EIGHTIES END: AUTUMN

1987-1989

EIGHTIES END: AUTUMN

1987-1989

RICHARD GRAYSON

Superstition Mountain Press

Phoenix 2012

Copyright 2012 by Richard Grayson. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. Superstition Mountain Press 4303 Cactus Road Phoenix, AZ 85032

First Edition ISBN #: 978-1-105-02490-0

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To my teachers at Meyer Levin Junior High School 285, East Flatbush, Brooklyn, 1962-1965

Eighties End: Autumn

1987-1989

Friday, August 28, 1987

5 PM. Im in room #8 of The Eaves at the MacDowell Colony, lying on the double bed here. Elizabeth Michael told me Ive got one of the nicest rooms. I feel glad to have gotten over the long bus ride and more than a little disoriented. New York City seems very far away. I got up at 6:30 AM after a decent nights sleep. Unfortunately, the car service I called to pick me up at 7:45 AM didnt arrive, so I had to drag my luggage through the rain to West End Avenue, where I got lucky and got a taxi right away. I was at Port Authority with ten minutes to spare; it was hectic, and I was wringing wet with sweat when I got on the bus, but Id made it. The ride was very tedious.

We went up Amsterdam Avenue (and I wished I could have been picked up at the corner of West 85th Street), across 110th Street, and up through Harlem, the Bronx and Westchester, past all the Connecticut I-95 cities from Greenwich and Stamford to Bridgeport and then up to Hartford. At the eighteen minutes we had for lunch in Springfield, I had nothing but cookies and candy bars. On the bus, I listened to my Walkman both to my one tape, of Mozart, and to radio stations and I felt very bored, tired, and impatient as we kept stopping at different cities in Massachusetts. Finally, we got to Brattleboro, Vermont, where the passengers for Keene boarded a minibus. I was happy that Chris, the MacDowell Colony director, was there to pick me up; thats something his predecessor, Nancy Englander, never would have done. Chris was very friendly and down to earth, and I hope I didnt babble incoherently. Its odd, but I didnt recognize so much of what I know I saw here seven years ago. Its been a miserably rainy and chilly day from start to finish, and my room is kind of cold. Elizabeth showed me around Colony Hall, which I vaguely remember, and then Chris drove me to my studio, Schelling. Its much nearer to my room than Wood Studio was in 1980, and Im happy about that because I

found that long trek especially in the rain a real nuisance the last time I was here. The studio looks fine, and I left my typewriter and papers there, but I wanted to get back to my room to unpack. After getting out all my clothes and other items and putting them away, I feel Ive got a decent start on getting accustomed to my room, which is so much larger and much more comfortable than my old room at Pans Cottage. I got the books I mailed to myself and two batches of mail from Mom that made me feel at home. Not only did I pay five credit card bills, but I got a brand-new Visa, with a $3000 credit line, from United Airlines Mileage Plus/First Chicago. Wow I thought Id never get another Visa. Dinner is in an hour; meanwhile, Ive found All Things Considered on the Concord NPR station. * 8 PM. I survived my first dinner at MacDowell. It was awkward, like being the new kid at school. I introduced myself to people I have to remember that people here use only first names and people introduced themselves to me; most of them, of course, I cant remember. I ate at a table with a gay writer named Steven; Meg Wolitzer; a female poet who went to Iowa and taught at Exeter I didnt catch her name; and a female artist.

We talked about AIDS a lot, and I told them a little about myself. Meg couldnt understand why I like living in Florida or how I can stand teaching computer education workshops where nobody knows Im a writer. Of course, shes taught only fiction writing to nice middle- and upper-class kids like the ones she has at Skidmore. Meg and Steven, as I would expect, take being a writer very seriously. A lot of people are leaving in the next week, but none of the arrivals on the September list are familiar to me.

Monday, August 29, 1988

8 PM. I slept very soundly last night on Grandma Ethels Castro convertible, and as morning approached, I had two dreams about Sean. I rarely dream about him, but in the first dream, he was back in South Florida, surrounded by friends and relatives, and he seemed to have little time for me because he was in a rush to get back to New York. In the next dream, I was watching him play tennis with his father on the boardwalk here in Rockaway. In neither dream could I get close to him. Although Im incredibly horny, the

dreams were not erotic; still, they gave me a good feeling even after I awoke. On Friday afternoon, I took out that photocopied page from the Tampa Yellow Pages and called several software firms to ask for Sean OBrien. He didnt work at any of the companies I called, although at one, the guy who answered the phone sounded so much like Sean that my heart pounded mightily. Why, all of a sudden, do I feel this need to get in touch with Sean? When he called me last year on his birthday, I was so confused. Not only had I just arrived in Florida after five months away, which is always disorienting, but I had a bad cold and was very tired. Oh, fuhgeddaboudit, as we say in New York. Up at 8:30 AM, I exercised to Body Electric and left Grandma to her sighs at about 10:30 AM. Missing several buses, it took a long time to reach the West Side, and it was raining when I got there. Before coming home, I had lunch at the American Diner. I did my laundry and went through my mail, paying off credit card bills and looking at USA Today and the Snowbird Edition of the Fort Lauderdale paper. Still no word on any of the secured credit cards or the student loan. Teresa seems to be having trouble with her mortgage application. Apparently her bad credit history still haunts her. When we talked

today, she bragged about grossing $14,000 this summer, but I dont know what her net profit is, and to me, Teresas finances seem horribly sloppy. (My own finances, while no doubt a horror show to anyone shy about debt, are as precise as I can be.) Later in the afternoon, a woman called asking for Teresa, and I soon realized it was Mira, who sounded glad to hear it was I. Ive always been terribly fond of Mira, and I gave her Teresas number in Fire Island, as Miras heading out there this week. When I called Florida, Mom said that Dad is very disgusted with his company and their incompetence and arrogance. Theyve caused him so many problems with department stores because of their failure to ship goods on time, and now theyre being nasty with Dad. Mom and Dad did see a very nice house a four-bedroom house with a three-car garage on a 100 x 100 lot. The price is only $130,000, but its very far out: by U.S. 27 and Hollywood Boulevard, out past the Sportatorium, just up at the edge of the Everglades. It sounds like a good deal, and Im sure the area will get populated and developed, but Mom thinks it may be too far a trip to the flea market. (Of course, it would be a relatively quick ride into Miami via I-75 or U.S. 27.)

Tomorrow Im going to the Miller School in Nanuet, and I really dont know exactly what to expect, what they want of me as their writer-inresidence. Ive gotten more than halfway through Lucy Calkins book and Ive got some idea of what do with young children, but I wish I knew more. I read a New York interview with Jay McInerney, who feels hes got a lot riding on his new book yet its the story of these shallow downtown club people, and I bet the critics will kill him on it. Hes in a really tough position.

Wednesday, August 30, 1989

2 PM. I just finished my lunch a salad, chicken soup, and a roll and got into a T-shirt and gym shorts and took off my lenses. Im going back to school this evening for my Fiction Workshop, but I need to rest now, even though I slept okay last night. It will be nice when Im settled in my own apartment. I wont have to feel Im always surrounded by family. Still, Ive felt comfortable here at my familys new house and could probably adjust to it if I had to, but I really prefer living alone. Its way too early to judge whether I want to continue to teach college English after this

term as a full-time sabbatical replacement at Broward Community Colleges South Campus. But right now I expect that after its over, I wont want to apply for full-time community college teaching positions in California or elsewhere for next year. As long as I have to fight the bureaucracy, it doesnt seem worth it. Thinking about the grammar test last night and reading Frank Smiths book made me realize its important for me to take a stand and help students see that English isnt all grammar drills. Yes, I used to teach that way, too, and I wondered why it never worked, but now I feel I know the answer and Ive found a better way to teach. This morning I met Bill from the Writing Lab, who told me he wasnt sure how that campus grammar test came to be, who made it up, or what its reliability or validity was. Yet he was assured of its importance. He didnt sound very intelligent to me; basically, he seemed like a typical civil servant, just putting in time. When I asked my 1101 students at 11 AM to discuss their own history as writers, I heard some horror stories showing how teachers taught them to hate writing.

So much of it seems to be teachers telling students, I have power over you. Probably a lot of teachers are fucked-up. One woman said an 11th-grade teacher used to fail her papers because the teacher, a born-again Christian, found her ideas anarchistic. Hey, I just got an idea for an assignment: Ask my students to write the worst paragraph they possibly can. What will they learn from that? I dont know, but I bet well find out. The we there is very important to me. If Im not learning, Im not teaching. That attitude, too, goes against the power attitude that some teachers have, but Im confident enough about my abilities and knowledge that I can concede I, too, make errors in writing, and like my students, I also need to learn to write better. Im not going to give up on my remedial students without a fight. Last night I dreamed up an assignment where students interview each other as if they were doing the kind of celebrity profiles Alice writes and edits. Maybe we could even publish them in a photocopied magazine. Id really like my students to think of my class as a writing club. Wouldnt it be wonderful if that worked? Am I wrong to assume that if I treat my students as colleagues, theyll rise up to the occasion?

I liked the discussions on OConnors A Good Man Is Hard to Find in my 8 AM and 9 AM classes. I read some letters that referred to the story, letters Flannery wrote, from The Habit of Being. (One advantage to having classes in a public library building is easy access to books.) I enjoyed reading the stories from tonights Fiction Workshop class, though only one Morris Weisss piece about the rational planning going into an elderly mans suicide was really good. He even knew how to spell chaise longue, which impressed me, as I thought I was the only one who knew it wasnt lounge.

Monday, August 31, 1987

3 PM. Its another beautiful, sunny, warm day. I did a first draft of a column about banning religious bookstores, and I think I can have the final draft by tomorrow. I just returned to my room after leaving my lunch basket and picking up the envelope from mom with some credit card bills and cash advance checks and the AWP Jobs List (there are no jobs for me). This morning I found myself out of bed at 8:30 AM for breakfast; tomorrow, breakfast starts at 7:45 AM because the kids who serve begin

school, but that wont help the slugabeds like me very much. At 9 AM I went into town with Bill, whos very pleasant; Cassandra was the only other passenger. Downtown Peterborough, all four blocks of it, is just the way I remembered it: a very beautiful, sweet-looking New England village with stores that have been there for generations, a church, a brick bank and post office. I used my Mileage Plus Visa card for the first time at the drugstore when I bought some supplies; I got a good deal on 100 Drixoral tablets. There are advantages to being in a state with no sales tax. As I walk to my studio, I pass a tree with one group of leaves that have already turned russet and golden; I took some leaves and plan to mail them to friends in the city as a harbinger of autumn. I looked at the plaques on my studio today and saw that my immediate predecessors here were Glenda Adams and June Jordan. Yoko Ono stayed there in May 1971. Anyway, I wrote my column and read the Times and USA Today, which Id bought in town. Earlier, I exercised for half an hour, though I cant manage to work myself as hard as Margaret Richard does on Body Electric. Still, if I can just maintain my strength and flexibility, Ill be happy, because I exercised very hard

this summer. I did at least work up a sweat, which is something I like to do every day. A lot of people are leaving: Steven today, Carol and Heidi tomorrow, Meg and Cassandra on Friday. A whole new group of people should be coming this week. The old people were a tight unit and they feel bad about breaking up their group. I know, as I told Meg last night, that at an artists colony, the new people never quite seem as good as the old ones. Yesterday I stayed in my studio till about 6 PM, when I sat on the back porch of Colony Hall with Kristin, John David (a sculptor from Chicago), Cassandra, Helen and others. I ate with John David, Todd, Helen and Kristin and had them in stitches with my Florida comedy shtick. I really do have a gift of humor, and I also see that Ive been enormously lucky in having been able to mine a whole territory South Florida to myself. Somebody told me that beneath the sarcasm, I obviously have a fondness for the place. At 8 PM, many of us went to a reading of onepage stories by Olivia Berns, whos mostly an artist. The pieces will be for an installation of visual work related to the New York City subway system; they were mostly surreal sketches of subway life.

I spoke afterward to Mike, a young composer from Philadelphia, and with Deb. Glenn Savan, whose novel White Palace a hit bestseller soon to be a big movie Josh lent me to read, is a good friend of hers from Iowa. Glenn is astounded by his unexpected success, Deb said. Back in Colony Hall, I played doubles ping pong with Meg, Steven and Priscilla; then I played singles with Olivia before going to bed. I didnt sleep all that great, but nevertheless, I slept enough so that I dont feel tired today. I plan to head back to my studio now and return in a couple of hours to listen to All Things Considered before I go to dinner. August is over, and with it, two-thirds of 1987. The middle third of the year the last four months Ive been away from Florida on my own. Its been a productive and happy time. * 9:30 PM. I thought Id write a bit before trying to get to bed. After I finished paying the bills Mom sent, I returned to my studio, where I revised and completed my newspaper column. Probably I should have xeroxed it since its not on a disk before I mailed it off to Mike Burke at the Sun-Tattler. I have a feeling hell use it next, for he seems to prefer columns that deal with current Florida issues to my more whimsical pieces. The

column is a solid piece of work, not as polished as I might like, but its still good. Now what do I write next? I really had nothing in mind when I came to MacDowell except that one story and that one column. Well, well see if I continue to be productive. At dinner I sat with Alan Williamson, a tweedy poet who teaches at UC Berkeley; he arrived today and seemed jet-lagged, and two other people whod been away for the weekend: Brenda from Australia and Suzanne. After dessert, Suzanne and I went to Olivias studio to see the paintings shed been working on; they were all subterranean, cavernous, vaguely menacing. I liked them actually, all blacks and grays. Near her studio, we got a beautiful view of Mount Monadnock. Back at Colony Hall, I remembered the premiere of Michael Jacksons Bad video, from his new album of the same name, was on CBS, and I watched it with Brenda and Priscilla (who despite her scholarly demeanor is fascinated by supermarket tabloids). Brenda said shes got to remember not to say Negro in the States; in Australia, black is considered an offensive term. It was interesting to hear a bit about Australian culture and politics from Brenda. Earlier I was reading Megs Vanity Fair, and Meg told me that inside there was a hateful

article by James Wolcott. Actually, he was pretty nasty, but I rather agreed with some of his comments about the jaded nihilism of McInerney, Ellis, Janowitz, and the newcomer Jill Eisenstadt and her novel From Rockaway. All their newest books sound like crap to me. Meg says Bret Ellis is a sweetheart, and Im sure he is, but I wonder if Meg feels defensive because hes another young hotshot novelist like herself, even if she doesnt write with that same kind of punk sensibility. (Wolcott got in a few zingers about Catherine Texier, too.) Of course, I could merely be envious and unable to appreciate a younger generation. I come from the perspective of someone whod like to see more passion and intellect in fiction and not so much 80s high style and reactionary politics. But I certainly dont want to come off like John Gardner in On Moral Fiction. Well, tomorrows September already.

Friday, September 1, 1989

6 PM. Two weeks ago I was at Teresas, in a panic and feeling awful, afraid of the plane trip here the next day. But the last two weeks have gone as well as I could have hoped, and now Im about to move into my new apartment in Sun Pointe Cove.

I paid for six months rent on the new gold Citibank MasterCard, just as Id planned. I looked at the apartment, which is different from my last two at that complex in that its on the second floor, not the first, and the floor plan is the reverse of the other ones. Last night, when I saw the nurse at Nutri/System, I weighed 180 pounds, meaning Id lost 4 -- which is pretty good. With nine others, I went to an orientation meeting for their weekly Behavior Breakthrough classes. Marc says that the classes were informative and supportive, and I like the idea of attending weekly; its as if Im attending a class and being in a self-help group all at once. I got my food for the week, and though its expensive, its worth it if I lose weight, and the $60 would cover a week of my dinners in New York City, so Im probably saving money. (Naturally, I charge it.) I didnt sleep too well. I watched ABCs Nightline panel discussion with veteran correspondents about the start of World War II fifty years ago today, when the Nazis invaded Poland. This morning I looked for Audens September 1, 1939 in literary anthologies, but I couldnt find it, so in my 1102 classes we talked about Updikes A & P and about the elements of fiction.

In 1101, I went over a Times article I xeroxed and the writing of some of my Nanuet third grade students, which the BCC students enjoyed. I think Im conveying to them my own enthusiasm for writing and how writing can be a positive force in their lives. Because I knew Id be moving today, I left campus at noon, taking books and papers for me to look at over the Labor Day weekend. At home, Mom received a call from Grandma Ethel, who said shes so ill, she needs to enter a hospital. She believes she has cancer, but when Mom called Marty and his bagel restaurant, he said the doctor cant find a ting wrong with Grandma that would justify her complaints. Obviously she suffers from angina, high blood pressure and arthritis, but that wouldnt account for her illness still manifested mostly by the bitter taste on her tongue. Marty is going away for a couple of weeks, so I dont know how Grandma Ethel will get along. Shes talked about suicide but is afraid to get on a plane and come to Florida to stay with us. I didnt go over to Sun Point Cove until after Id had the salad bar at Wendys, and by the time I finished my paperwork, it was getting very dark and soon rained heavily.

Back home, I exercised, read the papers, played with money (I got a $600 credit line increase by calling the last of my three Citibank Classic cards), and tried not to feel too hungry. The whole family, including Marc and China, are currently in the house, but although I want my privacy, Ill stay here tonight. Im tired and I dont want Dad and Mom to help me move. Remember the old commercial?: Mother, please, Id rather do it myself. Thats how I feel about moving, even if it means I have more work. I wrote Susan Schaeffer a note after I read her father, Irving Fromberg of Deerfield, was killed in a fall from an Alaskan ski lift. Julie Ramos sent me a nice letter about my book. After a week of robust economic statistics and revisions of earlier gloomy ones, most forecasters now say a recession is unlikely in the next six months. Okay, I give up: there aint gonna be an economic downturn.

Thursday, September 2, 1988

7 PM. Last night I finished Lucy McCormick Calkins The Art of Teaching Writing, which has energized me, given me new ideas, and

excited me about taking Calkins course at Teachers College. It also provided me with some artillery in my discussions in Sloatsburg today. Getting there was no problem; I was at the school in 45 minutes even though its pretty far away, just on the border of Orange County. The principal, Dr. Agononistes, was putting out some muffins and coffee when I arrived. At the meeting were some teachers and PTA members. I shouldnt have been surprised to find that Dorothy Dutter and the other mothers were my age or younger, but Ive always associated the PTA with no-nonsense older women. The district educational specialist and the superintendent an oily type, he reminded me of all those BCC administrators also attended. We worked out a schedule after I talked about what I wanted to do with the fifth and sixth graders. Obviously these people are not as interested in creativity as Dr. Gold at the Miller School in more affluent Nanuet; they stressed neatness (they want the book of the kids writing to be typed), proper spelling and grammar. Indeed, Im not sure why they want an author at all, but maybe Ill do better with the teachers. I did insist that the evening presentation they want be as informal as

possible and that the children have a good deal to say about planning it. I mean, if I were a fifth- or sixth-grader, I think Id dread the idea of being in front of an auditorium and reading my work aloud. I said that this evening should be a presentation, a sharing with the community, not a performance in front of an audience. Anyway, Im to meet with the teachers after school on December 1. They want my residency in January: two days a week for the first three weeks and then the evening presentation on January 26. That probably will allow me to leave for Florida on December 8, as Id planned, and I got a flight back to New York for the day after New Years. Now, unless Julie at the Rockland Center for the Arts has more for me to do Ill call her tomorrow I can figure out my schedule and living arrangements. Ill need to sublet for October and November, but I can stay with Grandma or Alice or Ronna or Teresa for the first week of December, thus avoiding paying rent. I dont know what to do about January. Actually, I dont have as of now any formal duties as Writer-in-Residence until late October, but theres no sense going to Florida now. Id miss the nicest weather of the year (like today, mild and dry), and I would not be

able to get any Teacher Education Center work so early in the school year. Mom and Dad said theyd be happy to have me in December, although theyll be very busy at the flea market then. At least I can enjoy three weeks in Florida before having to endure January in Sloatsburg. I figured I could avoid the horrors of rush-hour traffic if I returned to Manhattan via New Jersey, but it took me forty minutes from the approach to the George Washington Bridge until I got over it and into Manhattan. Believe me, Im happy I dont have to drive in New York city. Traffic has gotten worse in recent years, and I now can remember horrible experiences I had on city highways during weekdays. There were a couple of messages on the answering machine, both routed from Florida. The Dime Visa card wanted me to pay the $400 cash advance I made over my credit limit; now I know what happens when I do that. And a woman named Shelly Diamond from Processed World magazine in San Francisco called. They like Youve Got to Give Me credit and plan to print it in their November issue, but they suggested I could get in trouble if I used my real name. I left a message on her machine saying Id use the pen name Gary Richardson (an anagram of

my name, obviously) and Ill call her again to make certain. One thing after another is happening! Great! Mom said the enjoyed the West Side Spirit story, which arrived in Florida in todays mail. After some aerobic exercise, I read todays papers and watched the news. Its an ugly time, I feel. The presidential campaign is on a scarily low level with Senator Symms charging that a photo exists showing Kitty Dukakis burning the American flag at an antiwar rally; Bush questioning Dukakis patriotism and calling him a card-carrying member of the ACLU; and Senator Hatch calling the Democrats the party of homosexuals. Homophobia seems to be very popular these days, and weve had numerous recent assaults on gay people to show for it. Bush now leads Dukakis in polls, is even with him even in Massachusetts, and the Democrats look like theyre headed for another landslide loss. But maybe the stock market will crash again before the election; Tokyo stumbled last night, and markets worldwide are jittery over rising interest rates. Meanwhile, FSLIC continues to bail out failed savings and loans every day, costing $10 billion since August and in the end, the cost may be $75 billion, paid for by the taxpayers. Am I the only one who senses something ominous in all this? To quote myself, what a planet!

Thursday, September 3, 1987

4 PM. I had a bout of diarrhea again this morning. Perhaps it was the banana yogurt pancakes I had for breakfast. Tomorrow Im going to stick to cereal and toast. But I didnt feel nauseated today, and I didnt let the diarrhea stop me from taking a walk into town with Barbara. We got to talking at breakfast, and she asked if I wanted to go with her. It was good to talk with someone I feel I could be friends with outside MacDowell. Barbara is unpretentious, and I liked her a lot because when she found out I grew up in Brooklyn, she said, I bet your friends call you Richie. Barbara is 31, got her M.A. in creative writing at CCNY, where shes now an adjunct teaching English and humanities. She left home at 15 and now lives in the East Village with her boyfriend Dan, whos a computer genius; their baby is due in February. Her father is a bestselling novelist, and her family moved from Manhattan to a Connecticut town where they were the only Jews. Barbara walked her bike to take it to the bike store. As we strolled, I told her about my agoraphobia, my publicity stunts (she was the first person here I thought would appreciate

them, and she did), my weird publishing record. Id like to know more about Barbara. Like Olivia and Brenda, she said she was unhappy when she first arrived here because everyone was so cliquish. I gather Glenda Adams, who preceded me in Schelling Studio, was at the focus of one group, and Heidi another, and that Meg and Steven were a tight unit. The new people, Barbara said, seem more relaxed. I like Deb and Mike and Alan and John David and Jeff, who are all low-key but friendly. Barbara said that its odd because were also dependent upon one another for support and companionship. In town, I accompanied her to the bike store and a dress shop. At Stellas, I bought newspapers and visited the library and its bathroom, which I desperately needed. I wrote only four pages of my narrative about academia. Im up to my University of Miami fiasco, so I dont have much more to go. Moms Monday package arrived, and it was a joy to see my column in the paper. They didnt change anything or if they did, the changes were for the better. This week there was no room for my photo, but I dont care. In the office, I xeroxed the column, and Ill paste it up and make copies I town. What I like about his column is that its one nobody else

could have written. Who else would have formed a PAC to promote a Florida state income tax? Who else would pun about sitting up with a Sikh friend? Im proud of my Sun-Tattler columns and I guess I should think twice before quitting the paper. It seems unbelievable to me that some Florida small publisher wouldnt want to make a book of them. Theyre just too good and thats from a writer who usually doesnt have much confidence in his work. Also in the mail was a replacement gold Visa card from Chevy Chase, two credit bills, my Discover Savers account statement, the new Poets & Writers, and the Tropic story by Dave Barry, the funny Can New York City Save Itself?: A City Beset by Garbage and Yuppies, a response to the article about Miami in The New York Times Magazine. I just wish my stomach would calm down and not be so spastic and gurgly. I find Im starting to get homesick for Florida. I think Ill probably leave MacDowell in two weeks, as originally scheduled, rather than stay for the extension. Three weeks is enough.

Friday, September 4, 1987

4 PM. I just came in after sitting around Colony Hall with David, Barbara, Brenda, Olivia, Alan, John, Jeff and Sherry. About half of them have come since I arrived, and after a week at MacDowell, I feel like an old-timer. Cassandra, Adrian and Meg left today. I didnt get to say goodbye to Meg, who barely spoke to me the last few days. Definitely I got the impression she thought I was an asshole, but I suppose from her point of view, I am. A filmmaker named actually, Ive forgotten her name arrived tonight, as did Louise Talma, the eightyish composer whos been coming to MacDowell since the early 1950s. Shes supposed to be quite a dragon, and Ive been warned to keep the bathroom we share tidy. Last nights dinner and tonights were both enjoyable; Ive heard a lot of interesting talk, particularly from the visual artists. Its interesting to get the perspective of people from San Francisco and Chicago. Deb showed me the August issue of Poetry with three of her very good poems in it; on the cover, she appears first in alphabetical order: Allbery, then Ashbery. Because shes lived in Iowa City, I gave Deb the Editors Choice anthology, and she said she liked my story. This morning I decided to have only cereal for breakfast, and I felt much better. I returned to my room to lie down for an hour; then I

exercised for half an hour. Showered and dressed, I went to my studio, where I wrote six pages, completing the first drafts of my 28page piece on my college English teaching career. I dont know what Ill do with the narrative, but Im glad I wrote it. Every day here Ive written at least four pages; now I have to start some new project. Lunch a BLT on whole wheat was good, and at 3 PM, I drove into town with Bill. Today was a gorgeous day, sunny and warm enough to wear only a T-shirt without a jacket. As Bill said, it was a perfect day to dub in town. Peterborough, as Ive said before, is a picturepostcard-perfect New England village, and I like the genteel atmosphere, so different from New York City and Florida. Everyone is so courteous, but not in that Southern have a nice day way. The brick buildings seem to have an integrity lacking in the stucco of Florida. The big church in town is Unitarian, not Southern Baptist as in Florida, and the public library is, as it says, the oldest tax-supported library in America. In the library, I read todays Times. I was very upset to see that three black teenagers who worked at a Ralph Avenue supermarket were set upon in front of the bagel store on Flatlands and East 81st Street by a gang of 25 bat-

wielding white kids from the playground across the street. Canarsie, like Howard Beach, is a horribly racist place, and its a neighborhood I grew up in. Those kids in that playground were always hoods, but I just think the 1980s and the Reagan administrations blame the victim policies encourage racism. The Dow Jones average fell 71 points this week, and today the Fed raised the discount rate, and the banks their prime rate by %. But Blood in the Streets says that inflation isnt the problem, deflation is. I did my laundry today.

Monday, September 5, 1988

3 PM. Its Labor Day, the end of summer, but Im not in seventh grade, so why do I feel this dread? Conditioning, probably. For the rest of my life I may always feel exhilarated in May and apprehensive in September. Its cool the summer heat wave ended abruptly in mid-August and never returned. So its a different world on the streets of Manhattan. Im scared to face the uncertainties fall will bring.

Number one is where I will live in October and November. I spoke briefly with Teresa today, and she said shell be coming in this week, probably tomorrow, so Ive got to give up the reign of Richard in the Kingdom of Apartment 44. I have to sit down and talk to Teresa about my plans. She thinks I have to be in Rockland most of the time, and when she learns that Ill mostly be in the city, Teresa may want me to stay here. But thats out of the question as long as I can afford to sublet and I can. Im too old and too independent to share a one-bedroom apartment with Teresa. Our styles and values are too different. I know that Ill find a place to live, but of course Im nervous about it now. Remember how I felt nine years ago, when my parents sold the Brooklyn house and I had to find a permanent (or so I thought) apartment? This cant be as bad as 1979, and I survived that. Im also very nervous about teaching kids writing but again, Ive been through many different teaching situations by now. Whats the worst that can happen? Ill be a total flop in Nanuet and Sloatsburg? If that happens, Ill still get my New York State Council on the Arts grant money from the Rockland Center. This writer-in-residence position is a one-time thing, anyway. Besides, reading all I can about

teaching children writing and taking the Calkins course at Teachers College is a smart way to prepare. What are my other fall fears? That I wont be able to stand the cold in January but thats a winter fear, too far away to worry about now. That Ill get sick. So? If I get sick, Ill deal with it; fall hasnt changed that. If I could communicate to my students how writing like this has helped me, Ill be doing fine. I slept fairly soundly last night, dreaming that I went with Ronna to John Jay College, where she was going to register for a course in snooping; we rode a trolley through the colleges halls, passing Doris sitting at her desk at the English Department. I exercised to Body Electric at 9:30 AM, listened to the morning news on National Public Radio, and basically hung around the apartment, reading. Yesterday I spoke with Alice, who told me shes trying to get her brothers name on her lease. She doesnt want to be in her apartment in two years, and Michael might want to stay there when he returns from Australia. Ronna is getting Lauries name off her lease, but shes not putting Leahs name on, so shell have sole rights if she someday can afford to

buy the apartment or if she accepts a buyout offer to leave. Last evening I spoke to Mom, who had brought 25 Lotto tickets in a vain effort to win the biggest jackpot ever, $54 million. One lucky Floridian in Longwood bought the winning ticket but hasnt come forward yet. I just phoned Grandma Ethel, whom I had been unable to get on the phone lately. I had assumed she was visiting neighbors, but Grandma told me she went into the hospital on Tuesday and came out only this afternoon. She had tests, she said, and they told her she had a hiatus hernia and something wrong with my stomach. The doctors prescribed new medication (I dont care about the price, but it cost $65), which Marty picked up when he drove her back home today. Shes scheduled to go back to the doctor on Wednesday, and Grandma says she feels no better at all. Im sure this is the start of a serious decline for Grandma. Why didnt she call me and tell me she was in the hospital? I didnt want to worry you. I figured youd call Tillie and shed tell you. In a way, I feel guilty that I wasnt around, but I had just spent three days with Grandma and wasnt prepared to return to Rockaway right away. Im glad I was spared the knowledge of Grandmas hospitalization when I had to deal

with going to Rockland twice last week and that I was able to have a good time with Ronna this past weekend. Ive visited Grandma Ethel enough so that I shouldnt have to feel guilty. I just called Mom and told her.

Wednesday, September 6, 1989

2 PM. I just had my Nutri/System lunch and am trying to relax. So far today has been stressful, although theres nothing major wrong just some minor annoyances I have no control over. I just tried to call Teresa, but my phone is out of order. Another problem? Well, its frustrating, but I can take it this way: Nobody can bother me with phone calls until I go back to BCC this evening. The main annoyance was that everyone in the South Campus English Department but me got their paychecks. Even Adrienne got two (we both missed the first paycheck). Its very frustrating to call Payroll and Personnel downtown: I couldnt get the right person, the guy I wanted was in a meeting, the guy I got said he didnt know what was up and would have to get back to me. Betty saw I was upset and offered to write me a personal check so like her but I dont need

the money; its just that I have no control over the situation, and it makes me angry. I shall remember my Serenity Prayer and accept things I cant change or dont have control over. Not getting enough sleep and being on the diet didnt help, but at least I slept a couple of hours and I didnt go out and buy a brownie because I was stressed out. I had a long time with Tom last night. On the first day of school at NOCCA, he had only five students in the afternoon class and eight soon to be six because hes getting rid of a druggie and a psycho in the morning class. His father survived the neck surgery and was having is bypass yesterday. Tom hates his fathers wife, who made his mothers life hell when she was dying of cancer (she was having an affair with his father and Tom knew it), and basically all of his feelings for his father are gone, too. In St. Louis, Tom wrote several stories and spent time with Susan. Because Stanley Elkin had heart surgery, there was nobody to teach the MFA fiction workshop at Washington University, so Howard Nemerov stepped in. Nemerov is awful in the class. He doesnt know a thing about fiction. But how do you tell the Poet Laureate to take a hike? Tom talked about literature, mostly. He likes the new Handke despite its bad reviews, and

he said no American writers have any ideas the way European writers do. Tom is thinking of hiring Nicole Cooley next year, after she gets her MFA from Iowa, which she hates for its crass commercialism; everyone there is angling for contracts with New York publishers for their short story collections. And hes looking forward to working part-time at Loyola, hoping to get his foot in the door for when he retires from NOCCA. Im supposed to make up a flyer and send it out to my mailing list and send the flyer out to Tom for him to send it out to his. More drudge work. I did get a call at school from Kevin, a Sun-Tattler reporter, who liked the book and hopes to put something about it in the paper. After watching Bushs ho-hum phony war on drugs speech, I tried to sleep, but my mind kept moving. Today I had my 1102 classes write and brainstorm their own topics; I know theyd rather be spoon-fed, but Im trying process. Reading Friere for the Classroom, a book of essays about the empowerment philosophy and dialogic techniques of Brazilian teacher Paolo Friere which seemed on the lips of all the Teachers College professors this summer I feel I can make a difference, but fighting the fucked-up system is so hard.

I dont have the energy for a war of attrition, so I think Ill just be a hit-and-run terrorist like at this term at BCC. I had my 1101 students interview each other and write a paragraph introducing one another. It seemed to work really well, and my classroom sounded alive, not like a dull chamber of teacher talk. I cant ever go back to being a talking textbook.

