Peter Orlovsky, a Life in Words

Intimate Chronicles of a Beat Writer

Peter Orlovsky, Bill Morgan

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2015
• eBook ISBN: 9781317254249
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Sociology
• Index: Social Sciences

Until now, the poet Peter Orlovsky, who was Allen Ginsberg's lover for more than forty years, has been the neglected member of the Beat Generation. Because he lived in Ginsberg's shadow, his achievements were seldom noted and his contributions to literature have not been fully recognised. Now, this first collection of Orlovsky's writings traces his fascinating life in his own words. It also tells, for the first time, the intimate story of his relationship with Ginsberg. Drawn from previously unpublished journals, correspondence, photographs and poems, Peter Orlovsky, a Life in Words, begins as Orlovsky is discharged from the Army; follows the young man through years of self-doubt and details his first meeting with Ginsberg in San Francisco from his own perspective. In never-before-heard detail, Orlovsky describes his travels around the world with Ginsberg, Kerouac, Burroughs and Corso. The book also delves into the contradictions that ultimately defined him: best known as Ginsberg's lover, Orlovsky was heterosexual and always longed to be with women; his spirit was prescient of the flower children of the sixties - especially his inclinations toward devotion and love - but in the end his use of drugs took its toll on his body and mind, silencing one of the most original and inspiring voices of his generation.

1

San Francisco, 1954–1956

1954

Editor’s Note: The earliest known examples of Peter Orlovsky’s writings date from journal entries he composed in the summer of 1954, just a few days before his twenty-first birthday. Although many people believe that Peter only began to write after he met Allen Ginsberg in December 1954, these fragments indicate that he was already extremely interested in keeping a record of his thoughts by that time. His first diary entries refer to his troubled relationship with Robert LaVigne, his academic studies in junior college, and his relationships with fellow students and teachers. They reveal an extremely shy and bashful nature that made it difficult for him to meet women. These early entries also indicate a deep love for his family, which would remain strong throughout his life. These texts display a desire on Peter’s part to learn all he can about art and literature. Orlovsky’s journals also reveal an inferiority complex and show how he tried his best to act “normal,” even as he questioned his own competency.

There are no examples of actual correspondence until the following year, but fragments from drafts of letters are to be found in his earliest notebooks, indicating that he was writing letters to the people he cared about most. After meeting Allen Ginsberg in December 1954 Peter’s notebooks become less fragmented and more like a daily diary. Perhaps he was influenced by Ginsberg’s example, for Allen had been keeping a diary of his own since childhood.

The earliest entries were written during a trip Peter took to New York City in the summer of 1954 to visit his family following his discharge from the army. It appears that this was a short trip and that he always planned to return to San Francisco. He used the time away from the West Coast to sort out his relationship with Robert LaVigne. Peter’s confusing sexual life had already begun by this time. Although Orlovsky is commonly thought of as Allen Ginsberg’s lifelong companion, sexual partner, and even “wife,” he was heterosexual by nature. The erotic fantasies he recorded in his journal always involve women, never men. Although he allowed himself to be used sexually by men from an early age, it appears that he was seldom “turned on” by them. Ginsberg was sexually stimulated by young, frequently straight, young men like Peter, but Peter himself would always have at least one girlfriend, and never chose male sexual partners for himself.

Peter Orlovsky in army fatigues, ca. 1953. Photo Courtesy of the Peter Orlovsky Archive, University of Texas.

This is not to say that Orlovsky didn’t love Ginsberg, but only that he was not sexually aroused by him. This complex relationship was compounded by Ginsberg’s growing fame, which, in years to come, would put their relationship under a public microscope. Even some close friends, like Lawrence Ferlinghetti,¹ believed that Peter was gay. In the 1960s Peter and Allen quite literally became poster children for the emerging gay community. Whether Peter was straight or somewhat bisexual, the fact remains that he was attracted to women exclusively, as this volume will make perfectly clear. The emotional problems this created for a hypersensitive and troubled man like Peter are also revealed with increasing frequency.

[July 5, 1954: draft of letter in journal]

Dear Robert [LaVigne]:²

In this room (Greenwich Hotel [160 Bleecker Street, NYC]) where the four small, close dirty walls make the unused white linen look more whiter than ever, I sit in a chair that is difficult to say whether it was painted marbled green or black—for the chair has been used by people who bring both such colors into this world and on the bed is your brown suitcase which now serves as a desk.

Editor’s Note: Throughout his life, Peter Orlovsky would keep a record of his dreams. This entry appears to be the first instance of his doing so, but it is interesting to note that he was recording his dreams before he met Allen Ginsberg,³ Jack Kerouac,⁴ and the other Beat writers, all of whom also recorded their dreams faithfully. For purposes of this book, only a handful of the hundreds of dreams he recorded have been included. Some of these dream records were turned into poems, which is probably something that he did learn from Ginsberg. William Carlos Williams⁵ had been the first person to tell Allen to look at his prose notebooks as a source for poems, and he passed that tip along to many writers including Orlovsky. This first dream is included merely because it is the earliest.

[July 8, 1954: dream recorded in journal]

Nicky⁶ had some belongings, I wanted to get them—he had raisin bread—like ice cream box—tooth paste—these things he tried to sell for money—all the time I have the feeling of not wanting the responsibility of having to take care of his belongings—Oleg⁷ entered as well as another man who saved his life—[…] I forget the verbal words spoken—Another part of my dream—children playing with make believe guns—cars sliding along the streets—when the cops came—the boys separated.

[July 9, 1954: draft of letter in journal]

Dear Bob [LaVigne]:

[…] It seems as if the little things in life cause life to become what it is. Good news: I am sending you a suitcase full of everything. I am leaving this room, living out under the stars, [in] parks and [on] benches. Hence, for the next few weeks you will have no way to get in touch with me—only I shall be the one to write—you will have the pleasure of receiving. I will try to send a letter each day—only at times I am unpredictable in actions. With the coming of the morning there might be a letter from you.

