. Gave me some of his personal
travel tips, like how to take up more than your share of the space on
the plane. He wanted to know what I did last weekend. Told him about
dinner with the Bernard's, told him about how Pam showed a lot of
interest in my writing. Immediate attack of paranoia on his part.
Worried if that was "legal." What if she took your stuff and had it
published?" "Do you have it copyrighted?" "You could be sued for
libel."  I know what's behind all this. He's afraid of what I've
written involving him and our relationship. I've offered to let him
read my writing in the past but he's never wanted to. He'd rather
imagine the worst. I tell him.

Friday, February 14th 1986

8 PM. Worked late so I could finish my 5-year plan. Didn't finish it
but it's a good start. At least something for David to turn in on
Tuesday.  My heart is palpitating. Worked another no-stop day. Came to
a screeching halt. Tried to straighten my desk and collect
myself. What luck that contact with the Viennese art historian,
Wanda. She called me again today with some more information. Sorry we
couldn't get to meet. She's sending me an article from a professional
publication sent to art historians, which mentions Viennese
actionism. My nerves are on edge. I'm so unprepared for my trip to
F.H., why do I do this to myself?  The challenge of entering another
world. Had to call F.H. this a.m. to make sure someone was going to
meet us at the airport. While fumbling with the phone, trying to dial
direct to Austria, Robin calls. He wanted to wish me luck and a happy
Valentines Day. He could tell I was on the other line since I answered
the phone so fast. He inferred all my men were calling to wish me a
happy Valentines Day. Valentines Day was not on my mind. R.G. finally
dialed properly for me. Turns out they had me scheduled already. So
efficient. Said they've had a lot of snow. I wanted to hear the voice
on the other end, but R.G. took care of business and hung up. R.G. got
up and came to work with me this a.m.  Wanted to show him a
spectacular portfolio, from the best applicant so far this semester. I
like the work of this 18 year old HS senior better than the faculty
work currently in the gallery. So did he. In the midst of another day,
catapulting along, 2 faces from a distant past, spy me.  A wave of
recognition comes over me, but names escape my grasp. Older man and
woman from the early days of my married life, "the Batterman's."
Acquaintances of my husbands from MIT. They were one of my favorite
couples. Intellectual, collected art. He worked at MIT when we were
there, they used to treat me like a daughter. They're about 60 now,
maybe older. They both hugged me, said I looked wonderful, said they
keep running into people who know me. We have an interesting
conversation about old times. Ruth and Charlie. He tells me Pete was
the most irresponsible person he ever met, but such a likable
guy. They wonder what happened to him. I tell them alcoholism for
one. Charlie suspected all along, said Pete would get together with
"that crowd" (I knew who he was referring to) and drink at least 10
beers every afternoon. (And this at work) they asked if he was still
with that short, chubby secretary, Jill. "Yes, they are married now."
"One of the dumbest women I ever met." Says Charlie. "It's OK."  I
say, she's nursing him and he needs her, they're living in NH now.
Ruth and Charlie, formerly in Belmont, 2 very smart people in certain
ways, kind of 60's hip. She still wears Marimeko dresses.

Saturday, February 15th 1986

6 hours and 25 minutes to Frankfort.  Sydney, Lotti, R.G., Erika, and
me squished into Sydney's small car.  Lotti came since it was the only
chance for her to see us before we left.  Drops us off at
S. station. Me, R.G. and Erika taxi to airport.  Lufthansa, Flight
423. Here we go again, no snow, clear skies. Robin and Bill have
called several times in the past few days, wishing me well. They are
good men. Asked me, both asked me, to call them from the airport.  The
plane is still maneuvering for takeoff. This morning, Rise called,
wanted to say goodbye. Asked her how things were with her new beau, up
visiting for the Baskone Science Fiction Convention. OK she says with
lowered voice. "Can't talk now?" I answer.  "OK, you can write to me."
then a call from Sten. It surprises me. "How nice to hear your voice."
"So, you are leaving me." He says. "I know why you've called, you've
decided to throw away all these crazy ideas of yours and come back to
F.H. with us." "Yes, it's true. Going back to where my heart is with
Otto and Claudia." He tells me I must say hello to Lou in
Amsterdam. Is it a man or a woman? "A woman, MY woman!" he says with
passion in his voice. Ask her if she's interested in coming to the
U.S.  and starting a group with me. "How many women are you taking
with you?" "None." "Ah, staring with a clean slate." "Yes, but I have
plans for 3 women." "And who are the 3?" "You, Erika, and Lou." "Well,
you never know do you? Things may not work out for us on F.H." Sten
originally had asked for my zip code. A ruse perhaps? He wants to keep
in touch. He's leaving for Washington DC tomorrow. I tell
R.G. this. He asks if Sten mentioned Lotti. No, but that doesn't mean
he has no plans for her. Who cared? I wouldn't follow Sten
anywhere. He has zero leadership qualities. R.G. is a different
story. He leads by default. I trust his judgment, I trust him with
everything I have, meager as it is.  With him it isn't a matter of
following anything. Most of the ideas and schemes he has for me
include himself. "When WE move to Cambridge." He says. "When WE buy an
apartment building Rise will co-sign." He pushes me on to better
myself. His pushing is insistent. "When you get the Brockton job." He
knows by improving my situation, he improves his own. In the a.m.
terrible reluctance to pack. I read over my letter to Merton
Tarlow. No wonder he said 4 people are on the Board of Trustees at the
museum were impressed with my letter. It is an excellent letter. I'd
hire me after reading a letter like that. I start thinking of the
benefits in staying here instead of living with the group. But then I
think about art and how I've gotten sucked up into my work, especially
this management thing. I've become a good manager of people and
resources. The Brockton job would be a real test. The place is in
chaos.  Good people, lots of energy, but no direction, no
leadership. But what about relationships. I have a lot relationships,
but only one that truly satisfies. Too much pressure to think I may
only have him when I'm old.  If we, I, no, I can't go on with this
line of thinking. All this future projecting. Ridiculous. One never
knows. I may never get old. Or, the love feeling for R.G. could turn
to something else. It happens all the time. From my current vantage
point this does not seem likely. He is too good to let go of. Only for
someone who could squeeze more out of me, someone like Otto, or the
challenge of the group, could I give him up.  they have served the
drinks and here comes dinner. The smell of airline meals turns my
stomach. In the half sleep one can manage in tourist class, I had a
dream, very clear, of a painting I was doing on F.H. Otto handed me
one of those plastic squeeze bottles they use to paint textiles, and
wanted me to do something. So I start with a face. I usually begin
things with a body, but this time I start with a face.  Starting at
the tip of the head, I draw a line, which out lines the features, but
at the same time splits the head in half, longitudinally, down the
middle, lights on in tourist. Here comes breakfast.