Monday, September 7, 1987

9 PM. Its been a gloomy Labor Day. Last night I slept fitfully and had erotic dreams. When I woke up, it was to an overcast sky which lasted till darkness. In just the last few days, the trees here began to turn that crimson-salmon color. Im glad to get to see that, as I have never spent fall in such a northern latitude. Funny, it seemed to me as if summer ended when I came to MacDowell, and this year like my Labor Days nearly seasonless South Florida I dont have that feeling of Labor Day as the start of the new year. That will probably come when I leave here and go back to a New York City where its no longer summer. I wrote myself four pages into a memory-story today, but I dont know where to go with it, and the material seems a little forced. Ill force

myself to write every day while Im here, but I feel as if my imagination and creativity have dried. Today seemed an especially long day because it was so dark, and a holiday, without the possibility of mail or a trip into town. I read the Times after breakfast (due to the holiday, it was a small paper), and then I returned to my room and tried to give myself a workout akin to those on Body Electric. At least I worked up a good sweat and my muscles felt fairly sore. After a shower, I read Vikram Seths Golden Gate, which I finished about an hour ago. Despite being kind of a game or trick, Seths story in verse had some substance beyond mere cleverness and actually, the cleverness alone would have been enough for me. Alan said he felt the poetry in Seths book was doggerel and the characters stereotypes. Theres something to his point of view, but the book swept me along with it. I also finally read Tama Janowitzs Slaves of New York. Her stories are funny and sweet, and they have a good subject the downtown art scene but Susan Mernit was right in saying my best stories are the equal of Janowitzs. In fact, I was surprised that her stories didnt seem formalistic and well-crafted in that Iowa Writers Workshop way. (Probably Im

being unfair to Iowa, but I associate the school with a certain type of story.) I walked in the woods, ate my lunch, did pushups, listened to the Peterborough rock station, and thank God, when I returned my lunch basket to Colony Hall, it was 4 PM and not 2 PM. I sat at a dinner table with Wendy, whos working on a musical, and four composers, including Louise Talma, who seems to be trying to be friendly. Someone told me Barbaras boyfriend was here; I havent seen her since Friday. And poor Barbara Hammer (the other Barbara) is ill with a fever of some kind. Today was the closest I came to going stircrazy; I started longing for a walk on Broadway or a visit to a shopping mall. If I had a day, Id go exploring around here. Actually, I suppose I could rent a car for a couple of days and maybe even go to Boston, but I dont want to spend the money. Tomorrow Ill definitely go into Peterborough. Ive been here ten days, and if I leave when I was originally supposed to, Ill be here another ten days. My mind currently feels too enfeebled to think of anything else to write. Ive been putting off a phone call to Mom, saving the contact with the outside world as a special treat. Well, Ive been going to bed earlier and earlier, and maybe I can get to sleep early tonight. My stomach burns a little.

Whatever happens in the rest of my stay here, Im definitely glad I decided to come to MacDowell. I do feel more like a writer again.

Thursday, September 8, 1988

8 PM. News junkie that I am, Ive just finished watching an hour of CNN. Dukakis seems to be in a free fall as he plunges in the polls. The Republicans know how to run a TV/image campaign. Even Bushs blunder of referring to yesterday as Pearl Harbor Day was very much like the factual mistakes that Reagan, the Great Communicator, is always making. But facts dont matter anymore. Perhaps Dukakis can catch up by doing well in one of the two debates, but I doubt it; hes got an inept campaign and should be buried in an Electoral College landslide even if the popular vote is Bush 52%, Dukakis 48%. Drexel Burnham, the giant Wall Street firm that popularized junk bonds, has been charged by the SEC with massive insider trading, fraud, and stock manipulation. Fires are destroying forests in the Northwest another sign of the deteriorating environment. The FSLIC keeps rescuing failed savings and loans, but most observers agree that in the end, the taxpayers

are going to bail out the industry to the tune of billions of dollars. Nobody talks about a depression anymore; economists say a recession is looming next year, but it will be brief and mild. Oil prices are going down again. What does it all mean? Well, Id like to think that the shit, as we said in the Sixties, is about to hit the fan but I have to admit thats just my hope. Id love to see President Bush, basically an unpopular fellow, face the Great Depression of 1990 as Ronald Reagans legacy, and Id like to see a time when liberalism comes back into fashion. However, I dont know how patient I can be. The Eighties stink worse as they die out, and I admit that its possible the Nineties could be even worse and not take the path Id prefer. Today was a gorgeous day, mild and sunny. I did the usual: exercised, read, banked, avoided serious writing Reading the first chapter of Donald Murrays Write to Learn made me feel guilty. By the way, Murray advises people not to keep a daily journal as a bound book, as I do; he tried it and sounded pompous and wrote about trivia. Of course he does say that if something works for you, keep doing it. I caught at TV interview with a childrens book author who admitted shes very undisciplined

and doesnt keep regular writing hours. I took heart that shes published eight or nine novels. One thing about my writing: when I sit down and do it, Im fast, and the work gets done. Justin sounded very pleased with the show when I called him today to offer my congratulations. He and David didnt get back home to Park Slope until 3 AM because of trouble on the subway, so they were taking it easy today before returning to the theater tonight. Grandma Ethel said she felt bad this morning, but the doctor explained that the acid drips into her mouth and esophagus while shes horizontal; thats probably why she always feels better later in the day. Marty got her some board to elevate her head while she sleeps and maybe that will help. I called Dad to wish him a good trip to California; tomorrow afternoon he flies to L.A. for the next couple of weeks. Ive now been in New York City for 18 weeks; yesterday, on Columbus and 96th, I remembered passing a certain building, the Key West, as the taxi took me here from the airport in late May. I feel I havent accomplished very much this summer, and Ive grown spoiled besides. The good things that have happened, like my New York State Council on the Arts writer-in-

residence award and winning first prize in the West Side Spirit short story contest are basically a result of past actions. I need a good kick in the pants to get me moving.

Saturday, September 9, 1989

9 PM. Last night I slept okay but had a nightmare in which the heads of the people in my family were replaced by giant round eyeballs. Today was the first day I stuck almost completely to my Nutri/System diet and didnt really feel uncomfortable. Thats either because I didnt work today and so burned fewer calories, or else Im adjusting to Nutri/System. On woman in Thursday nights session said she could get through the diet just as long as she kept telling herself that one day she could eat the food she loved. Im probably so set in my ways that Ill never even want to go on Maintenance. I do think I could adjust to eating Nutri/System for the rest of my life if I had to. This morning I got a badly needed haircut from Nikki, whos six months pregnant, and then I came back home and exercised. Unfortunately, I pulled the same side muscle that always gives me trouble, so I tried not to strain it any more.

I chatted with that muscular guy with the pickup truck whos living in my old apartment downstairs. His name is Tom and hes from Davenport, Iowa and was shocked Id heard of it and I just hope hes a semi-professional bodybuilder because nobody else deserves to look like that. Thinking I might use the Mishima video with my 1102 classes, I went to the main library in Fort Lauderdale, not realizing they only allow three days with a video; anyway, I got to catch up on issues of American Banker. I still think its possible the economy might surprise everyone and collapse this fall. Many Wall Street analysts expect a stock market correction because of the big run-up in prices, but Im not sure the stock market has anything to do with the real economy these days. Of course, no one really knows anything except that all the financial gurus sound wildly optimistic to me. Well see. Meanwhile, the 1980s are about 97% over, thank God. In the middle of the night, I woke up with an idea for an essay, but I only thought it out, I didnt write it. The idea came from a comment a guy in one of my classes made when I passed him at 8 AM yesterday morning and said, Hi, Stan. How can you know my name with so many students?

Well, I said, Im learning everybodys name. But the truth is, I know Stans name because hes the only black man in that class. When I taught at LIU in the mid-1970s, my students were almost all black people, so I tended to remember the few whites names first. This isnt racism; it shows that I can more easily identify people in a minority because their characteristics stand out. For the same reason I tend to remember the names of disabled or handicapped students right away. Right now, at BCC, its hard for me to distinguish among all the blond boys and girls because there are so many of them. Something is definitely smoking or steam is coming up from the bottom of my car; previously Id thought it was the engine. Crad mailed me a letter containing a detailed critique of The Greatest Short Story That Absolutely Ever Was, including all five typos he found. I never give him any negative criticism and felt slightly annoyed, but then Ive got to remember that Crad is basically nuts. Hes getting up his hopes for a romance with a 23-year-old girl, but I wouldnt bet on his being happy. Shes probably as crazy as he is if she falls for him. Now that, after taking this summers class at Teachers College, Ive gone to AA meetings

and read about alcoholism, Im certain Crad functioned as an enabler in his relationship with poor Gwendolyn MacEwen. How did he not realize she was an alcoholic? She obviously was in the final stages of alcoholism before she died. Teresa left a message that shes been busy and that Scott called for you and said it was urgent, and I dont know what the fuck he wants . . . Sorry about the vulgarity on your machine. This afternoon I finished editing Narcissism and Me and sent the manuscript to Sherry Ringler at BookMasters for an estimate. This will be my last fiction book except for the In the Sixties/Caracas Traffic collection I plan to work on this winter. Thank Ill finally retire from fiction. I was never suited to writing fiction, but I did go pretty far for someone who wasnt. No, I wont give up being a writer, only a writer of fiction. Ive taken short stories as far as I could go with them, and I have no desire to write them anymore. Ive spent the day avoiding reading Jackies novel, but Ill have to get to it tomorrow. A columnist at the Bradenton Herald wrote to say that he liked my book a lot and planned to use excerpts from the first story in the paper.

Thursday, September 10, 1987

10 PM. After nearly two weeks here, I really feel a part of the MacDowell community. Yesterday in mid-afternoon, I was about to return to my studio when Barbara asked me to walk to town with her. As we walked, I read to her from some of my clippings: the Grandma Sylvia fan club, my political pranks, and the John Hour, which she found hysterical. We went to the cheese shop and hung out there, as I had in the morning. Dave, the 20year-old British boy who works there, was friendly and funny. Im getting to know Barbara really well. She needed someone to help her pick out an outfit at the clothing store, as she needed to get something dressy for teaching at CCNY and NYU. Shes lively and cute, but she has a lot of problems. Her father, after seventy hack novels including his biggest bestseller, The King, the book about Frank Sinatra that led to the familys having to hide from the Mafia has not been able to write a book in the last ten years. Hes returned to his small-town roots in Pennsylvania and is having an affair with the local librarian, the only one in the world whos actually read all of his books. Barbaras mother filed for divorce after finding evidence

of the affair this year. Barbara ran away from home at fifteen, and her parents seem very unsupportive of her writing. In the library, I found the review of Editors Choice II in Library Journal; it wasnt very good and didnt mention me. We walked back to the colony, and at dinner I had my tablemates in stitches with the stories I had earlier told Barbara. Later, Barbara gave me to read the part of her novel she thought she might turn into a story and send out. Her only published story appeared in the Mississippi Review. I was disappointed to find her writing so bad. The style was terrible, and I couldnt figure out what was going on. I gave her suggestions and comments, the way I do with students, but I dont think Barbara is a gifted writer. I only hope Im proven wrong because I like her so much. Shes been working on the novel for four years and says she cant give it up and let go. I did realize that Im much more prolific or at least more published than any of the writers here since Meg left. Funny, in a dream last night, Meg told me that she and I had become close friends. Anyway, I slept very well last night. After breakfast today, I read the Times, lay down for half an hour, and then did some lower body exercises.

It was sunny and warm, and I wore only a Tshirt and shorts today. At my studio, I wrote three pages of ideas and comments for my rooting-for-another-Great-Depression piece. Hopefully, I can pound it into shape later. Moms mail included an Amoco Torch Club bill and a letter forwarded from Key Federal; I had to call them because their MasterCard was being sent to my New York address. Then I called Mom, who said that Sophie from FIUs Teacher Education Center called and said I should call her when I return. I tried to call FIU, but I think it was closed for the Popes visit to Miami. I decided to tell Chris and Elizabeth that I now had to leave when originally scheduled, a week from Friday. I felt bad, but it was nice to see that they said they will miss me. Today it did start to feel as if the real world was pressing in on me. Probably Sophie has computer education courses for me to teach, and Ill have to return to Florida after only a few days in New York City. Ill phone her again on Monday. After being away nineteen weeks, its going to be strange to be back in Florida. Mom said she expected Marc back later today; he called last night from St. Augustine. Dad is still in Los Angeles.

After dinner tonight, I went with Suzanne to help her with her Kaypro, which had refused to print a file. It was weird to walk to her studio, just beyond mine, in total darkness, without a flashlight; well, the moon gave us a bit of light. Suzannes using CP/M, an operating system Im not familiar with, and WordStar. Anyway, her story did finally get printed out, no real thinks to me. The computer just worked. I did help with various suggestions and ideas; it interested me to see that some MS-DOS commands worked with CP/M and some didnt. Suzanne was very grateful, but I enjoyed playing Dr. Computer. Rick Peabody sent me the new double issue of Gargoyle, a Paris Review lookalike, with some great interviews (Michael Martone, Edouard Roditi) and other good stuff. I feel very much at home here at MacDowell.

Friday, September 11, 1987

5 PM. I feel pretty unproductive. Hopefully, Ill write at least one other story while Im here at MacDowell. Why is it that I am less interested in fiction than I am in reading newspaper stories about society, such as a New York Times article that appeared today which explored how Hispanics

are being squeezed out of the area between West 100th and 110th Streets Manhattan Valley by Yuppies? Anyway, thats a phenomenon Ive seen for myself. If only I could find a way to get my concerns about contemporary society and culture into my fiction. I did it in Caracas Traffic and I Saw Mommy Kissing Citicorp. Im just no longer interested in my own little world, as I was in my narcissistic stories of ten years ago, but the larger picture. Of course that does boil down to peoples individual stories. Take Bill Georgius, whom Ive come to know in my trips into town. He and his are both 59, at a time in their lives when they thought they could take it easy, but theyre working harder than ever to stay in the same place. Bills 85-year-old father is in failing health, and his stepmother finds it difficult to care for him, so shes called Bill and his siblings, who are going to have to put the old man in a home. Bills daughter got into some trouble with the law years ago, and although unmarried, she has a five-year-old son. Both live with Bill, as does his 25-year-old son whos come home after four years at college. In the 1950s, Bill could support his whole family, but today his wife works and his daughter works a night shift while her parents care for her son, and theyre all just scraping by. It sounds like the story of my own parents:

people still concerned about and responsible for their elderly parents, yet still providing a home for their adult children. Surely theres a story in that. My own father feels like a failure because he cant support everyone the way he did 25 years ago, but Dad doesnt fully realize that its not a personal failing, that hes in the midst of vast economic forces that make supporting a family on one salary impossible. Todays a cloudy, chilly day. I feel kind of sleepy right now. Ive got some clothes in the washing machine and need to put them in the dryer soon. The key Federal MasterCard arrived, forwarded from Florida to New York to here. I got a couple of bills and an announcement that the next International PEN Congress will be in early December in San Juan. Maybe Ill go. Puerto Rico isnt that far from South Florida, and the theme is the American (including Latin American) novels hero. Tom wrote that he loved Wolcotts Vanity Fair piece about the Yuppie writers, and said, in response to the reaction here: Little Meg is protecting her own turf. She should fuck herself in the ass. I hate the angry bitterness in that. Tom takes literature too personally. To me, its like being in politics: you can still be good friends with a conservative Republican even if youre a liberal Democrat.

Tuesday, September 12, 1989

8 PM. Although I slept pretty well last night, Im very tired now. Unfortunately, the degree of my tiredness and the amount of sleep I get when Im tired dont always correlate. I woke up at 5:30 AM and I made myself some Nutri/System pancakes, using chocolate flavor enhancers; they really were delicious. I read half the Times and exercised to Body Electric before I went off to BCC-South at 10 AM. My belt now can be pulled in another notch, so Im obviously losing weight. I need to buy new pants and shorts, but I plan to wait until I see how thin I get and at what weight Ill stabilize. I asked my remedial class to write a paragraph as badly as possible; it was hard for all of us, and afterwards we talked about the qualities that made for bad (and therefore, good) writing. Then I had them do expert lists and I went around the room questioning them about the subjects they knew a lot about. We turned on the TV at noon, but President Bushs speech to the schoolchildren of America about drug abuse began just as our class time ended. Jackie came in to my office, and for an hour I talked about her novel with her. I cant be as

generous with my time as Betty is, but at least I did read the whole 500-page manuscript. Who knows? Maybe it can sell. The junk they put out is probably no better than Jackies trashy novel. I came home to spend the afternoon reading, relaxing and watching TV. I just finished reading 7 Days, which Im glad I subscribe to, because it gives me a feeling for New York City. Voting ends there in less than an hour, and my prediction is that Dinkins will beat Koch in the primary. The city is going through a period of selfexamination the way it did in 1977, when Koch was first elected, right after the fiscal crisis. The 1990s want to start already, or is it just me who gets that feeling? It felt odd yesterday to be interviewed at such length. I hope I didnt say anything incautious which will turn up in print and come back to haunt me. The paper will be sending over a photographer to take pictures while I teach the remedial class on Thursday. I wish I had gotten to my goal weight already. Surrounded as I am every day on campus by impossibly young, tan, muscled bodies in shorts and tank tops, I find Im becoming even more self-conscious about my 38-year-old body.

The Sun-Sentinel reporter, Paul, told me he was forty, but he looks a good decade older than I. Through most of the 1990s Ill be in my forties. Will it be the time I expect it to be? Probably not.

Tuesday, September 13, 1988

6 PM. Yesterday I read a lot further in Donald Murrays unusual text, which prodded me to do a few pages of writing. I wondered why, in yesterdays diary entry, I remembered September 1969 and not twenty years ago: 1968. Obviously, September 1968 is a more a powerful memory because that was when my agoraphobia was at its worst. In high school, I managed to hang on every day despite the attacks of panic and nausea; I felt I had no choice. But by the time I got to college, it became too much for me to handle; even on that first day, I knew I couldnt go. That time seemed so critical, as if I were taking a step that would forever alter my life and make me a failure. I was so ashamed that I cut myself off from the few friends I had. Theres a photo of me on Grandma Ethels balcony from that Rosh Hashona or Yom Kippur: Im slim, wearing a wool shirt and tan

shorts and sunglasses; my hair is combed straight across my forehead; and I look so much more confident than I really was. Most of that time from September 1968 to June 1969 is a blur because its still too painful to contemplate. Still, I want to explore it. New Yorks cover story is on Harold Brodkey, often alleged to be the greatest American fiction writer, whos been working on his mammoth novel Party of Animals for decades and cant seem to give it up to publication. Brodkey had a horribly traumatic childhood, and he seems a bit of a nut: very depressed and insecure, always getting into feuds with other writers. What good is it being a great writer and though Ive admired Brodkeys stories, I dont know that hes great if one is so unhappy and tortured? Maybe Ill never be able to be seen as even a good writer, but Id rather live contentedly from day to day than prepare myself for posthumous glory. Common sense, no? I just called Grandma Ethel, whos very sick and depressed still. She doesnt want me to come over, and thats okay because I might as well enjoy my last few days alone here. Teresa wont be back till Monday (actually, Id expected her to return tomorrow). Today was as bleak and humid as yesterday was sunny and dry. Last night not only did I

read, but I watched two good shows on PBS: the first of a four-part series on Canada and the premiere of Bill Moyers World of Ideas, in which he talks to interesting people who are too intelligent to go on Oprah, Phil or Geraldo. Yesterday I found a New School bulletin, and it irked me that I cant just take all the courses I want to take. I have a thirst for knowledge that a teenager should have; sometimes I think that the older I get, the younger I feel. Well, tomorrow is Calkins class. This morning I got up late I couldnt fall asleep till 4 AM after a hilarious dream that featured a Scottish talking dog, and I exercised and went out at 1 PM. Ronna asked me to dinner tonight.

Wednesday, September 14, 1988

8 PM. I feel so alive, even though Ive barely slept in two days. Life has begun moving so fast, fall is here. Im wearing long-sleeved shirts. Im writing. I feel like a writer. Last evening I had one of the best times at Ronnas that I can remember. Ronna and her friend Sandy also a friend of Ellens who stayed over for the entire long weekend made a feast that was better than any Rosh Hashona dinner Ive ever had.

After Sandy made the kiddush and Ronna the brucha over the delicious challah with raisins she baked, we dug in. There was gefilte fish; moist, chewy turkey; tsimmes; pasta; vegetable pie; applesauce and apple cake. Ive even got some leftovers from the excellent meal, including that sticky honey candy whose name I dont know. The table talk was also great. Sandy is a writer whos done a lot of TV and comedy; shes writing a young adult novel under contract to Viking, and like most of Ronnas friends, shes very bright and witty. I had a great time. Ronna rode back down with Sandy to her apartment on West End at 76th, and I got out of the cab at the corner of 85th. It took me till 5 AM to get to sleep because my mind wouldnt stop racing. The germ of a story kept spinning (to mix metaphors). Its called something like The Secret Files of the Secretaries of Housing and Urban Development. Probably it will take weeks to write, but its a story that been happening the way my old stories used to. Maybe its because Im thinking of myself as a writer again. Taking Lucy Calkins class and reading her and Donald Murray and other writing teachers has me enthusiastic again. I was anticipating her class another reason I couldnt sleep and I wasnt disappointed. At everything she said, I wanted to shout, Yes!

Yes! Exactly! and tell her how my experiences matched what she was saying. Because the class is so large, we divided up into groups of five for sharing experiences, introducing ourselves, etc. (There are a lot of cute young guys in the class, but Im in a group with all women.) Im so excited by the class that I want to quickly read all the books on our reading list, and Ive already read Calkins own book and most of Murrays. The other exciting thing is that Ive had a lot of responses to my Voice ad, and on Saturday Im going to look at two apartments, one on Ocean Parkway, the other in Cobble Hill. Someone also called with a place in Carroll Gardens. But Teresa told me not to sign anything next week because she may be renting a house near her sister in Douglaston; she hopes to look at it on Monday. I wouldnt mind staying here, of course, but Im not sure I should make my decision dependent upon Teresas. Ill have to sleep on it, but I dont know that Ill be able to sleep tonight, either, because right now I feel manic. Its that all these possibilities and options are open to me. Suddenly life seems full of life and people, and choices to be made, and writing to get done. I need to calm down. I did work out today when I came home from Teachers College. It

felt good to stretch my muscles. I took out some Sichuan chicken for dinner and I need to calm down so I can digest the food. My fortune cookie said, It is nice to be important, but it is more important to be nice which could be my motto. I remember how excited I used to feel when each academic year at Brooklyn College would begin in September and Id see all my LaGuardia Hall friends. This fall feels the same way. Its a little scary to be so exhilarated.

Friday, September 15, 1989

9 PM. I feel real tired now, but I can sleep as late as I want to tomorrow. Probably I should take the whole day off. Ive got a dozen papers to look at and comment on, but the only pressing business Ive been putting off is creating a flyer for The Greatest Short Story That Absolutely Ever Was. I spoke to Ron Ishoy this morning, so something about the book will appear in his Herald column. That covers the three area newspapers. Ten years ago there were a lot more newspapers here in South Florida, but then again, local newspaper sections wont sell any books and the flyers might.

Although I slept well, I probably could have used a few extra hours of sleep beyond 6:30 AM. My classes went okay today. We saw the second half of the Schrader Mishima film in the 1102 classes, and I tried to have a writing workshop in 1101, but it wasnt working out that well. Also, I was distressed to get another obviously plagiarized paper, a description of Paraguay that read like a government tourist office brochure. In my comments, I told this writer to do another draft, taking out the glib bullshit and putting herself in it she lived in the country so I could hear a recognizably human voice behind the essay. Adrienne and others tell me everyone in plagiarizes in college English, that even parents encourage it. Thats a very sad commentary on American education as well as ethics. Betty was pleased when I showed her the Caedmon theater records Mom gave me in the garage yesterday. I used to send away from them when I was in high school recordings of plays by Shakespeare, Shaw, Miller, Williams, Sartre, with excellent casts. I loved After the Fall and Benito Cereno and Paul Scofield in King Lear and No Exit with Glenda Jackson. Fewer people have turntables today, as CDs and tapes have replaced vinyl records, but Im sure theyll get better use out of these classic

records in the BCC-South English Department than they would anywhere else. I was pretty good on my diet today, and I did my usual half-hour of exercise before I went to the computer lab at BCC-Central to print out some stuff. Dad already knew about the Wall Street Journal article I sent him about a factor telling vendors to ship goods to Campeau department stores at their own risk, since Campeau may go bankrupt. The junk bonds are starting to come home to roost, but when I ridiculed them last year by panhandling on Wall Street and getting into the New York Post and Business Week, I didnt realize that theyd affect my family so directly. Bugle Boy has indeed stopped shipment and canceled orders for Burdines and Jordan Marsh/Maas Brothers. If those two (once three) big department stores get sold to out-of-state chains, Dad stands to lose more than half his income. In USA Today one analyst whos been bullish said were in a severe but unrecognized recession that will make itself known when it hits hard before the end of 1989. The junk bond woes have been making the markets nervous, and its possible some new panic may set in.

The world is jumpy. The Soviet empire may be breaking up, but Gorbachevs hold on power may be shaky right now. China, the Baltic states, Hungary, Poland, East Germany the whole Communist world is changing rapidly. But where will it lead? Meanwhile Im making my Nutri/System cupcakes so I can have them for dessert. Its now four weeks since I was a total wreck that last Friday night at Teresas. Ive been a little dizzy the last day or two, and I wouldnt be surprised if my vertigo returns the way it did at the end of June. However, I expect it will also go away again. It didnt hit 90 today for a change.

Wednesday, September 16, 1987

2 PM. Im listening to the Constitutional bicentennial ceremonies on radio; the President should be on soon. Yesterday I lay down and realized that I could probably get the Senate confirmation hearings on Robert Bork. I found them on WBUR, a Boston station, and listened for a while as I did some busywork. At 4 PM I walked to Colony Hall and saw how Bork looked on TV.

Edmund Pennant asked if I would join him for a walk, and I agreed. We set out for the gazebo with its clear view of Mount Monadnock and sat on the grass for a while. Edmund has photographed wildflowers for many years, and he could point out New England and New York asters, wintergreen (which smelled great on my fingers when I crushed the leaves), fungi and other aspects of nature I was ignorant of. For most of his life, Edmund has been weighted down with crushing responsibilities which have made creating poetry difficult, and his visits to MacDowell are a haven for him. He wanted to go on an expedition to find the pond, and for once, I felt up to an adventure. It was a long walk, but I got to pass Wood Studio, where I was in 1980, and Edmund and I talked about many things: biology, possession, adaptability, creativity. At one point he said, Richard, how did you get so wise? which embarrassed and flattered me. We finally found the pond, partly by using the map, but mostly by using our own instincts; I have a surprisingly good sense of direction. It was nearly 6 PM when we got back, and I felt tired, but I had only about twenty minutes before going to dinner. Last nights dinner was my favorite: tacos, with terrific beans, onions, peppers, pickles and sauce. I sat at the no smoking table with Jeff, David, Helen, and Jean Stewart, a new

colonist whos in a wheelchair. The climbers said their expedition to the top of Mount Monadnock was exhilarating. At 8 PM Chris showed a film by Barbara Hammer a very innovative and exciting piece based on the idea of negative space and then Lady in the Wings, a 1954 Hallmark Hall of Fame TV drama about how Marian MacDowell founded the Colony. The show had been presented live, and it seemed a most primitive and corny drama; it was hilarious when they tried to show the passage of time by a hand ripping off the dates on a calendar and the pages kept tearing in half. And Rosemary DeCamp was terrible in the role. At the end of the program, Mrs. MacDowell, then 95, gave a little speech at the end, and it was exciting to see her. Despite the corniness, the spirit of the MacDowell Colony did come through, and Marian MacDowells motives were selfless and noble, probably even in real life. When I got back to the Lodge, I made certain to put on the heat (the thermostat was in my room all the time) and I fell into a deep, dreamfilled sleep. In fact, my dreams were so weird that I wrote down notes for a story that I started writing in longhand after lunch. The story, naturally, is surrealistic, but I like where its going after nine pages.

This morning I was glad to see Deb was at breakfast; shed been sick all yesterday but said she felt better. I went into town with Bill, and at the post office I mailed some books and papers to myself in Florida. Then I came back to my room and lay in bed for hours, listening to the radio and daydreaming. At noon I exercised a bit and then took a shower and had those parts of my lunch that appeared edible. Right now I feel sleepy again, but its a bright, warm day, and the anxiety I felt yesterday has gone. * 11 PM. This afternoon I listened to the Bork confirmation hearings, took a walk in the woods, and at 5 PM went over to the Savidge Library. The fellows were invited to meet the Board of Directors Colony Committee those members who live in New Hampshire for wine and cheese. I spoke with a couple of the board members and with Elizabeth, Chris and his wife. Just about everyone says this is the absolute best time of the year here at MacDowell, with good weather. Ill be sorry to miss the blaze of glory of the fall foliage as its peak and also even the start of the winter, when the leaves fall off and you can see the woods. But everyone says November is a dreary month and of course, November is just the

opposite in Florida, where its the start of cooler, drier weather. Dinner was great again tonight: delicious meat loaf, baked potato and salad, with brownies topped with vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup for dessert. At 8 PM we all returned to Savidge Library for an hour of Louise Talmas music. She is extremely good, and I enjoyed her pieces very much. Afterwards, Louise proposed a toast to her great teacher Nadia Boulanger, whose 100th birthday would have been today. The last thing Louise played was a 1943 piece for piano called Four-Handed Fun, which she wrote during her first stay at MacDowell; Lukas Foss loved it, and after hearing it, helped launch her career. Louise is quite a remarkable woman. We all chatted for a while, and at 1 PM I went alone to the TV room (really, not more than a closet) to watch the season premiere of St. Elsewhere. With my trusty flashlight and the blanket of stars, I found my way back here. It turned out that I really didnt have to move to the Lodge at all because Mona Simpson cancelled.

Saturday, September 17, 1988

8 PM. Last evening Ronna seemed tired when I went over to her house. She snapped at me a couple of times for joking remarks I made, but I figured she just had a bad week, and she admitted she felt exhausted. I wanted to take her out to dinner to repay her for the Rosh Hashona feast, and we went to Hunan Balcony and had a pleasant meal and nice conversation, catching up on each others news. I dropped her off at home at 9 PM so she could get some rest and walked back to Teresas, where I watched a decent movie, Trading Places, on HBO. This morning I took off for Brooklyn after breakfast, a short workout and a shower. It was cool, and I took an umbrella because rain was forecast for later. The F train let me off at Church Avenue, and I walked to 300 Ocean Parkway, a large apartment building off Beverley Road. A woman and her father were waiting in front of the building, and they turned out to be Randy Hechts 12:30 PM appointment. They didnt stay long, and then Randy showed me the place, which looked fairly nice. I could be very comfortable there, but of course its pretty far from Manhattan. Randy, a writer of about 26, didnt have any other prospective tenants to show the apartment to

after me, so I took the subway to Seventh Avenue with her. Walking down to Union Street, I had a baby pizza at Roma, then took the B-67 bus in front of the pizzeria to downtown Brooklyn. At the Business Library, I looked through the last weeks issues of American Banker, and when the library closed at 3 PM, I walked down Court Street, across Atlantic Avenue and down Hicks Street to Baltic, where Roz Burdmans apartment was, in the Tower Buildings right off the BQE. Because I was early, I strolled around Cobble Hill for half an hour. All in all, I did a great deal of walking in Brooklyn today and felt kind of nostalgic as I passed places that had meaning in my life: Dr. Wouks building in Concord Village, Mrs. Ehrlichs loft on Atlantic Avenue and Joshs old place up that block, the Sikh ashram (reminding me to call Sat Darshan), the entrance to the Prospect Expressway at Church Avenue and Ocean Parkway. I realized that the first place I lived in, after Grandma Ethels on East 43rd (off Church Avenue) was my parents apartment at Aunt Claires mother-in-laws house on Ocean Parkway. Brooklyn is in my blood and in my memory, and I know the borough better than I thought I did. Not only did I attend P.S. 244, P.S. 203, J.H.S. 285, Madison High, Midwood High and Brooklyn

College, I worked at Long Island University and Kingsborough Community College, among other Brooklyn places. I know the streets and feel comfortable there. I had a very nice time with Roz, whos about forty and has been suffering terribly with tinnitus. Of the two apartments, I think Id prefer the Ocean Parkway one to Rozs, although those buildings are amazing looking and the bedroom there is furnished nicely. But Id have to share the place with Roz, at least some of the time, for only $75 a month than it would be to live alone on Ocean Parkway. And as I walked to the Borough Hall stop in a pouring rain, I realized that the subway was pretty far away, and I dont think Id feel safe walking home from downtown Brooklyn at night. It was 6:30 PM when I got here, and there was a message from Ronna on the machine. She was working with her sister and brother-in-law to get her apartment ready for painting on Monday Leahs moving in next Friday and said they were thinking of going out to the movies. But when I called Ronna back to tell her I was too tired, she said theyd decided not to go anyway. Next I phoned Mom, who said she and Jonathan went to see that house that she and Dad liked, and they put down a $1,000 deposit on it.

If they get a mortgage, it could be ready by next May. Speaking of mortgages, First Federal sent Teresas mortgage papers on the East Side apartment today. Ill call her and tell her, though she knew the mortgage had been approved. It looks like housing and real estate is involved in everyones life today. State Street Bank sent me MasterCard checks: terrific! Ill go out in the rain to get the Sunday Times; its a nasty night. Tomorrow Ill start calling the other people who left messages on my machine.