I quit this job selling ice cream—why—well—I eat more than I sell—I don’t sell enough. I stand all day in the sun—my feet kill me—in other words I’m a lazy brat—However Coney Island is a good place to [be].

Say, about the room at your place—I was thinking, it might be better to leave it alone, rent it to someone else, we can fix a little space in the studio for me to sleep—that way economy is gained.

Editor’s Note: In late July 1954 Orlovsky took a bus from New York to return to San Francisco. Once there, he attended classes at a junior college and lived in the spare room at Robert LaVigne’s studio at 1403 Gough Street, which he mentioned in the previous letter. In addition to acting as Robert’s model, Peter also asked Robert to teach him how to paint, but the results were not completely successful.

[July 27, 1954: journal]

On the bus leaving—good-by New York—I hate you only because I have hate inside myself […] I seem to have difficulty in remembering my dreams—upon awakening I consciously don’t attempt to note my dreams. I feel guilty in not seeing Nicky on Sunday for a last time. The same feeling exists between me and Momma.⁸ I am shadowed with the feeling of “running out.” […] The voice in me is lost—at times this is not so—but then it is, more so than ever.

Editor’s Note: Back in San Francisco Orlovsky found that he did not fit in well with his fellow classmates. He felt inferior to them and thought that they were all watching and judging him. His journals are filled with the details of minor everyday occurrences that might have been overlooked by others, but to Peter they became major incidents blown out of proportion by his insecurities and paranoia.

[July 30, 1954: journal]

I DON’T think I shall enjoy or delight in attending school, at some class that is. I am sensitive to a waste of class time. I noticed today as I went to the college making an appointment for examination, how aggravated I felt towards the students schooling there. Is this hate a projected hate from within myself?

[August 4, 1954: journal]

Walking in a roundabout way to Gough Street⁹—Thinking—How far will I progress with Robert—that is—how far will I develop enlarge my character, personality—unfold myself—take on external knowledge applying to “the greatest moment—thus.” How far I have to go is like traveling towards the horizon, it keeps moving with each step—(is life to be left with this thought—or attitude?) Where does the beginning end—and end where the beginning does?

I become jealous directed towards Robert as a young man with education. Thinking Robert may find someone else—more entertaining—leaving me—which would confirm the view—I am a “dope”—leaving me hanging from a ceiling by a thread length, dangling to and fro like a pendulum precariously—This reminds [me that] my lack of faith [in myself] is showing my attitude (a basic one) from day to day about myself and how I go about the day in activities.

Editor’s Note: Throughout dozens of pages of journal entries, Orlovsky seems either unaware of or reluctant to put into words the sexual nature of his relationship with LaVigne. Based on Peter’s confessions, it would appear that the two men spent a good deal of time discussing their “weaknesses,” although it will take Peter a long time before he mentions exactly what those weaknesses might be. During this period Peter continued to see a psychological counselor provided for him by the Veterans Administration. The counselor didn’t seem to offer any concrete advice or help. Instead he suggested that Peter might consider entering a mental hospital. Peter must have found that prospect to be very frightening, since everyone in his family suffered from mental problems and had been institutionalized from time to time.

[ca. August 1954: journal]

I can’t seem to feel or understand why Robert feels for me. Is it because of our psychological weakness, or strength?—Is it my body?—Is it because we in many respects are in the same boat together?—by that I mean, because of our mixture of conflict it makes it possible for us to stay together. Two people who are in the same situation have to travel the same road in order to gain a sense of direction.

[…] Robert is far too good for my company. He doesn’t fully see this—The difference in Robert’s wisdom as compared to my own is tremendous. I in a way doubt him because of his wisdom (this is a psychological mechanism) he has so much—that I don’t know what he thinks of me, or why he asks questions, sometimes I can feel the reason behind him as big question, and if these questions are “raw in nature” I become [pissed] at Robert.

Psychoanalysis will expose me to raw things—I don’t know if I have the strength to fight for myself—it takes tremendous self-confidence. (I write this “word” [self-confidence] in weak and thin print unconsciously)—I have done nothing but shed tears, anger, towards Robert—and escape off to myself for lonely walks—I am not aware of what I am saying.

[August 11, 1954: journal]

Considering the possibility of postponing school, taking on full employment—for psychoanalytic analysis, also perhaps part-time school in evening will fit in. I notice when Robert and I argue, or become excited over some difficulty—things are said, implied, which don’t otherwise escape in normal conversation.

Out of bed to write: My dreams seem to take steps away from me—I can’t understand them—they seem to have become impersonal—a farfetched thing, difficult to fathom. I am looking for a particular trend in the connection of dreams, can’t seem to find one.

[August 13, 1954, 2:00 AM: journal]

Robert and I went to North Beach—visiting old acquaintances of his—I, when in the bars, feel out of place—with the “people” affecting me to the extent [that they] bring on old feelings of weakness, withdrawal—a dislike for “them”—these old-time feelings were increased by meeting Harriet¹⁰ and Jim, a friend of hers—these people who I am affected by both because of my own weakness to remain an “identity,” individual, and because of their hostilities, unconsciously so towards me or whoever is with them. […]...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Table of Contents
• Foreword
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction
• Chapter 1 San Francisco, 1954–1956
• Chapter 2 Morocco and Europe, 1957
• Chapter 3 New York, 1958–1960
• Chapter 4 The Mediterranean, 1961
• Chapter 5 India, 1962–1963
• Chapter 6 America and the Farm, 1964–1969
• Chapter 7 The Later Years, 1970–2010
• Index
• Index of Orlovsky’s Poems by First Line