Sunday February 16th 1986

Sitting in the office on F.H. 5:45 PM. Trying to put a call through to
R.G. to let him know we are OK. There is some problem. We, Anna and I
are waiting for the operator to call us back. Irving, a young fellow
who had just come to F.H. in September from Berlin, he picked us up at
the airport. He remembered me. His English was good. We talk about his
interest in economics. He tells me a story of a large German bank and
it's takeover of some important businesses. I tell him about the
checks and balances system in the US against corporate monopolies and
the recent break up of AT&T and how it has effected service. How
chaotic things are. Some talk about the supremacy of the individual
over the functioning of the group. Have now been awake over 24
hours. Sitting in the school house. It is 8:45 PM. Had dinner myself,
while Erika slept, with Berndt Stein. the two of us in the guest
room. He said he had been assigned to me as my guardian while I'm
here. "So I won't get into trouble?" I ask. I have left out so much
already. My brain is numb, but I'm sitting here, while Alberto wields
the video camera around the room.  Focusing on different faces and
details, I don't want to miss anything, at the airport, both in
Frankfurt and Vienna lots of police. We get stopped several times to
have our passports checked. I'm too tired to draw but I make an
attempt anyway. Armed guards, rifles. Lots of exposed hardware. I'm a
little anxious about recognizing whoever came to pick us up in
Vienna. A pleasant ride from the airport to F.H. Erika has been quiet
but very cooperative. We arrive at the information office, lots of
snow here on the Zerndorfer hide.We open the door to the
office. Sitting around the table is Claudia, Otto and an assortment of
children, there is a lot excitememnt. Otto gets up immediately and
hugs us, so does Claudia. "Welcome." Some questions about our
trip. How long did it take?  Where did we leave from? How long can you
stay? they give us keys to our rooms; we are both tired, but get
swooped out the door. Otto has his arms around Erika and me. He
tickles her, she giggles and crouches. What is going on around me now
is difficult to describe. It is the group meeting where business is
discussed, a packed room, many topics are covered. A lot having to do
with construction, in the Castello, toilet paper holders, and
irrigation system for the garden, who stays or goes in the
group. Meanwhile a nude model is posing, many people draw or knit
while business is discussed. Otto took me and Erika to see some of the
new silk screen prints that seem to have sprouted up on every wall.
There is a great image of a falling man down the side of a mountain.
Also a portrait of a Picasso, as part of a series of posters that
advertised a big exhibition of Gunter Brus. Last weekend they had an
opening reception, but there was a blizzard, very few people came. It
was Theo's idea to do the show this time of year. Virginia told me
later, what a big mistake it was to do the show this time of year. Now
a Palabra with the second and third group from Berlin. Some serious
problems. Someone lost 3,000 marks while shopping. I ask Berndt about
the sexual relationship of the second and third group to F.H. and to
each other. Turns out each group can only have sex with the people in
their group. No crossovers. Berndt wasn't aware that that was so
between the second and third group. Someone else told me. Wener
H. said we must go running. I bumped into him outside the Lilli Bau
before dinner. I should also finish my story of our arrival. We had
intended to go to our rooms to unpack first, but got caught up by
Otto, Claudia and Co.  Everyone is treating us like we are very
special. Otto won't let us carry anything, he says we must be too
tired, but wants us to come with him, back to his studio. Asks if we
are hungry. No. Offers something to drink. I have coffee. We talk a
bit about the first visit for Erika and me. How he made her get up on
the table to compare her size with other kids her age on F.H. A small
group of people are with us, some babies and kids too. Virginia
interprets. Otto is smoking again, this time cigars. Some people ask
Erika about school. She makes it sound like she's not obligated to go
back and finish. Some reference to her age and how legally she doesn't
have to finish, but in reality she has two more years.

Monday, February 17th 1986

Dinner is over, an entire day, gone. I'm standing still while
everything-the rest of the world-rushes by. As I write this a group of
kids, Flo, Robert, Zocki, Luzi, and Yvonne are gathered around me. We
had an interesting conversation at dinner about animation. I told them
about Walt Disney, and the 2 Walt Disney World's in the US. How they
have recreated these fantasy places and how much of it is mechanized,
like the alligators and hippos that rise up out of the fake waters of
a fake Amazon jungle. Franz list mentioned that they may build a Walt
Disney world in Paris. This led to talk of tourism, a joke about
making mechanical replicas of the kids in F.H. operated by computers
and have an F.H. open to tourists. I started the idea as a joke. The
kids took off with it and started moving their bodies like robots. For
some reason Franz list got annoyed at the idea. A little upset because
even as a joke it was abhorrent to him. Franz List is not one of the
most open, receptive people on F.H., at least not to me. Last Night,
after the group business meeting, it went very late, I was one of the
few people let into Otto's room. Berndt Stein, Brooke, Susan,
Virginia, 2 others working on Otto's paintings. Marleena and someone
else I didn't know. I walk in, Brooke rushes over to me, yells, hugs
me, she's so glad I'm here, she said she'd been trying to catch my eye
all during the meeting.  Yes she still wants to work on that grant
proposal, she's been waiting for my return to help her. I told her I'd
heard from R.G. that she's retiring from teaching and will just
paint. No such luck, she tells me.  Maybe in 5 years. It seems people,
some people are not reluctant to hug me or get real close. This makes
me feel good. Brooke and Susan are working out some lessons for class
the next day. Otto is standing beside me. I take out a book I brought
for him. A book on color theory from a relational point of view. Like
a more advanced, scientific version of Albers. It was a visually very
beautiful book, full of fancy, cut out diagrams, and visual
illustrations. He loved it. He looked at it for a long time with the
others ooooing and aahing over his shoulder. Everyone thought it
interesting. Finally he closed the book and shook my hand. "A good
choice." He thanked me for the gift. Not much talk after that.  Berndt
Stein tells me he's off to Vienna tomorrow to set up a press
conference about the highway that may cut through or very close by
F.H.  Berndt has become a lobbyist for the F.H. cause in this
matter. They have the wildlife association and the environmentalists
on their side and the farmers and politicians against them. Things are
tense. He says I'll have to be on my own tomorrow (Monday) He's been
extremely kind to me, I'd say affectionate. I've confided in him my
feelings about F.H., my hopes, my fantasies. It is late when I leave
Otto's room. It is snowing. There is already a lot on the
ground. Erika stayed in bed on Sunday. I brought her dinner. She
wasn't feeling well. Monday we get up in time for lunch. We eat in "A"
family, Teresa leads. Talking about the children as leaders in the
groups. How a child's openness and flexibility combined with the
knowledge and training they get in living on F.H. makes them better
than the adults. F.H. has staked it's future survival on the quality
of its children. Erika isn't eating her lunch. She whispers to me, it
isn't the food, she's getting weak and chilled. Wants to go back to
her room. I tell her to go to bed and I'll speak to Vironi after
lunch. There is a children's "Palabra" in the Shutekasten. Mobs of
people. It seems like F.H. is bursting at the seams. Just a year ago
they held these after lunch children's meetings in Otto's room. It got
too big now, things are even too big for this large space. I can't
concentrate. My mind's on Erika. She's sound asleep. Next down to the
office to call R.G. He's sleeping at Wrentham Street. It's about 9 AM.
About 2 PM F.H. time. Not a good conversation. People around me in the
office who don't want me to talk too long. He sounded a bit grumpy or
maybe it was his morning attitude. Next down to Gaerts workshop. I
brought him a tape of Laurie Anderson. We talked about her the last
time I was here. I have my longest most intimate conversations with
him. He shows me what he's working on, and tells me about the massive
framing project he did for the Brus show; over 100 drawings, cut the
glass, made and painted the frames in only 2 weeks. He also hung the
show. Tomorrow the restorer is coming. Gaert invited me to the museum
to watch the work and see the Brus show. We also talk about the
history of the group and how many have tried to live here and
failed. The current problems of the 2nd and 3rd groups in Berlin and
Munich. He says they are truly second rate. There is no good
leadership. I tell him what I'm thinking for myself. He tells me his
problem is his passivity. How he was an only child. Smart, handsome,
big, he didn't have to work at anything. He was admired in his little
family. He didn't have to fight for anything. Here you must fight for
what you want. I tell him I've always fought, always been aggressive,
sometimes too aggressive. He says I should talk to people on F.H.,
that Otto isn't the only one who decides things. I should talk to
people who have some feeling for me, "you mean lobby my cause" I
say. "Yes." "Would you speak in my favor?" I ask him. He says "Put me
in as #1 on your list." I leave him feeling good on the one hand and
with a much clearer insight to the problems and just pure time
necessary to work this thing out, then there is Erika. I bring her
back some dinner again. Still in bed. Anna says "I think Erika is
scared." So do I but a little sick too. I was feeling a bit sick
before dinner, but I went running in the snow, some of the roads were
plowed, hard work, but I felt better. I set her food down. Tell her
I'll be back after I go to watch a dance lesson. Angel was leading a
group of 11 year olds, she is only 11 or 12 too. No adult was
present. She was fantastic. Every one was interested and involved with
the lesson. Hard to believe they were only 11. Back to keep Erika
company. Talk gets too the nitty gritty. Too much for me to go into
here. I'll try to write about it tomorrow.

things to do tomorrow:
Take back thermos and dishes by 9 AM
9:20 meet the fellow (Harve) from the Amsterdam Group at the office
before he goes back.
Call the radio station about my program.
Call Eugene Freund
10:30 Gaert at the museum.
11:45 Erika for lunch.
Speak to Brooke about lobbying for me and Erika