Monday, September 18, 1989

8 PM. Last night I called Alice, whod just come off a fabulous week. Not only is her new book finished and ready to be turned in to St. Martins in time for it to appear in the spring catalog, but an agent at ICM, the super-agency, wants to take Alice as a client and has all sorts of projects for her, including ghosting or cowriting some celebrity bios. Shes been named a contributing editor of Working Mother, and she drove down to Radnor, Pennsylvania, to meet with TV Guide executives who were interested in an idea she had to put stickers in the magazine so people

could stick them next to the shows they plan to watch. Instead of brushing her off as a neophyte, the two TV Guide execs couldnt have been more enthusiastic about the idea and promised Alice they would compensate her if they used it. So my high-energy old friend is doing well these days. Ill call you if I become a millionaire next week, Alice said as she hung up. Ronna phoned for a brief talk. She wanted to answer my phone messages, but she was away all weekend, first in New Jersey and then Connecticut. Her cousin Barbara gave birth three weeks prematurely, and the baby is very sick, with numerous birth defects, and on a respirator. Barbara has moved with friends near Downstate so she could see the baby on Saturday. Aunt Violet is up from Florida, and Ronna says they dont know if the child will survive. Up at 6 AM, I got to school early. My 1102 classes pretty much hated the film, and a lot of them had trouble reading the subtitles. When I was in college, I went to so many foreign films, I bet that most of the movies I saw had subtitles.

Those were the early 70s, the glory days of those student discount passes at the Rugoff and Walter Reade theater chains. Wed get these stiff cards with little discounts we could tear off when we went to their theaters to see films, and a lot of the movies were foreign ones I loved. Yes, I can get nostalgic for 1972. I left BCC after I had my Nutri/System chocolate shake and roll following my 1101 class. The students and I were barely connecting today, and maybe I wasnt making much of an effort. Already I see people coming in late and being absent a lot, and I feel the idealism I started the term with waning considerably. Back home, I exercised, read the Times and Wall Street Journal, whose lead story said, The partys over, referring to the decimation of the junk bond bonanza of the go-go 80s. Campeaus troubles are likely to be repeated at other leveraged companies, and if a recession hits, watch out. The AWP Job List has a number of jobs Im going to apply for but dont really want; Id like to test the water just to see if its any easier for me to arouse interest these days. Ron Ishoy printed this in his column, under the headline, A Modest Book: And now comes Richard Grayson, noted perpetually struggling Broward writer, who has

just published a new collection of fiction entitled The Greatest Short Story That Absolutely Ever Was. This book was completed with the help of a $5,000 grant from the Florida Arts Council. Its dedicated to comedian Phyllis Diller, who saw a funny piece by Grayson in People magazine and wrote him an encouraging letter . . . So is the story really the greatest? Yes, he says, within budget. Its the best I could do for $5,000, Grayson says. If the taxpayers wanted me to do better, they should have given me $50,000. I liked the mention, particularly the noted perpetually struggling Broward writer tag. So now only the Sun-Sentinel piece has to come out before Ive finished with my South Florida publicity which, of course, wont sell a single copy of the book. Its nice to have a long Monday afternoon and evening in my apartment. Last Monday I had the interview and the Monday before I had just moved in, on Labor Day. Its especially since because I have only one class, at 11 AM, tomorrow. Hurricane Hugo did severe damage in Puerto Rico.

Saturday, September 19, 1987

6 PM. Josh will be here in an hour for dinner. Ive just been working out with weights, and I find my hand is too shaky to write, so Ill stop for now. * 9 PM. Ive just come back from dinner with Josh, and my hand is steady now. Josh has been having a lot of heartache; at one point tonight he said, Id like to have a chunk of your life. I feel bad for him, but I do feel I lead a wonderful life. Ill be glad to return to Florida at the end of the month because its getting colder here in New York and because I think its wise never to get too much of a good thing as with MacDowell. Today I spent catching up with my life. When the mailman saw me on Broadway, he said, Youre not here, because my letters are now being forwarded to Florida. However, Mom is addressing my mail directly to Teresa, and I got more of it today: bills and a letter from Paul Fericano. I spoke to my parents tonight, and they said they hope Ill bring cooler weather with me because it continues to be 92 every day. Before I called, they hadnt looked to see if my column was in todays Sun-Tattler, but when we were on the phone, they looked, and sure enough, the paper had run my piece on banks and credit cards that I wrote two weeks ago.

This tells me that the paper isnt going to run any of the other six or seven columns Ive sent them, and that I probably will have to write another one before my next column appears. In a way this angers me, but it also frees me of having to come up with a column every two weeks. I dont mind them appearing on an occasional basis, not after 22 columns have been published already. Ill try to find other markets for the pieces the Sun-Tattler doesnt want, or maybe Ill rewrite some of them. I feel glad that Ive got another column in print, particularly because Id written it at MacDowell, but if nothing had appeared, I wouldnt feel bad because this afternoon I found the new issue of Between C & D at Shakespeare & Company. My name is on the cover, along with those of Pete Cherches, Tama Janowitz, Catherine Texier and others. It feels good to be in the company of hip young New York City writers in a hip magazine. For once, I feel almost fashionable, and maybe I should start thinking of myself as a failure Freudian slip as a success and not a failure. (See how deep these things are.) I bought four copies of the issue and I imagine other people seeing my story in it and thinking, This is good, whos this Grayson guy? Anyway, Mom and Dad sounded okay, and I told them in detail about m stay at MacDowell.

I spoke to Teresa in Fire Island, where shes at war with her housemates whom shes trying to lock out of the house. What else is new? Shes gone to work for Norman and Pam at the chicken store, and just about everyone but me has told her that she should have stayed in personnel. But youre Mr. Alternate Lifestyle, Teresa said, so it figures youd like the idea. I just pray that Teresa can avoid her usual pattern. When she worked for Frank and Joe or with Donna and Phyllis, it ended in a blowup which also ended the friendship. Teresa has basically moved back here, and on Monday night, Eric will be over. He left a message for her from Sid the nom de answering machine they made up from London. I figure that Ill go to Rockaway on Monday then. Grandma Ethel says Aunt Tillie expects me for Rosh Hashona dinner on Wednesday night, so that may work out. Im torn between not wanting to be in Teresas way and not wanting to appear to be avoiding her. Because Eric is married, they obviously have to stay here in the apartment to be together. Well, Ill play it by ear. Grandma Ethel said that Marcs ulcers and sinus condition were very bad while he was in New York City. She might be away on Monday, to visit Grandpa Herbs grave. Last night I

dreamed I was having dinner with Grandpa Herb and we were driving over the Manhattan Bridge. I worked out with Body Electric at 10 AM and didnt feel Im too out of shape; I dont appear any fatter. In the late afternoon I did chest flyes and biceps curls with my 20-pound barbells. Gradually Ill begin exercising more. At 1:30 PM I had my hair cut by Lourdes at the Upper Cut on 72nd Street; actually, my hair looked better long but it feels cleaner now. Across the street there was a rally against overdevelopment of the West Side. Speaker after speaker, including Joshs friend Gene Russianoff, the mass transit activist, denounced Donald Trumps plan for Television City. Meanwhile, I noticed the Boulevard co-op on Broadway and 86th Street is going up fast. After getting some cash advances at ATMS, I came home to read the Times todays and yesterdays and watch the Bork hearings. Reagan has announced that hell meet Gorbachev to sign a treaty reducing mediumrange nuclear missiles; lets hope it comes off. I left a message for Alice, whos in Boca Raton this weekend, and spoke to Justin, whos been busy. Today The Golden Girls is doing a script about Alzheimers; Justins script on the same subject got to the director of the show the day before he taped this episode, and he called

Justin to say that Justins treatment rested on too many one-liners. Justins week off with David was a muchneeded tonic, and now hes busy with numerous projects. Last week, a reading of the Werbacher twins new play, What Would Esther Williams Do in a Situation Like This? that he directed went very well. Josh has really had a bad time of it while I was away. Hed arranged for Simons sister to get him a courier job to London only to find out that Wendy, whom hed hoped to see, suddenly dropped her friendly attitude and left a message saying she wanted to end their friendship and that Josh should never call her again. Probably Wendys boyfriend freaked out and forced her to do it, but it was a terrible thing, and so undeserved. Josh then got into hot water with Simons sister about canceling the trip, though in the end, no harm except psychological was really done. Meanwhile, Joshs neighbors are still harassing him, his landlord is stringing him along with promises of move-out money and co-ops, his mother depressed by her blindness and Parkinsons is threatening suicide, and Larry keeps wondering if Blue Cross is going to fire him. What Larry doesnt know yet is that Josh told Joyce that hell go to work for her at the city DOT I November.

Joyce is someone that he trusts totally unlike Larry and shes setting up an information center for engineers that will deal with PCs, local area networks, and CAD/CAM, which will look good on Joshs rsum. Besides, if he takes the position with Joyce, he can walk to work over the Brooklyn Bridge. We had dinner at Marvin Gardens and then I walked him to the train and picked up the Sunday Times.

Sunday, September 20, 1987

4 PM. I think Ill be glad to go back to Florida in ten days. After MacDowell, New York City seems like a place of loonies. Ive been reading the Sunday papers O tempora! O mores! and contacting people. Amy Forman said she and Mikey were having a fight about their new Persian rug and could I call them back? Scott had just gotten home with his latest prize, some gargoyles based on those on the Cathedral of St. John the Divine that hed had made for his apartment. Did I know that hed run into Alice at a party for Geraldo Riveras new TV show and did I know why she didnt return his phone messages? And did I write any saleable work at MacDowell? Not good work but saleable work.

Susan Mernit sounded excited about joining a new writers workshop but she had to get off the phone because someone had come to see her apartment, which is for sale. Well get together tomorrow before her shrink appointment. Ronnas busy with her friend Phil and his friends, who are visiting from Pennsylvania for the weekend. This may sound sour, but Im not desperate to see anyone in the remaining time I have left in New York. At 6 AM today Eric left a message for Teresa from London, where hes on vacation. He has to go home to New Jersey to his wife, whos been with him in England. In The New York Times Magazine Barbara Tuchman speculates that America is going down the tubes mostly because of a decline in ethical behavior. Good riddance!

Wednesday, September 21, 1988

8 PM. What a difference 24 hours and a good nights sleep make. Not to mention having $5,000 more than I did yesterday. When I got home from my class at Teachers College this afternoon, there was a message on

the machine from Mom: Richard, call me at your earliest opportunity. Ive got some nice news. I thought I knew what that news was, and when I phoned, Mom read me the letter from Florida Secretary of State Jim Smith awarding me a fellowship in literature worth $5,000 or in the event of a budget shortfall, somewhat less. Naturally, Im very happy, though as I reminded Mom, when I learned I got the first Florida grant seven years ago (from reading it in the Herald), I was jumping up and down so much that Mom suggested I take a tranquilizer. Mom will FedEx me the forms I have to sign and send back to Tallahassee. Id fantasized about getting this grant, and the money will provide me with a good cushion if, as I expect, I wont net very much money from my student loan check (which hasnt arrived yet, according to the Teachers College student aid office). Anyway, I feel excited. With the NYSCA grant to the Rockland Arts Center for my residency, the West Side Spirit short story contest, and now the Florida fellowship, this has been quite a time for me, and it makes up for those times in the past when I felt rejected and ignored. Last evening in Rockaway I went to bed at 7 PM and was asleep a little while after Grandma Ethel returned from her dinner at Lillian Goldbergs. Teresa phoned from her mothers

to say that Sat Darshan had called me, and thats about the last thing I can remember. I slept soundly which for me means heavy dreaming. As usual, I woke up several times during the night to go to the bathroom, but the quality of my sleep was excellent. Up at 8:45 AM, I felt refreshed, and I said goodbye to Grandma less than an hour later. She said she felt a bit dizzy and I urged her not to fast for Yom Kippur. At the bus stop, I spoke to an old woman with Parkinsons disease whose only son had died recently. She lived in Daytona Beach and hated it and she told me her grandchildren never visited her: No one cares about their grandparents anymore. When I told her I had just visited my grandmother, she said, Well, youre the exception. The bus ride to the Junction went quickly, and the IRT got me to 86th Street by 11:30 AM. I found a strange cleaning woman here; Teresa left a note that Ruffina hadnt come yesterday and so she got her friends cleaning woman to stop by. I stayed long enough to look at the mail, and then I went to the post office to pick up a package a shirts Mom had sent. After a burger and Tab at the 4 Brothers Diner, I went up to Teachers College for Lucy Calkins class, which Im greatly enjoying.

Shes got me excited, not only about my own writing, but also about teaching writing, again. With other writers, I never discuss the writing process; for example, I dont know how Alice or Tom or Crad or Miriam goes about writing. Lucy said that she heard that people at artists colonies like MacDowell behave as if theyre living in a writers community and thats how we should be behave with our students. But I find that professional writers dont talk about the process about gossip: who got a good or bad review here or there, who got a grant or a publishing contract, etc. In any case, taking Lucys course is good for me. Back home, I spoke to Mom and to Dad, who returned from Los Angeles last night; after they congratulated me on the fellowship, I told them about moving in with Alicia. They seemed a bit dubious, but I think they trust my judgment. Teresa called to say she wouldnt be coming home tonight, but shes not in Fire Island; shes across town at Bills. Because he lives in the same building where Teresa once lived with Ken, she didnt want to go there, and last night Bill stayed over here. (So my leaving actually turned out well for Teresa.) But today Bill prevailed upon her to get over her fear, and so shes back at 300 East 73rd Street. I suspect shell be spending more and more time there. So for now, Ive got the place to myself.

Friday, September 22, 1989

8 PM. Another week of work over with. Actually, my first month teaching at BCCSouth, and I have less than three months to go in my full-time job. This morning I feel I did a bit better with my 1102 and 110 classes. I had the 1102s do the exercise in which they write about their names and then I made them all share. In 1101 I used some ideas of Murrays from Write to Learn. Basically Im feeling my way around into incorporating all these new (for me) ideas into teaching English, and Im learning myself, working by instinct as well as experiment. One of my worst faults the flip side of my flexibility and adaptability is that I get bored easily and dont stick with things. For me, a one-semester sabbatical replacement position teaching English at BCCSouth is fine, as are my computer education workshops at Dade schools (Sophie still has yet to call me with my first job offer this fall) and my Rockland Arts Center residency last fall and winter. I do feel I learn a little more from each experience, and even if it never all comes together for me, even if Im never able to find a

career or job where I can use all the stuff Ive learned, its all been worthwhile. Talking with Barbra and Adrienne, I was asked if I ever had been married. I said no, nor did I want to be. I told them I was gay and really wasnt interested in a marriage with a guy, either. While I may get lonely at times, for now I still prefer the freedom I have. Say I met a guy here, and we fell in love, all that stuff that Justin and David have (I spoke with them last night). How could I leave the guy for months at a time? In a way, thats what happened with Sean in 1982. Our relationship might have gone further, but there was no way I was going to give up my summer in New York City and at the Virginia Center for Creative Arts to stay in South Florida. And I didnt want Sean to give up Gainesville and his experience at the University of Florida, either. Michael did and he and Sean both moved to settle in Tampa together. Obviously Michael loved Sean more than I did because he uprooted himself from Fort Lauderdale for Sean. In a very nice way, both of them had to give up something to be together. Now maybe its just that I havent yet met the person for whom Id be willing to make that big

a sacrifice. I certainly cant say I will always feel this way or Ill never meet that person. Justin said hes incredibly busy with Theatre, Inc. business. Their incorporation procedure has run into trouble because of their name. An inactive organization already has that name and they arent making things easy for Justin, because every variation he comes up with, they find objectionable. Still, they had their first reading: Justin directed David and others in Christopher Frys The Ladys Not for Burning. And Justin and the others are excited about their future plans. I think Justin is doing a great job is getting this theater company together. Sat Darshan left a message on my machine, saying shed just called to chat. She thanked me for the book I sent to the girls and said shed speak to me soon. I do miss my New York City friends. Id like to know how Davids first meeting with Justins parents this weekend come off and what the outcome of Davids biopsy in Reading next will be. (David has a small lump by his collarbone and so far all of the tests including HIV and a CT scan show nothing.) Hurricane Hugo devastated Charleston and caused a lot of damage in Charlotte, which is so far inland it would seem theyd have nothing

to fear from a tropical storm. We in South Florida are very lucky once again.

Saturday, September 23, 1989

9 PM. Ive just finished ineptly gift-wrapping my wedding present to Scott and Joon and then putting it into a jiffy bag to mail. Its some appliance no sane person would want: it heats and sprays butter, margarine and syrup, and I picked it up at Sears for ten dollars. But then again, its probably something they dont already have. I fell asleep about this time last night, and boy, did I sleep well. In the middle of the night, I awoke from a thickly-plotted dream which ended up as a whole page in my notebook. Up at 8 AM, I got to the eye doctor in Fort Lauderdale at 9:45 AM and picked up three months supply of lenses. Back at home, I had an aerobic workout and played Wheel of Fortune on my computer before finally breaking down and finishing The Greatest leaflet. Deciding not to go to the expense of getting it typeset and hoping that the hamishe look pay

off, I spent much of the afternoon printing out a prototype, xeroxing 300 copies on canary yellow paper, and folding, stapling, stamping and addressing them to about sixty people. I still have more to do, but I need to sit down in the library with a mess of phone books so I can get peoples proper addresses. I also sent a big batch to Tom. Yesterday I got a quote on the typesetting of Narcissism and Me from Sherry Ringler at BookMasters and today I got a quote on printing and binding from Book Crafters. It will come to about $1600, and I figure why not? If Im going to go bankrupt, I should at least get another published before I do. Besides, I can take both chapbooks on the streets of Manhattan next summer, la Crad Kilodney. Actually, Crad wrote his most recent letter on the back of his announcement of two books, and mostly I followed his format on my own leaflet. Crads big news is that hes got a girlfriend, Tamara, 23, a University of Toronto senior whos a virgin but very affectionate; shes a longtime reader of Crads. I hope this works out to be a mutually satisfying relationship for both of them. At my parents empty house this afternoon, I made my Nutri/System chocolate pudding by

using the blender, retrieved my laundry, and picked up my mail. I paid five bills, and at Publix I took out $800 in cash advances. Three years ago I had lots of excess cash, but now Im cutting it close every month even with my BCC salary. However, as my salary checks pile up, I should have more room to maneuver. At Waldenbooks, I bought Shoshana Zuboffs In the Age of the Smart machine: The Future of Work and Power, which Ive been wanting to read for over a year. Grandma Ethel, still ill, told Mom shes doing into the hospital on Tuesday to check if the bitter taste is cancer. Aunt Claire is in the hospital down here, and apparently shes not doing very well. Today Dad was trimming for his show at the Miami Merchandise Mart. Hell work there tomorrow with Mom and do the same on Monday, but then he leaves for a trip to Los Angeles for a sales meeting. They no longer have the Bugle Boy sales meetings in New Jersey, and thats a real pain for Dad. Mom and Marc and Jonathan arent opening at the flea market at all this week because they need to sit in for Dad in Miami at the menswear show. I dont know what day autumn officially arrived, but its here now. It gets dark just after 7 PM these days.

Although I havent opened a school book or folder, I did accomplish a great deal today. Ill leave to tomorrow my worrying about reading and grading papers and preparing classes. If feel pretty good about being so active today, and Ive stuck totally to my diet. Last night I didnt take a Bonine pill, but I felt a little dizzy this evening so I took one.

Thursday, September 24, 1987

3:30 PM. I was just sitting on the boardwalk, reading Emersons essay on compensation. Its a sunny, 80 day, and I was able to wear just a T-shirt and shorts. A few days ago I opened a box of books that Teresa had in the living room all summer, and on top I found the old red-and-gold volume of Emersons essays, heavily marked up, that I thought I had lost years ago. Well, there are no coincidences. On this start of the Jewish new year and on the eve of my return to Florida, I feel happy and very lucky indeed. Rereading Emersons words that used to comfort me seven years ago right here in Rockaway, when I was so unhappy, I know that he is right. I now take the theory of compensation in an economic and political sense as well as a

personal one. I am certain that a depression or economic upheaval is coming, and it is necessary for the growth of society. An excess of conservatism will lead to new liberalism and the greedy times we are now in the midst of will seem shallow and vulgar even to todays greedy in a few years. When Teresas boyfriend Eric shows off his $10,000 Rolex watch, I would if it didnt make me seem like an insufferable prig go to my closet and fish out the $8.95 Timex I bought in Middlebury, which I rarely need but which Ive had for ten years, and which keeps the same time as Erics gold watch. Now if he could get a watch that would make time last longer, that might be worth $10,000. What I liked about MacDowell was that I was with a group of people who, by and large, didnt fall prey to the rampant materialism and obsession with possessions that is de rigueur today. Even someone like Josh constantly wishes for a change in his situation and hopes that winning Lotto will change his life, not realizing that he already has the power to change his life and that being a Lotto millionaire would just bring him a different set of problems. Id like to be able to cultivate what Emerson calls a sense of indifference to things like the grants I apply for. Will it really make a difference if I get the $5,000 Florida Arts Council grant? No.

As for my credit card schemes, I am aware though probably not fully that I will have to pay for them somehow, in some way, even if I do declare bankruptcy or am the beneficiary of a coming financial collapse. Every strength is also a defect, says Emerson, except those of the soul like true love, beauty, knowledge. Ive tried to live a decent life but havent always succeeded. Yet unlike Teresa, who is always blaming her difficulties on other people, I realize that 99% of my problems are of my own making. People think they have no choices when they do. I guess Im really sounding pompous. I slept well, and this morning I exercised to the 9:30 AM Body Electric. I went out three times: once, to get the Times; then for lunch at a pizzeria; and then on the boardwalk. I lose patience with the banal chatter of Grandma Ethel, Aunt Tillie and Uncle Morris. It wouldnt be so bad if they didnt keep repeating themselves. Ill be crushed when they are all gone, but really, they only barely live in 1987. I just hope I wont be like that. I suspect I wont, not if educated older people like Louise Talma are an example. At 36 and eight months away from 37 I look and feel much younger, and I refuse to adopt attitudes to fit some stereotype of the way people my age are supposed to think. If the

flip side of my youthfulness is a certain immaturity, so be it. Thats the law of compensation. But I believe Im getting myself together and living my life as though death were near. If I go down in a plane crash next week, Ill have no regrets. The only regrets I ever have are the times I wasted having regrets. I can use Grandma Ethel, Josh, Teresa, and others as negative examples. Do I sound superior, like Jonathan when he viewed himself and other sannyasin as super-people who could do anything? Im only some jerk from Brooklyn. But I wont deny that I feel in some way superior to the people who cant see that the emperor has no clothes, who believe that money and possessions and fame can bring them happiness. Even Crad, who believes that being an artist will make up for his being miserable, is wrong. Life is to be lived sturdily, as that Emerson quote I used as the epigraph to Eating at Arbys, says. No one can ever take away from me my experiences of the past year and the joy Ive had. At the same time Im aware that life is cruel, unfair, ugly, and ultimately kind of ridiculous. Nothing is permanent: I know that, even though many people try to fool themselves into believing the opposite.

Im a survivor, and I have a survivors personality, though its a mystery how I got that way. For the last few years Ive lived in the most extraordinary comfort, but I cant expect it to continue. I just hope Ill be ready when disaster, as it must, finally strikes.

Sunday, September 25, 1988

9 PM. Alicia never called me this weekend, and Ive been unable to reach her. Im not certain what that means. Perhaps shes changed her mind about having me as a roommate, or perhaps she just didnt feel like it was necessary for me to meet her boyfriend. Im anxious about not having a place to live, though of course Teresa wouldnt mind if I remained here. Shes in Fire Island tonight, but shell be here in the morning. I guess I feel kind of uncertain about things, even if Ill have the cushion of the grant money. Im nervous about teaching in Rockland, unsure of what to do with elementary school students. Of course Ive got four weeks before I even talk to the teachers in Nanuet. I dont have the security of a place of my own. Im hoping Ill be able to write, but I feel anxious that I wont be able to write. Im very

tense, and maybe thats why my back has gone into spasms even as I write this. My back seemed to be getting better, and Ive been exercising lightly, but it seems to have tightened up on me. Im sure Ill have a difficult week, and Id better make certain I rest up. Hopefully Ill have a chance to rest even if Teresa is here. In an hour Ill watch the presidential candidates debate. As a political junkie, Ive already heard too much about spin doctors, one-liners and gaffes, and the whole thing is so orchestrated that Im certain neither Bush nor Dukakis will say much of substance. The nation is in an advanced state of denial of unpleasant truths. Robert Strauss of the National Economic Commission mentions that to bring down the deficit, well probably have to cut defense spending and social security and raise taxes, and everyone runs away from him although no one really denies that Strauss is right. The savings and loan crisis, the poverty among children, education, drugs, AIDS, health care: nobody wants to face the issues with hard choices. Simple answers work best on TV, so Bushs Read my lips: no new taxes goes a lot farther than a reasoned response to the problem of the deficit. Unless something drastic happens, Bush will win, and if theres any justice in the world, the

chickens of the Reagan administration will start to come home to roost on his doorstep. Last night I took a cab down Eleventh Avenue to Hot Rod, the club where Alice was having her party. She won this in some raffle or something, and I hate discos or clubs or whatever they call them, so when they told me Id have to wait on a velvet-roped line that stretched around the block, I promptly turned around and came home. It amazes me that people would actually wait on line to get into a noisy, crowded, drug-filled arena of schmucks. (Just why do young writers like Janowitz, McInerney and Ellis write about these club people? Theyre so boring.) Today Alice called and said she thinks she lost half her friends after last nights fiasco. Even she had to wait on line for half an hour, and there was no food, and the drinks cost money; it was so jammed that she couldnt find her own guests. What a ripoff. Im glad I went home right away. Alice and I met at the 84th Street Theater and saw Sweet Hearts Dance, a warm comedy with Don Johnson and Susan Sarandon. Alice felt very depressed because her lawyer friend Jon didnt call her all last week and yesterday left a message that said he had a cold and wouldnt be coming to the club. Alice said she thought that unlike other women who are her friends, she would meet a new

boyfriend right away, and shes taking Jons rejection hard, considering theyd dated only twice. Like Teresa, Alice has a kind of horror of being alone, but in Alices case, alone means not having a boyfriend. She says she hates Peter because he said the only way hed marry her would be if they lived apart, and she even jokingly blamed Peter for getting her in the position where Jon could reject her. On Friday Alice will be going to New Zealand on a freebie travel writers junket for twelve days. That should cheer her up.

Monday, September 26, 1988

1 AM and I cant sleep. My mind is racing even though Im so tired. Ive been thinking about Alices problems, and Teresas, and Joshs, and the debate and God knows what else. Bush and Dukakis debated to a draw, in my opinion, and although the panelists questions were good, the tone of nastiness in the answers made me uncomfortable. I thought Dukakis was better, but I cant be objective because I agree with his positions. Maybe he did a little bit better than Bush, but thats not nearly good enough to turn this election around, and I still dont think Dukakis

can win even 200 electoral votes, much less the 270 needed to win. Mom told me she hates Bush, but I suspect neither candidate is liked very much by anyone. Dad had his Miami menswear show today, and the customers stood in line so Dad could work with them; Bugle Boy is still a hot line for spring. Todd phoned, and mostly we talked about writing. Josh had shown me a piece Todd did for New York, and Todd said theyd kept it for well over a year and cut it drastically before publishing it. Before he hung up, Todd told me that while he thought that perhaps someone was harassing Josh this spring, he did not believe anything was happening now. As Todd says, Josh doesnt seem crazy. But I dont know why I didnt see what Tom and Crad figured out immediately: that Josh is paranoid. What can I do to help Josh? On Friday, talking about the harassment, Josh said, Dont humor me. Can I tell Josh what I really think and expect it will do any good? Why should it? Hes just gotten angry and silent with everyone else who suggested his perception of constant harassment is in his mind. Josh needs to see a doctor, but Im afraid nothing I can do will get him into treatment.

I think about Alices need to be with someone. Yesterday she asked me, Arent you always looking for someone, too? Do you actually like being alone? The way she said alone, it meant incomplete, and I said, I never think of myself as being alone. Ive been in love, but Ive never really wanted to live with someone and spend the rest of my life with that person. Am I happier because of that, or am I fool or somehow inhuman? Lucy Calkins seems to think that writing can cure all human ills. But writers, however honest and aware, arent always nice people. What this has to do with anything, I dont know. * 4 PM. I got about four hours sleep last night, enough to keep me from being a zombie today but not enough to forestall a daylong headache and weariness. Teresa hasnt returned home yet, but I expect her at any moment. Already Ive moved out of the bedroom and have been reading and writing in the living room and kitchen. I looked over my Eclipse story and feel that all that it needs is an ending. Its a very lowkey story, not giving away very much, and I doubt it will interest many readers. I just dont know what to write anymore because I feel so removed from the world of fiction writing.

I now realize that because I read lots of newspapers and magazines and watch news shows, Im much better informed than anyone I know. Yet what can I do with my knowledge of economics, politics, business, sociology, education? It was very helpful to me when I wrote my column for the Sun-Tattler, but it may be a disadvantage as a short story writer. Jonathan Baumbach told me at my first MFA tutorial with him, fourteen years ago, that my intelligence could handicap me as a fiction writer. Who knows? Its a beautiful day, sunny and mild, and I was out a lot, reading on a bench on Riverside Drive, shopping, walking around. My blood sugar seems very low because I feel empty inside and nervous and I crave sweets. Ill call Alicia tonight and find out whats what with her apartment. Im both a bit scared to move and also not to move. When I listen to middle-of-the-night radio psychologists, their callers problems seem so obvious to me. I just wish I could formulate the questions that would allow me to search for the answers I need. Is this psychobabble?

Wednesday, September 27, 1989

11 PM. Yesterday when I went to Moms, there was a message on their machine from Sophie at FIU telling me to call, that she had a workshop for me. I called her this morning, and she said its at Northwestern High School, Computers in Secondary Education, the same thing I taught there in February. I gave Sophie some dates Mondays and Thursdays in October and she said shed get back to me. Last night I fell asleep fairly early while browsing The Directory of American Poets and Fiction Writers index for names of people to send my flyer to. Ronnas cousin Rebecca was listed in the acknowledgements as one of the typesetters and proofreaders. Today I arrived at BCC at 7:30 AM and left at 10:30 PM. Of course I was home for most of the afternoon, but I was tired nonetheless. I had reading and writing workshops in my 1102 and 1101 classes and intend to continue with them on Friday. This evening our creative writing course did four stories by the remaining students whose work we hadnt looked at before. One, about a young widows dreams, had a lot of integrity, and it turned out to be almost totally autobiographical. I disliked Maxs story. Hes the immature, obnoxious kid; tonight he kept jabbering at me

even during our break, even after I closed the stall behind me in the mens room. He doesnt know how to use semicolons but kept insisting he was using them correctly. The students seem to enjoy my class, and I try to be open and remember theyre not writers (maybe Scott will become one) but pleasant people who want to express themselves and share their stories. Although Im no stylist as Jaimy Gordon noted in the American Book Review my students carelessness with language disturbs me. President Bush met the fifty governors at a summit meeting in Charlottesville to discuss education. Now that the disasters of the school system are proving to be costly in the marketplace, suddenly everyones sounding the alarm. However, Im confident little will be done to arrest the education problem. As with the war on drugs, its all lip service and photo opportunities. Ive been trying to catch up on my reading, but I still havent finished the AWP Chronicle or the Authors Guild Bulletin. These days just getting through the Times and USA Today is difficult. Home at 12:30 PM, I read, exercised and picked up my mail at Moms. China was staying with Jonathan while Mom and Marc were working with Daniela at menswear show

in Miami. Dad is still in L.A. although I havent heard how things are going there. I got a copy of Brushes with Greatness in the mail. Thats the Coach House Press book featuring writers meetings with famous people. Gwendolyn MacEwen, George Myers Jr., Joyce Carol Oates and Ram Dass are all in their, and I liked the way my piece on Jackie Onassis held up. Both Peter Hargatai and Janice Lapore got honorable mention in the Florida Arts Council fellowships, but no money. Patrick, Barbra and Eileen were rejected. So I guess my getting $5,000 last year was a bigger deal than I thought. My grant year ends this weekend, but Ill wait till the Sun-Sentinel profile comes out before I send in my final report.

Monday, September 28, 1987

5 PM. Its a warm, humid day for late September. Ronna got back at 9 PM yesterday, but she told me not to come over because Laurie was asleep. Apparently Ronna didnt realize she wouldnt get another chance to see me before I left. Tonight Im seeing Scott and Alice, and tomorrow night Ronna has tickets for the opera. Obviously she really wanted to see me,

just as I wanted to see her, but perhaps this is for the best. I just wish some great guy would marry Ronna and let her stay home and have kids. At this point in my life, Im not ready to settle down though if between us, Ronna and I could have enough money, I might think about it. That sounds crass. But I think we could resolve our problems my gayness, her messiness if we could afford to get married and have a child. If Ronna had a high-powered career, Id be the one who could stay home and care for a baby. Anyway, the whole idea sounds utterly ridiculous now that Ive put it down on paper. Ronna should concentrate on finding a guy who can offer her the emotional and financial support I cant. Is her being with me any more productive for Ronna than Teresas affair with married Eric is for her? Yes, Ronna and I are old friends who care about each other deeply, and neither of is committed much less married to anyone else, but in the long run, Ronna has no more of a future with me than Teresa does with Eric. Teresa came home just before Ronna called, and this morning Teresa spoke to Eric and I could hear them having a fight about his not calling over the weekend. Eric called her back just a minute after Teresa had left for work, and I ran out to the street to find her. When I

said he had called, she said, Tell him to go to hell. I slept soundly last night, but my sinuses were clogged and I found it difficult to wake up. I felt lazy and a little depressed. Mom mailed me five credit card bills, and I got cash advances and made up credit card checks and deposited over $3,000 in the bank. But suddenly it hit me that Im on a treadmill I cant stop. There have to be severe consequences from my living off credit cards. Unless the economy and financial system collapse or I suddenly hit it big, Ill never be able to get off my credit card chassis. Yes, I think Im in control, but dont all addicts think that? Dont I feel that twinge of pain when I think of giving up a single credit card? Yeah, Im hooked. I have $36,000 in the bank, but $17,000 of that is money securing credit cards, so I really have $19,000. A year ago, I had $30,000 in the bank. While it is true that if I had access to my Optima line as I expect to shortly and made other cash advances, I could be up to $30,000 again. I realize that I constantly have to feed my credit habit by getting new lines. The solution? Ive got to start working and earning serious money. Actually, it shouldnt be all that difficult. I figured out that my monthly minimum payments equal about $3000 or

$36,000 annually and I can keep my credit chassis going at least through 1988 if I earn only a little. After all, I do have $36,000 in the bank. And I always have a terrific cash flow. Anyway, I dont want to go crazy, but I have to be aware that my pyramid scheme cant go on much beyond next year. I feel like the head of a developing country. Its supposed to rain all over the East Coast on Wednesday, and Ive been thinking of again postponing my trip to Florida to next Monday. Is that stupid? If Sophie doesnt call tomorrow and the weather looks bad, I might do it. I dont have to start work until Wednesday, October 14, though Id want to be there a week earlier to get settled. I suppose I could delay my return, but what would the point be? To spend a few more days in New York City? The weather might be worse next Monday than it will be this Wednesday. Well, well see. Last year I was forced to go back on August 23 or miss the start of school.

Thursday, September 29, 1988

3 PM. Its a brisk, bright autumn day. I didnt get to sleep till 2 AM, but I slept soundly, and I

got to exercise in the morning, as I did yesterday. Teresa came over at 11 AM and together we watched the successful launch of the space shuttle Discovery. Teresa was so scared that she went out of the room during blastoff, but there was no repeat of the Challenger disaster. Later, Teresa drove me to Teachers College, where I swapped some files between the different sized disks and di some printing out. My new rsum is eight pages long and looks impressive well, hefty anyway. I had a burger at Grandmas on Broadway and 116th; its fun to hang out around TC and Columbia during the day. Last evening Ronna said the chilly weather reminded her of our college days, and I know what she means. When I got home half an hour ago, Teresa was on the phone. She and Bill are going to see some movie screenings late this afternoon and evening and probably wont be home tonight, either. She got a call last night from the Berkshire realtors, who are interested in buying her house. Teresas nervous about talking them tomorrow because she doesnt know how to negotiate and isnt sure how much to ask. Her sister told her to say that they wanted $125,000 but would sell to the renters for $110,000 and keep that price firm.

My new Key Federal Visa arrived today, making one more secured credit card in my portfolio. I feel comfortable now about remaining here at Teresas. This apartment is so familiar to me that Ive forgotten just how lucky I am to be able to live in such luxurious surroundings for so little money. Last night I had a surprisingly good time with Scott and his girlfriend Joon, a KoreanAmerican architect. Joon lives on 87th near Columbus, and we had a nice conversation in her fourth-floor walkup before setting out for the River Nile, an Ethiopian restaurant on 77th Street. We sat on stools around a round wicker table on which was served our two main dishes, put on top spongy Ethiopian injera bread. You pick up the food with the bread (there are no utensils) and it was very good indeed. Unfortunately, both Scott and Joon had colds, and I wouldnt be surprised if the hand contact we had sharing each others food gets me sick too. However, Id rather get a cold right now than later this fall when Im teaching. (Ron Anagnostis called today and we changed some of the dates for my residency in Sloatsburg. And instead of meeting the teachers on December 1, Ill go there on November 17.)

Joon seems intelligent and sweet, but she wants to improve her English. Shes been in the U.S. only seven years now, and she sounds fine to me, but Joon said that she needs to talk more aggressively and understandably in business. I talked to her about architecture and asked her what she thought of the work of Arquitectonica; Joon said she likes it. Justin phoned today and told me that the Werbacher twins Esther Williams will go on again at the end of this month, and hes happy about it. And its almost definite that his own two plays will be produced in L.A. Justin vented some anger towards Steve Fife, who picked his brain about club dates for the political revue (which Veronica saw and said wasnt bad) while Steve dismissed the Werbachers play. Steve is a taker and a user, and Justin is now fed up with him. Yesterday in class, Lucy knew my name, and I participated (although I gave one pretty lame answer), which made me feel good. September, ending tomorrow, has been a very good month for me. The PEN reading at the 92nd Street Y is tonight, but Im not sure Ronna will want to attend the party at Manhattan Island afterwards. She and Leah are getting along okay, but Leah sleeps early in the evening, which is why

Ronna didnt want me to come into the apartment last evening.

Wednesday, September 30, 1987

6 PM. Im in Rockaway, not Davie, tonight, but Im glad I put off my flight. For one thing, the whole East Coast was battered by storms today, and flying might have been rough. Grandma Ethel just went down to play cards. I had a little diarrhea after dinner, but I dont think Im sick or anything. Teresa returned home at about this time yesterday and brought some chicken from the store for me to eat. Eric stopped by for about ten minutes on his way from work to his home in Fort Lee. Teresa says that Eric gave up a $3 million job from his father-in-law supervising the sale of Joyce Leslie for her, but I dont believe it. Maybe Eric is sincere, but if so, hes got more problems than Teresa needs unless Justin is right in saying that Teresa does need problems, that she must if she keeps seeking them out. Teresa told me that when the 104th Street apartment becomes vacant after Donna moves out in January, Eric will move in there and

that if he doesnt, it will be a sign that hes not serious about leaving his wife. Ill be glad to be in Florida and away from all of Teresas shit. Im not sure I want to be back here next summer. Of course, thats a long way off. First I have to return to Florida, get myself settled, and make decisions about my life. I hate it when Teresa compares herself and her life to me and my life. I dont believe I lurch from fiasco to fiasco the way she does. Teresa says that working in Brooklyn Heights and staying there in Norman and Pams chicken store, she feels more comfortable than does on the trendy, bustling Upper West Side. Myself, I love the West Side, but maybe as I did when I lived in Park Slope two years ago I should try another neighborhood of New York City. I left Manhattan at 10 AM in a teeming rain. In downtown Brooklyn, I read in American Banker about the credit card industry convention in Orlando. By next year at this time, an issuers clearinghouse will be in place, giving information on a persons other accounts to new issuers. Visa and MasterCard are also working with the credit bureaus to standardize information. One reason Ive been able to amass my credit card lines is that banks and credit bureaus dont always talk to each other, but with

computers centralizing debt information, I wont be able to get away with any more credit unless, of course, competition gets rough. It does appear that the most profitable days in the credit card industry are over. Soon MasterCard and Visa introduce Entre, the POS debit card. Im all for a cashless society. I took the Flatbush Avenue bus from downtown to Park Slope, where I had lunch, and then came out to Rockaway as the showers stopped and the sky brightened. It feels comfortable to be out here, and Im glad I got this extra chance to see Grandma Ethel again. These times are precious because theyre limited. Tomorrow night Im seeing Ronna, so Ive got to get back to Manhattan. Ill also see Ronna on Sunday and maybe on Saturday night after shes broken her Yom Kippur fast. Friday night I have no plans. Im anxious about Mondays flight, though its hard to separate my fear of flying from my sense of loss upon leaving New York. Once it gets cold, I know Id be viewing Florida as a haven, of course. Tomorrow is October, with three-quarters of 1987 gone. Most of September I spent at MacDowell, but it now seems as if I were there a long time ago. This Friday marks my 22nd week away from Florida, so this year Ive come as close as possible to spending six months in Florida and six months up North.

Next year and I mean the year from September 1988 to August 1989 will probably be different. Rep. Pat Schroeder tearfully said she wouldnt be a presidential candidate, while Gov. Dukakis admitted that his chief of staff made the video that showed Joe Biden plagiarizing speeches, giving the tape to the media and then driving Biden out of the race. The Democrats appear to be in disarray thirteen months before the 1988 election. I now think that a Republican either Bush or Dole will be the next President.

Saturday, October 1, 1988

7:30 PM. I just watched The Computer Show, which always has great information. Tonight they looked at optical scanning technology. Wouldnt it be great to be able to scan all my diary entries into a computer, which would read the text, recognize the letters and put them into word processing files? Someday. . . Already we have so many advances that make life easier. The latest Ive been using is a kind of voice mail, where I can call up banks, and by using a push-button phone, get information on my checking or credit card accounts. I called Citibank Visa and got credit line increases of $600 and $525 for both Richard A. and Richard S. on their cards.

Remember Megatrends talked about the electronic Protestant? I love dealing with a computer rather than a loan officer. I was shocked, when I got home late last night, to find a message from Alicia, the girl youre moving in with tomorrow. I couldnt believe shes call after not calling me back on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or most of yesterday. I agonized over what to do, and in the end, I was too cowardly to call her back today. She hasnt called, either. Ronna suggested that she probably had second thoughts and wanted to live up to our agreement but hoped I wouldnt move in. I offered to write Alicia a check the night we met, and she didnt want it. I phoned her a week later and she didnt call me back, and hadnt called me back till late yesterday. So I dont feel obligated to help her pay Octobers rent. Im very glad I decided to stay here, where Im comfortable even when Teresa is here. Yesterday at 5 PM, I went over to Ronnas. She got out a piece of writing from a notebook she kept and then we recorded the writing conference I had with her. This afternoon at Teachers College, using my Walkman, I transcribed the conference onto the computer and then wrote an analysis of it and printed out the whole thing.

This assignment turned out to be much more valuable than I thought it would be. Lucy Calkins class has already done me some good as a writing teacher. Ronnas roommate, Leah, a pretty young actress, came in after we finished taping, so I finally got to meet her. While I watched the news, Ronna took a call from Mordecai, a 24year-old Orthodox guy who wants to get into her pants. Later, while Ronna was with Leah in the kitchen, I fixed her answering machine. God knows how this unmechanical slob managed to do it, but I felt proud I did. We went to Hunan Balcony, where we had great chicken with walnuts, and then we caught the 9:15 PM show at the Metro of Mazurskys Moon Over Parador. The film had comic moments but it didnt add up. Back at Ronnas, we hugged and kissed and cuddled for half an hour. I still can feel Ronnas body next to mine. Its too bad I couldnt stay over, but neither of us had time. Today Ronna had laundry and housework to do, and later she was going to the movies with Jordan (who broke up with the blonde), Leah and Sandy. Upset by Alicias phone message, I didnt get to sleep till 3 AM (at least I had Saturdays Times to read), but eventually I slept well and exercised this morning.

I RSVPd to Ali and Liz that I was coming to their party welcoming David to New York City; its on Sunday, October 16. Teresa had company when I called, so we didnt talk for long, but she told me that her fathers birthday party went well, that shes asking $110,000 for the house in Berkshires while the tenants want to pay $99,000, and that Perry found her an $80,000 apartment on the water in Bayside. For the second time in a week, I had a pleasant lunch at Grandmas, the new diner across Broadway from Columbias main gate at 116th Street. My Interplak waterpic is broken, and I may have to buy a new one to keep my teeth and gums from turning to mush. I can play with Logo on my desktop, but my BASIC will not boot.

Monday, October 2, 1989

4 PM. I developed a whopper of a sinus headache a couple of hours ago when a front came in, dropping the temperature 10 in an hour and causing (much-needed) heavy rains.

I brought my car over to Freddys at 1 PM, and Fidel Castros former mechanic is working on it now. Probably its some really big job. Dad picked me up there and dropped me off here, so right now I have no transportation although I can take one of my familys cars tomorrow because Dad will be in Las Vegas for the menswear show there. Its surprising how soundly I slept last night, going straight through with my usual awakenings, following dreams, to urinate from 10 PM all the way to 6:30 AM. I had pretty good 1102 classes in which we discussed Carvers Cathedral. Sean Fitzsimmons finally came back, claiming he was out with a cold last week. During my break, I read the piece Paul Heidelberg did on Kathy Johnson that was published in Fridays Sun-Sentinel. Probably they didnt want to run stories on two BCCSouth teachers back to back, but if anything could deflate me, its being in the same category with someone as pathetic as poor Kathy. I dont expect much from the article now, and probably the photos will stink. I phoned Sophie, who said Rosa Harvey called and the Northwestern High School is scheduled for next Monday and Thursday and the following two weeks. Its supposed to run from 2:45 PM to 6:05 PM, but of course Ill end up finishing before that.

Its good that Ill be off from BCC next Monday its Yom Kippur/Columbus Day but Ill be pretty busy for the next three weeks. Im going to have to go to Nutri/System on a different day, too. However, I need to keep my hand in computer education even while Im teaching English at BCC, and the money is definitely good. In 1101 I read some decent essays that Id graded during the break, and I left school right after class to come home, have lunch, and take the car in. I suspect Im having more problems than just the oil leak, for the car isnt going into motion when I first put my foot on the gas. Well, its only a car and its only money. Getting stuck is aggravating, but Ive always survived it. At least I know Im not going to be stuck in -40 wind chill the way I was in Sloatsburg in January. I exercised and read the Times. Jackie Mason, by calling Dinkins a fancy schvartze and telling Jews theyre sick for voting for blacks, has just about destroyed the already inept campaign of his candidate, Giuliani. Koch was too scared or maybe too honorable (who knows, given how gracious hes been acting) to bring up racist talk in the primary.

Giulianis tried, calling Dinkins a Jackson Democrat and putting a photo of Jackson in an ad in a Yiddish paper. Ill bet it totally backfires and only raises Jewish support for Dinkins. Jews dont like to be thought of as racists. Hmm, Alice and Peter should be finishing the taping of Donahue at this hour; I hope their appearance went well and Im exciting about watching the show when its broadcast. Im starving and will eat dinner soon. Today, around 11 AM, I felt faint, so I got a roll of wintergreen lifesavers in the cafeteria. But as I taught my class, I needed to pop only one in my mouth before I felt better, so when the class ended, I threw the rest of the candies in the trash can. I spoke to Teresa on Fire Island. She still hasnt moved into the Oyster Bay house and seems a little afraid to. Tomorrow, Teresa says, she plans to get the rest of her things from West 85th Street and take it to the new house, which is on Cove Road. I know that place because Theodore Roosevelts grave is right up the street. Teresas first catering job is a bar mitzvah on the first Saturday in November. I wished her luck.

Monday, October 3, 1988

7 PM. Its supposed to get quite chilly for the rest of the week, so Im about to see how I endure the first cold weather of the fall. Teresa hasnt come home yet, and shes probably staying at Bills tonight. Last evening I began reading Mina Shaughnessys Errors and Expectations for the second time. I also watched part of an execrable TV movie bio of Liberace. This morning, I exercised for an hour and I read in The New York Review of Books an essay by Benjamin Friedman on The Campaigns Hidden Issue, based on his book Day of Reckoning. Friedman feels that the false prosperity and high debts of the Reagan years will give way, not to a depression, but to a long, slow, sure erosion of American living standards and our position in the world. As the worlds largest debtor, well no longer be able to call the tune, and Japan and Germany and the other nations who are our creditors will be able to control more of our destiny. Its astounding that most people today believe that Reaganomics worked and is still working. But the massive tax cuts, the huge defense buildup, and few cuts in other programs has

led us to a prosperity very similar to the one Ive conjured up with my credit card chassis. On NPR I heard my old poli sci professor, Han Sungjoo, talking about South Koreas international relations. Evidently hes back teaching in Seoul now. This afternoon I went to Teachers College and worked in the computer lab until 3 PM, when I went to the Sachs Lecture in Milbank Chapel. The talk by Herbert Simon, professor of computer science and psychology at Carnegie Mellon and winner of the Nobel Prize in economics was supposed to be on artificial intelligence, but he actually talked about the real thing. Learning from Examples and by Doing was a deceptively simple lecture that dealt with production rules, like those used in expert systems (if this condition is satisfied, then take this action), and using them in teaching algebra and other subjects. I liked attending the lecture and hearing what Herbert Simon said, but I felt I didnt get that much out of it. Howard Budin nodded to me as I left the chapel, but I decided not to attend the reception. Ronna called, and I told her what Alicia had said. Ronna still thinks I was right in not to call her, but I cant help feeling guilty about not moving in with her even if Alicia acted too

casually and irresponsibly for her own good. Still, there is no point on dwelling on that now. Ronna was going to Simchas Torah services this with Barbara Walters thats supposed to show how ignorant kids are today. Its the kind of stuff I dealt with in my Teachers Fill in the Very Blank column like how high school students think the Holocaust is a Jewish holiday or that Watergate happened in 1895. Crad writes that hes typesetting (on a typewriter) the third draft of Excrement, which may run to ninety pages. I hope its better than the parts of the first draft which Ive seen. Tom also sent a letter with another published piece of fiction. He says that DeLillos Libra is great and that his sanity will be saved by the new Calvino book. Once again, I have to marvel how Tom lives such a literary life that seems unable to connect with everyday society. Of course, my problem is that Im too much in the world to be a good fiction writer. I made some notes for a future story today but did no fiction writing. Although I was expecting a batch of mail from Mom, nothing came today. Tom just phoned. I guess he is in the real world. He wants to go ahead with the Lowlands Press book called The Greatest Short

Story That Absolutely Ever Was. Ill get it typeset, laid out, and printed, and hell cover the costs up to $1,500. Hes sending me the stories picked and some more information.

Tuesday, October 4, 1988

8 PM. Today was chilly and dark. I wore my Bugle Boy padded baseball jacket for the first time, and it even looked as though it might snow. Last night on TV, I watched a 90-minute Bill Moyers documentary on presidential politics and then the last of the four part Canada: True North series, this one on immigration. I hadnt realized that Canada had consciously decided to become a mosaic, not a melting pot like the U.S. Canadians are so sensible and nonnationalistic. Our government grants us life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness while the Canadian citizen gets peace, order and good government. I wish we were a little more like Canada, and I hope they dont become more like us. Mulroneys called an election over the U.S.Canada free trade pact, and the betting is the Conservatives, and the treaty, will win.

I went to bed late, and in my final dream, I was in a hotel in the country and driving around in someone elses car, which I found hard to stop. In the end, the car halted just in front of a guard rail by a steep cliff. Does that mean my life is on the edge of a precipice? In the dream, I was always certain that the car would stop in time, so maybe theres nothing to worry about. After exercising to Body Electric at 9:30 AM, I called Sat Darshan and made a noon appointment for lunch. The Lexington Avenue bus made me five minutes late, but I did find an umbrella on the bus. (Later I found a package of batteries on the subway.) Sat Darshan and I went to the Great American Health Bar. I said I had thought that Bayerische Landesbanks office might be closed today because of the death of Franz Josef Strauss, Bavarian premier and conservative strongman. Sat Darshan hadnt heard the news and was overjoyed to hear that the old fascist had kicked the bucket; she couldnt wait to go back and tell everyone in the office. The girls will be coming from India on Friday afternoon with Sister Rita, who solved the immigration problem blocking the visas by

finding the girls grandfather, who signed a paper giving up rights to them. So Sat Darshans got her fingers crossed. If all goes well, the kids will be here for the weekend, along with Sister Rita (What am I going to do with a nun for three days?). She and Harigopal Singh have new Sikh names for the girls Gurujot and Gurudaya and Sat Darshan plans to stay home from work all next week and get the girls accustomed to English, the U.S., and Sikhism. They speak Tamil and very little English; Sat Darshan is going to have their intelligence tested at a tutoring center. The younger girl should be in kindergarten and the older one in second grade. Anyway, thats pretty exciting news for the Khalsas, and I hope everything goes well. I told Sat Darshan about her old boyfriends Scott and Josh and other stuff; we had a pleasant meal, which she generously paid for. After seeing her to her building, I walked to the 42nd Street library, where I read the rest of last weeks issues of American Banker and the newly-redesigned Wall Street Journal. There were several good articles about credit cards. Back home, I got tons of mail from Mom. BancOhio still hasnt gotten either of the checks I sent for the Visa bill, so I sent another one today. If the last two checks get there, Ill

be paid up and then some. (The big problem facing bank cards is that more customers are avoiding interest payments by paying their cards off every month.) When the cleaning woman came, I finished my work and went to the Upper Cut on 72nd Street, where Lourdes cut my hair and trimmed my beard very short. At 68th and Broadway, I used my Key Visa and coupons worth over $7 to buy two bags of groceries at Food Emporium, and I caught the M-5 bus home. Back here I read the papers (including Sundays Miami Herald, which Id bought at 42nd Street) and called Mom. Yesterday she and Dad applied for a mortgage, so now they just have to wait for Sun banks approval. Mom picked up a fax machine for Dad at Jays store, and he was installing it when I called. One of the items Mom sent me today was a Chemical Bank MasterCard for Ethel Sarrett; I figured Grandma could use a credit card, and it didnt cost me anything to get a second card for a family member on my account. Teresa called me from her mothers house shed spent the day in Brooklyn with Pam and was happy that I reported that Marty sent the $660 check he owed her. The bank keeps calling her, as they want to set up a closing for the East Side apartment. Ive been thinking about the book of my stories that Tom wants to publish, and I have to figure

out the best way to get the typesetting and printing done. First things first: the stories selected are all from a decade ago, and I may want to update some of them because there may be too many 70s references. It might be fun to play around with the old texts. At least the book will give me something to show for my Rockland Arts Center residency and the Florida fiction writing fellowship. It will be good to be able to list another book on my rsum (too bad I just xeroxed it today).

Monday, October 5, 1987

11:15 AM. Im at the gate for my flight to Fort Lauderdale, and as usual, Im terrified. Ive just taken a Triavil, four ginger capsules, and a Bonine. I didnt sleep more than an hour or two last night, and my nose started to run. Teresa came in at 8 PM and argued with Eric on the phone for hours. I was extremely nervous and remain so. The last few days Ive really suffered with anxiety and dread. When I get to Davie, I plan to go straight to bed. I just hope that Im not ill during the flight. My ear hurts already. I feel that Ill get violently ill, vomit, get dizzy and panic. Well see.

* 9 PM. I did not get violently ill, vomit, get dizzy or panic on the flight to Fort Lauderdale, but my ears did hurt. Right now my head is aching, both from lack of sleep and from congestion. In February 1980, stress caused my long bout with labyrinthitis and dizziness, and I just hope I can avoid the same thing happening now. I do have an ache in my right ear. The flight was smooth and I really wasnt nervous once the takeoff was over. My seatmate was another fearful flyer, a Hallandale woman who had to brave the snow from Duchess County in order to make it to the airport this morning. I watched the movie, a terrible one called Amazing Grace and Chuck, and ate my lunch and listened to Vivaldi on my Walkman. Marc was at the airport to pick me up; he fixed up my car a great deal. We talked about his visit to New York and how he felt the city was too filthy and crowded for him to ever live in New York again. Jonathan was here when I arrived. He asked me not to play the TV or radio between 5 PM and 6 PM, as thats his meditation time. I looked through mounds and mounds of mail, and then came upstairs, where I lay down for two hours. Mom and Dad were glad to see me,

and I had dinner (Italian takeout) with them and Jonathan. I paid a dozen bills and now Im ready to drop. I cant really concentrate on anything or figure out what Im going to do. Not only am I disoriented, Im also feeling sick and extremely tired.

Tuesday, October 6, 1987

Noon. Teresa jokes that Im the only person to get jet lag flying between New York and Florida. I still feel tired and my cold has broken out, so I guess Im glad I flew yesterday instead of today. I was about to go to sleep last night when Dad said there was a phone call for me from Sean. It really was Sean: I couldnt believe that at first and asked him how he knew Id just come to visit my parents. He didnt know that, of course; hed gotten the number from an operator. We talked for about an hour. Sean asked if I knew hed called me on the Paul Gonzales radio show four years ago; of course, I said. Hed been listening in the car and pulled over to call. When I asked Sean why he hadnt had any contact with me except that call for five years,

he said his lover Michael was extremely jealous of me because Sean had been seeing us both at the same time. Michael didnt like when I sent Sean books and even now Sean hides them. Last night Sean was calling from the Jupiter Holiday Inn, where he was attending a conference of software users. Sean works for a small Tampa firm that designs and sells software for civil engineers, and he programs in FORTRAN. When I asked him how old he was, Sean said that it was his 23rd birthday. He sounded much the same, and he said I did too. Years ago I desperately wanted Sean to contact me because I felt I left our relationship unresolved. But by this time, Id just about put Sean out of my mind. He wasnt even sure Id remember him, because I wasnt important in your life. Talking to Sean, I felt a surge of the affection that we had between us, but it seems so long ago, a time when my Sinclair Z1000 computer had only 1K of memory. A lot has happened since then, Sean said, talking about microcomputers. I see clearly now that Sean and I could have never integrated each other into our own lives; I was always right when I knew that our relationship had no real future. Its odd that he called just a day after Ronna and I started talking about marriage. I

mentioned this to Sean, and she seemed amazed that I had spoken to Ronna about my relationship with him. I dont know how long this relationship will last, he said, speaking of Michael, but weve been together five years. I told him about my life in New York City and how I got into computer education, and he wanted to know if I was still writing books. He said hed been thinking of driving down to Fort Lauderdale to visit his mother during the week hes in Jupiter, and he might call and see me. I would like to see Sean, but I also feel its okay if we dont meet. I had been so tired, Id expected to fall asleep right away, but Seans call stirred up a lot of feelings. Teresa called while I was on the line with Sean (Mom has call waiting) to say that Grandma Ethel had called the apartment. I spoke to Grandma, who had been to the doctor and said she was bruised but feeling better, and then I spoke to Teresa again; Eric was with her. She said she missed me and felt bad when she came home and there was no one to tell her about the mail. Wholl buy soda and milk and toilet paper now? she wondered. I didnt get to sleep until 2 AM although when I finally drifted off, I slept soundly and had rich dreams with vibrant characters. I still havent

gotten myself together enough to unpack. I feel tired and a bit weak from the cold. Jonathan may have given up Bhagwan, but hes still hiding from life, I feel, behind his spirituality. If nothing has any meaning and theres nowhere to go, he can avoid relationships and situations which could cause him pain or fear or hurt. He says I cant understand how scary it is to confront life in meditation, but I think everyday life is scarier for Jonathan. Of course he may be right and I may be wrong; we did agree that you couldnt reconcile our views. Jonathan says transcendence is not avoidance and that hes living life as it was meant to be lived. Other family news: Marc has become a fanatic Neil Rogers fan. I learned from Dad that Uncle Montys daughter Merryl died a couple of years ago. She was only 32 and had some rare lung disease. Aunt Sydelle and Will are having terrible arguments. He called her a New York mockey and she wasnt fit to shine his late wifes shoes. If you loved her so much, you should have died with her, retorted Sydelle. Meanwhile, Cousin Michael quit his job at the Broadway Athletes Foot and is moving to L.A. to live with his mother now that Robin has contacted him again. What a planet. *

8 PM. Slowly Im adjusting to Florida. Jonathan took me to Marcs to get my car. Marc tinted the windows and fixed a few things. It felt odd to be at Marcs with both my brothers after not seeing them for so many months. I was surprised to see how affectionate China was to me; even though she doesnt know me, she rest on my lap and kept trying to kiss me. Although I havent driven a car for over five months, I quickly got used to driving. At the West Regional Library, I looked at the SunTattler for the past two Saturdays. The Funhouse feature is gone, and their new feature of excerpts from other papers takes up a lot of room. Perhaps theyve shifted me to every three weeks, or perhaps theyre not going to run my column anymore. True, I havent sent them new material in a month. Well see if it runs this Saturday, which would be three weeks since the last column. I decided to go to the Family Health Center and get some prescriptions for congested head; as expected, I got penicillin and a decongestant. At Broward Community College-Central, I looked around to see what was going on, but the only person I saw there that I knew was Jonathan, whod come to meditate at the view outside my old offices in Building 6.

Theres really nothing worth taking at the Term IB Weekend College, but I did see several English classes listed without instructors. Should I ask Dr. Grasso if I can teach a course? It wouldnt be for the money but for the experience of teaching English again after nearly two years. Well see. I did go into the FIU/FAU/BCC Tower in Fort Lauderdale to see FIUs Barbara Bader, who looked at my social security card and voter registration for the new I-9 form; now all employers need to verify that their workers are not illegal aliens. She told me about a new Broward-based doctoral program in Educational Leadership that looks interesting. I got my annual Zephyr Press royalty statement from Ed Hogan, along with a $17.50 check for the 22 copies of I Brake sold and a letter asking what Im up to. Paul Fericano called. I havent yet read his and Ligis The One-Minute President, but it looks good, I told him. He wants me to do a column for the Yossarian Universal Briefing Book. The column would be called Disjointed Fictions, and hed like to use the Whom Is Kidding Whom? section about Teddy Roosevelt for the next issue. I said that sounded great. Paul said hed get back to me and that he hoped he could persuade Pete Cherches to do a column for YU.

Saturday, October 7, 1989

8 PM. Ive been doing just about everything I can to avoid looking at my students papers just as I did two years ago when I took over those three night classes at BCC-Central, and before that for three years of full-time teaching in 1981-84. I find I always leave grading to the last minute, and Im still unable to work that out. If I had fewer classes and students, perhaps Id totally enjoy being a college English professor, but as I told Adrienne yesterday, I hate being a drudge. Oh well, the papers always seem to get done somehow. Probably if I had graded them all yesterday and today, I would enjoy the next two days a whole lot more. I slept soundly, dreaming that China developed the ability to talk. Today, when I stopped at Marcs to collect my 5-inch disks, I took China out for a walk in the rain, and afterwards, she lay back as I rubbed her stomach. I didnt hear a word out of her, but I talked, telling her the kinds of things I confess mostly to my diary and my own mind. She responded with glances that were as intelligent as any of my therapists.

I worked out for an hour today, but I think I may have overdone it the last couple of days. Youd think Id be less interested in exercise now that Ive lost 18 pounds and probably have a better body than ever in my adult life, but I feel that working out will help me lose those last 17 pounds. By the end of the month, I should know if 150 pounds is a realistic goal or not. The main concern I have is not ballooning up again. I read the newspapers, wrote out checks for credit card bills that will come later this week or next, did my laundry, listened to another gloom-and-doom economist, with the same scenario I foresee being derided on talk radio. And why not? The stock market set a record high every day for the last four days, and the Dow is now way above what it was before the crash two years ago. I suppose I should admit defeat. Its obvious nothing is going to happen in 1989 to change the economy, which, to my mind, continues to defy not only gravity but logic. Yet the 1990s will be different. Today the Hungarian Communist party voted to disband and rename itself the Socialists as they try to avoid a defeat similar to that of the Polish Communist party in the upcoming free elections. In East Germany, thousands have been protesting as hundreds pour into the West;

they, like the Chinese protestors in Tiananmen Square this spring, are looking to Gorbachev as their reformist idol, but East Berlin is as oppressive a regime as Beijing. The Chinese took it as a slap in the face when the Dalai Lama got the Nobel Peace Prize this week. Japans Sony Corporation took over Columbia Pictures. Bushs administration fouled up an attempt by dissident Panamanian military officers to overthrow General Noriega. The world is changing. If the Cold war is over and the Soviets arent our enemy, it seems as if were our own enemy now. Im rambling. Being thinner makes me feel sexier and that makes me feel lonelier. Even if looked like a model from the pages of GQ, nobodys going to walk into my apartment to find me. Ive cut out the personals section of the Miami Times for two weeks now, intending to answer ads, but I just dont seem to get around to it. Avoid, avoid. Im doing a pretty good job of that. Im supposed to pick up Dad at the airport at 10 AM tomorrow. He leaves Las Vegas at 11:30 PM Pacific time tonight, gets into Atlanta early in the morning, and has a two-hour layover. Later Im going to see Tony and Adrienne in Hallandale.

Saturday, October 8, 1988

6 PM. It seems to get more like winter every day. Its 44 right no, no warmer than what it was when I woke up at 7 AM. The dark clouds and cold rain are gone, but night will fall within the hour anyway. When happened to the greenhouse effect? Surely it cant remain this chilly all October. I want some bright blue weather. Maybe its for the best that I immerse myself in winter now, so Im prepared later on. I just spoke to my parents, who say its cooled off and is now beautiful in Florida. In the mail I got the floor plan of the new house, along with the sketches of the front of the house and a map of where it is. The house looks spacious and elegant, with four big bedrooms and a vast garage. Dad was happy because today he got a commission check for $17,000 that will replace the money they put for the down payment. My own Florida grant check hasnt yet come, but I expect it before mid-November. Im seeing Ronna this evening, once she gets through some printing with Leah and Debbie. Last night and today, I finished Nancie Atwells book, which got much better as it went along.