Tuesday, February 18th 1986

Had a hard night. Lots of noise, talking and fucking from the visiting
2nd and 3rd groups from Berlin. Late into the night. Also Erika and I
had a long, extremely emotional discussion. She had been in bed all
day.  We talked about the possibilities for us both here, on F.H. as
opposed to home. What life may be like living with her father, her
grandmother, her friend Jennifer Porter, or me. The chances of her
being able to go to a boarding school here are a bit remote. She
starts to cry. Says how she would make out better on F.H. without
me. She worries about going to school here for 2 years and having to
do it all over again in the US. I tell her how it works when foreign
students apply to American colleges.  How there is an English
translation of their records and it isn't a problem. I tell her to
speak to Brooke about the system here. I tell her there is no reason
to be upset when nothing has happened. I gave her 2or 3 scenario's to
think about. Today she is much better. I leave her sleeping but agree
to come and get her for lunch. Meanwhile I do some errands. Try to
call Blue Danube radio-no luck-no luck in reaching Eugene Freund
either, but I discover a whole group of people from the Amsterdam
group. Harve, Patricia, Lisbeth, Jenny. I tell them about my desire to
visit the 1st group and ask if there is room for Erika and I to stay
on for 2 days. Also about my desire to live in the group if
possible. They all thought it would be OK for us to come. I should
check with Otto first. Magda worked out a train schedule for
us. F.H. gets a big discount on tickets. Less then $200.00 for the 2
of us, a 17 hour train trip. Erika was still a little woozy but was
dressed for lunch.  Walking over to the Lillibau she says something
about being uncomfortable eating with so many people. Lunch with
Teresa. She is very good. I like her. She tries to create a situation
where the kids must ask me, in English, every thing they wanted to
know about America. She makes some jokes, thing don't go too far. She
asks Erika how she is feeling and what does she do all day. Erika says
"nothing, I'm sleeping." Well Teresa says she must go to school with
the kids her age. then, in German, she makes some comments to the boys
about how beautiful Erika is and do they like her? then some laughing,
our interpreter at lunch is not so good. We miss a lot. We go to the
children's Palabra after lunch. Erika looks much better. Teresa speaks
to her again and invites her to join in. There is dancing-kids and
adults. William comes over to me and shakes my hand. He thanks me for
the furniture design and woodworking book I sent him. He tells me I
must come to the workshop to see his new portrait sculpture. He's
going to try a self-portrait in clay. He's begun some drawing. He asks
about Erika. I tell him about my ideas of living in the group. This
appears to be the best way to go. Speak to as many people as possible
about what I want and get their reaction. So far I've had good
luck. My lobby group is getting bigger. Speaking to Gaert really
helped. Viola translated for me and Erika during the children's
Palabra. She was very good.

Wednesday, February 19th 1986

Just finished a lousy phone conversation with a real snotty English
woman. Mrs. Tilda Herrold, the new programming chief at the Blue
Danube radio. Completely different kind of woman than Rose Ann
McMillian was. I underline the Mrs. because she herself makes a point
of it. Rose Ann was flexible and willing to go with an idea rather
than some superficial, typical "magazine news" approach to her
program. Mrs. Herrold said she needed a "handle" to hang the interview
on, she asked what I had in mind. I talked about the definition and
purpose of art in ones life, how it can be seen in its very basic form
as a means to communicating with other human beings beyond the
superficiality of every day life, that art as communication takes the
form of painting, music, theater, writing.  How many recent ventures
in journal writing has produced very interesting results and I
described to her in brief the letter between my mother and me. Tilda
was silent for a moment. I could tell I hit a cord with her for the
first time in our conversation. She said, in a slightly lower tone of
voice, "While I find that personally very interesting it is unsuitable
for our audience." It appears Tilda imagines her audience to be a
bunch of doo doo's only capable of thinking about the next product to
consume, that while she herself can deal with deeper "issues," they
are incapable. A similar affliction in the USA among studio heads, TV
programmers, advertisers, etc. While perhaps they themselves can
appreciate the cultured, the refined, the more "difficult" programs,
the general public can not. The prisoners dilemma carried to a great
magnitude. Well, the upshot is, she didn't care for me very much, said
when I become more famous, or publish a book, they may be interested
in talking to me. I was pissed. Tried to call Freund right after, no
luck.  Made plans to take Erika into Vienna on Friday anyway. She has
an assignment for school to take pictures of a cathedral. Still
feeling pissed. Walk back to the Lillibau in a dense fog. Weather is
the pits.  So much snow, have only gone running once since we
arrived. I planned on getting up early this AM to run, but the fog was
so thick you couldn't see. It's warmer, has turned the top layer of
snow to a slick, solid sheet. Last night was the first night it hasn't
snowed. Lot's of people have colds. Werner H. has a fever, haven't
seen him since the first day.  He was going to be my running
partner. He's also the camera man for making films. They've been
working on a children's film of Hitler, the set has been ready for 2
days, but no Werner, also the best camera is being repaired. In spite
of all this much goes on here. Feeling pissed, on my way to the
Lillibau to shore up my spirits with caffeine and to write. I
encounter Viola, weaving a rug, in what was formally a dinning
room. She is pregnant. She used to be in charge of the horses, and
taught riding. She was a bit depressed, slightly angry and aloof
during my two previous visits. A miraculous change. She has become
softer, more accessible. She has a good feeling for me now. I tell her
about the changes I see in her. She smiles. She is aware of it. We
talk about our mutual experiences in pregnancy, body changes, diet,
etc. It's interesting how good her English has become. I think she
pretended before, not to understand me. We talk about the new rug she
is weaving.  Rag rugs, made of torn old clothes from the flea
market. No waste around here, everything gets used. I feel much better
after talking to Viola. I've forgotten Mrs. Herrold.