Atwell really inspires her eighth graders to be writers and readers. Especially helpful to me were her step-by-step suggestions on how to start a writing workshop. I now feel Ive got some good information to give to the Nanuet teachers at the Miller School in two weeks and to use when I start working with their students two weeks after that. Next book on my list: Donald Graves Free to Write, which isnt on Lucys list and which is geared to a lay audience of parents. Up early, I had breakfast and then went back to sleep: the perfect pastime on a rainy, gloomy, shivery day. I did exercise I havent missed a day in a long time and I got some laundry done. When I went out for lunch, I wore my heaviest jacket and a flannel shirt. I was warm except for my head and hands. As I told Mom, I didnt expect Id need a hat or gloves so soon. Tom sent the manuscript for the book today, along with an agreement and two short notes, the first of which said: Hooray another Grayson. This [the agreement] more or less covers it the rest is up to you but if you need any help or have any questions let me know and save receipts, send them to me with the bill, and the check will be on the way. The second note said, Just looked over the collection. Terrific. I think its a good

grouping. You may want to update a few dates. But a very good collection, yes?! I hope so. I read over a couple of stories, which seem strong to me. Updating will be the main problem before I figure out how to get the manuscript typeset. I may also take out some real names, like that of my brother and Mikey. At least a new book will give me the illusion of progress. I cant expect any reviews, but you know how I love trying to get publicity. Ill try George Myers and Chauncey Mabe, at least. This will help me with the Rockland Center and the Florida Arts Council, whom I can thank in the acknowledgements. Already theyre getting some product for their grant money. And it wont hurt my ego, either. Not having a book published since 1983 bothered me. With this book coming out in 1989, that will make a six-year gap between books, and thats not too bad. I still have another collection mostly realistic fiction available, and maybe that will get published, too. I dont want to get excited about this Lowlands Press book just yet, but I am feeling good. Tom is a great friend to do this for me, and Im so grateful to him.

Friday, October 9, 1987

10 PM. My cold has improved with a good nights sleep. Sophie called early this morning to ask if she could put both workshops on one pay voucher. I said that was fine, but I needed to look at some of the Dade County requirements for third and fifth grade computer literacy skills. She told me she had the book I could xerox it from, so I said Id come down and do that today and my contract as well. So after breakfast and a quick shower, I drove down I-75 and the Turnpike to FIUs newlyrechristened University Park campus. Sophie will be away in Texas next week, looking after her ailing father, so Im glad I could make it this week. She copied the pages I needed, I signed my contracts, and Im ready to start next Wednesday once I make up some materials for the workshop. It felt good to be out and about for a change. Today was cloudy and only about 80. I decided to drop in on Patrick at BCC-South on my way home and found him with Vicki Hendricks, Scott Feaster and Eileen Eliot. I heard a lot of BCC gossip, though I tend to get further removed from it as the years go by. President Holcombe hasnt really changed

much, it appears, though apparently the atmosphere at the school is better. Patricks enjoying his creative writing class and showed me Chauncey Mabes column from last weeks Sun-Sentinel. Les Standiford is starting that MFA program at FIU. In addition to hiring well-known short story writer Lynne Barrett (whom Ive never heard of), hes gotten two other writers-in-residence to live at the FIU dorms and be available to students. (Ive never heard of that, either.) Its becoming obvious that Im never going to be given respect as a writer in South Florida, and I dont want to come back here to live except for brief periods after I leave next spring. If theres no column in tomorrows Sun-Tattler, then Ill know that the new editorial page editor (yes, today I learned that Mike Burke has been replaced) isnt interested in continuing to publish my work. Ill ask for the return of my earlier columns and see if I can peddle them elsewhere. Last night I read from my September 1978 diary and I realized how good the writing is. I know Im a decent writer, and if I can work at it, a book about my college years could be a first-rate piece of writing. Im not bitter about the Sun-Tattler because writing those columns and seeing them in print gave me a new sense of confidence. The work

was very good. I found four regional publishers from Literary Market Place, and I plan to send each of them my complete set of columns. Naturally, I expect theyll all turn me down. When that happens, Ill see about selfpublication using the Grinning Idiot imprint or maybe Patricks Cathartic Press imprint. It would put me further in debt, but whats another two or three thousand dollars when Im already so deeply in debt? I feel kind of feisty about my writing career now. Im not going to let anyone label me a failure because society is so fucked-up and Im not appreciated or paid the way I should be. For years Ive refused to think of myself as a victim, and Im not going to think of myself as a failed writer. I wrote Tom Whalen and Ed Hogan this evening, and Ive got more correspondence to catch up on. Anyway, Im glad Im feeling better and more energetic. Ive got a little more than six months to enjoy the winter in Florida, and its not going to be time wasted. Im going to be productive and try not to complain about my fate.

Tuesday, October 10, 1989

7:30 PM. I just finished reading and commenting on my 1101 papers. Before that,

late this afternoon, I read the 1102 papers, and working on them was not as tedious as I expected. If I remember to react to my students writing more like a human being and a reader than as an English teacher, I enjoy grading a lot more and I find it easier. Most of the work isnt really bad, and some of the 1101 narratives were fascinating. Since I went to bed early last night and slept well, I was able to have over three hours to do aerobics and finish the New York Times before I left for school today. I asked my 0200 students if they wanted to go to the reading Peter Hargatai was giving for Barbras poetry class, and surprisingly, they did. Peter was much better than Denis ODonovan, as he read two stories and several poems from is excellent book, From Budapest to Bellevue. The second story was a bit long, but I got a lot out of it, and I hope my students did, too. I like the remedial class a lot because theyre a nice group of kids, and Ill simply postpone the activities Id planned for today until Thursdays class. I left school around 12:30 PM and came home for my Nutri/System lunch. Being thinner makes me feel sexier, and Im not sure I feel comfortable with that, but I probably can get

used to it. Seeing all those cute students in shorts every day may be getting to me. Anyway, I mostly did schoolwork this afternoon, but I did get in another half-hour of exercise because I dont think I can manage to fit it in on Thursday, what with Nutri/System in the early morning, then BCC and my workshop at Northwestern H.S. In the mail I got a notice from the American Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee about an offensive Halloween mask that Spencer Gifts is selling. Its the sheik, a gross caricature of a stereotyped Arab, part of a product line that features monsters like Dracula, the devil and Freddy Krueger, but no other ethnic group. I called the Spencer Gifts at the Hollywood Fashion Center and the manager said that, yes, he had the item in stock and couldnt take it off unless management told him to. The ADC already complained to Spencer Gifts management and were told that the mask was not offensive to any of them at the company and it was fun and in the spirit of Halloween. I was incensed that such ethnic stereotyping could be going on in 1989, and I phoned the three local newspapers, but probably none of them will cover the story unless I give them some good visuals like me picketing the store.

Why am I so upset? Arab-bashing is just as bad as bashing any other group. Yes, Im Jewish and gay, but just because this doesnt affect me personally well, it does affect me personally, because Im a human being. Do I sound self-righteous?

Sunday, October 11, 1987

9 PM. Ive just been on the phone with Ronna, and it was heaven being able to talk with her about all the mishigass in my life. She sounds fine after a good visit with her mother, a pleasant Sukkoth, and her first playwriting class at a new school. I told her about the stuff in my life: yesterdays accident at the flea market (Mom made the Herald and News/Sun-Sentinel as the victim of the runaway van); Seans call; the end of my Sun-Tattler column; my frustration about not getting a grant or a job in the FIU creative writing program; and my decision that this will be my last winter in South Florida. Im firm about that, the way I was about my adjuncting in New York City last fall. Next winter Ill be living up North where Ill have a full-time, more-or-less permanent job. Ill get used to the cold and come down here to stay with my family maybe for a long visit, but not for the whole winter.

Ive thought of returning to New York this winter, but I might as well stay here and have a few more months of relative leisure, working part-time and living off borrowed money as well as borrowed time. If I start earning money next spring, I figure I can manage to get through the next six months financially. Mom stayed home today, and shes all bruised and sore. Now Ive got my own bandages, because I cut my legs badly taking out the garbage tonight. I didnt realize the trash compactor breaks up glass, and I must have scraped up against some jagged edges inside the plastic trash bag. Late this afternoon I drove Dad to the airport, and hopefully hell be in New York City before too long. Its still very rainy here, and Tropical Storm Floyd is now western Cuba and heading northeast, so weve got hurricane warnings for the Keys. I did manage to catch up on my correspondence today, mailing out letters to Miriam, Chris Barnes, Bobby Frauenglas, and others. I also sent my columns to four publishers (Banyan Books, Compact Press, Pineapple Press, and the University Presses of Florida) and to South Florida magazine. Reading the columns over, I still feel that theyre terrific: witty and stylish satire. But I expect I may have to pay for self-publication, the way I did with Eating at Arbys. If all four presses turn me down, as I expect they will, Ill

probably make a book of my columns my farewell gift to and parting shot at Florida. God, this has been a long week, and Ive had so much to take in. Ronna listened to the details about Seans call, and she said I handled it well. Im glad I didnt have to tell Sean I wouldnt see him if he came to Fort Lauderdale, and Im also glad I didnt see him. Im not going to pretend Im not gay to Ronna, but Sean and I could have never had a lasting relationship; I knew that five years ago. Now, if I did meet a terrific guy with whom I could have a long-term relationship: that would be wonderful. But I dont look for that to happen. Still, I have hopes. Two hundred thousand lesbians and gay men marched on Washington today for gay civil rights and money for AIDS treatment and research. I should go to Center One in Oakland Park and volunteer my services. How long can I put off doing anything other than giving money to the AIDS fight? I havent read most of the Times yet, nor any of the News/Sun-Sentinel. Last night I began reading The Day the Bubble Burst, a social history of the 1929 stock market crash. Well, Ive survived a tumultuous (at least emotionally tumultuous) Week One in Florida. Ive got a feeling Life is going to keep throwing stuff at me.

Wednesday, October 12, 1988

9 PM. Im in Rockaway at Grandma Ethels, and I just finished typing excuse me, I mean entering into the computer My Twelfth Twelfth Story Story, which seems kind of weak to me, as does With the Pope in Park Slope, another story I edited and entered today. I do think Sixteen Attempts to Justify My Existence is good, if a trifle melodramatic. Ive gone beyond the stories in this collection, but if Tom will pay $1500 to turn them into a book, who am I to object? I cant imagine this book getting any reviews, anyway; probably no one will notice it. Still, it will be an object that will please me and give me another line on my rsum, and as such, the illusion of progress. Last evening I spoke to Judith Rose, the English teacher at Pomona Junior High School, and we tentatively agreed Id come to her class on November 15. She wants me to visit only one class thats got ESL kids from all over the world. Her other classes area all Haitian kids, and wouldnt appreciate me, she said. Well, I dont mind another day of work for the Rockland residency, but November will be a busy month for me.

William Greider narrated a PBS documentary tonight on The Politics of Prosperity, about the hidden economic issues in the presidential race. Nobody spoke of a depression, and most of the economists interviewed said that the Fed could avoid causing a recession if they wanted to. Im worried about my parents buying the new hours. In a serious economic downturn, they probably couldnt keep up the mortgage payments, although if Marc, Jonathan and I all lived with them and helped out, Mom and Dad probably could avoid foreclosure. Of course, lots of people will lose their homes in a real depression, just as they did in the 1930s, and as the TV show pointed out, as many homeowners did in Texas in this decade. I fell asleep early and slept deeply, but I had a tickle in my throat that made me suspect Im finally getting the cold Ive been anticipating. Right now I feel a bit achy and my throat is dry, but that might be from the steam. It was cool today, but the temperatures will plunge to record lows again tonight, thanks to a blast of cold air from Canada. So much for the greenhouse effect. I forced myself to exercise to Body Electric at 9:30 AM, but by Ive now gone for two whole weeks without missing a daily workout, and I can afford to slacken off a bit.

Actually this would be a good time to get a cold (he wrote as he sneezed). Ive got nothing important to do for the rest of this week, and if I have to stay here at the beach with Grandma, at least its when Teresa is back in the apartment. I have my computer to write with, and I can make myself comfortable. The earliest Ill leave is Friday. Although I took enough clothing for only four days, I can always do laundry here. At 11:30 AM I took the bus to Brooklyn, going first from Kings Plaza to Deutsch Pharmacy, where I got my Triavil 2/10 and three prescriptions for Grandma Ethel. Because he needed time to make up the drugs, Mr. Deutsch told me to return in an hour. So I walked around parts of the old neighborhood I havent seen for years except in my dreams. I walked across Avenue N to Ralph Avenue, passing familiar stores and new ones. I can remember all of the different candy stores on Avenue N where I used to get my superhero comics and the streets Id ride on my bike, pretending I was The Flash or Green Lantern. That was 25 years ago. On Ralph Avenue, the old Gil Hodges bowling alley was gone, replaced by giant discount stores like Rockbottom and Newmark & Lewis. Temple Hillel, where Marc was bar-mitzvahed,

still looked the same, and the Georgetowne shopping center did, too, though all the banks names had changed and Waldbaums had a big sign saying it was open 24 hours. At the Flatlands Shopping center somehow it felt right being there on a chilly fall day many of the stores I know from childhood and adolescence remained: Poppys bakery, the appetizing store and pizzeria, Triangle Sporting Goods, Joy Teang restaurant, and Woolworths. At the Arch Diner, I had a burger deluxe and a Tab (they still dont have Diet Coke), the way I used to. On the walk back, I felt feverish but I wasnt sure if it was illness or nostalgia as I passed Eugene Lefkowitzs block and Jerry Loewenthals, and Mary Queen of Heaven church. After paying for the drugs, I passed the old house and I stared at the window in the little front bedroom on the second floor. Twenty years ago I was looking out the other side of that window. I was seventeen years old and agoraphobic; I wasnt in college and felt my life was over. Every day I had those crippling, overwhelming anxiety attacks. I dont even like to think about it. Aunt Tillie just phoned Grandma Ethel went to visit Jean Morse and said Aunt Minnies eye operation went okay. Apparently Minnie had some damage to her retina when she and

Irving were in a car accident some months ago. Anyway, the doctors said shell get better. Uncle Morris is still in the hospital, but Tillie wasnt feeling well this morning, so she didnt go to visit him. Notice how my great-aunts call rescued me from thinking about my unhappy fall and winter of 68-69. Definitely that was the worst time in my life. Whatever happens to me now, at least Im not afraid to go outside, to ride buses and trains (Im afraid of planes but I fly anyway), to go to school and work (ironically, for me they turned out to be the same place), to go to restaurants and movie theaters. Ive been coughing up a storm as I write this, and I think, yes, I am getting a cold.

Tuesday, October 13, 1987

9 PM. Hurricane Floyd didnt do much damage at all; it turned out to be just a bad rainstorm. I spent hours finishing all 450 pages of The Day the Bubble Burst, which was almost novelistic in its depiction of the events leading up to the 1929 crash. It would be glorious if such an event would happen again on Wall Street. This morning I felt I had no privacy. Marc came over and the dog was running everywhere, and even with Dad in New York, the house seemed

entirely too crowded. Mom kept coming into my room to answer the Dade phone, and I couldnt exercise. Somehow I hurt my upper back anyway. I knew I had to get an apartment, but where to go? I looked at several places and finally put a deposit on a furnished one-bedroom at Sun Pointe Cove, just across University Drive. The apartment costs $595 a month, but utilities are included and I wont have to rent furniture. Furthermore, with a seven-month lease, I can avoid losing my security deposit. I paid $100 in application fees and once they do a credit check, I should be approved. Unfortunately, the apartment, E-105 the same number I had at SandalGrove wont be ready until November 5, which is three weeks away. Well, Ill stay here and save money. Id have preferred to pay less, but the place is in walking distance of my parents condo, and I wont have to spend the money on gas coming here as I did when I lived in Lauderhill. And I can save money by eating at my parents. I had lunch at the Bagel Whole, where Sam welcomed me back and where the waitress remembered my usual order. I went to BCC Central, and Seren, the department secretary, asked if Id be interested in teaching. One part-timer had to quit because of illness, and she teaches three night classes.

Seren didnt know where she would find a teacher for them, and Dr. Grasso is out of town and wont be back till tomorrow. I said Id do it if they need me, and Seren said I should expect to hear from Dr. Grasso tomorrow although she may already have found another teacher. Either way, its okay by me. Im fatalistic about it. Although the pay is horrible, Im free evenings because Im not taking any classes. This would give me a chance to see how I like teaching English again, and if Id have no calms about using BCCs computer lab if I were teaching on campus. On the other hand, two sections of ENG 1101 and one of ENG 1102 mean a lot of work, and its hard to take over a class in the middle of the term though that was how I got started at LIU in March 1975. Well, well see. Dr. Grasso may not want to hire me again. Tomorrow is my first day of work for FIU, at Auburndale Elementary in Little Havana. I dont like the new component, called Teaching Computer Literary in Elementary School, because it covers too much ground in eight hours as the old Computer Literacy component did in fifteen. Hopefully, these teachers may have had Computer Literacy already, but I wouldnt bet on it. Im not very nervous, and I almost feel I should be. But Im fairly confident about my knowledge and I know that Ive got to see where these teachers are in terms of computer

experience before I design a complete syllabus. I cant find my Apple disks anywhere, though I suppose theyll turn up eventually. At BCC I visited with Marina Burdick for a while, and we talked about New York and Brooklyn College, our mutual alma mater, and I also saw Lynn Grow and others. I feel a little more at home in Florida and yet I feel weird, as if Im at a point in my life that I cant quite figure out. I guess I need to settle into a routine. Teaching will help, and once I get into my own apartment, Ill be fine.

Saturday, October 14, 1989

7 PM. I just went out to buy Sundays Herald. Its dark enough so that I needed to put on my headlights and the full moon was bigger and more silvery than Ive seen it lately. I think the moon is actually closer to the earth because Ive been hearing about very high tides on the Atlantic and Gulf coasts. This afternoon I got some schoolwork done. I read all the papers for my 1102 classes third assignment. It was a good idea to get them to rewrite one of the stories from the point of view of a character other than the narrator because many of the papers were entertaining and excellently written with a lot of imagination.

Yesterday I got a call from Carmela McIntyre of Florida International Universitys English Department. Id sent a letter to Mary Jane Elkins, the department chair, after reading her review of Annie Dillards latest book last Sunday, and Ms. McIntyre wants me to come in for an interview on Tuesday. I had spoken to her over the summer, remember? Now she says there may be a class for me in the spring, maybe even in Broward, a technical writing class. It would be nice to finally get in with FIUs English Department, but Im not going to get my hopes up. If it happens, it happens. If not, Ill be satisfied just to do Teacher Education Center workshops for FIU and teach two classes at BCC come January. I dont expect the Sun-Sentinel profile of me to come out tomorrow because the one on Adrienne came out Wednesday. It was short, and Adrienne felt she sounded stupid. I like her a lot, but sometimes she can act immature. Really, there was nothing to write about her, except about her novel. Apparently she worked very hard on it during her MFA program, but it hasnt been sold, and at 31, shes published only a handful of stories. She and Tony are getting tight with Barbra and her husband. Barbra assigns her classes term

paper topics that they pull out of a hat, and she showed me the preliminary bibliography for one students paper on the topic The IRA: Terrorists or Patriots. In it, the student had articles not about the Irish Republican Army but about Individual Retirement Accounts. Maybe thats what happens when students write on topics they know nothing about and could not care less about. I havent heard from any of the newspapers about the Spencer Gifts Arab mask, and I wish I had more time this week to pursue the matter. Maybe next weekend I can do something. I guess Arabs are really unpopular because I cant seem to get anybody to care. That only makes me angrier. Last night I fell asleep after Wall Street Week, and after listening to news reports today, I dont expect another Black Monday like 1987. The markets will start low tomorrow, but some people will buy, thinking they can do as well as those who bought two years ago in the last panic, and that, plus the Fed providing liquidity, will stabilize things. Of course, Id love to see a repeat of October 19, 1987, but things dont repeat themselves so uncannily. I do expect a steady, slow decline in the economy as the recession finally arrives.

Maybe the dollar will plunge, and everyone will wake up to the realization that the 80s prosperity is all built on debt. Speaking of which, I saw the November-January Special Report: On Living as I passed a doctors office and I went into the waiting room of my walk-in clinic to see the article. Since nobody was there, I just walked out with the magazine. So I stole it. But after all, I didnt get paid for the story, even though Gary Richardsons name is in bold print and as told to Suzanne Harper is in italics and smaller type. The Man Who Charged Too Much is often taken verbatim from Youve Got to Give Me Credit in Processed World, too. I dont expect I can be traced and that my credit chassis will disappear because someone will read this and figure out who Gary Richardson is, but I do know people who might like to get me in trouble. Well, I dont feel I have real enemies, but obviously that Ruth Whats-her-name in Hialeah hates me enough to send Lowlands Press that nasty note. Que ser, ser. As one attorney put it in an American Banker article I read in the Fort Lauderdale library, the credit card companies should blame themselves, not consumers, for the rise in personal bankruptcies. They got greedy and gave too much credit away just like everyone else in the 1980s.

Im glad the article left in my point about my running my personal budget the way Reagan ran the USAs budget. I just may have been right about how the 1980s would end. The CBS Evening News on Thursday night had a story on the shock of people who find they have to sell their homes at a loss. So much for the idea that real estate only goes up. In the 1980s, the norm despite run-ups in the Northeast and California was for houses to depreciate, and this trend will continue throughout the 1990s because of demographics. This morning I worked out for an hour and weighed in at 163 at Publixs scales, so I hope my Thursday weight was just a fluke. Another sign of changing times: Not only did the Florida legislatures special session kill all of Governor Martinezs bills to limit abortion, but for the first time this decade, the U.S. House voted to fund abortions for poor women who are the victims of rape or incest. Bush may sign the bill. Since the July Webster decision by the Supreme Court, the pro-choice people have all the political momentum. Perhaps the tide is finally turning.

Saturday, October 15, 1988

9 PM. I caught up on my reading and most of my correspondence, though Ive got Sundays Times in the kitchen. Id be embarrassed if anyone knew how methodically I deal with that paper. First, I separate it into the sections to read and those to throw out (most of Real Estate, all of Travel, Sports, etc.). Next I take the other sections and tear out the pages that contain only ads on both sides. Im left with a diet version of the Times. Teresa and Bill dropped by on their way back from a day in the country a few hours ago, and they found me at my computer. I realize that contrasted with Bill, I lead a writers life; even Teresa has mentioned that. When Teresa asked what Id be doing tonight, I said, Working, and she said, Oh, nothing, and I said, Not nothing. Im working. I knew what she meant doing something like going to the movies or to dinner or to a party but it was a telling remark. I was glad to see the Werbachers plays new run mentioned in Enid Nemys theater column in the Times yesterday, and I called Justin to tell him so. Ill see Justin and David tomorrow evening at the party downtown.

I also spoke to Alice, who enjoyed New Zealand but didnt tell me much about it. She actually kept me talking about my own life. Anyway, Im going to find out about her trip when I see her the next time. I stayed up late watching Meatballs II on TV; it was a terrible move, but the teenage hero was really cute and undressed most of the time. Also, at the same time I was reading and working on my banking by mail and phone. After sleeping from 3 AM to 10 AM, I exercised to a Body Electric video, and after I did the laundry, I went out to the main library on 42nd Street to look through recent issues of American Banker. At home I watched CNN and The Computer Show. Boy, I sound like a fun guy!

Friday, October 16, 1987

9 PM. I just watched the rescue of an 18month-old girl who had been trapped in a deep well in Texas for sixty hours; the networks covered it life, and it reminded me of a similar incident in Woody Allens Radio Days. McLuhans Global Village that I read about as a teenager is surely here. With CNN, I can be all over the world in seconds in the Persian Gulf, where the Iranians have attacked a Liberian tanker owned by the U.S.; to the White House, where the

press secretary announced that Nancy Reagan is having breast cancer surgery tomorrow; and to Wall Street, where the Dow fell over 250 points in historys heaviest trading day. Its ironic that I read two books about the 1929 crash in a week when the Dow fell over 250 points. However, I expect a violent rally next week and figure the bull market has a lot further up to go before the real crash occurs. Yesterday I started coughing, and today my chest became increasingly congested, bad enough so that I started taking cough syrup tonight. Whether this is a result of my cold or the start of a new illness, Im not certain. Last evening I found a huge stack of papers in my English department mailbox at BCC; each contained two or three batches of ungraded essays. The ENG 1101 class was naturally upset by Ms. Evans departure, but I tried to calm them down. I think I may have taken on too much in taking over all three of Evans classes, but I let the class go at 8:30 PM last night, though I get three hours pay for half the teaching time. But Patty Evans will get paid for her teaching time even though she didnt grade any papers. Im not going to drive myself crazy for $15.60 an hour. I now remember how I hated facing those student papers every week. Well, its just for eight weeks, and Im not going to do it again next term.

Yesterdays workout was more strenuous than I thought, because I was sore all over today. Its nice to feel my muscles, though I did some aerobics with a TV exercise show at noon. Avoiding the grading I have to do, I ran some errands. The mail brought a few bills to pay and the spring/summer issue of the Florida Review from the University of Central Florida. I Survived Caracas Traffic led off the issue and ran from pages 5 to 21. I reread the story tonight and it still seems good to me. Im very pleased with the way it looks and glad that they printed the last version of the story with the final changes Id made. Next year Ill submit this story for my Florida Arts Council grant, and if I dont win, Ill be certain Im dealing with morons. If I dont get an NEA fellowship this year, Im still going to use this story as my manuscript again; its my best work in years. At least I dont have to be ashamed of not producing good fiction lately. I went to Midas Muffler this afternoon and found out it would cost over $200 to fix my muffler, which had just about fallen off. Still, with my Optima Card, paying didnt hurt so much: it had to be done. The only other problem with the car is that I need a new front tire. I plan to sell the car this spring, and at least it will be in good shape.

Alice called, and I was upset to hear that last night she learned, from Donna McKechnies lawyer, that the book project is off. Naturally, Alice is very sad (I didnt cry, but I was on the verge of tears) because shed put so much work into the biography and had so many hopes resting on it. Donna McKechnie really treated Alice shabbily, ignoring her calls and letters since July. Alice still doesnt know if Donna didnt like the writing or freaked out when she saw her life laid out like that on paper, or what. Because Alice didnt have a contract, she isnt entitled to get any money, but Alices agent (who also was very disappointed) is pressing the lawyer for something, even if its only $500. Alice said she missed me and seemed agreeable to my moving into her apartment if she does buy a co-op. I had dinner with my parents at Sonnys Bar-BQ. Theyd been at the lawyers all afternoon, discussing the case from the flea market accident. I hope Mom collects at least $5,000 (after lawyers fees), as she deserves it.

Tuesday, October 17, 1989

8 PM. I was planning to read and comment on the dozen or so papers I got from students

yesterday, but Im too tired. Today was stressful, because I had car trouble. When I drove to school at 10 AM, the car was missing as I accelerated, and the vibrations grew worse. I already had made my schedule close by having an appointment with Carmela McIntyre at FIU at 2 PM. At school, I called Dad, who checked with everyone at home and said it would be okay if I took Jonathans Camaro to Miami. My remedial class didnt go all that well today. As I told the students, I hate it when I have to say old-teacher things like Can I have your attention? They just kept talking well, it was only a few of them, in particular one girl, Shayna Cohen. Originally she seemed lively but now she acts as if shes hyperactive. Her writing is very poor, too. Later I wondered if I had just bored them and began to realize their inattention was partially my fault. Teaching can be so wearing. So why was I rushing to get Jonathans car, gulp down lunch, and drive to FIU in a car without proper air conditioning on yet another 90 day? You got me. Ms. McCarthy was very nice, and we talked for half an hour, sharing experiences as college writing teachers; actually, she works much like I do.

Because FIUs English Department was so small for so long, theyve never really gotten their act together in terms of composition courses. Several times theyve canceled classes in Broward because there was no one who wanted to go up there to teach. Anyway, I agreed to teach Technical Writing at the BCC-Central campus on Wednesday from 4:30 PM to 7:10 PM next spring, and I turned down a Business Writing class because it conflicted with the BCC-South creative writing class Im scheduled to teach. Actually, its a good thing I turned down the second course because, as Sophie reminded me when I stopped in to see her downstairs at the Teacher Education Center, as an FIU adjunct, I have an FTE limit, and if Id taken two English classes next spring, I couldnt do any TEC workshops for her. Certainly I dont want to give up my computer classes. Ive never taught technical writing except as a substitute at BCC-Central, but Ive always wanted to try it. Id told Betty I didnt want to teach it at South this semester because I felt I had too much to adjust to, but it will be easier next semester at FIU when I have more time to devote to the course. Ms. McIntyre introduced me to Mary Jane Elkins, the department chair, for a short chat before she had to hurry off and pick up her daughter at pre-school.

Sophie said the paperwork on the Northwestern H.S. course hasnt come through yet. Theyve crammed Sophie into a tight corner now, and shes not happy with the new office. Back in Davie at 4 PM, I took my car over to Firestone, who may be more expensive than Freddy is, but theyre within walking distance from my house. The problem is not major, and I should have the car back tomorrow afternoon. I also sprung for new tires; it turns out the balding ones I have on now were two sizes too big for the car. At my apartment I exercised for half an hour at 5:30 PM, mostly to reduce stress because Id gotten up at 6 AM and had worked out for an hour before I left for BCC. Last night I called Ronna at about this time. Jordan had just stopped by for dinner on his way to folk dancing, so Ronna called me back later. Shes had a pesky chest cold, and it got worse after she went away for the weekend with Steve, the guy shes been seeing. Ronna and Steve went to visit his cousins outside of Boston. All I know about Steve is that hes from Ronnas synagogue. Hes probably religious because they ate in a sukkah over the weekend, but Ronnas shul is Conservative, so he cant be that religious. I hope Ronna may have finally found the right guy, but I dont want to press her for details.

Of course, Ive known Ronna for nearly 19 years half my lifetime and most of hers and while her getting married would definitely change our friendship, I think well always have some sort of relationship. Look how friendly she remains with Jordan. Ronnas got that free trip to Israel with the Yeshiva University girls basketball team if she wants it. As Jordan said, since they assume she is going unless she tells them no by midNovember, its going to be difficult for her to get out of it. Shes nervous about the trip and the possibility of terrorism at Christmastime, but Ronna has always wanted to go to Israel. I can understand and empathize with her fear, but a free trip to Israel is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so at least she should get her passport now. Everything else is fine: Ronna would like to get this job at the New York Public Library; her tutoring is going okay; and her cold is mostly a change-of-seasons nuisance. I wish the seasons would change in South Florida already.

Tuesday, October 18, 1988

12:30 PM. This afternoon I plan to grit my teeth, sit down and try to write the hoping-fora-Great-Depression article for my writing project for class.

During the night, I looked through my diary and selected bout ten entries that mentioned the topic, and this morning I xeroxed the entries (they didnt reproduce very clearly) and circled the references. This is to show Lucy my awareness of how the writing process works. Also, at 3 AM, I began writing my process log for the project, explaining to Lucy how Ive worked in the past. Despite my publications, Im afraid shell think that Ive been going about writing the wrong way. Naturally, thats silly: I know how to write and the way I write and Ive published more than Lucy Calkins herself. Yesterday I did get some work done: I wrote the addenda to my writing conference evaluation and I went over the book manuscript once and corrected the typos on the disk. This was all done while Teresa was here. Somehow her flibbertigibbet spirit brings out the Protestant ethic in me. Its as if I have to contrast myself with her by working diligently. When she came in at 4 PM, she had a disk from Bill on which she wanted to make a rsum for an assistant chef job that she had an interview for. Although a number of realtors called yesterday, and Phyllis Teresas old enemy phoned with a possible catering job, the phone

message she was most excited about was from Richie, the drug-dealing, married (with a pregnant wife, yet), wealthy guy who was here in June (remember how I had to clear out of the apartment for a few hours?) God knows why Teresa rushed to call him when she has a nice, steady guy like Bill. Okay, Bill is neurotic, heavyset and poor, but he treats her wonderfully. Why dont women like nice guys? Why do they glom onto creeps? Bill is going to Fort Lauderdale this weekend to serve as cover for a lesbian friend attending a family wedding. (Teresa told him he was so fat and unattractive, it would be more presentable for her to bring another woman.) Anyway, Teresa did call Phyllis, who had a catering job for a party thrown by Reuben, Phyllis gay roommate, on Saturday. Shell probably do some of the cooking here, and since shes not going away, I think Ill make myself scarce and go to Rockaway to stay with Grandma Ethel. Although our paper is due tomorrow, theres no class, and I suppose I could bring it next week if I had to. Grandma was home last night. She waited just as long at New York Hospital as she does at her Far Rockaway clinic, except the patients were of all ages and races, not just elderly Jews. The doctors at New York Hospital poked and prodded and told her that she definitely does

not have cancer. (Well, no one had thought she did.) They told her to keep taking the prescriptions if she felt they helped her. They didnt give her any new drugs, and they said she could eat whatever she wanted. Grandma wasnt satisfied, and she still isnt sure whats wrong with her, and the bitterness and burning keep coming back. I said Id try to come on Wednesday and stay for a while. Once I start my Mondays at Nanuet and my Friday/Saturday workshops at Teachers College, I wont be able to spend much time in Rockaway, so Id better go now. Todays a mild, rainy day. Im going to meet Ronna after her tutoring tonight. Teresas got to go to Fire Island to pick up her cooking equipment and dishes.