Writing now in the guest breakfast room where R.G. and I used to eat
and talk. Waiting for lunch at noon. Erika comes in to sit with
me. Her mood swings are intense. She spends a lot of time in
bed. Complains of stomachaches. Last night, in the middle of the
night, she comes into my room crying. I pull down the cover and tell
here to come here. It is in the dark, she crawls in next to me
sobbing. I put my arms around her. It has not been like this for
several years. "I can't live in this place.  The school is like a one
room school house." It isn't in reality but by her standards, coming
from a high school of 4,000 to a 10th grade class of three seems
impossible. I stroke her hair and tell her not to worry.  Yesterday
while I was drawing with Brooke, she went off for the first time with
the kids here, they cooked their own meal together and ate in the
school house away from the adults. After dinner we walked back to our
room to take a nap before the S.D. evening. She seemed happy. I was
relieved. At 8:30 I got up to go to the evening. She was asleep and
decided not to go. Later that night I was in the middle of my fantasy
plans for us both moving here feeling that it could actually happen,
when she came in sobbing, turning my mind into a tailspin. Today has
been a break through. We have both been talking openly to people about
our conflict, Erika's realization that F.H. is the right thing for me.
But her fears about coming here. At dinner tonight we talked with Flo,
Yvonne, Zocki, Zuzi and Michael Etker about the situation. He told us
about Yael, the top teenager in the group, who a few years ago, came
with her father, her father lived in the Dusseldorf group with Yael,
but Yael went to an outside school. She didn't want to live on F.H.
eventually with experience on school vacations spent on F.H., she
decided life there was better. She is now one of the most successful
people in the group. Being able to talk to several people openly has
lessened the tension between us. We are now both sitting in the "D"
family common room. She is knitting, she went with the kids after
lunch to the "Home EC-type class they do in the afternoon and learned
how to knit. This is a part of the Lillibau that we are not usually
in. People go by, busy doing things, all make some contact with
us. Some more with Erika some more with me. One of the older men, who
I know from past visits, makes a move on Erika, it's part play, part
not. She giggles and offers to sell her mother to him instead for 17
schillings. One of the younger men from the carpentry shop sits with
me, thanks me for the books I sent, wants to make arrangements to pay
me for them. I tell him it's a gift. We talk about my staying here. He
says he felt the same as me when he came to F.H. Like there was no
where else to love but here.  He says I must talk to Otto. I'm
afraid. Afraid I'll get turned down.  During lunch today in "A" family
with Claudia leading, we discuss the situation in the group, should
Otto die. He's been on his back the past 2 days. A "hexen susch" a
subject like this in any kind of "cult" situation would be forbidden,
or in a normal family it is unseemingly to discuss the death of the
father before he kicks the bucket. The kids contribute to the
discussion then Claudia says, "don't worry he has at least 10-20 years
left." After lunch I go down to the guest room to ask Erika to come
too. We are only there a few minutes when the restorer from Vienna
(He's actually German but speaks perfect English with an Austrian
accent) come in. He remembers me from a year ago. He comes twice a
month to work on the museum's collection. He's waiting for Gaert to
bring him lunch. We gradually ease into what eventually becomes a 3-½
hour conversation. Erika is part of it in the beginning, then leaves
when Flo pops in to get her. Gaert comes. The 3 of us, talking about
art and life. Gaert takes out pictures of himself as a child with his
parents.  His father, how he lived by all the rules but is now, in his
50's a broken dispirited man. The restorer tells me about his
relationship with F.H. his being inside and outside at the same
time. Fears of giving up all his privacy, problems with ego and work
and hierarchy. We have coffee while he eats lunch. He asked me about
my work and life. We talk about levels of consciousness, Gaert's
English is not so perfect so he and I know more about the conversation
than Gaert. He makes some funny jokes, gets me laughing. I'm aware
that the restorer is really here to work. I say I don't want to
interfere with their schedule but they invite me to come to the museum
with them, that my company is most enjoyable. So, we walk up in the
fog to the museum. He takes me upstairs to look at the Gunter Brus
show. While there, the woman who works on the archives with Theo comes
in, like a docent in a museum in the USA, with the 2nd group from
Berlin. They are a rag-tag bunch. She explains the art, they don't
know much about it. They play interpreter for me, but I don't really
need one. When the subject is something I am very familiar with I can
understand quite well. After they leave, the restorer invites me to
stay with him in the work room, while he cleans a painting. We talk
while he works. About relationships. I tell him I have 3 at once, that
I've had these same 3 men for a long while. He has a long history of
one at a time relationships with women, that change about every 2
years. We talk about consumerism in relationships. Use'm up and throw
them out. Gaert brings coffee and hot fresh made pastry. I look at my
watch and realize it's almost 5 o'clock. Time for dinner. I'm not
hungry but I like to eat dinner with the kids. I excuse myself, Gaert
gets up and helps me on with my coat, there has been a feeling of
warmth and intimacy the entire afternoon. I am finishing this page. It
is now thursday. While I was writing in the "D" family, the phone
rang. I was the only one there. I answer, "Hello, this is Cynthia, who
do you want?"  "this is Gaert and I want you!" He says this
lasciviously and we both laugh: "It's too soon, I haven't spoken to
Otto yet." I feel a rush of desire and longing, wish I could act on
his suggestion. Tall, dark, handsome about 32-33 and a great
musician. Anyway, he asks what I'm doing and says Joachim (the
restorer) and he want to know if I'd like to spend some time with
them, they are in the guest room. I feel like I've been invited out on
a date. Down in the guest room they are both there, Joachim and
Gaert. "Do you want something to drink?" "Beer, Wine?"  "Wine" "Dry,
sweet, red or white?" Gaert has a hard time getting the wine cabinet
open. He's in and out several times looking for the key.  Finally he
gets it open. Picks a bottle, I joke about the Austrian wine with the
anti-freeze in it. I'll take mine without please. Joachim opened the
bottle. They are disappointed. It's not dry enough. We drink it
anyway-several toasts. Clinking of glasses. Erika walks in. We were
supposed to be making puppets with Teresa; but there is an electrical
problem in some of the common rooms where this kind of workshop is
usually held no lights. So she came looking for me. there is a big
screen Sony TV in this room Gaert has a tape of a recent TV show,
"Women in Music." He puts it on, we watch. Make comments about each
musician, Diana Ross, Janis Joplin clips, Debbie Harry, 3 Austrian
women, Joan Armitrading, Marianne Faithful and the best one, Nina
Hagen. I felt this might be good for Erika, to persuade her that
living on F. H. does not remove you from contact with society. Someone
pokes their head in the door to see what's going on. Erika mentions
that she's hungry. About 10 minutes later, one of the kitchen helpers
appears with a tray of cold cuts and bread and juice and sets it in
front of Erika. "See!" I tell her, F.H. is magic. Just say what you
want and it appears." She glares at me. Joachim talks a bit about some
of Otto's painting. How some people on F.H. wonder about his special
relationship with Otto? How he tells Otto when he thinks a painting is
bad, like the 2 very hard edge, graphic designy paintings hung on the
wall behind the TV. Yucky painting, bad color. I agree. But Otto has
already stopped painting in that mode.  Joachim studies color
theory. He is a very passive man, there is a kind of depression that
seems to hang over him, a lack of energy. He likes to travel, has a
big problem in his life with authority, has left several lucrative
jobs with museums because of his inability to work in the system. I
ask what he did in the 60's, things were very similar in Europe then
as in the US. He was married in the 70's. Divorced. Erika leaves when
the TV show is over. Gaert leaves, for an "appointment." I get a
little nervous. I have a feeling this was a set-up to get me with
Joachim and alone, we're both staying in the guest house. It is 11:00
PM. I'm getting tired. Joachim must wait for Theo to discuss plans for
future restoration work. I was waiting, hoping to speak to him too,
but then I worry about having to be alone with Joachim afterwards and
facing some sexual confrontation, so I leave. As I'm going out the
door Theo comes in, says, "We must met before you leave F.H., how long
do you stay?" He wants to discuss some exhibition we've been working
on. this morning I am told that Teresa will have to go to Boston to
have Kalypso operated on, the infant was premature. Born in the 26th
week. It is 5 months old now, but is the size of a newborn, there are
problems with the eyes, detached retina, fibroids, Dr.Herosi is at
Massachusetts General.  During lunch Teresa comes in and talks about
the situation. Seems they must go on Saturday or Sunday. I say, "You
can stay at my house, it is very close to the hospitals." Teresa turns
to me, her eyes light up with interest. Some questions about the
house, who lives there, etc. It's a good idea. Everyone agrees. Teresa
invites us to her room after lunch.  She nurses the baby, moves around
the room, talks to me and Erika, I tell her how I want to live here,
sell the house, etc., or give it to F.H. as a place to stay in the
USA. She says how I'm moving too fast.  She asks about my job
situation. Can I take a leave of absence for 2 months to give it a
try? Live in Amsterdam, maybe try the job, and see how it goes. Erika
tells of her own feelings, how she thinks it is a good thing for her
mother but not for herself, but she hedges and says not now for her,
but maybe later. While we are in Teresa's room, Theo comes in, kisses
me on the cheek, Teresa makes a comment about no kissing referring to
guests. Theo says it's OK and hugs Erika, remarking on her physical
development. Teresa talks about teenage desires, consumerism, and rock
and roll, the differences for a teenager on F.H.  and outside. You
must weigh the advantages and disadvantages. Teresa asks me to draw a
picture of my house. I do. Erika does a floor plan of the upstairs,
hers is all out of proportion, gives a completely false idea of the
size of the rooms. Alberto comes in. I tell him we must go to Vienna
tomorrow so Erika can take pictures for school and I to meet Oswald
Oberhuber at the Hochshule Fur Angwandt Kunst. Alberto gives her some
film (he had it in his pocket) He is the F.H. official photograper.
He says it is OK for her to use the darkroom facilities. He will help
her.

Much more happened, no time to write it. Called R.G. he was, or
sounded sick, Turns out he had fallen on the ice and was in pain, but
nothing broken. I tell him of the arrival of Teresa, Kalypso and
Cedrick.

Sunday February 23 1986

Up at the crack of 10 AM. Tried running again. The wind was pretty
strong.  Erika went to the flea market. At least it wasn't snowing. I
debated going into the sauna. A moment of shyness came over me, but as
I was coming back from my run, a stark naked man comes walking around
the bend in the road, red all over, hot from the sauna, so I decided
to do it. I've only been in once before, here with R.G. It is
breathtakingly hot, sweat like a pig.  This time I got quite weak from
it and a little sick feeling, almost faint. I think it had something
to do with not having eaten much the past 24 hours.  I'm a bit late
for lunch because of the sauna. I'm jogging to the Lillibau, and at
the front door I encounter a mob of people coming out, video camera's
rolling, the BNW is parked by the door. I see Teresa all dressed up,
looking terrific, Cedrick too-what great timing on my part, they are
off on their great adventure to my house, Mass. General Hospital and
the U.S.A. I have a rush of warm feeling. I'm so pleased to have been
able to play a role in all of this. Crowds around them as they get
into the car with the baby and a great deal of luggage. I have some
anxiety about how things will work when Erika and I get there next
week. I had one bad fantasy about Lotti coming to meet them and acting
like a real idiot, and embarrassment. Well, the whole thing will be a
mini adventure in group living. God knows how Jonathan, my new tenant,
will react. What a house-hold. I had spoken to R.G. about transforming
the downstairs front room for them. It will be easy enough.  There's
no furniture there now. Back at lunch. First time I have contact with
Erika since this AM. She is sitting between Flo and Zocki across from
Franz list, who leads this familie in Teresa's absence. Talk is about
Andy Warhol, how Otto thing he is a great artist. Franz asks me if it
will be easy or difficult for Teresa to meet him while in the U.S.A. I
think difficult. They ask me question about him, but I defer to
Erika. I only know the Warhol of the 1960's and 70's, pop art,
silkscreen portraits viva and some film stuff. I wasn't aware of his
current activities but Erika was very well informed. Franz turns to
her and she speaks to the whole group in a very clear, articulate was
about Andy Warhol, his current projects in video production and music
production. Proud of her again, She's getting better and better before
my very eyes. If only she could see it herself. After lunch she goes
off again, and I've been invited to paint in Otto's studio. A woman by
the name of Bodil now supervises small crews of people who work on
Otto's painting. Very much in the renaissance tradition of master and
apprentice, like paintings from "The school of Carravagio." These are
paintings from "The school of Muehl." I work most of the afternoon on
a new painting, a giant head of Claudia-a bit like Warhol's heads of
Marilyn Monroe. I'm very surprised I had such a good time working on
someone else's painting. While working I had conversations with
several people who were not familiar to me. From Zurich. Bodil is
Danish, lived with a group in Denmark when she was young, not
connected with F.H. She studied to be a chemist.  After dinner, I find
Helga, doing some book binding, making the cloth bound journals that
most people carry around with them here. I ask if she needs help. She
makes room for me to work next to her, and show me how to make one for
myself. I'm sitting here, waiting for the glue to dry. Before I left
the painting studio, I stuck my head around the door to his
bedroom. He's still in bed, there is activity in his room, some
T.V. people are coming to interview him regarding the highway
problem. He smiles and says I can come in for a few minutes
anyway. They've got lots of bright lights, I feel a bit out of place,
blow him a kiss and leave. Now I will write about my afternoon
yesterday. I ask if it's OK. For me to speak to Otto after lunch. This
is Saturday. "Sure, sure, come in." Otto is propped up in bed, Isabel
next to him, a heat lamp trained on his back. Virginia is fussing
around. " I hear you visited Oberhuber" he says. He point to the chair
next to his bed, I sit down. Virginia interprets, but sometimes she
doesn't have to. On the simpler subjects he speaks to me in English,
luckily I brought the catalogues, all 15 of them with me. We all start
looking through them, making comments, pointing out certain things. I
offer Isabel the one on Fortuny, famous turn of the century fashion
designer. She gets quite involved. Otto was very interested in the one
about the faculty in Oberhubers school. He knows most of those people
and is friendly with Oberhuber himself. Otto reiterates what Theo
already told me. Oberhuber is a very political guy, he wants to be
famous. In other words, he's no different than a lot of the other
ambitious people, I say. The feeling inside me is hard to
explain. Sitting in the bedroom. A quality of intimacy and relaxed
feeling with Otto that I've never had before. Some joking, laughing,
teasing. He leers at me, makes a move to grab me and pull me into bed
with him. He asks if I'm ready to have sex with him. "Any time, but
won't it hurt your back?" "No, no," he answers vehemently, "It's not a
problem." He tells me he has had back problems before. "What does
freedom mean to you?" he asks. I forget what I answered but he goes on
to speak about freedom from physical pain as the greatest freedom. He
talks a bit about giving up painting, that this is not so important
for him anymore. I agree with him. It is the same for me. I tell him
about my brief but intense history and love affair with F.H. How I
used to define what I was and what kind of artist I was, in very
narrow terms.  Now I 'm discovering the many definitions of art and
love. I give R.G.  credit for introducing me to all of this. Otto
shakes his head. He tells me of Richard's history in the group. His
couple relationship with a woman who left the group returned later,
very crazy. The he, Richard is very smart in certain ways, but not
good for group living. Cedrick and I talked about Richard too. He see
Richard as an enigma, but basically primitive, lacking in any ability
to enjoy himself or communicate. Locked in. He said Richard comes here
and spends his whole time sick "with the nose running, or in bed." I
agreed to some extent, but had a knee jerk reaction to defend him. I
said he's better at home, but that most of his active life take place
inside his head. Perhaps because he lets me look inside I see him much
more 3 dimensionally then they do. Otto reaches for a white pill
container, pops one into his mouth and hands me one. "What is it I
ask?" He says it's good for you and hands me the bottle, turns out
it's vitamin C with calcium-for his bones I guess-I swallow it, it's
actually the chewable kind, sweet.  He turns on the big stereo next to
the bed. Some American music. He starts mugging to the music. His
energy is amazing. Even with a bad back he's rollicking around. " I
can't go back to living my other life, I want to live with the group."
He reminds me of the difficulties. "I don't want to wind up old,
bitter, and alone like my mother and grandmother." He says he became
aware of this too at my age. Tells me some history of this mother,
most of which I knew already from Richard. He asks about Erika. "She
is on an emotional roller coaster, but she thinks the outside worked
probably holds fame and fortune for her." "My son thinks life here is
like a prison, that he must seek his fortune in other way." We talk
more concretely about me moving to Amsterdam, he says "I'm not going
to tell you you must do it.  If you give up your life, your house,
your job and then it doesn't work for you, you could blame me and I
don't want that responsibility." Margit and Harlow come into the room,
both with very young children. Otto reaches out and takes one of them
into bed with him. His true genius comes out in dealing with
children. It's like watching a wizard at work. He looks up and says
casually, "Cynthia is going to be living in a group." Just then
someone from the adjoining room pokes in their head looking for
me. I'm surprised, It's a phone call. I have to readjust my sense of
reality. Another world has intruded on the intimacy of this one. It's
Richard. They have not given him accurate enough information about
Teresa's flight. Some instructions for me about getting a tape from
Dieter Rickerer for him and checking on his business proposal for
Franz list I don't often have much contact with Dieter, but I'll seek
him out before we leave. Also he's complaining about the flight
arrangements, how bad the timing is etc. Turns out it was the best
they could do under the circumstances which was what I figured.
R.G. is tense and has sounded miserable every time we've talked. He
hangs on to the conversation like doesn't want to let it go. They were
a little annoyed in the office over the length of the phone call a few
days ago. He asks about Erika and about me. It's so fresh and intense
I can't prevent myself from saying, "I don't care if I ever come back,
that if it were possible I would just stay here with what I have in my
suitcase." Something that sounds like a half choke half muffled cry
come out of him. "I'm not happy about losing you!" The first thing
that has really moved me was the choked sound in his voice. "Well, I
guess it may have to be me and Erika and the house."  "We'll have to
talk seriously about this when I get back, of course, we haven't yet
been to Amsterdam. We may both hate it and there will be nothing to
worry about." He tells me it's the same old stuff with Lotti and
Rise. The he's mostly just been working and hasn't had the desire to
seek out new experiences. Well, in a few hour he'll have more than he
can handle, I hope the airport connection go O.K. and next week Erika
and I will be back.