Monday, October 19, 1987

9 PM. The stock market crashed today. Ive been expecting this for months, but I still thought it wouldnt happen for another couple of years. The Dow Jones average fell over 500 pints, landing finally at around 1700. It lost 23% of its value, compared to the 12% one-day loss on October 28, 1929. Nobodys using the word crash, but it has to be considered one. Having last week read two

books that dealt with the 1929 crash, I can compare and contrast (the rhetorical mode I taught at BCC this evening) today to that crash. Both days were unpredictably frantic, with panic selling and no buying. But the average person speculated in 1929, and that didnt happen today. I had expected that stocks would rally today, but as in the weekend in 29, a couple of days rest caused a total change in market psychology. Obviously program trading a subject I discussed in my computer literacy workshop this afternoon had a lot to do with exaggerating the Dows plunge, but no two events can have exact parallels. The big question is whether the market drop represents the start of another Great Depression. At the very least, it portends a recession. The mass psychology part of it is important; I suspect the number of article and books laying out our economic problems have finally reached enough people to form a critical mass. Is this the start of the big change Ive been hoping for? Time will tell, but even I a friend of the law of gravity, probably one of the few Americans who rooted for the Dow to fall and am shocked by the swiftness of the crash. The other big news today was a U.S. naval attack on an Iranian oil platform in the Persian

Gulf. Everyone knew we were going to retaliate for the Iranian attack on Friday, but now no ones sure if this is the end of it or if the Iranians will try to get back at us. Reagans reflagging of the Persian Gulf oil tankers always seemed as if it would get us into armed conflict. Its very weird. I get the feeling were turning the corner on history, and things are going to change drastically. It might be very premature to say it, but perhaps the 1980s ended today. If they have, I feel little sadder than I thought Id be. After all, I wanted a stock market crash, I want to see a depression, I want the mood of the country to change. Still, its sad to see people robbed of their illusions, even if they were living in a fools paradise. About my own little life, I feel good tonight. I taught two new classes today, and I feel productive and capable. I enjoy teaching, and Im good at communicating ideas to people. Last night Josh called. Not much was going on at his end, but during our conversation, I realized once again how faint-hearted and security-conscious Josh is. He was shocked that I rented such an expensive apartment (Joshs horror exceeded even Grandma Ethels), shocked that Lisa would consider joining the Peace Corps and going to Africa especially after her illness.

And Josh said Joyce could probably get me a secure job at the DOT; Josh plans to go there December 9; hes been waiting to see if Blue Cross will lay him off. I dont know why Josh has become so timid about taking risks, especially after he blew all that money on Carter-Wallace stock; he lost half his investment thinking that it would rise because AIDS would lead to more condom sales. I just know Im glad Ive taken risks and I wish had taken more in past years. Up early, I read the Herald, Times and Wall Street Journal and followed the markets on CNN all day. Marc was over with China that dog is as affectionate with me as she is with everyone else and Dad was home all day. I left at 1 PM, grabbing my mail (mostly junk and two bills) and went to Little Havana, to the Coral Way Elementary School, where I taught my computer literacy workshop. Theyve broken it up into four two-hour classes, so I didnt do much today except try to explain the parts of a computer and to demonstrate its use. Most of the teachers are, of course, Cubans, and Im still not used to hearing Spanish everywhere, including the office of a public school. But I must have done something right because I got applause at the end of the workshop.

The English 1101 class at BCC seems like a good group. Naturally, they were upset that Ms. Evans is gone, but by the end of class I felt I had won them over. I feel totally confident in front of a class. Remember how nervous I used to get? Even last year Id be nervous before a computer workshop. Not now. Actually, working is enjoyable because I havent done it in so long. If only I didnt have to grade papers, Id be very happy to be an English teacher again. Of course, Im sure Ill have bad days and evenings in the next two months, but thats part of the game. Well, I want to watch the news tonight and see what the world is making of todays events on Wall Street and in the Persian Gulf. The London, Hong Kong and Tokyo stock markets also fell sharply today. Id like to know what average people think of todays crash. Jonathan may have broken his toe when a tenpound weight fell on his foot while exercising. Hes in severe pain and should have seen a doctor. Accidents seem to be happening to the Graysons this month. Its been a full two weeks here in Florida.

Friday, October 20, 1989

6 PM. Im tired after a very hectic week, and I plan to see for about a decade tonight. Yesterdays class at Northwestern High School lasted nearly three hours, as I went to look at one teachers IBM PS/20 Model 50 and help him install stuff on his hard drive. Hes a drafting teacher and had AutoCAD software, a mouse, and a computer system Id die for. As the schools start getting high-end machines like this another teacher there has a Mac II Id better make sure I keep up with the technological advances. The Apple IIes are not going to stay around in education, even if there are so many of them in classrooms because compared to the new hardware, theyre just toys. Of course, the best way to learn something is to teach it, and I also learned quite a bit yesterday at Northwestern. I fought rush hour traffic from Liberty City back to Davie, where I had time for dinner before my 7:10 PM appointment at Nutri/System. Julie, our group leader, had seen my photo on the Sun-Tattler book page on Sunday. I weighed in at 163, losing 3 pounds for the week. In nine weeks Ive lost 22 pounds, and by now Im so used to the foods at Nutri/System, I feel nervous about having to go on Maintenance.

However, its going to take me a while before I reach 150; Im sure the next 13 pounds will not be that easy to come off. Stopping at my parents, I picked up my mail and phone messages, and Mom paid me for the tire Id bought for the Camaro. Sophie called to say Miami Springs High School wants their workshop only one day a week, on Wednesdays like the one I did there last year, but Im not going to subject myself to a grueling Wednesday next term. Anyway, Ill be teaching earlier on Wednesday evenings, so I wont be able to do Teacher Education Center workshops that afternoon. Thats too bad, because Wednesday is always the most popular day for Miami schools workshops. Carmela McIntyre called and said that Barry Bader of FIU/Broward told her that I dont need to fill out new personnel forms because I already work at the university, so I guess the technical writing course is going on as planned. I took Lannens Techincal Writing text from Gregs office and Ill study it; as I said, the best way to learn something . . . Nicole, a reporter for the Community News, a freebie paper, called. Shed seen my letter in the Sun-Tattler about Spencer Gifts Arab mask (I found the letter in the paper only today when I went to the library) and she wanted to interview me for a story she was doing on local Arab-Americans.

She found out Spencer Gifts had removed the Sheik mask from the Hollywood store, so maybe my efforts did do some good after all. I left my parents with a present, the video of Who Framed Roger Rabbit. At home, I paid bills and went to bed, too tired to read the days New York Times. I slept okay but not great, and I awoke to a howling wind. Fall maybe even winterarrived in South Florida overnight. After weeks of hot weather and a string of record highs of 91 and 92 the last six days, the temperature dropped sharply. It was about 58 when I left for work and very gray and blustery. Because Id never taken my jacket from Moms, I shivered in a long-sleeved flannel shirt. I stopped off at the Savings of America ATM and made $500 in cash advances, which I deposited in my CalFed account after school. Ive decided to take about $1,000 from my Chem Plus account and swallow the monthly $10 fee that comes when my balance goes below $3,000 in order to have a better cash flow. In my mailbox I found three copies of the issue of Special Reports with my The Man Who Charged Too Much and an offer for a preapproved Visa from Republic National Bank for someone with a Chinese name the previous tenant, I guess. People here leave abruptly. I found abandonment notices on the doors of two different apartments on this floor.

My parents today got the same notice from Republic National Bank, and Dad was approved for the Platinum Card by AmEx, so I guess the banks are moving along with their credit card business even as Visa comes to Florida with plans to quash what they call fraud and abuse in personal bankruptcies. It seemed odd today to see my usually scantily-clad students bundled up in sweatshirts and jackets, and if anything, the change in weather was too abrupt for me. For the first time, I shut off the air conditioning and have the window open now. My classes went okay today poetry in the 1102s, reading an essay on sexism in language in 1101 but I was too tired to care much and thrilled to get home, where I had lunch, read yesterdays Times, did aerobics, watched Another World, and mostly felt numb. At Moms, I got my mail and brought Dad back here to pick up Jonathans car. Marc is driving Dad to the airport for a flight to New York tonight. I havent made my usual weekend to do list. Im exhausted but gratified that I got through a very long week.

Friday, October 21, 1988

7 PM. Its a cold, stormy night, and even the Atlantic Ocean looks very rough right now.

This morning, after getting a prescription for Grandma Ethel, I took the bus to Kings Plaza. For the first time, I took advantage of the transfer to the Avenue U bus to ride down to East 16th Street. I passed familiar spots like the Foursome Diner, the Eschens optometry office, and the orthodontist who used to treat me on East 16th. Back at Kings Plaza, I had lunch at Bun n Burger (it now costs twice what it used to when I first when there) and then purchased some knit gloves in Alexanders, in the same department where I used to work fourteen years ago. As I paid for the gloves, I noticed an old lady and a middle-aged woman who somehow looked familiar. They reminded of Dads relatives, and when I saw them with two men, I was sure of it. Excuse me, you look very familiar, I said. No, said the younger woman. Cohen, right? I said to the man I was certain was Grandma Sylvias brother, and when I told them I was Richard, Sylvias grandson, they said theyd never have known me in a million years. I heard the man called Fred, and so I think the woman was Pearl and I thought her parents were Uncle Benny and Aunt Molly. They asked

about me and the family, and my great-aunt who shook with Parkinsonism said shed just spoke to Sydelle. We chatted for a little while. The older couple, especially my great-uncle, who must be close to ninety, looked terrific, though. Of course, Grandma Ethels neighbor Jean Morse is 91. Ran into downstairs this morning and returned to her apartment later with the orange juice Id promised to buy for her. When I called Dad, he said I hadnt seen Benny and Molly but his uncle Joe Cohen (who was actually younger than Grandma Sylvia) and Aunt Bessie. Of course. I remember they used to live on Clarendon Road around East 54th Street and Bessie used to call me Dickie, the only person who ever did that because thats what they called her nephew. Speaking of my great-aunts and great-uncles: Grandma Ethel was upset because she called her sister-in-law Rose, who told her that Uncle Paul, Grandmas brother, was just hospitalized after a stroke. Meanwhile, Uncle Morris is out of the hospital he says he doesnt even remember being there and so is Aunt Minnie, whos being driven crazy by the on her eyeball. I read Peter Elbows Writing with Power last night, and this afternoon I finished the third draft of my article on depression, which will be the final draft Ill hand in to Lucy Calkins. Its a

relief to have completed the courses first big writing project, and it may be good enough for me to try to submit it to some Op-Ed pages. I wrote a letter to Ed Hogan, asking him for some advice on book production. Actually, Id love for Ed to typeset and design my new book himself, though Im afraid hed be much too expensive. Still, Id rather have a nice-looking object if it didnt cost all that much more. Im reading Stewart Brands book The Media Lab, about MITs famed media lab, where such brilliant men as Marvin Mirsky, Allan Kay and Seymour Papert have been working on the future. I get really excited when I think of innovations like hypertext, Dynabooks, personal newspapers, smart cards, high definition TV, interactive video, holograms even if I have only a small understanding of them. Being in computer education keeps me somewhat close to the cutting edge in media technology and I want to keep up with new developments. After only a month with my laptop computer, I feel it would be hard to get along without it and really, its such a primitive device. Last night I saw a portable VCR advertised, and Im sure theyll eventually be as common as my Sony Walkman is today. Grandma Ethel just went down to visit Lillian Goldberg, so Ive got about an hour to myself in the apartment. Even though Teresa will be

home this Saturday night, Im thinking of returning to Manhattan before then, though Im comfortable here in Rockaway. Well see.

Thursday, October 22, 1987

11:30 PM. Wall Street fell back again, and its becoming clear that the financial markets are going to be volatile for several more weeks. For the next few trading days, business will end at 2 PM so they can catch up with the paperwork. President Reagan was forced to hold a news conference his third all year and he babbled some statement about being willing to work with Congress to solve the budget deficit. To my mind, the trouble is that if were heading into a recession, a tax increase now might make the economy worse. Of course tonight Reagan noted that John Maynard Keynes, unlike himself, did not have a degree in economics, so hes probably not concerned. In talking to people, I find it hard to detect a change in their attitudes, and most seem fairly confident that a depression in these times is unthinkable. Its interesting that all the talk of the vaunted safety mechanisms the FDIC, SEC, Social Security, and unemployment insurance are the creation of New Deal liberalism.

I for one am enjoying following the markets on CNN all day (and after the 11 PM Moneyline, one can follow the Asian and European markets all night) and Im cheering when the Dow tumbles. Joke: What do you call a yuppie arbitrager? Answer: A waiter. We need more jokes like that. This morning I was awakened by the phones ringing. It was Mom calling Jonathan (whose broken toe is getting better): Marc had never opened at the flea market. Later, he finally showed up, but Marc was here most of the day, sleeping; probably hed been out all night. As much as Im not fond of dogs, Marcs China is a cute puppy and very affectionate, even with me. I exercised for a short time with heavy weights and spent much of the day grading papers. More lenient now, Im getting into the groove of grading but still hate the drudgery. I got a second Optima Card with a $5,000 credit line, but Im not certain theyll let me keep it after they discover I have another Optima Card with a $10,000 c credit line. On the other hand, Discover never discovered that I have three of their cards. Tom sent a letter and some poems and an International Herald Tribune article about McInerney/Janowitz/ Leavitt/Ellis, who continue

to get very bad press. Like everyone else, Im envious of these young yuppies, but the article did say that theyve destroyed the myth that writers have to starve for years. Why shouldnt writers be paid well? The writing Ive done for the last dozen years is worth the $275,000 that Leavitts getting for his next two books. As with my teaching, Ive decided to treat myself as if Im earning what I deserve to be making , and my credit cards help me to live accordingly even if I spend very little. (Ive spent about $20 in the past week.) I refuse to be a victim or a loser. Tom also hasnt heard from Crad in over a month. Is it the Canadian postal strike or just Crads depression? Before Tom mentioned this, I had assumed Id somehow offended Lou in my letter from MacDowell. Before class at BCC tonight, I chatted with Mick Cleary. Hes been getting his poetry published in numerous magazines, but hes finding it hard to get a book done. Grading papers is really grinding him down, and of course I now can see very clearly that I can never go back to the horror of a full-time job at BCC or a similar comp/remedial teaching position. I did enjoy my class this evening; I got a lot done and I dismissed them at 8:30 PM. Teaching half the hours Im supposed to is one

way of doubling my salary to something more reasonable. At BCC, in my class, at the Broward Mall where I had dinner, all over I see these gorgeous young guys I enjoy looking at. I wonder if I could ever be content to do nothing more than look. Before Ronna and I get serious about future plans, weve got to thoroughly talk this issue out: Im bisexual I the sense that I can enjoy sex with a woman and especially with Ronna, but Im clearly primarily attracted to men as sex objects. (I think Im catching my students awkward phrasings.) And that will never change. I dont want it to change. I like being gay; its a part of who I am, whether I act on those feelings or not. Ive had no trouble controlling my sexual feelings heretofore, but suppose another guy came along someone I was attracted to and liked the way I did Sean, but someone who was also a person I could see myself having a longer relationship with? Wouldnt I prefer being with that guy to being with Ronna? Wouldnt she be better off with someone totally straight? Well, yes; we know that, but times are tough for single woman, and it doesnt seem like Ronnas going to find another guy to marry anytime soon. Are we just settling for one another? Or is being friends and we certainly are that after

seventeen years the most important factor in a marriage. There are other issues besides my homosexuality: where wed live, what wed live on, how we would keep house, etc. Its hard for me to picture myself married or being a father. That doesnt mean its not possible, of course.

Monday, October 23, 1989

9 PM. Last night I slept better than Ive slept in a long time from 9:30 PM to 6:30 AM. But I suspect I needed the rest because Im still fighting off the cold that all of my students seem to have. Ive got a sinus headache and sore throat. Tomorrows work day begins with an 8:30 AM at Central campus, but I plan to skip it and take the day off. What can they do to me? Not hire me back? Take it out of my sick days? Who cares? I need a break, especially after today, which started off well but ended badly. As I said, I slept well, so I was refreshed for the start of school this morning. Im having conferences with my 1102 and 1101 classes all week, having them work on assignments while I speak with people individually, look over their writing, and assign them a grade based on their portfolio.

I dislike the last task, but I enjoy one-to-one contact with students. Some of them tell me how incompetent a few of their past BCC English teachers were, though Ive heard that mostly about adjuncts. During my break, I spoke a bit to Adrienne, who seems less mature and intelligent to me as time goes on. Maybe Im hyper-critical. Shes very sweet, but I tend to avoid rushing into friendships until I can observe someone over a decent period of time. I left campus at noon, stopping to look at the class list at the registrars office, where a student came over to ask what Id be teaching so he could take me. Theyve got me up for creative writing and 1101 at 11 AM and noon on MWF; Im not crazy about teaching 1101, but my schedule is compact. I had an hour or so to eat lunch and then relax before I drove to Miami, a trip that, it turned out, was unnecessary. Because they were having a faculty meeting and then an open house, I assumed my class would be late and one guy showed up. Then I figured Id hang out there and not tell anyone and get paid anyway. Actually I was doing something other than hanging out: with me in the computer lab, some students were able to stay late there; I helped them with the software and printer to use Print Shop to make campaign posters for student elections.

I also made 5 copies of some software I found, including a phone directory, Word Perfect (which has a bug in it), Lotus 1-2-3, a calendar maker, etc. When I got home and found a message from Mom that Sophie had called at 3 PM when I was already at Northwestern H.S. to say that my workshop today was canceled, I got upset at the wasted time and gas. I could have relaxed for four hours, but instead, I fought traffic and got myself all tired. By this time, I started feeling crummy, but I forced my body to do a light workout before dinner. A caseworker went to see Grandma Ethel in Rockaway, and she felt Grandma needed to be hospitalized, so shes now in Long Island College Hospital in Brooklyn, awaiting the care of a gerontologist. Mom said that her brother is furious with her because Mom isnt around to take care of Grandma, and he has to drive her to the doctor and today to the hospital. My uncle and aunt are the worlds biggest assholes. Its not my mothers fault she moved to Florida; she didnt come here ten years ago to escape taking care of Grandma Ethel. Maybe now Grandma will get some needed psychiatric help, either through psychotherapy or drugs. Its a shame her mental problems

are making her life so miserable. Aunt Tillie and Lillian cant deal with her anymore.

Saturday, October 24, 1987

8 PM. I feel depressed about my life. I also feel Im in everyones way here. For example, upstairs the Dade phone is only in this room, and Aunt Sydelle just called and Dads talking to her in here. This morning I opened a can of soda in Jonathans room and the foam spilled all over. I tried to clean up, bout tonight Jonathan found a horde of ants feasting on the sticky coaster, which I neglected to wipe off. My stomach has been hurting off and on. I fell asleep early last night and slept okay, but I got up at 5 AM with the others and couldnt get back to sleep. The end of my Sun-Tattler column still rankles. I sent one piece about the Fort Lauderdale adult bookstores to the News/Sun-Sentinel, but Im certain they wont use it. Most of my other stories would fit only in a column or a book of humorous essays about my own publicity stunts. Yesterday I saw an ad in the Herald announcing that Tama Janowitz would be at the

Waldenbooks at Mayfair I the Grove today from noon to 2 PM and I decided to go. I worked out to last weeks tape of Body Electric and made sure I taped todays show. Earlier, I had gone to get the New York Times and to put oil in my car (I needed two quarters); while I was out, I took out $1,000 in cash advances from ATMs. Making it into Miami with little trouble, I found street parking in Coconut Grove. Id never been in Mayfair before, and it seemed awfully ritzy. Tama Janowitz was at the front of the store at a table with copies of A Cannibal in Manhattan. She had on dark glasses and looked tired. I told her Id read Slaves of New York at MacDowell and liked the book and that I was a writer too, and said I had a story in the new Between C & D. She asked if I lived in Miami, and I told her I was living like an old Jewish retired snowbird and that I had an apartment in Manhattan. Thats the ideal way to live, Tama said. She has been busy touring for two months and just flew in from Houston late last night. Tama signed her book, which I bought with my new Optima Card, and said shed look for my story in C & D. As I was leaving the store, I noticed there were was a video of her playing on the TV. I felt like

some shy kid next to her, even though she doesnt really seem snooty at all. I drove around the Grove, up Bayshore Drive and Brickell Avenue, across Biscayne Bay to Miami Beach, up Collins Avenue and across the 79th Street causeway the same route my character takes in Caracas Traffic. Back home at 3 PM, I had some pancakes and then my stomach began to hurt. Later I felt somewhat better and marked ten papers from Monday nights class; I have about fifteen left to go. God, the students are so banal and they can barely express themselves even when their grammar and sentence structure are okay. You can tell they dont read. Yesterday I read an issue of Poets & Writers which featured boy genius editor Jonathan Galassi, who said that he gets manuscripts from young writers who cant really write grammatically correct sentences. Bret Ellis says he wants his editor to do no more than correct his grammar. Does that mean that even some young hotshots had to take remedial writing? Probably not, but Ive noticed that even a talented, Ivy Leagueeducated writer like Justin mixes up its and its and makes other errors I wouldnt expect. Dorothy Friedman called me tonight. Id seen her on the street in New York a month ago and managed to avoid her, but now she had me trapped. Shes getting thrown out of her

apartment and feels burned out and not up to paying the $500 a month shed need, even in Brooklyn. An elderly aunt in Fort Lauderdale is dangling the prospect of helping to relocate Dorothy down here, and shed asked me all sorts of nave questions about the area and about adjunct work teaching English. I told her the pay was bad, and since she doesnt drive, shed find it hard to teach at any colleges. This term shes at Brooklyn College. She says she hates teaching English but doesnt think she can do anything else. What a typical victim adjunct! I dont understand how Dorothy can be so out of it, either. I can tell this fall isnt going to be the happiest time of my life. Hopefully, I can learn from whatever problems I have, and I can grow and change. October has seemed endless this year. Tonight we get an extra hours sleep (hopefully) as the clocks go back for standard time.

Wednesday, October 25, 1989

5 PM. I ended up not looking at my students papers last night. Instead, I watched The Wonder Years and I called Justin and David. Davids biopsy, in which they removed a lymph node, turned out to be benign, and every test he went through was negative, thank God. David had to vacate his Reading apartment because the landlord decided to sell the

building, so he and Justin put some of the stuff at his parents and took the rest to Brooklyn. Theatre Inc. is doing well, and last Sunday Justins play Gauguin and the Savages had a well-attended reading, featuring Veronica, Kenny and other actors Justin knows. The companys not-for-profit application the problems with the name are still not resolved, though. Justin quit his job, which sounded intolerable from the beginning, and he went back to his temp agency and hopes to have something lined up soon. Both Justin and David congratulated me on my weight loss, and I felt happy to be in contact with New York friends. Patrick and Betty seemed more subdued than usual today; perhaps they were pissed that I skipped yesterdays meeting at Central. Adrienne went, as did everyone from South but me, and she said she couldnt believe some of the people from Central who thought a thesis statement was the be-all and end-all of writing. Theyve been teaching composition that way for so long, they dont know any better and thats one of the problems with spending your whole teaching career in one place. Of course maybe I overdo it in the opposite direction with jumping around from place to place, but I get bored so easily, and I want to see more of the world.

I had a talk with Adrienne, whos nervous about the future. Once this term ends, she and Tony are going to have to find ways to bring in extra income. Adrienne is thinking of going back to school to take grad courses in another field probably in math because she sees shell never write fiction if she teaches English fulltime at BCC. On the other hand, the people in our department at South and the students at BCC are very nice, she said, and there are probably worse places to teach. I spoke to Sophie, who confirmed Thursday for my workshop at Miami Springs High School; Ill teach it starting November 30, December 7 and 14, and four classes in January. Im happier going to Miami Springs once a week rather than twice. I finally got my Northwestern High School contract, and the pay is better than I thought: $960. The Miami Springs workshop should pay even more. I left the BCC-South campus at 12:30 PM and came home to have lunch, read the Times, relax, exercise and shower. After I picked up my mail at Moms Key Federal will double my $250 deposit on the Visa secured credit line I went to Publix, where I weighed a little over 162. My pattern has been to lose several pounds and then consolidate the loss in alternate

weeks, so Im not worried. Lately Ive been skipping my snacks; my box of Nutri Crisps still has plenty of chips in it. Tonight Ill go back to BCC for my fiction writing workshop. I have to get there early so as to have time to read the stories were covering in class.

Wednesday, October 26, 1988

8 PM. Dad took a cab over here last evening and we went to dinner at Szechuan Broadway. Hed worked the whole day at the menswear show and did a surprisingly large amount of business. He even had to go in today before his flight left. Later, Ill call Davie and see if he got home okay. Dad told me that he knows many people at the show, and it shocks him how old some of his associates have gotten. They probably say the same thing about me, Dad said, but if any of the Bugle Boy people knew Dads real age, theyd be shocked. Of course, his really being almost twenty years older than they think doesnt stop him from being the best salesman in the company, as what the boss called him yesterday.

Still, Dad feels that technologically, the world has passed him by. He said that after I showed him my laptop and after we watched The Computer Chronicles on TV and browsed in the Software Etc. store on Broadway. But Im sure Dad could learn technology. Someday Id like to work on a project getting older people comfortable with computers. We tried to watch Roseanne, the ABC sitcom thats highly touted its Teresas favorite but Dad said it was an insult to his intelligence and made me turn it off. I wish I was going back to Florida with you, I said to Dad as he hailed a cab on West End Avenue. I do, too, he told me. I kissed him before he got into the cab. One nice thing about my having to be here in January is that Dad will also be here for ten days then. I started to read Roy Peter Clarks Free to Write, about a journalist teaching writing in the public schools, and I phoned Ronna, who has a cold. She said the bar mitzvah was fine, although it was a little too much for her grandmother, who tires easily. Uncle Richard stayed in Florida because his mother was ill, but Ronnie came up with his mother, and Ronnas cousin Bonnie came in from Chicago. And she got to see

other relatives from her grandmothers side of the family. Ronna said I could stop by Sunday night when shell be babysitting for her half-brother. I had a very bad headache, but it was probably from lack of sleep, and a decent night cured it. By 9 AM I was doing aerobics with Bodystretch; I needed to get out by 10:30 AM so I could move the car. When I returned to the apartment, Julie Ramos called: Marty Goldman, an administrator in the East Ramapo School District, wanted to know if I could come in to two honors classes at Ramapo High School on November 15, the day when Ill be at Judith Roses class at Pomona Junior High at 2 PM. The two schools are just three miles apart. I called Mr. Goldman and have to speak with the high schools principal tomorrow. At Teachers College, I went to the computer room and tried to figure out which of my writing projects to use for the next paper for Calkins; its due in three weeks. I had lunch with Kevin Sullivan, a classmate who reminds me of Jonathan. Hes just out of college and is in the English ed program; naturally, he wants to teach English in high school.

In class, Lucy collected our assignments and we talked about different genres, including memoir, autobiography, and fiction. Fiction, she said was the one area where she and the Writing Project staff havent been able to find anything that works. Most of the stories kids write are terrible, and she and her colleagues just cant figure out how to teach fiction writing effectively. I find that news gratifying because to me, it means that fiction is the most sophisticated and mysterious form of writing, immune to the clear-eyed investigations of the writing process by academics.

Tuesday, October 27, 1987

8 PM. I didnt get to sleep until after 4 AM because my mind was racing with thoughts and ideas I cant remember now. Nonetheless, I felt pretty good today. I exercised aerobically with an 11:30 AM TV show, and in the afternoon I sat out in the screened-in terrace by my room and graded all the papers for tomorrows class. I also took out my weekly $500 cash advance from Optima and made some other cash advances, which I deposited in the bank. Now I go over to California Federal by the Broward

Mall, and I continue to mail my deposits to the credit union as I did in New York City and New Hampshire. In all of my combined bank accounts, I currently have over $31,000 deposited. About $17,500 of that is in secured credit card accounts, of course, but my credit card chassis shows no signs of strains yet. I spent $4 today, and generally I keep my expenses very low. Last night Josh called. I hadnt realized he had stocks on the Sydney and Tokyo exchanges, which collapsed recently. (Theyre starting to climb back a bit, as did the Dow, up 56 points today.) Josh plans to start work with the city December 1, though this evening I heard that Mayor Koch instituted a 90-day hiring freeze until New York City can assess the effects of the market turmoil within an economy too heavily reliant on Wall Street and financial services. New York may become like Houston after the oil bust. Josh sounded lonely, but we had a good talk. I miss him and my other friends. Its clear that while I can survive okay in Florida, New York City is the core of my life. Still, Ive got six months here, and Id better make the best of it. Later this week Ill check to see if Ive been approved for the apartment. When I move into my own place, life here will be a bit different, Im sure.

My parents are very nice and make me feel at home; they never allow me to pay for my food or clothing. But I still need more privacy than I have here and the freedom to read the newspaper in bed or to stay in bed as long as I want. Tomorrow is the last day at Auburndale Elementary, and so far there are no other Teacher Education Center workshops in the offing besides the one next year. But with my BCC classes, I dont really mind. Maybe Ill have more time to write once I get settled. Write what? Thats the problem. I havent looked at my college diaries yet. There are always papers to grade, TV shows to watch, chores that have to get done. I feel pretty lazy. Now that I dont have a column, I dont really get ideas for a column, and Im hoping I can channel the creativity that worked most of this year into my fiction or other serious writing. Tomorrow will make two months since I arrived at MacDowell; my visit seems like it happened a long time ago. Really, its very hard for me to see beyond the immediate future. I just want to get through 1987 and my teaching and then Ill figure out what Im going to do with myself. At this point I feel have hardly anything to write in my diary. Marc was here today and he brought China, who is so affectionate toward me that I can hardly believe it.

When Sean called, I asked him about the dogs at his mothers, Rusty and Tina, and he said he assumed they were dead because theyre no longer at his mothers house, but shes never mentioned them and Sean never asked her about them. Thats so typical of Sean. Since his phone call, he seems more real to me but also a part of the past. Its ironic that Caracas Traffic finally appeared after Grandpa Nat died and after Sean, alive and well, called.

Saturday, October 28, 1989

8 PM though Ive just changed all the digital clocks on the radio, VCR, answering machine, and microwave back to Standard Time. Im going to sleep early because of a bad sinus headache thats been with me for days and which has probably caused the return of my dizziness. Last night I fell asleep during the third game of the World Series, postponed from ten days earlier when the earthquake hit. This morning I went to BCC (when I say BCC now, I mean South) and worked out in the Nautilus room. It had been years since Id used Nautilus equipment, so I made sure to use light weight and not over-exert myself.

I didnt do any other exercise today because Im not sure of the effect of the workout. The first time I tried Nautilus seven years ago, I felt faint and was very sore the next day. This morning I had the gym to myself except for one guy sitting at the table reading who was watching the room. Back home, I felt hungrier than usual all day: perhaps a result of the workout, or it could be psychological. In any case, the only cheating I did was to have an extra serving of broccoli in the afternoon. At my parents house, I did laundry and watched Who Framed Roger Rabbit with Jonathan and China. Dad said his trip to New York City was good. He went to Brooklyn on Tuesday evening and sat in the hospital with Grandma Ethel for two hours. She felt better, Dad said, after he told her that she needed to rely on herself to make herself well. Dad enjoyed the new Woody Allen film which is opening here next weekend and enjoyed being in New York, especially because the weather was so warm for late October. The Campeau department stores arent going to get most of their Bugle Boy merchandise shipped for Christmas because the company is afraid they wont get paid. This means Dad will be out thousands of dollars in commissions.

Dad says its too late now Burdines and Jordan Marsh/ Maas Brothers to come up with a plan for money, and he assumes that the Allied and Federated stores are having trouble with all of their suppliers. If you multiply Dad by hundreds of other people affected by the Campeau debt problems, it seems as if the department stores problems alone could drag the economy into recession. And if the stores dont sell goods for Christmas, when will they make money? Last night I went to another department store, Sears Dad says that it will fail, too and bought myself some sexy Bugle Boy pants, the baggy kind with the drawstrings on the bottom (so I dont have to fix them). Dad also gave me some Bugle Boy black denims he got from the show he stayed late and the guy taking the jeans off the mannequin gave the pants to Dad but theyre a 31-inch waist and a tight fight. However, I can easily get into a 32: not bad for a guy who bought his first 36last winter. Im very happy with my thinner self, happier than I expected to be. I just hope I can avoid vanity; lately Ive been admiring myself in mirrors. Sat Darshan called to finish our conversation from Wednesday, when she was interrupted by a phone call. She sounds more and more like the Avis she was in the old days, but perhaps

thats only because Im getting closer to her again. The Bayerische Landesbank didnt go into junk bonds, so theyre happy with the market reversal, as they expect to do better than competitors who invested heavily in junk. As part of Europes 1992 consolidation, the bank is opening in Milan, Paris and other cities. Fifty years ago we Germans took over Europe in tanks, Sat Darshans boss said, but today were doing it in business suits. They possibility of German reunification is exciting, Sat Darshan said, but Helmut told her its also scary to people in West Germany. Central Europe is now about as unstable as its been since 1914 and look at what happened then. The 1990s are going to be interesting times. I spoke with Teresa in Fire Island today as she struggled to get ready for her landlord, who was coming to turn off the water for the winter. This is Teresas last weekend in Fire Island, and its been 75 and sunny. Because her subtenant on West 85th Street stays with her boyfriend on Long Island weekends, Teresa can sleep in Manhattan then. She says the woman will be out of the apartment by Memorial Day. Teresas Oyster Bay house is taking some getting used to. Mostly shes spooked by the

isolation and the country noises and the abundance of space, even though the place is furnished by now. I spent a lot of time working on my credit cards the past couple of days, and by making lots of cash advances, Ive been able to keep my chassis going. The $500 increase in my First Atlanta card to $3,900 that I got today will help. (The First Atlanta Visa was my first credit card; when I got it in 1981, I had a $700 credit line.) My Diners Club credit balance was transferred to the revolving Club Plus $5,000 credit line, so getting and returning airline tickets did me no good. However, Ill use Diners Club whenever possible so I can free up my other cards for cash advances. Im a credit card Campeau Corporation.