Monday February 24 1986

One more thing about the visit to Otto. I told him, "I had a dream,
about you and me." He grabs on to the phrase "I had a dream," and
repeats it in English. He says how good those words sound in English
as opposed to the German translation. I mentioned Martin Luther King's
famous "I had a dream" speech but I don't thing anyone was familiar
with it, but I could be mistaken. I told him in the dream , I asked if
I could live in the group and he said no, then I threw a fit, had a
tantrum like a 3year old, demanding that he give me what I
want. That's when he said he couldn't give it or take it away, I must
try it for myself. It is now 3 o'clock in the afternoon, Erika was at
an art lesson in school this AM with Brooke. Saw her at lunch.  After
lunch she said she was tired, but came to the children's Palabra with
Claudia anyway, The older kids went in the middle and had to speak, to
tell a story in English about Leonardo Da Vinci. Erika got up and
joined them.  Sometimes she feels integrated enough to join in. Other
times she hesitates.  She is unsure of what is expected. When we get
back home it will become clearer to her, the meaning of her experience
here. She could have a very strong negative reaction because of her
fear, or a more positive one based on her deeper feeling. I don't know
what she's doing at this moment, maybe napping. I'm waiting for Theo
in the guest room. We're going to discuss the current exhibition idea
for the grope, for Otto, etc. After the children's Palabra, I caught
Dieter Richert and asked about the tape for Richard.  He wanted to
meet me later, around 5 to talk about it. A moment after that I
encountered Jean Baptiste. He asked if it was a good time to take me
on a tour of the Castello. It was a good time. He has been very
solicitous of me.  Very gallant. He has trouble speaking English
because he is French, German is his second language so he must go from
French to German to English in his mind before he speaks to me, but we
manage fairly well. I've noticed he often sits next to me or very near
me during meals or other group activities. He gave me the grand
tour. Work men were busy inside finishing walls and floors, tiling,
architectural details. It feels like and Italian villa. Spectacular is
too small a worked to describe this building. The relationship of the
light, to the space, inside spaces and outside spaces flowing one to
the other, super fine craftsmanship in the finish of details.
Architectural fragments that surprise and delight the eye. It will be
a wonderful building to occupy. Theo comes in I tell him how impressed
I was with the Castello. He says Jean Baptiste is getting better, but
Theo was not so crazy about some of the proportions of the
structure. He thought some of the windows were too small. I thought
perhaps he a bit jealous. He reminds me that he is a designer too. We
discuss exhibition possibilities, I have convinced him that the Fush
Reisinger museum is the way to go in Boston.  I'll bring Dedrick and
Teresa to speak to the curators at Harvard. We talk for about half and
hour. When he gets up to leave he says "Don't move too fast." What do
you mean/" He says "You'll have all these places, museums set up for
an exhibition, then you will come back here and they will make you my
boss and you will be telling me what to do." I said my plan was to be
living in Amsterdam in the spring. Last Friday. Before we get to
Vienna.  Cedrick must meet Franz List at the bank in Gols to make some
money transactions and arrange for their visa card to pay for stuff in
the U.S.A. We, Erika and I go into the bank with them. The bank
manager snaps to as soon as he sees them, he looks like a bank manager
anywhere, 3 piece gray, pinstriped suit, white button down shirt,
conservative tie. He has one of the teller serve us coffee. Sounded
like a big money transaction's going on new accounts set-up and
initial deposit of $5000.00 for Cedrick and Teresa. Lot's of stuff I
didn't understand because of course it was all in German. Erika was
acting bored, she was anxious to get into Vienna for shopping. I try
to cash in some of my American Express travelers checks for shillings,
but I forgot my passport and the bank won't do it. Franz tells them to
give me $100.00 worth of shillings and take it out of the
Friedrichshof account. I'm very greatful to him and tell him I'll pay
it back before I leave F.H. I learned a bit more about
F.H. economics. The economic power of it is seen as a corporation. On
to Vienna. Good talk with Cedrick. He takes us right to the inner
city. 1 block away from Oberhuber's art school is a Marriot hotel
where we agree to meet at 5 PM for the ride home. Erika and I decide
to have lush first.. We wander down some side streets and stumble
accidentally on what turns out to be an excellent, but cheap
restaurant. Typically Austrian.  Good meal. Bitter cold, windy, but
sunny day. I think the first sun since we arrived. My first task is to
try to find Oberhuber's office. I've heard a lot of rumors about
him. They call him "Little Napoleon" because of this striving for
political poser in the art world of Vienna. First we go into the
museum which adjoins the school, it reminds me of the Gardner museum
in Boston, but the art is not as good. We find out after speaking to
an art student who was sitting and drawing from one of the objects in
the lass cases, where the main entrance is to the school. The building
was extremely impressive. A turn of the century structure, with a
large, new, modern wing.  Later I find out there are plans for even
greater expansion. I don't have an appointment but what the hell,
we're having a good time poking around. I had written them a letter
several weeks ago regarding Oberhubers book on art school management
and philosophy. The receptionist tells me where to find his
office. There are no students around due to school vacation. I find
the door, knock. Some sounds inside, I open it a crack and peak in. A
man I recognize as Oberhuber from descriptions of him is standing very
close to an attractive, blond, secretary, having a button sewed on his
jacket by her, while he is still wearing it. There is a moment of
surprise and awkwardness, but I go in and explain who I am. Oberhuber
speaks no English, but the secretary is fluent. They remembered my
letter, seemed pleased to see me. He comes around to shake my
hand. Says he will arrange for his assistant to come because she is
fluent in English and it will be easier to communicate.  I introduce
him to Erika, he says he has a son her age.

His assistant enters, an attractive young woman whom I have an
immediate positive response to. She says "We were hoping you would
contact us while you were in Vienna." We sit on the ornate, but
comfortable sofa in Oberhubers office and get involved in an animated
interesting conversation about art school politics, problems with
faculty and curriculum, and the relationship between private and
public education, government support and/or interference. We talk for
over an hour and a half. I think Erika was amazed at how I managed to
put myself in this position, in this major art school in Vienna, just
by walking in off the street, so to speak. I was treated royally. When
I got up to go they said how important it was to stay in communication
with each other. They also gave me copies of the catalogues for every
major exhibition they've done. Over 15 catalogues of art, painting,
design, textiles, fashion, architecture, etc. Beautifully printed,
worth well over $150.00. My bag was weighted down but I felt like it
was Christmas. They took us on a brief tour of some of the studio's
then we left. The rest of the day we played tourist and
shopped. Meeting Cedrick at 5. He has to stop at the airport to pick
up Gabe', a woman who was an early member of the group. R.G. had known
her. She was coming to visit F.H.  for a few days from Berlin. A very
unpleasant person. One of the most uncomfortable contact I've had with
anyone since I've been here. My opinion of her was not changed in the
following days.

It has gotten so that I practically live with the familie now. I go
down to the Lillibau in mid morning and don't go back to my room till
fairly late at night. Tonight after dinner with the kids, Erika,
Michael, Etker and Thomas; I went with Wenke to make puppets with the
slightly younger children, about 10-11 year old. Making puppets is a
fairly recent activity and they are used by both the children and
adults in role playing as what happened with Erika and me at dinner a
few days ago. We worked on puppets almost 2 and half hours. I enjoyed
myself thoroughly. We played worked games with English and German. I
think if I lived here I could learn German in about 2 months.  I made
a devil puppet out of an old red sock. Everyone thought it looked like
Rasputin. Erika went off to work in the dark room, developing pictures
with Flo and some of the older kids. It is now 9 PM. 3 O'clock in the
afternoon Boston time. Teresa and the baby have been to the hospital
and they should be sending a telex anytime. I'd like to be able to
call R.G. but we've spent too much money on phone calls already.

Saturday morning I spoke to Franz List about paying back the $100.00
he gave me at the bank. He said no, he wouldn't take it. He said we
work together.  He also asked about them paying me rent for the use of
the house. I said it wasn't necessary, but if F.H. wanted to use my
house it was available-unless I sell it to move here. I keep
forgetting to ask him about the proposal R.G.  made. I must remember
to catch him after lush tomorrow. I wonder how R.G.  has managed
arranging things in the hours-for our visitors. No use worrying about
it. What's done is done.

I've accomplished so much more in a short time on this trip, and I've
written as much if not more that before. No time spent in bed fucking
with R.G. Spent a lot of time doing that on previous visits. Spend a
lot of time doing that at home too.

The day before Teresa left for Boston, she did an afternoon of filming
on the children's version of "Hitler." I acted as production
assistant. It was also the first day Werner H. was well enough to
handle the video camera.  Teresa is great to watch when she is
directing. It is her Forte'. Lots' of energy and power. There is one
here good enough to take her place in that role while she is gone. Had
a very intensely erotic dream last night.  There have probably been
more but it's the first on I remember. A young man, (sort of a
composite of3 or 4 of my favorite young men on F.H.) and I were in bed
together. The physical sensations were so intense, when I woke up I
almost felt him in bed with me. I had my arms around him, his skin was
very soft.  He had his head buried in my neck and was nuzzling me with
his nose. I felt my hand on his crotch and it was throbbing, growing
larger by the minute.  Stephan, who interprets for me most often,
sites very close, our bodies and shoulders always touching. It is a
very intimate sensation.

Tuesday February 25 1986

9:30 PM. Erika has requested to sleep with me again, the 4th night
since we've been here that she's done that. I wonder how she would
manage living without me again inspite of her protests of
independence. Childhood fears come out at night. My childhood fears
also come out at night. We are in bed early and so is everyone else on
F.H. It was decided at lunch today that everyone should go to bed
early because so many people are sick. Now Claudia and Attilla, almost
all the children, Otto with his back problem, etc.  Erika and I are
still very healthy. I remember R.B. telling me that sickness spreads
here like wildfire. The brutal weather doesn't help much. Erika is
talking to me constantly as I try to write. Details and reflection
about her contacts during the day. I'm a bit depressed. Perhaps it's
because we leave tomorrow. I'm also anxious about the trip to
Amsterdam and our reception. It has taken 3 visits to F.H. just to
begin the feeling of intimacy. Today, lunch was over, I was on my way
to Otto's studio to paint, when one of the kid's, Robert, comes
dashing out to get me. "Telephone, Cedrick from Boston for you." He
grabs my hand and practically drags me along to the phone, some
frantic dialing on his part, then we wait, it rings, it's Cedrick.
Speaking to me from the kitchen of my own house. A few words, then
Richard's voice sounding half dead. It is 7:55 AM there. Very early
for R.G. Seems he had a big reception at the airport for Teresa and
Cedrick. Lotti, Rise', Joe S., Duncan, Bill Z., Edwin, I think that's
it. What a good idea for him to do that. It also took some of the
pressure off him. Getting him to tell me anything was like pulling
teeth. I wanted some idea of how things were going-a sense of the
atmosphere. We talked a bit about the situation with the baby's
prognosis. Exploratory operation on Friday but it appears that the
Boston Dr.'s concur wit the Vienna Dr.'s. Detached retina. We talk
about fixing up the downstairs room for Teresa and Cedrick. There was
a slight air of tension between R.G. and I. It came out in a
disagreement about my idea for renting a sleep-sofa for the front
room, and also about a negative fantasy I had about Lotti, and he said
with a note sarcasm in his voice "You wish." I think he's angry at my
desire to live in the group. He's angry that I've had a good time here
without him. I'm depressed about having to go back to that
situation. I'm not sure how I feel now. It is so far away. I'm so
anxious to separate myself from that world I've always known. I think
of all the people I must go back to and have contact with again and I
feel nauseated at the thought.  There have been a series of minor
eruptions the past few days. It has to do with Erika's relationship to
the children. Virginia has been accused of getting too close to Erika,
and when Erika is not around, using her as a role model, chewing gum,
(which is forbidden here because they spend a fortune on dental work,
everyone has braces at sometime or other) and acting "cool." During
the children's Palabra this afternoon, Nadja takes the microphone and
reports about the effect Erika has had on their situation. It is a
very negative view. Claudia speaks to Erika, this is all happening in
front of about 50 adults and children. This is over the mic, we are
sitting about 15 ft. away from Claudia. "What have you to say about
this?"  Claudia asks Erika. "I'm leaving tomorrow, so it won't be a
problem." She answers, but I don't think she is heard or completely
understood by the others, but the confused, defensive look on her face
is probably enough, there is a lot of talk about the gum and the
earrings I bought for Flo, Virginia and Natalie. Claudia directs a
remark to me, and I told her I made the mistake of buying the stuff,
but I was unaware of the rules. She said that was no longer the
issue. In any case it produces some tension all the way around.
Claudia also remarked on Erika's beauty, and said how that doesn't
require her to do much to get along in the world. Said something about
not being willing to dance in the middle. She certainly isn't alone in
that regard.  Claudia was looking quite sick by the end, she's trying
to fill in for Otto.  But she came over to Erika afterward and said
the issue is not Erika's behavior, but Virginies, she, Claudia was
very soft and sensitive toward Erika, but I think ultimately regards
her as an outsider. Clearly, all the men here would be happy if Erika
stayed. Some of the women like her and so do some of the kids. Yaez
and Nadja are the most competitive. With me, it's not so clear. I feel
comfortable with most of the people here, I'm treated well by men and
women. There are also a few that ignore me. But that certainly is no
indication of their attitude regarding me joining the group.  I worked
most of the afternoon with Viola making, weaving, rugs on 3 giant
looms. She did the weaving, I cut the material. Lots of political
discussions about the Marcos dictatorship and the tense situation in
the Philippines. Today we heard how Marcos has taken advantage of the
invitation to move to the USA. We watched some stuff on video tonight,
a wildlife film from Africa, comments and philosophy form Otto, and
Teresas departure. I want to do something different with my hair when
I get home, get rid of my curls.