Saturday, October 29, 1988

9:30 PM. I went to sleep early last night, and I slept okay, though I had bad dreams, including one in which I went to the bathroom and worms came out in the toilet bowl. But I felt eager to start the day, and I was at Teachers College by 9:30 AM. It was quite cold out today and its supposed to get down below

freezing tonight I but I think Ive already adjusted to wintry weather. Todays workshop was more interesting than yesterdays, as we met as a whole group and together looked at and discussed social studies software, from the old drill-and-practice junk to the ones that use databases to the simulations we played in the afternoon. Tom Snyders Decisions, Decisions is my favorite simulation, but I also enjoyed being introduced to his geography search. Theres even a simulation called Jeans Factory that Id love to show to Dad. I spoke with some of the teachers during lunch and heard the usual stories of frustration. Rich Allen is taking what will be a 50% pay cut to go into teaching after ten years as an advertising copywriter, but all four of his parents were Teachers College professors, so its not such a big leap. The workshop broke up at 3:45 PM, and I was home at 4 PM; the M-5 bus sometimes takes a long time to arrive, but it usually has only a few passengers, so the ride down Riverside Drive from 120th Street to 85th Street takes only ten minutes. Back home, I got Teresas messages off the machine, undressed, took out my lenses, and exercised to a tape of Body Electric. I missed working out yesterday, and it feels odd when I

dont get my muscles moving even a little during the course of a day. I was reading todays Times at 5:30 PM when Ronna called, telling me she was going out to get some Cuban-Chinese food with her sister, her father, stepmother and the baby, and that I was welcome to join them. I thanked Ronna and said Id be right over. Before we hung up, she said, Did you know your picture is in the paper? Ellen had phoned her to say she was sure it was I on page 4 of the New York Post, even though the caption said I was an unidentified panhandler. I went out to Broadway and got the paper, and sure enough, there was a huge (about 5 x 7) photo of me with my sign and my cup. It was a good picture, and the caption read: PASS THE AMMO: The war isnt being waged in boardrooms, but this unidentified panhandler on Broad Street, near Wall Street, is battling to take over R.J. Reynolds Nabisco, if only if he can come up with the $25.4 billion. I made up some photocopies and brought them home, then walked over to Ronnas. As I walked up West End Avenue, I felt really good because I did get the media attention I wanted for this stunt. Cy Rubin, the photographer, obviously took the picture to the Post, and they knew it was a

great shot. I feel confirmed in my belief that I had another clever idea in panhandling for the money for an RJR-Nabisco leveraged buyout of my own. Im a first-rate satirist even if Im a third-rate writer. Yesterday I looked at the winners of the $25,000 Whiting awards, all writers younger than I, and I felt so out of it, a failure. But Ive done stuff none of those people can do. Ive got a lot of talent, and Ive been not only a writer of fiction but a satirist, a college English teacher, a computer education specialist, and an expert on living on credit cards. The Post playing up my photo reassures me that I can still get into the major mass media with new ideas. At Ronnas, she and her family kidded me about being an unidentified panhandler, and her sister joked that I was an unidentified celebrity. I enjoyed the meal of fried chickens and plantains, rice and black and red beans. Ronnas cold is still getting her down, and the baby was on penicillin for a cold and ear infection, though he seemed jolly enough at times. Trey walked more than he had the last time I saw him, though his preferred mode of traveling was the crawl. Ronnas father and Sally had a party to go to, but they didnt leave till 8 PM, after Trey had gone to sleep.

Susan stayed to talk about them. She couldnt believe Mr. C didnt offer to help Ronna pay for dinner: Youre babysitting for their kid, and youve got to feed them too. Shes very bitter toward her father and stepmother, though in a Susan Hamilton-funny way. Susan told me about her work in the South Bronx as head of the Heterosexual Transmission of HIV Pilot Study. Crack addicts, especially those with venereal diseases, are the latest group to be spreading the virus. Because crack houses are filled with women who sell themselves for the high and theres lots of promiscuous sex, HIV is being transmitted left and right. I stayed on with Ronna after her sister left. When she got a call from Jordan, I went out to get her the Sunday Times. I came back here half an hour ago. The Wall Street Journal reports that Scripps is putting the Sun-Tattler up for sale. If they dont sell the paper, it will probably close, like the Miami News. Remember how many outlets I had for my publicity in South Florida in the early 80s? Now it will be just the Herald and the News/SunSentinel. Oh, well, Ive gone national.

Friday, October 30, 1987

4 PM. I had put off going to Sun Pointe Cove apartments to check on the status of my application because I thought Id be unpleasantly surprised. And I was when I went there today. Because they found out I skipped out on my apartment in Lauderhill at SandalGrove, I couldnt rent an apartment at Sun Pointe Cove not unless I paid all of the money up front. This upset me a lot. Part of it is simply that I felt judged and rejected; thats some neurotic throwback to childhood. But the rest of it was the fear that Im spending too much money on the apartment; giving it all in one gulp made it seem more expensive. However, by 4 PM I decided to rent only till the end of March. Five months, even at $645 a month, comes to $3,225 and that didnt seem so bad. So Ill move in next week after I give them a bank check, and Ill return here to live with my parents for my last few weeks in Florida. Okay, thats settled. Last evening my students wrote their essays, and I tried to grade the essays for next Mondays class. Unfortunately, I found the papers so awful that I could get through only half of them. Just now I graded all but six, and Ill put them off for a while.

Reading my students tortured prose is extremely painful for me now. Last night there were forms in the part-timers mailboxes asking if we wanted to teach next term, and I wrote Dr. Grasso that Id only consider teaching a literature course on the weekend. Naturally, I dont expect to get one, and Ill be happy not to teach at BCC again. As much as I enjoy the teaching process per se, grading semi-literate essays makes my own writing worse. It will be a long time before I teach composition again. Next term Ill take all the Florida International University teacher education workshops offered me, and Ill register for the Expert Systems course at Florida Atlantic University on Tuesday. But I think Ill keep the rest of my time for writing. I keep having to stop myself from fantasizing about getting an NEA fellowship. Even though this years manuscript of Caracas Traffic is the strongest Ive ever submitted, the odds against getting the grant are still 18 to 1. Its folly to set myself up for another disappointment. Ive had enough letdowns this month: no Florida grant, the loss of my column. Sophie called today and gave me another Wednesday computer workshop at Vern E. Blanton Elementary in Miami from November 18 to December 2, so thats more work and more income.

Joe Cook called and said hes got a 200-page manuscript that needs editing and he wondered if Id be interested. Sure, I said, and Joe is coming over on Sunday to show me what needs to be done. It should be interesting, and maybe I can make a few extra dollars. I ate dinner out with my parents at Corkys in Tamarac. God, October has been a long, stressful month. Ive had to adjust to so many new situations. But Im still standing, more or less. Last night I began reading The Education of Henry Adams, which Ive wanted to read for years. Adams feels he was brought up in an 18th century childhood that has left him unprepared for life in the 20th century. I know how he feels.

Monday, October 31, 1988

4 PM. I just spoke to Grandma Ethel, who had to go to her brothers funeral today. This morning I saw Paul Shapiros obituary in the Times, and of course when I saw that his wife was Rose and that his children were Myra and Phyllis, I realized it was my great-uncle. Tomorrow Ill probably go to Rockaway to be with Grandma, though I have to be back on Thursday to get to my workshop early Friday morning.

Yesterday afternoon I wrote a press release and sent it out to the major papers with the Post photo of me panhandling. If they pick up on it, great, but if not, Ive already documented the joke. (Yesterday Kraft agreed to be taken over by Philip Morris in a $13 billion deal.) Josh arrived at 6 PM, and although we were together for three hours, he didnt once mention anyone following or harassing him. I didnt want to broach the subject, either. Perhaps the delusion is over, or Josh realizes that hed better not talk about it anymore, or maybe he realizes that none of it actually happened and is getting treatment. He told me about a 21-year-old girl he met, a Columbia student who was his waitress before he went to a movie one night at Lincoln Center. They walked uptown together. Shes the daughter of the writer Frederic Morton. Now Josh is finished with War and Peace and has started reading Moby Dick. He seemed okay as we sat around here and went out for dinner at Marvin Gardens, though we got into a big discussion of success and failure. To me, it sounded as if Josh were labeling himself a failure because he didnt achieve his goal, whatever that was, being a writer or working in film. I told him I certainly felt like a success while saying that success and failure are relative terms and that I wasnt going to

let anyone else define me either as a success or a failure. Back home alone, I finished reading the rest of the Sunday Times and all of the Washington Post, but a stomachache kept me up late. This morning I exercised and then went out on the coldest day yet. Its 45 now, which is 8 less than the mean temperature for todays date. No trick-or-treaters have rung my doorbell yet. I did some grocery shopping, and I got lots of mail from Florida, including nine credit card bills. Both Sears and First Atlanta raised my credit limits by $500, and Im hoping that as the holidays approach, Ill get some more credit line increases. Mom called to say they got approved for the mortgage and would soon get a letter of confirmation. After that, the builder can start work on the house and it should be ready by or June. That means we have to sell this house, Mom said. For a long time, throughout the 1980s, while Ive lived in many places, the University Drive address in Davie has served as my permanent address. Next year Ill have to change everything, and this new address will probably be Fort Lauderdale because the house is in unincorporated Broward County.

Dad has to come to New Jersey for a three-day sales meeting at the end of the month; he just found out about it today. I told my parents that I wished them luck in their new home, and silently I hoped they can afford to keep it during the uncertain years coming our way. One Op-Ed column today hit the nail on the head: were all aware that a new order is almost upon us, but were in the stage where we deny it and hope that if we dont discuss it, things will remain comfortably the same. When I called the Cultural Affairs Division in Tallahassee, they said to expect my check 30 to 45 days after they got my warrant, so I still have time. If I dont get it in a few weeks, theyll investigate what went wrong. I deposited $1000 into my Chemical Bank account today. Its been a long time since Ive had any income except from my credit card chassis, and I had to pay the November rent to Teresa.

Wednesday, November 1, 1989

1 PM. This is my midweek midday break. On Wednesdays I get to relax at home from 12:30 PM to 5:30 PM before I have to return to BCC. I should be reading some student papers now, but I probably wont. I never got to those papers last night. Instead I just wait and let my

students wait to get their papers back later. Im becoming an increasingly irresponsible teacher. The truth is, much of the time I dont enjoy teaching English. Maybe if I had a job teaching only creative writing or if I taught composition to better students than BCC gets, Id feel differently. Im not sorry I took the full-time position at South this semester, but once again, I see that Im not happy with college English. After working at CUNY in the fall of 1985, I vowed Id never teach remedial writing there again, and two years later, I disliked returning to BCC-Central when I took on those three night classes in mid-semester. Now I realize that even with process-oriented techniques, I still find the work drudgery and not intellectually stimulating enough. Its not that Im lazy, either. I could read about education or business or fiction for hours and hours. Maybe thats not work, and I am lazy. My students dont seem to care either, but can they sense my own lack of concern? In 1101 today we tried to look at Newsweek, but my students were like bumps on a log. Every time I ask a question, they look blank. Once again I heard a student say, That doesnt affect us, so why do we have to know or care about it?

Maybe Im romanticizing my own college years to say that we cared passionately about so many things, but it did seem that the people I hung out with as an undergraduate had more curiosity about the world and approached it less passively. Its scary how self-satisfied my students are in regard to their own ignorance. If it sounds as if I have contempt for them, well, I have to admit I do, a little. Most are nice people, very sweet nicer than my generation, probably but theyre so bland and uninterested and uninteresting. They have no idea what theyre missing, and their previous education is to blame. Ironically, today was the day when the Fort Lauderdale paper profiled me with an article accompanied by a photo of me, 17 pounds fatter, in front of the classroom. The article made me sound successful, mentioning quotes from the Times Book Review and Rolling Stone, my real estate deals (well, I have made money on real estate by living in cheap places), and CompuLearn, my consulting firm. The profile also covered my shuttling between South Florida and Manhattan and my grants. I xeroxed the article without the photo, but it will be a good reminder of how I looked before and when the picture was taken, Id already lost nine pounds from my Nutri/System starting weight.

* 11 PM. I just got home from BCC a little while ago and changed into my bedclothes a T-shirt and gym shorts brushed my teeth with the Interplak after I had my Nutri/System chocolate pudding, a treat Id saved for myself. After a pleasant night class, I feel more kindly disposed toward my students and teaching at BCC. My fiction writing students were more likable, for some reason, on this particular evening. I read to them from Crads books before we went over two decent student stories: a clever satire by Carolyn, who writes her tales with authority, and a rather muddled but literary story by Lois, which was about a small town in New England during the Great Depression. Earlier, during the afternoon, I called Grandma Ethel, who said she was having problems with low, not high, blood pressure. She felt bad, yet I seem to have detected a slight adjustment on her part to the hospital routine in the psychiatric ward. The nurses make sure she doesnt lie in bed and push her to activities and meetings. Perhaps shes being given antidepressants, which usually take weeks to kick in. She didnt sleep well last night, but shes eating more.

I wish I were in New York so I could visit her and help along her recovery. Grandma Ethel, too, said she wished I were still living at Teresas so I could be only a train ride away. Well, if shes still around in May, Ill help her. I cant move in to Teresas apartment if I do until Memorial Day, when her subtenant leaves, and my staying with Grandma in Rockaway might be helpful for both of us. I wish I knew what I was going to do next fall, but I suppose worrying about it now is silly. I keep looking forward to the end of this semester, but really, Ive settled into a routine Im comfortable if not altogether happy with. But I miss New York and my friends there. My time in the city last summer was too short.

Thursday, November 2, 1989

9 PM. Im so glad tomorrows Friday. The past four weeks have been very tiring, but I finished the Northwestern High School workshop today. Luckily, one teacher Ren Romero, the drafting teacher whos got a PS/2 Model 70, showed up, and I spent several hours going over software with him and letting him and Martha Perez, the computer teacher I first met when I came to the school in January 1988, pirate some of my programs to their 3.5 disks.

I also forged a workshop completion form for Anthony Muccio, the printing teacher, because he came to most sessions and I know hes learned to use the Mac II. In retrospect, Im glad I didnt get through to Sophie on Monday. At the Teacher Education Center, they may think its odd that only two teachers finished the component, but I doubt Ill get into trouble. As Deborah Love, the schools TEC rep, twenty teachers had originally signed up. I drove home through the streets of Liberty City and up University Drive as it got dark. After a quick dinner, I went to Nutri/System, where I weighed in at 160, a loss of a pound since last week. Richard, whats wrong? asked the nurse, an older German woman I dont like as much as the others. Nothings wrong, I said. Im doing fine. Id weighed myself at Publix before driving to Miami and I weighed 159 on their scale. Unlike three weeks ago, Im no longer concerned with weekly fluctuations in my weight loss, as the trend is clear. I think the more gradually I lose the weight, the better it is to keep it off anyway. Last night it took me a while to come down from the stimulation of teaching till 10 PM, but finally I went to sleep. Up at 6 AM, which is

getting to be my normal morning wakeup time, I had breakfast, read the Times, exercised, and prepared some assignments. When I got to BCC, I xeroxed the sheets Id printed out, and I had my 0020 class write today. Next week Ill catch up on my grading; Ive fallen embarrassingly behind. On the other hand, I worked hard the last month, and with all the teaching and driving and other stress, I stuck with my diet and exercising and other routines and I dont think my students suffered unduly. Therell be no more weeks this term when Ill be teaching compute ed workshops more than one day a week, and Ive got Veterans Day off next Friday, and two days of Thanksgiving two weeks after that, so I plan to straighten out my life. Julies class at Nutri/System tonight was on effective communication. I like discussing that kind of stuff, and I bet Id make a good Nutri/System counselor. After a woman in our class mentioned seeing the Sun-Sentinel profile of me, Julie said she wanted to see it. She also said she met Mom on Tuesday night. I stopped off at my parents on the way home to drop off a dessert that Mom forgot to take that Id picked up for her. Dad was back from his trip to Sarasota and Tampa, and China wanted to lick me and get her belly rubbed.

Teresa left a message about getting some of Moms tuxedo shirts from the flea market, but she wasnt in when I called her back, and now Im unplugging the phone because I want to go to sleep or try to, anyway. This weekend I plan to see the new Woody Allen film; after all these weeks, its about time I went to the movies. Dad gave me these nice new Bugle Boy T-shirts that look real good with my new slacks. I guess its because I look good. Am I too forgiving of myself? If I am, how is it going to hurt me? Id rather err on the side of gentleness.

Tuesday, November 3, 1987

10 PM. Ive just been working on editing another of Dr. Cooks manuals, this one on handling common instructional problems such as disruptive behavior or student apathy. Earlier today I finished two other manuals on the role play and lecture methods of instruction. I feel Im learning a great deal in this editing process. For one thing, the material itself is valuable to me as a teacher. Also, I find it instructive to be forced to make choices regarding someone elses writing. Rarely when I write my own stories or columns

do I spend as much time worrying over the placement of a comma or a word. Things just seem to fit naturally when Im writing or they dont, in which case I can change them. But as I become familiar with Joe Cooks prose style and its quirks and idiosyncrasies, I realize that there are many ways I can improve clarify or correct some mechanical error. They say there are no real line editors of books in trade publishing today. I can see why: its too demanding a job for most young people; its easier to make deals and hold the authors hand. I would not want to make a career out of being an editor I would miss working on my own prose but this has been an enlightening experience. Today was my free day this week. Up early, I pondered a dream I had around 5 AM. In the dream, I am in Brooklyn; a storm is coming, and Im being threatened by a group of menacing people. I start driving a car frantically, scared that in my haste, Ill have an accident or the car will overturn. After I finally park the car away from the menacing group, I sit near the window in a restaurant in a parka-like covering which protects my whole body from the elements. Ignoring stares, I keep sitting there and wait for the end of the storm. As the sky clears, I go out again and drive home calmly and safely and the dream ends.

Obviously, this dream is a positive one because I manage to protect myself from a both hostile people and a hostile environment; once I feel out of immediate danger, I stand my ground (literally) and make it home in the end. Anyway, at 9 AM I went out to the Publix at Broward Boulevard near NW 70th Avenue, and I withdrew $500 in cash advances on my Optima Card. Then, at C & S Bank, I got another cash advance from a teller. Right after that, I deposited $1500 to my California Federal checking account. On Thursday Ill have to withdraw another $3369 to get a bank check in order to pay my rent. Marc brought China here for most of the day, and the dog seemed to be more agitated than affectionate; Mom said shes been that way since she had her hysterectomy. I went to the West Regional library and worked on the manuals for a few hours. Home in midafternoon, I read the newspapers. It began to storm heavily, so we had dinner in the house this evening. Afterwards, I did more editing, taking a break only to watch the last half of Peggy Sue Got Married downstairs with my parents. (Mom, of course, fell asleep before the end.) Well, I feel like dull Jack with all work and no play and little to write about. I have been lonely lately and also horny. One nice thing about the library was that I was around some cute guys.

Lately I find that I have to remember to masturbate every few days. What happens is that I go too long without an orgasm three or four days and every time I urinate, I feel afterwards that I have to go again and sometimes some semen-like fluid comes out. I should have exercised today, as I feel very sluggish. How can I write when I feel so lifeless, so faceless? In the Times, I saw an article about a study of creative writers which indicates a correlation between writing talent and bipolar depression, the polite term for manic depression. Actually, when Im depressed, I sometimes have more to write about. I guess I dont have the highs I used to get and when they do come, its usually in the middle of the night, and my mind races as I lie awake in bed and in the morning I feel wretched. Today was Election Day, but there were no contests in Broward and few around the country. I remember Election Day last year, and how excited I was over the Democrats winning the U.S. Senate. A few days after that came the news of the Iran/Contra scandal. That was the beginning of the end of the 1980s. I read another article today that said that Yuppies are pass, that everyone is realizing that home and family are more important than a BMW and a million dollars. Ill believe that when I see more evidence of it. I just wish that Americas love affair with the

lifestyles of the rich and famous would end. The stock market hasnt crashed far enough, if you ask me. God, am I beginning to sound like a crank? Do all disappointed and frustrated geniuses eventually become cranks? Why not?

Friday, November 4, 1988

2 PM. At last, its 62 and sunny. This is what October should have been like. But I did make it through a cold October and Ill survive November, too. Five weeks from today Ill be in the South Florida sunshine. Right now Im tired. The futon was uncomfortable, and although I slept deeply for four hours, that wasnt enough rest for me. Teresa was here when I got back from the diner, and naturally her presence tends to dominate the apartment. At least last night she shut her bedroom door. She showed me a treatment for a dramedy TV series that Bill wrote, and it seemed very shoddily written, inane and unsophisticated to me. However, its possible that network TV would buy it because theyre into such crap.

When Teresa told me about Bills writing plans, they seem very unrealistic to me, and he does sound like a bit of a psychological mess. He hasnt worked in eighteen months and his selfimage is terrible. As much as Id prefer to be alone here, I think Teresa is better off not living with Bill. I called Julie, who gave me the number of a teacher at Tappan Zee High School, and I made up to visit her creative writing class from 10:30 to 11:15 AM on Thursday, November 17 the day I was supposed to be in Sloatsburg. That gives me a hectic week, but I do have the freedom of these two days that Id not expected due to the cancellation of the Teachers College workshop. I still havent been able to get the principal of Ramapo High School on the line. Today I exercised and began to read the papers. With the election almost here, it looks as though things are turning out as I expected. Bush will win by a comfortable margin, but Dukakis will carry a few big states and do better than the Democrats did in 72, 80 or 84. Despite todays low unemployment statistics, it looks as if the economy will finally slowdown in 1989, though probably with a soft landing. Of course, the stock market might crash again on the bursting of the LBO frenzy bubble, or the dollar may begin to sink as it dawns on

foreigners that the U.S. isnt doing much about the budget deficit. Bush will be a very unpopular president. Its as if Reagan made a pact with the devil that nothing bad can happen during his term; Bush cant be so lucky. I think Ill go to Rockaway on Tuesday, so I can watch the election returns in peace. Teresa thinks she knows something about politics, but shed probably rather watch sitcom reruns, not understanding why I would bother to watch the returns if the presidential elections outcome is already known. But to a political junkie, though, there are all the state-by-state returns, and the Senate, House and governorship races. I love Election Night. Ill have to be back in Manhattan early on Wednesday for my Teachers College class. For the next month, Ill be in Rockland County a lot eight days teaching in various schools, visiting classes. Probably I wont have much time to write, and lets face it, this residency is my swan song as a fiction writer. My interests have changed, and apart from the occasional story and story collection, I wont be publishing fiction very much anymore. However, Ill still be a writer and I want to explore newer interests like economics and business, health care, and education. When I have little incentive to read fiction, its time to

get out of the business and basically relegate writing short stories to something I do with my left hand. The two grants and the West Side Spirit prize are about as far as my writing can take me as of now. In Florida, Ill get started on The Greatest book, and having another short story collection out will be fun. Ill keep up with my computer education work and see where I want to go and where life takes me. So far, being flexible about my future plans has worked out fine.

Saturday, November 5, 1988

8 PM. Teresa didnt come home yesterday, so I had the place to myself, even at night, and I slept very well. She and Bill were just here, dropping off lots of stuff on their way to dinner, and I dont know what Teresas plans are for tonight. Tomorrow shes catering yet another family celebration, Grandma Agnes 90th birthday party at her sisters house. Today continued the mild temperatures of yesterday, but it rained heavily off and on. Yesterday when I called Sat Darshan she said that her sister and Dave and the boys were driving up from Philadelphia today, so it would be a good time for me visit and meet Gurujot and Gurudaya.

So today I got to the brownstone on Dean Street at noon and stayed there much of the day. Gurujot and Gurudaya are very cute, but Sat Darshan and Harigopal Singh have taken on a lot. The girls speak only a little English, and while they seem to be learning quickly, Im not sure they understand everything. They talk to each other almost entirely I Tamil. Obviously coming to the U.S. is a traumatic change for them, but they seem to have adjusted fairly well in a short time. Gurudaya, about five years old, whined and cried and refused to walk with us even when we all went out for a stroll. Sat Darshan said she had to teach them not to spit on the floor doing that is a common practice in India and I noticed that Gurujot had put her shoes on the wrong feet. Theyve already got lots of toys crayons, Lego, a musical electronic keyboard and Sat Darshan played a videotape of Cinderella for them. Ellen and Dave look fine, though a little older, just like I do, and they seem to be thriving in Philadelphia. They have great jobs at Penn and a big house in Center City that was dirt cheap by New York standards. Harry is eight, a very cute kid who seems very bright (he was reading a C.S. Lewis novel). I could tell he was bored and didnt quite know

what to make of his Sikh aunt and his two new cousins from India. Clearly, Harry was more used to hamburgers than the food Sat Darshan served, though he had a muenster cheese sandwich while the rest of us had miso soup with noodles. His little brother, Jeremy, is 2 and sweet and carries around an ear of plastic corn that Ellen brought back from the Cannes film festival. (Apparently plastic fruits and vegetables are big toys these days.) Ellen and Dave and Sat Darshan and I talked about the upcoming Bush victory and the conservative college students of today and compared the problems and virtues of Philadelphia and New York. I enjoyed seeing the McAllisters finally, after so many failed attempts in Virginia and Florida, and I was happy to meet Sat Darshans girls. It was interesting to see Sat Darshan as a mother, cajoling, comforting and reprimanding her kids. When she got angry, she called her daughter by the girls full name Gurudaya Kaur Khalsa in the time-honored tradition of mothers. The kids called her mataji or mamaji and recited the Sikh prayer before eating. Sat Darshan told us that Harigopal Singh who was in Newark, taking the New Jersey licensing test for acupuncturists wants to go to osteopath school and become a doctor, since

physicians are taking over the practice of homeopathic medicine. I left Brooklyn and got drenched this evening when I was caught in a downpour coming home from the Argo Diner.

Friday, November 6, 1987

8 PM. This is my first night in my new apartment. God, after moving so many times, Ive discovered that it never gets any easier; it only becomes a familiar unpleasant experience. But I guess I have to give myself a break and not reprimand myself for not adjusting instantly. After all, how many people have moved as often as I have? This is my fifth apartment here in Florida, after ones in Sunrise (my favorite), North Miami Beach, Nova Universitys student housing and SandalGrove in Lauderhill. I plan to be here I know Ill be here less than six months, but I should try to make myself comfortable. The hardest part is adjusting to the little irritations. Por ejemplo, the light in the bedroom is not bright enough, coming as it does from one night-table lamp; Ill have to buy a brighter bulb.

Also, the phone jack is in the living room, not the bedroom; Ill adjust to that, and at least Mom bought me a new Panasonic phone with an answering machine, automatic redial, onedigit dialing of numbers, and other great feature. Right now I have no TV, but eventually Ill get my old B & W set from Marc. And of course Im not sure where everything is or how I want to set up the apartment just yet. Sometimes things take weeks or months to find their own places. Im planning to go out tonight, to a BCC lecture by a New York video and performance artist, at 9 PM. I figure I need a little diversion. I did sleep well last night, and this morning I dragged over a lot of stuff before I showered. It took me a couple of trips during the day, and some shopping, but I managed, even though I felt depressed. I was cheered up when a woman doing a traffic survey of visitors to the Davie Shopping Center, where I went for lunch, refused to believe I was 35 and said I was probably only 20 or 21. God, that made me feel good. Ive got my clock radio for companionship here, and of course my parents house is only three or four minutes away, whether I walk or drive. Joe Cook said he had my last manual, and I arranged to pick it up and drop off the other

four that Ive completed, at his house on Sunday. Ill do the exchange with his doorman on Williams Island. I have only that Monday set of papers to grade, and since Ive already read them, the job wont be that difficult. Maybe I can relax a little this weekend. Ive felt under lots of pressure. The Dime Savings Bank raised the credit limit on my Visa from $1000 to $1200 not much, but every little bit helps. And also, though I shelled out $3369 for my rent, I wont have to pay for housing expenses till April, and I still have $38,000 in my numerous bank accounts. Americans seem to have shrugged off the stock market crash, with continued high confidence in the economy as a rule, according to polls. The affluent and those between 18 and 29 are most likely to be optimistic. With the Fed pumping money into the economy like mad, interest rates and the dollar tumbling, it does look as if were going to avoid an immediate recession. But to my mind, that will just make the inevitable reckoning worse. If anything, this optimism makes me more confident that a real depression is coming. Judge Ginsbergs nomination to the Supreme Court is in jeopardy already and its not questionable ethics (he had stock in a cable company while he made a ruling affecting the industry; his stance on asbestos regulation has also been under attack) which has gotten him

into a fix, but an admission that as a student, law clerk and professor, he occasionally smoked marijuana. Can they find a 41-year-old who didnt occasionally have a social joint in the 1960s and 1970s? I certainly would never think that I was or ever had been a drug user, but from 1971 to 1981 or so, I must have smoked marijuana a hundred times, mostly at parties. I never bought grass for myself, but I liked sharing it with friends even if I never felt terribly affected by it; mostly I got a pleasant buzz. Am I now some untouchable? If so, Ive got lots of company. If anything, Ginsbergs use of grass reassures me that hes not some wild reactionary. Maybe its too bad his nomination will not be withdrawn. But I like seeing ultraconservatives being put in the position of defending Ginsberg.

Tuesday, November 7, 1989

8 PM. Last night I made up for the lack of sleep the night before. Its still difficult to sleep on my left side because my arm and shoulder hurt and I get vertigo on my right side but I managed to sleep a solid eight hours between 9:30 AM and 5:30 AM, with nourishing dreams.

In several dreams I was unhappy because I was about to marry a woman I didnt love. It was the morning of the wedding, and I tried to convey to everyone Sat Darshan, Teresa, Alice how I felt, but Marc was the only one who noticed my distress. This morning I accomplished a lot. By the time I left for school, Id exercised to Body Electric, read the New York Times, and typed up and graded my 0200 papers. In class, we gathered into a circle and went over five essays on students goals for the coming year. I think in the remedial class, Im going to alternate in-class writing with these workshops for the remainder of the term. Scott Coventry said he could a design a cover for my new book with his desktop publishing software, and after thinking about it tonight, Im inclined to let him have a try at it. After lunch at home, I went to a walk-in clinic and got a flu vaccine for $20. Because so many of my students seem to be getting the flu and because I remember getting it in January 1987 (though I shrugged it off relatively quickly), I decided a flu shot would be worth the money. The nurse vaccinated me and made me wait twenty minutes to see if I had an allergic reaction. I didnt, of course, though my shoulder has been sore.

Stopping off at Moms, I found the galley proofs of the new book. Exactly six months ago, I got the galleys for The Greatest Short Story. Anyway, I read the galleys of Narcissism and Me and think its an even better book, sharper, funnier and less dated. Tom sent me the list of the fourteen people who bought the Lowlands Press book: Sat Darshan and her sister and brother-in-law, Teresas parents, Bobby Frauenglas, Kenneth Bernard, Edmund Pennant, Josh, Terry Malley, Susan Schaeffer, Bert Stratton, Pearl Levine and someone named Madel. That makes me feel good. Fifteen copies Sat Darshan bought two isnt bad. Ill do better with both books when I get to New York City and take them out on the streets, and maybe I can sell some copies of The Greatest Short Story at the Miami Book Fair. I felt very relaxed this afternoon. I guess not teaching computer ed workshops two afternoons a week makes a full-time, five-class schedule at Broward Community College seem like a normal workload. Tonight I called Grandma Ethel, and she said the doctor told her she wouldnt be going home this week. Her burning sensation has returned, though she seems to be aware its psychosomatic.

Although Grandma said she felt bad, she did go out to the dining room to eat dinner with several of the woman shes met on the psychiatric ward. Marty and Arlyne broke the news of Claires death to her when they visited, and Grandma was upset about her sister but had expected it. Theres nothing I could have done for her. Grandma Ethel said, quite correctly. Mom told me she didnt do so well at Nutri/System last week, but its hard for her, being limited to only a few vegetarian entrees. She said Julie is crazy about me. Unlike most intelligent people, Julie said, Richard participates in the classes and doesnt feel like hes above it all. Actually, I look forward to the classes, as simplistic as they sometimes are because I feel I can use the support and the reminders about changing my behavior. Ive always felt my best quality was my openness. The flip side of that is negative, of course, leaving me a dilettante and a person incapable of the single-mindedness necessary for success in most fields. But on balance, Id prefer to be the way I am. A year ago, I was sick with a bad cold, lying in Teresas bed, watching Bush trounce Dukakis. Tonights election results arent in yet, but Ill check the news at the top of the hour.

Sunday, November 8, 1987

8 PM. Marc and China just came with me to bring the TV that Marc had put in his van. We all went over to dinner with our parents; I picked up Chinese food at Kanton Kanton. Marc said the apartment looked nice. Everyones especially impressed with the view of the lake and water spout from my front door. Im adjusting well to living here, and now that Ive got a TV, it seems more like home. Television really is an electronic hearth, and although I can get only four or five stations on my old black and white set as opposed to the forty on cable I do feel a need for a TV, just to have it around. Ive had a bad sinus headache since I dragged myself up this morning. Last evening I took care of a lot of little chores, but I still have put off grading those papers until tomorrow night. Last night I went to 7-11 and got the Sunday Herald, and this morning I got through most of the Times and all of the Fort Lauderdale paper. Little by little, Ill develop a routine. At noon I got dressed and drove to North Miami Beach, to Joe Cooks apartment building on Williams island (he lives on the 19th floor of a luxury highrise) and exchanged my completed

manuals for the remaining unedited one, on Design of Instruction. Tomorrows my busy day for the week. In the morning, Ill grade papers; then I go to Coral Way Elementary in Little Havana; and I teach at BCC at 7 PM. My next and only other class this week is on Thursday evening, and I have no papers to grade for that, so I should have enough time to complete editing the last manual before then. I tried to find a favorite old pizzeria at the Loehmanns Plaza at Marina del Rey, but the place had closed down, as did a deli I used to go to and many other stores. Probably theyve been hurt by the Aventura Mall, but I couldnt find a decent parking space in the malls crowded lot, so I instead had lunch at Pumperniks in Hallandale. Back at my parents, I put up a wash and exercised a bit. I spoke to Ronna, whod just gotten back from a weekend with her cousins in Edison, New Jersey. She attended a singles mixer for Orthodox young people but felt everyone there was centrist or even ultra-Orthodox. Ronna said the most liberal form of Orthodoxy, modern, wasnt represented, and she feels more comfortable with those people.