Wednesday February 27 1986

My god, what an experience. I am still sweating. Erika and I go to
Otto's room to say good-by. Erika also knows that Otto has the skirt
that Maria Elana made for her. Otto had teased Erika the evening
before that she could have her new skirt if she let him put it on
her. It was a joke, but now she is a little afraid, defiant and
resigned to do what she must to get it.  I tell her to think of it a
chance for improvisational acting. Think of yourself as playing some
sort of a role. Virginai let us in. Otto is better, he dressed, and in
his small, private studio with Margit, Claudia, Marlena, the
photographer, Villane, Virginie, Rainer (a man from the Berlin group)
Beatrice (15 years) and Isabel. We are asked what we want to
drink. The atmosphere is relaxed. We talk a bit about painting, Otto
tells Virginia to show Erika and me the new Claudia painting in him
room: It's much improved, Otto's line can bring a painting back from
the dead. When we come back Otto hands Erika her skirt. I think she is
surprised, taken off guard. He just handed it to her. "Does she like
it?" "Yes." "Why don't you try it on?"  "Right now?" "Yes." So there
is much giggling and hesitation, but she modestly slips off her jeans,
she has a large shirt, T. shirt and jacket on top, and pulls on the
skirt. Otto wants a picture, she starts to pose standing in front of
this group of people. Otto says to take all the shirts off and I will
paint your picture, you will be famous. She turns red.  Very slowly
she slips off her bra first while still wearing 2 shirts. Then down to
her Nicaragua T shirt. "Liberty or Death" it says on the shirt, and a
picture of a rebel liberator. Otto asked where she got it, what does
it mean, and why do I let her wear it. I say she is not a rebel, the
shirt is a superficial thing. It has no political meaning for her or
her friends.  In America you can wear anything you want. OK says Otto
we will wear them on F.H. Erika now has her arms out of her T shirt
and she keeps peeking at her breasts from the neck down. Otto is
mugging at her being lascivious. He says to me and the others. "We
want to see which is more powerful in her, her puritan roots or
narcissism." I don't know which way she'll go either.  Finally, she
pulls off her shirt. It's the first time I have seen her breast with
out her clutching some piece of clothing in front of her. She has a
lovely body. Otto try's to explain to her how to pose for a painting,
the photographer starts to click, she gets more and more relaxed. I
whisper to Marlena, what a major development this is for Erika-Like a
coming out party.  Isabel, who is 16, takes off her shirt and poses
with Erika, photos being taken constantly. Otto keeps interacting with
everyone. When they sit down, putting on their shirts, Otto asks the
other girls to do it, he will paint them all, each in turn takes off
their shirts, every body different and lovely. Violaine has huge
breasts, nearly grotesque, because she is fairly thin elsewhere but
she is in the early stages of pregnancy. She jokes about them and how
the doctor asked her if she was always so large or just since the
pregnancy. The room is very warm, filled with sun. The atmosphere is
joyful and intimate and tense and filled with the sense that at any
moment something new can happen. Claudia takes off her shirt, her
breast are long from having nursed 2 children, however she is the most
relaxed and expressive in front of the camera. She says her body is
not the most beautiful, but if you act like it is they will all think
it is so." Then Otto say to me. "Now it is your turn." I knew it was
coming. Luckily I've had some experience posing for a group when I
modeled for Lois's drawing class, but that was 5 years ago. I look at
Otto and say "but I am the oldest," "Better with age" he says. I'm
surprised at how relaxed and relieved I am when I pull off my sweater,
I take some poses, Otto says something to me I don't understand,
Claudia says "Imagine in your mind what you would do if you were
making love with Otto," I feel myself acting sexy, now Claudia say to
do the same but direct my gaze to the photographer.  Then it's over,
Marlena said we made and S.D., that's what happened. The photographer
leaves, Otto wants to make paintings of all of us. He tells Erika he
will send her the pictures. While I was posing Otto made some comment
to Erika, I don't know what, but Claudia, afterward said that I am
looser, more relaxed than my daughter. There is more talk, a phone
call from Franz list. Otto speaks for a few minutes then explains the
problem.  There is a woman in the group, Annie. She lives, I think in
Munich. Her grandmother is dying. Annie's mother thinks she must visit
the grandmother before her death. It is in a place far away. Annie
doesn't want to go, she has a successful job working in the groups
firms. It would cost a lot of money to send her. It was explained that
Annie's mother is crazy. Annie came to the group at 15, right from the
slums, a street child, uneducated, and now she's a very capable
business woman. Otto asked me what should be done.  I said, "It
probably doesn't matter to the dying grandmother, especially if she is
unconscious already. You could use work as an excuse to Annie's
mother, it will impress her mother that Annie is so important in her
job that they cannot afford to be without her." Otto liked my solution
to use "work as an excuse." It was getting late, time to leave. Otto
gets up to say goodbye and wrestles Erika to the coach, Claudia
pretends to protest.  She whispers to me "are you jealous?" "No"
"Maybe a little bit?" she suggests.  "It's good for her" says Claudia,
"She is so tight, so contained, you are not, so much." Then Otto
pretends to wrestle her to the floor. Erika says "Be careful of your
back." But Otto seems like his old self. The he gets up and helps her
up too. There was so much that went on during this event it can not be
described completely. Bits and pieces will probably come back
later. Otto comes up behind me and hugs me and rubs himself against my
rear end. Claudia exclaims, "They are not living here yet!" It is all
in jest.  Erika and I leave, everyone throwing kisses. I'm shell
shocked.  It is 7:30 PM we leave for Amsterdam in 1 hour. Everyone
speaks to us.  People have heard abut the photo S.D. Many people have
thing to give me for Teresa and for Amsterdam. People ask us both,
when will you return?-or they make plans for our future return and say
"When you return..etc. etc..."

Thursday February 28 1986

On the train from Vienna to Amsterdam. Sleeping car 3 of us. Erika, me
and an oriental man. Very cold night. Uncomfortable. We misunderstood
the trainman. They told us, that we had to change trains at 10 AM and
we were ready to get off the train. Then find out that we are to stay
on the train straight through to Amsterdam. We have 6 pieces of
luggage and various parcels and bundles to deliver to the Amsterdam
group and for Teresa.  The Germans are not very hospitable. Service on
the train was non-existent.  We haul our stuff through various cars
trying to find the right section of the train that goes to
Amsterdam. Finally we discover where we are to be. It is 11 AM. No
food, no coffee since 5 PM-Dinner on F.H. Erika is a little sick, has
her period. The landscape is rather bleek. The train is running late
because we got stuck in the mountains during the night. Sun is out,
little snow, mostly brown dirt.  Yesterday, during lunch; Franz List
has been leading since Teresa has gone.  He has become much warmer and
more interacted in familie life than I remember him, but that could of
course be due to the fact that everyone seems warm and friendlier to
me. We have been talking about 2 different subjects the past few
day. One, the political situation in the Philippines with Marco, the
elections and the influenced of the USA. The second topic is Otto's
new painting which almost everyone is having difficulty with. A new
concept of reality, working from photographs, a la early Andy Warhol,
he wants to paint portraits of everyone on F.H. I doubt he'll stick
with these idea long enough to complete the project, but with Otto you
never know.  This is the last time such a large group of F.H.ers will
be together in one place before we leave, I want to say good-by to
them and let them know what a wonderful time I had. I raise my hand,
everyone look, Franz acknowledges me "This is our last lunch with
you.." That's about all I can say before I start to cry. I feel my
face screw up as I try to stop it but I can't. I put my hands in front
of my eyes and start to sob. A few others get teary eyed too. I
blubber, "This is the most wonderful place I've ever been." I can feel
the warmth radiating towards me from everyone. Franz says, "You are
like one of us, we have paid for the tickets for you and Erika to go
to Amsterdam." I can't believe my ears. First giving me cash, and now
paying our train ticket. This brings me back to reality. Franz asks
Erika if she has anything to say. She hangs her head, stutter a bit,
seems embarrassed by the situation and say a brusque "goodbye."
Everyone applauds. Lunch is over.  Erika just said "Lotta bikes" She
also whipped out the camera to take a picture of her first
windmill. She is asking question about where the group in Amsterdam
lives. I thin she is fantasizing about city life for here and me in
Amsterdam. In the evening on F.H. after dinner, there is usually a
course or activity like drawing or the puppet making. This generally
goes till 8, or 8:30 PM. Then on most nights there is a group Palabra
or S.D.  These are usually for either all of F.H. in the Shuttkasten,
or there are small familie S.V.'s. Erika spent most of her time in
either Flo's room or Nico's room at night. Just "messing around" like
she would do at home. I got to go where ever I pleased. One night
there was a small familie S.D.  with about 12 people, Franz
leading. Viola is pregnant and is sharing a room with Thomas. They are
not getting along. It seemed that something has really been bugging
Viola the past few days. She has a series of nit picking complaints
about how he doesn't clean up the room. She stands in front of the
group and her minor complaints begin to escalate. Franz stops it, has
Thomas go in the middle with her and suggest they do a play together
about their problems.  Viola turns in to a screaming house frau,
getting red in the face, and finally yelling, "I don't like him! I
don't want him in my room!" Some how it was more real than
play. Thomas may be the father of her child. He is at a loss as to
what to do. Here in this situation, Franz does not hold up well as a
leader. He was not emotionally strong enough to do anything with
Vila's anger. His suggestion were weak. I think Teresa or Marlena or
Claudia could've done much more with this situation. It was not
resolved. There has been a lot of room switching lately. Things are
always being re organized.  Mainly due to the needs of pregnant women,
new mother, babies and young children. Children are everywhere, they
are loved and admired, encouraged and disciplined, but always with
sensitivity and affection. They are (F.H.  is) trying to raise a new
generation children who know love. Who are capable of getting it and
giving it. Perhaps this is a small step to work against the continuing
brutalization of the children in modern day societies.  American
society in particular, but it applies everywhere.  Jean Babtiste
definitely is changing. His haughty veneer is wearing away. He cried
at lunch the other day during a discussion about his relationships
with women. Some women were praising him and he began to cry. They
said it was the first time they had seen that side of him and it has
been 7 years since he joined the group.