She herself is a Conservative Jew, Ronna said. I hadnt realized there were all these gradations of Jewishness. The party she and Laurie had last week went very well; Lauries fiends are lively, and Ellen brought a perky friend who created a new sitcom which will appear on CBS next year. I miss Ronna. She said theres some kind of air inversion in New York City and the sky is unhealthy-looking. It was fun to have dinner with my whole family, including China, whom seems to know me as the one person who rarely plays with her. I think shes adorable, but Ive never quite gotten over my childhood fear of dogs. Marc got the Dollar Dry Dock/Vietnam Veterans of America Visa card I sent away for him with a $1000 credit line. Id like to try for one myself, but I suspect nobody will give me a new credit card till at least next summer, if then. Marc told me hes thinking of buying a twobedroom condo in Plantation next year. He likes the model townhouse he was at this development not far from here.

Thursday, November 9, 1989

8 PM. Never have I been so glad to get a holiday. Im grateful theyre giving us Friday off even though Veterans Day is on Saturday this year. I guess I was this happy four years ago, when I came to Florida for the Veterans Day holiday. I promptly caught cold and had to extend my visit. That fall semester, teaching two remedial classes each at Baruch and John Jay and taking two classes at Teachers College, was the last time until now that I really hard. Last evenings fiction writing class went okay, but the students peculiarities continue to get on my nerves even as I regard them with affection born out of extended contact. How did Baumbach and Spielberg ever stand our MFA workshops for two whole years? The fiction we went over in class was pure garbage: a chapter from Joanies reincarnation novel; a virulently anti-abortion, anti-feminist story by Carolyn, who equated abortions with the murders of adults and children; and a hopelessly confused SF story by Scott. What am I doing at BCC? Several of my students tonight said I looked tired. Well, next week theyll meet without me, and theyll probably have a better class when Morris and Barbara run it in my absence. Because the week after that were going to be off for Thanksgiving Eve, I dont have to see the fiction writing class for nearly three weeks

and then we have only three more sessions, including the one during finals week. Adrienne is welcome to them on Wednesday night next term. At least I fell asleep soon after I got home at 10:30 PM, and I got the rest that my mind and body was craving. Up at 7:30 AM, I exercised to Body Electric on channel 42, which comes in fuzzily at 8 AM. Then I went out to buy the newspaper, milk and gasoline before coming home for breakfast and getting back into bed. I dawdled too long, interested in the Times election coverage. Giuliani carried my old neighborhood in Brooklyn as well as Rockaway, Staten Island, and most white areas handily, and Dinkins got only 30% of the Jewish vote. Still, he did get elected, and Im glad because New York City needs a black mayor now. In an Op-Ed piece, the pollster Louis Harris compared the current trend of voters to favor more government intervention (except on abortion) to the anti-government sentiment of the late 70s and early 80s that brought us Proposition 13, Ronald Reagan and the New Right. Just maybe the Democrats will get their act together, though Im sure that absent a severe economic crisis, Bush will get re-elected in 92.

I got to BCC only ten minutes before my class began. I had conferences with some of my remedial students as they all wrote an essay. Betty told me that by Monday, we should have a schedule for next weekends Miami Book Fair table. Ive been thinking about giving away copies of With Hitler in New York, which is officially out of print; at least its not in the new Books in Print. (My imprint for Narcissism and Me, however, is listed.) The problem is, people dont value a book they get for free. After leaving BCC, I came home to have lunch and then out to get a haircut from Nikki, whos due at the end of year and is showing much more than she needs to. She and her boss John who himself lost and kept off eighty pounds last year are really the first people who noticed how much weight Ive lost. Tonight I weighed in at 185 I mean 158; 185 was where I started. So Ive lost 27 pounds, though because I had on shorts tonight (it hit 90 today), it may actually be that Ive lost less than that. My dinner was ruined when instead of Spanish rice and beans, I got two packets of beans and red sauce, and I found a hair in my frozen vegetables. So I went to Nutri/System early (and got a dinner replacement, even though it was too late to eat it tonight). In class I gave Julie the Sun-Sentinel article. Even though class was on thought refocusing

and I had it before, I found listening to it again valuable. Twice today this morning when I was running late for my class and had trouble with my lenses and lots of little problems, and then at dinner I felt everything is going wrong. It was because I focused only on the negatives. Ive done that all my life, seeing things as either totally good or bad. But I did manage to deal with the stress well. Tomorrow will be the first Friday I havent had to get up at 6 AM since I came to Florida three months ago. Next week Ill take off Monday, and the week after that is truncated by Thanksgiving. Then its just two five-day weeks before the week in which finals begin. Dad was complaining about the construction work in Oak Knoll II when I came by to pick up my mail. Once again, his phone service was damaged when they hit a cable and the phone has been out now for two days. The dime raised my Visa credit limit by $200, to $1400: no big deal, but as I said about my gold Optima, every little bit helps. In East Germany this week, the cabinet and the Politburo resigned, and as thousands kept fleeing to the west via Prague, today the government announced they were opening the boarders and that East Germans could travel abroad freely.

This effectively knocks down the Berlin Wall. History is happening in Eastern Europe, and its happening very quickly.

Tuesday, November 10, 1987

10 PM. I just got off the phone with Teresa. Im surprised at how much I miss her, but I do. She got Unemployment after all; last week, after a meeting with a sympathetic worker (Teresa appealed to the womans stateemployee mentality by claiming that the fact that she didnt know when shed get paid at the employment agency made her ill), the reopened her file and approved her claim. So now shes getting $180 a week; of course, shes keeping it a secret from Pam and Norman. Teresa said she plans to look for a car because she needs something to get her through the winter. Her sister broke her wrist when she used her hand as a cushion to break her fall on the steps of her house, and Lauras in a cast, with severe pain, and is pretty much incapacitated. Teresas parents are driving down to the Tampa Bay area to spend most of January, and Teresa says shell probably come down then, too.

This morning I got up at about 9 AM, read the Times what a luxury to find it on my doorstep every morning and went out to make my regular Tuesday withdrawal of $500 in cash advances from Optima. I deposited a total of $1050 in my Cal Fed account and then I realized I could no longer delay getting new front tires. Certainly I didnt want to risk going to FIU on the worn tires, so I went over here to Firestone because its within walking distance. I went over to my parents first and found Marc there with China. That dog is beginning to get to me. As Marc was asleep, the dog wanted to play with me. When I rubbed her fur, she looked at me with those lovable eyes, and I melted. It was hard to leave her, but I had to go home and work on the final manual for Joe Cook. I finished it at about 2:30 PM, which turned out to be good timing because my car was ready just at that hour. At FIUs Teacher Education Center, Sophie was glad to see me, as shed been trying to reach me by phone. She introduced me to the TEC director, and Ray was also there for a while. After I handed in my paperwork for Coral Way Elementary, we sat down and tried to figure out which of the many workshops Ill be able to take on. Apparently, computer education components are in great demand, and TEC doesnt have

enough teachers like me. I agreed to do a 35hour class in BASIC programming at Riviera Junior High, beginning two weeks from today. Because that extends into January and February, I probably will not be able to take the Expert Systems course at FAU. Nor can I take Joes Developmental class on Wednesdays at FIU next spring because Im teaching other workshops from 4 PM to 7 PM in January and February. I probably wont be able to take any graduate courses at all, as it looks like Ill be teaching computer workshops four days a week most of the winter. I have mixed feelings about all this work. The money and the experience will be great, but I probably wont have time to either be a student or do much writing. Well, well see. It wont be as if Ill still be teaching freshman comp at BCC; Ill be free of papers to grade. And maybe I can make enough money so that I can take some of the pressure off the rest of 1988. After all, Ive hardly worked most of the past two years. I do feel that its far removed from being a writer, but I should take my cue from Pete Cherches, who doesnt let his job as a computer programmer stand in the way of his real career as a writer and performer. Rick sent some more goodies: Gargoyle figured in a Washington Post Book World Book Bag

quiz, and Rick did a daily review of Emily Pragers first novel for the Post.

Friday, November 11, 1988

2 PM. I just came back from having lunch at the Ottomanelli Caf. On my trek into the cold outdoors actually, the weather today is seasonably cool and the sun is shining I also made up my own set of keys for Teresas car. She said I could have the car on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday, so Ill be saving lots of money on car rental fees. Im adjusting to being Teresas roommate again, and once I accept that Im in her domain, Ill feel better. I did manage to sleep for about five hours, and thats about all Ive been getting these days anyway. I feel tired. My nose is very stuffed up, but Im coughing less today, and the sore throat is gone. As I said yesterday or the day before, Im scared that this cold is just the first of a series of illnesses. Why? I guess because I figure that if my immune system can fail me once, it can do it again. Maybe Im run-down and can get another kind of virus or flu or maybe Ill get labyrinthitis again; since 1980, I worry about that a little every time I catch cold. I did work out to an

exercise tape this morning, and it took more out of me than usual. Still, Im glad that I did it. I also did my laundry this morning. After I finish writing this, I plan to lie down for a few hours. Teresa probably wont be home till 6 PM or so. Theres no mail today and there have been no phone calls. Do I sound like Bill, who Teresa says is always making lists of mundane chores? I hope not, though Ive had to recognize that, temperamentally, Im not cut out to be a fulltime writer. Perhaps if my work was in demand and I was being paid for it, Id rush to my keyboard every morning, but I shouldnt blame my lack of zeal on the worlds indifference. Instead, I should accept my limitations and do the writing that I feel I simply have to do. And I can go on with my life. Im a person with a lot of interests, and I need to find outlets for my creative energy and intelligence. After my work in Sloatsburg in January, 1989 will be the Year of South Florida. The longest I plan to stay in New York next year is from late June to late August. I dont know that Ill get any Teacher Education Center work from Sophie in Miami come February, but if I dont, Ill find other work. I figure I can always teach at Broward Community Colleges Term IIB or Term IIIA; it

means very little money, but its work, and now that Ive taken Calkins course, I want to try her writing process ideas in a college comp class. I also could start taking grad courses in economics or other social science fields. At Florida community colleges all I need is 18 graduate hours in a subject in order to teach it. Ive always found things to occupy me, and I like being active in the world. With the demise of the Miami News and the Sun-Tattler, there will be fewer outlets for my publicity escapades in South Florida, but Im known to the Herald and the News/Sun-Sentinel. And I can always take on a self-improvement project, like teaching myself a new programming language or a natural language. Because of the grants thought Im getting nervous that I havent yet received the Florida fellowship check money isnt all that big a problem. During this fall, Ive gotten about $3000 in credit line increases, and Im not yet having trouble making payments on my credit chassis. So perk up, kiddo theres a lot out there for you.

Sunday, November 12, 1989

8 PM. Its been a pleasant three-day weekend, if my usual lonely one. Still, Ive tried to put my time and solitude to good use. Next weekend Ill be around plenty of people at the Miami Book Fair anyway. I got up at 8 AM today and went out to get my reserved copy of the Sunday Times. Back in the apartment, I made myself Nutri/System pancakes and then worked on a list of term paper topics for my 1101 students who are too dull to think of one on their own. After reading what I felt was a really racist paper last night the girl said Officer Lozano, now on trial in Miami for the murder of a black motorcyclist in January, was the victim of an injustice and kept praising him as a blameless police officer I realized the truth: I dont like many of my BCC students. Not only are they ignorant, mercenary and selfcentered, but some of them are mean-spirited and politically to the far right of my own professors whom I dismissed as fascists twenty years ago. The idea, I suppose, is to just concentrate on the good students, the ones who are either bright or open-minded or interesting, and I do have some of them in every class.

Although my lower back has been tricky since Wednesday, I worked out to Body Electric and later used the weight bench in my parents garage. In the afternoon, I finished reading the paper and doing the preparation for tomorrows classes. Because Im taking a personal day on Wednesday, this week shouldnt be hectic, although Im beginning a new workshop at Miami Springs High School on Thursday afternoon. Actually, Thursday will be my busiest day. Tomorrow shouldnt be so bad, especially if I get more sleep than I did the last two Sunday nights. At my parents, Jonathan had brought China over. She stares at me with those brown eyes and at times she tries to talk to me. Its always hard to say goodbye to her, because she doesnt know where Im going and I wonder if she expects to see me again. The last few times when shes been at Moms and heard my car pull up, shes run to the glass beside the front door and watched me come up the path to the house as she licks the window pane. Dogs, like grandparents, give their love unconditionally. Euphoria still reigns in the streets of East Berlin as hundreds of thousands of East Germans stream to the West; almost all return home after sightseeing, shopping and visiting, but

Im certain that now that the wall has opened, the Soviets and the East Germans will never be able to close it again. This weekend seems the definite end of the Cold War, though I still hear the reactionary talk-show hosts talking about Soviet duplicity and how this is all a trick to gain world conquest. What will the right-wingers do without the Communists to serve as their enemy and symbol of everything evil? The 1990s will be as interesting and dynamic as I always thought they would be. Today I read about planned celebrations of Earth Day next April, twenty years after the original day of worldwide demonstrations about the environment. Next May will be the twentieth anniversary of the Cambodian invasion and the Kent State killings, too. Jimmy Carter is starting to be the subject of media speculation that he was not the devil incarnate after all. Carters selflessness after the presidency contrasts with Reagans accepting $2 million for a few days of appearance in Japan. The times they are a-changing.

Monday, November 13, 1989

8 PM. I did sleep okay after I finally drifted off. Dreams of Manhattan punctuated the night, and I awoke just before my alarm at 6:30 AM. (I almost always beat the alarm, of course. Since the term began, its awakened me only once.) At BCC I had lots of xeroxing to do before teaching. I signed up to help Patrick at the Book Fair on both Saturday and Sunday afternoons. Supposedly the three BCC English departments are involved, but Patrick will probably have trouble finding volunteers outside South Campus. Im actually looking forward to the Book Fair as a time to get away and socialize, even if I cant get into many of the events because Ill be tied up at the BCC table outside. As Betty told me the other day, its unusual for us to have any presence south of the county line. Miami-Dade Community Colleges administration is aware of the white flight problem they have with many students in North Dade shunning MDCCs North Campus for BCC-South. While my 1102 wrote their CLAST-prototype essays today, I read and graded papers.

I told people Id gone to Los Angeles for the weekend. Why did I lie? For the same reason I talk about my investments and real estate deals: People respect me more if they think Im wealthy. Actually, this just shows how shallow I am. Its really kind of pathetic, but over the years Ive found that a lie here and there can give people a different impression, and Im interested to see how that changes the way the relate to me. And of course, I do wish I could be like Alice and go off to a distant city for the weekend. But its kind of silly, really, especially when you consider how scary I find traveling. During my break, I sat outside with smokers Adrienne and Barbra, who said I now look slight. Today I wore a pair of Sergio Valente jeans I bought in Macys at Kings Plaza four years ago but which were always too tight for me. Now theyre not even snug, and Im glad I saved them. Mom had two other pairs fixed for me, including the Bugle Boy jeans Dad got at the New York City menswear show. My 1101 class was distracted, as was I, as I attempted to discuss extended definition with them. But all my students perked up and seemed happy when I said I was canceling class on Wednesday.

Home at 1 PM, I had lunch and then finished reading the papers. An aerobic workout to a Body Pulse video didnt even have me sweating. Perhaps my fitness level is getting higher and I need something more taxing. However, recent research indicates that even light exercise is enormously beneficial. I got a ton of mail, including seven credit card bills. Because Ive got more money in the bank now, Im not cutting it so close with my credit chassis, and Im able to pay more than the minimum. Ill get my $830 BCC check on Thursday, and an FIU check should be coming soon. I graded half a dozen 0020 papers and have about that many to do before class tomorrow, but I may put them off until morning. Im as lazy as my students. Actually, once I get started, grading isnt that bad, and I even enjoy some lively papers. Ill have all the 1102 papers from today to grade on my day off on Wednesday, however. Will the grading never end? I need to keep the weekend free for the Book Fair. Miriam Sagan wrote me after I sent her a copy of The Greatest Short Story. She and Robert and their nine-month-old daughter are all doing fine. Mostly shes been playing earth mother, but shes also doing a few poetry workshops, helping out with Roberts Fish Dance magazine, and getting a new chapbook

together. Im glad to be in touch with Miriam again.

Monday, November 14, 1988

8 PM. Teresa is out on a dinner date with Herbert Weiss, a Brooklyn College poli sci professor. When he came to pick her up, I remembered him from the department back when I was an undergrad poli sci major. I just called Mom, who said that theyll deposit my $5,000 grant check in my California Federal account tomorrow. Dad had tried to reach me with the good news on Saturday, when the check arrived, but the line was busy all evening because Teresa was home. Its a relief to me that the Florida fellowship money finally came through; now I dont have to call Tallahassee this week. Its a mild evening. I had dinner by myself at Szechuan Broadway, and when I came out of the restaurant and saw all the interesting people and the lights from the stores, I felt grateful that Ive had the chance to live in cosmopolitan Manhattan. Today in Nanuet went pretty well. I feel Im learning a lot about third graders, though Im not certain Im teaching them much about writing.

Last night I slept soundly for nine straight hours and felt so refreshed at 6 AM that I left early, eager to start my day. The ride was quick and pleasant, and the first class went a lot better today. I also felt better about last weeks session when their teacher showed me stories students had written about me. (I know an author. His name is Richard Grayson. He writes in a notebook.) The second class also was very good. One boy wrote an amazingly sophisticated five-page story about his pitching in the 2025 World Series between the Mets and the Yankees. During my break, I again had an early lunch at the diner across from the Nanuet Mall, and then I went back to the Miller School for my final three classes. I tried to model writing conferences with varying degrees of success. The classes are so different and seem to reflect their teachers, so that laid-back Mrs. Tabors class is the most casual and unruly, while Mr. Slayburgs students seem very controlled and disciplined. (Mrs. Tabor is a wry, plump middle-aged woman while Mr. Slayburg is 25 and very muscular, with a determined, almost military bearing.) I wore out my energy as the day went on, but I did enjoy being with the students and talking to the elementary school teachers during my

free time; it was interesting to hear their concerns. The students in Nanuet all seem like allAmerican middle- or upper-middle class kids, and some of them are so cute and precocious, I could eat them up. (A few look like little monsters.) Judith Rose called me last night to give me directions to Pomona Junior High School. Unfortunately, I think Im only going to get to come to her seventh-period ESL class because Ill be at Ramapo High School before that. Ive got to get to the high school around 10 AM. Dr. Garan, the principal, called today with directions. Busy, busy! I really havent prepared anything specific for either the high school or the junior high, and I figure Ill just talk and read and answer questions and maybe ask a few. I cant expect to sleep as well tonight as I did last night, but I hope I can get some sleep. I have to. Notice I didnt complain about my health, and its because Im feeling better and only a bit stuffed up. Josh called yesterday and we chatted briefly. He doesnt speak for very long on the phone these days, as I think he thinks his phone is tapped. I told him Id been sick, and Josh said hed been working hard and had to work even on the two holidays last week.

Tonight Alice called to ask if I wanted to see Cocoon II tomorrow evening. I thanked her but said Id be too tired after another long day in Rockland County schools. Im tired even now and will lie down on the futon now even if I wont be able to fall asleep. Unfortunately, Teresa gets home from Brooklyn Heights every day at 4 PM, just when I get home from teaching, so if she had not gone out on a date with Prof. Weiss tonight, I wouldnt have had any time alone here today.

Sunday, November 15, 1987

4 PM. Getting used to the new contact lenses is proving difficult. I hardly slept last night, dozing off at about midnight and awaking every so often until 3 AM, after which I was unable to get back to sleep. My headache hurt terribly; I had thought it was from lack of sleep, but it might have been from sinusitis. Anyway, I felt like a piece of worn shit this morning. At least the Sunday Times came at 4 AM, so I had something to read, and I suppose Im lucky that this was the first Sunday on which I had no obligations. There are no papers to return tomorrow, and it will be the first Monday I wont be giving a computer workshop since Columbus Day.

I do have a workshop starting on Wednesday, and I should begin preparing for the BASIC workshop that begins a week from Tuesday. But I have time for that, and time to grade other papers before Thursday nights class. What I need to do today is rest. I feel so tired. Ive read just about all of the Sunday papers, including the Chicago Tribune, and I did work out to the Body Electric show I taped yesterday. I even took most of the vitamins and supplements in Moms medicine cabinet, and they probably accounted for the diarrhea I had this afternoon. I feel its difficult to relax with my lenses in. suppose Ill eventually get used to having them in all the time, but right now I feel uncomfortable and as I said yesterday, its much more a psychological problem than a physical one. Ive been thinking about the successful young fiction writers, especially after reading an interview with Tama Janowitz in the Fort Lauderdale paper. Ive decided it behooves me not to be bitter and envious of them. Each one seems committed to his or her writing, and if I were in the same position as Janowitz, McInerney or Ellis, Id probably feel as they do about my own success. One thing I do not have to face that they do is a barrage of critical attacks in the media.

I can work and I do work in anonymity, and that may be an advantage. I remember Susan Mernit saying that Tama was lucky because she stumbled into subject matter that proved popular. My time may yet come, or it may not. Id like to think that any of the so-called Brat Pack writers would treat me not like some has-been or nobody, but give me the courtesy a fellow writer even not a very successful one deserves. Back in the MFA program a dozen years ago, I never really expected to make money with my writing, but I guess I thought it would bring me more respect than it has. Its not the fault of successful writers that our culture has moved to a point where theres no in-between, that one is either a tremendous failure or a pitiful success. What?! That Freudian slip tells me a great deal about my own emotional problems and my fear of success.

Thursday, November 16, 1989

8:30 PM. Today went better than I could have predicted. It was as if I had terrific timing and could accomplish all the tasks Id set for myself. Maybe doing a creative visualization last night helped. A good nights sleep surely did: I slept deeply from 10 PM to 7 AM, and I felt very rested this

morning. I exercised and was out of the house by 9 AM to meet Marc as the warehouse to get two cartons of With Hitler in New York for the Book Fair. I know I wont be able to sell them, whatever Patrick thinks. At BCC, as I was loading my books onto his van, Patrick asked, How much money do you plan to charge for these books? I told him I wouldnt pay more than three dollars to anyone willing to take a copy. Marc was wearing a Rolling Stones T-shirt hed gotten at their concert at Joe Robbie Stadium last night, and he said his ears still hurt from the loud music. Marc is now a couple of pounds heavier than I am. He said hed read an article critical of Nutri/System that said most of the people gained back most of the weight they lost. Its discouraging to hear that, but on the other hand, Marc is only seven or eight pounds above his goal, and he admitted that he didnt follow Maintenance properly. I figure I can be stricter and more disciplined about it, although I also know that maintaining my weight loss is the real test and much harder than anything Ive accomplished so far. Tonight I was disappointed when I weighed two pounds less, but not because I wanted to lose more. I wanted to lose less so I could stay on the program for as long as possible.

I didnt have time to change tonight, and its getting chilly anyway; however, long pants and work clothes didnt stop me from weighing in at 156. The nurse gave me the Maintenance handbook to look at. As Marc said, its scary at first when you go off the program. Like me, Marc felt pretty good on it, and his ulcer disappeared just like I stopped getting diarrhea so often. Well, Ill take it one day and one week at a time. Now I wish Id made my goal the 145 pounds the computer said I should weigh instead of 150. This morning when I got to the college, Cynthia gave me the paycheck from the day before, and I put my cartons of boxes into Patricks car and got information from him about the Book Fair logistics. My 0020 class wrote while I finished grading the essays my 1102 classes did on Monday. Id worked two hours last evening but hadnt gotten through them all. Home for lunch, I called Sophie, who said the Teacher Education Center rep would probably be in my class at Miami Springs High School. Sophie also told me that TEC agreed to the dates for that Coral Gables High School workshop from mid-January to the end of February. Im surprised, but Im happy about it

even if it means Ill be working nearly as hard as I did this October. The class at Miami Springs H.S. went well, and I think I helped some of the teachers get over their fear of computers. I know my playful attitude helps, and its so satisfying to teach an adult something she can really use in her job and personal life. IBM Writing Assistant is a neat, simple word processing program, and I tried to talk as little as possible about DOS. There are about a dozen teachers and other staff members, all female, in the workshop. Rush hour traffic was jammed on South River Drive before the Palmetto Expressway, but I-75 and I-595 were a breeze, even in 6 PM darkness. At Moms, I picked up my mail, which Ive just glanced it, although I saw my $5,000 Optima line was increased by $1,000 thats good. After a quick dinner, as I said, I went to Nutri/System, weighed in, got my food for the week, and went to Julies class on strategies to cope with Thanksgiving.

Friday, November 17, 1989

9 PM. Im tired, and my wisdom tooth hurt so much that my jaw is sore. I need a good

nights sleep because I slept too little last night. Actually, compared to my sleeping habits this summer in New York, I did pretty well, getting in about five hours sack time; however, my BCC schedule leaves me tired even when I take off a day as I did on Wednesday. In the morning 1102 classes, I read aloud some of Crads Pork College and gave back their CLAST prototypes as I explained the holistic scoring on the essay exam. In 1101, I went over extended definition. When I walked into the classroom at 11 AM, the students were watching TV and they protested loudly when I turned it off. Someone had written on the blackboard: Hello class, Im Mr. Grayson. I thought: Who needs this shit? Sophie had just called with another possible Teacher Education Center workshop for February, and I thought how different I felt about yesterdays class at Miami Springs High School. Teaching computer education workshops is not only easier and more satisfying, but it pays better too. And I dont have to deal with adolescents who dont want to be in my classroom. Instead, Im working with professionals who need to learn something I can teach them. (In my head Im writing a comparison/contrast

essay in standard five-paragraph freshman comp form, with a thesis statement and three minor inferences.) At 10 AM, I went with Adrienne to sit in on Peter Hargatais class in the Mystery Novel at which Jim Hall was a guest. Jim talked about his very successful thriller novels, set in Key West with his protagonist Thorn. Im told Jims books are good, and theyve been sold to the movies and been on the bestseller list but I just have no interest in the genre. I was surprised to hear how nave Jim had been about the movie business when he first dealt with those vultures.

Friday, November 18, 1988

6:30 PM. For some reason, as soon as I went outside this morning, my nose started running, and it hasnt stopped since. Ive had a tissue in hand most of the day. But I dont really feel badly. Ive got to make sure I dont get run down because I dread getting sick again (even though part of me expects that exactly that will happen). I had a long day at Teachers College today, with Prof. Jo Anne Klufgers workshop, Connecting Computers and ESL Teachers. Im the only one of the student whos not a teacher of English as a second language or as a foreign language, and Im unfamiliar with the

principles of language learning and applied linguistics. However, I was familiar with much of the software we looked at. In the morning, we were in a lecture room, talking about our jobs, and then Jo Anne showed us these pieces of software. One was drill and practice based on the structural method: the student had to complete sentences like The teacher was giving a book, using various tenses and constructions. Another was based on Cloze-type exercises, in which the student fills in blank words of so many letters in a short text. The last was the familiar Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? which Ive known for years and which was presented in the other two computer workshops I took, on problem-solving and social studies software. After lunch, we went to the Apple lab in the library. The only interesting program I saw was KidsTalk on the IIgs, which used the computers speech synthesizer which can be regulated as to tone, pitch, gender, speed to recite words that the student writes. Bruce Barnard whom I remember from Howie Budins Computer Graphics class three years ago and I had a lot of fun with that one. But the rest of the computers had Word Attack,

Oregon Trail, Bank Street Writer, Magic Slate and other programs that arent really ESL. I can see where they can be adapted, but Ive looked at all these programs for years. There was nothing like the software specifically for ESL that we use with the Ufonic Sound System speech synthesizer in the Dade County public schools. We did watch a videotape of kids learning to use Bank Street Writer, but I was disappointed that there still hasnt been a breakthrough in the educational software. There probably will not be as long as the Apple IIe is the standard. For the one-credit assignment, we have to write an eight-page paper evaluating two pieces of software. That shouldnt be hard for me. When I got back from lunch I wanted to eat alone, so I went to Grandmas Diner I xeroxed three articles on spreadsheets in social studies education that Im going to use for my paper in the other workshop. Back home, I found a notice from the Teachers College registrar that my third workshop was canceled; Ill get a refund of $345 in the next six weeks. How that will affect my student loan, I dont know. I waited very long in frigid cold for the M-5 bus both this morning and this evening, and Im tired now. Because I didnt feel like going out, I

ordered in Sichuan food. Teresas gone to Mattituck, so for the first time since last Wednesday nine days I can sleep in the bedroom and I have the apartment to myself. These intensive workshops always leave me with a headache. But I did take eight credits this year: Teaching Writing, AIDS Education and Human Sexuality, and the three computer education workshops and at the end of this term I will have (from Teachers College, FIU and FAU) a total of 62 graduate credits in education (plus 11 credits in other fields) since 1984.

Thursday, November 19, 1987

9 PM. My work week is over, and I feel exhilarated. I began teaching the research paper tonight. Before that, I had students read an essay by Ellen Willis on high school a rather simple piece, I thought, but from the blank stares and silence I got when I asked questions afterward, I realized the students couldnt follow the logic of Willis writing. I tend to forget that people can be adept verbally but not have the vocabulary or critical thinking skills to understand words on the printed page. No wonder they hate reading. If I had to read like they do and struggle to get through the meaning of every paragraph, Id hate reading, too.

Theres one guy in tonights class that Ive had a crush on for weeks, and when he came in late tonight in a tight tank top, I lost my whole train of thought. Actually, there are a number of cute young people in the class, but this Robert guy an angelic-looking, intelligent, muscular blond is stunning. He seems to have such confidence. On the other hand, he could be a total asshole. Ive become friendly with some of the evening adjuncts who hang out in the conference room before our classes begin at 7 PM. Most are very intelligent and interesting, though theyre victimized in the manner of all college parttime faculty members. Well, four weeks from now, my experience returning to teach college composition will be over, and though its been okay, I dont want to repeat it again for another two years. Ive decided not to apply for any English jobs this year not that Id get them anyway. Last night I tried to figure out if I can take any graduate classes next term; I may take only one because of all the Teacher Education Center workshops Im doing. Unfortunately, I teach exactly when all the education courses are given because teachers are free from 4 PM to 7 PM. I fell asleep but woke in the middle of the night, fretting over the BASIC workshop that begins at Riviera JHS next Tuesday. I dont

whether to teach plain vanilla BASIC or structured BASIC, and I have to sit down and really work up a game plan, create handouts and assignments, etc. It will be a lot of work, but Ive got the whole weekend. On Monday I can grade the papers Ill be handing back that evening. Then, after Tuesday, Ill have five days without teaching to catch up on the rest of my work. I stayed awake till about 7 AM, when I managed to fall asleep again. I had a pleasant visit with Libby in a dream before I awoke again at 10:30 AM. After grading papers for the rest of the morning, I did my weekly grocery shopping at Publix and then picked up my mail all credit card bills before going to the optometrist, where I confessed to being an extended-wear dropout. They gave me the month to keep them free of mucus and protein buildup. Ive got a new pair now, plus two more pair, and I go back for a checkup in three months. Ive been working on ways to get more of my credit card money to get around the problem of cards with low cash advance lines. I think I may have hit on a solution: Amoco Torch Club has a program for phoning for travelers checks which are mailed to your home and billed to a MasterCard or Visa.

And I understand American Express is offering a new program of gift checks, though Im not sure you can use your card to pay for them. I got my first bill on my second AmEx Optima, and if they approve my application for a PIN, Ill be able to get $500 a week in cash advances on two Optima cards. Ive applied for only one card recently and dont intend to try again till the spring, when Ill pay off some cards and then hope I have a clear six-month record of no inquiries.

Monday, November 20, 1989

7 PM. This evening seemed like such a long day at BCC. Perhaps its because I had such a terrible 1101 class at 11 AM. Of all my classes, I like that one the least. Part of it is my fault, as Ive fallen back on lecturing when they didnt take to the writing workshop, and Ive been disorganized and unproductive. The classroom setup all the class facing front in Prussian precession doesnt help. Sometimes I think Im not a very good English teacher. Tonight I cant bring myself to get to the 25 papers for tomorrow, and Im hoping Ill have more energy soon or will have more energy in the morning.

I did read the papers, though, and I enjoyed many of them. Writing on their own topics seems to work well with the 0200 class. I cant think Im a total failure when a student writes about our class: Its more like a writing team where members help each other. Thats what I strive for. But Im not entirely to blame. If I had only one or two classes, I could plan and give the students the attention they need. However, five classes are way too many. Every time I turn around, either Ive got to prepare for the next class hour or grade papers. If the term werent ending in four weeks, I dont know if I could stand it. And I think I budget my time well and set appropriate priorities. Oh well, Ive gotten this far, and I just need to get through this semester. But I dont like feeling disgusted with myself and my students. Perhaps my distress is exacerbated by spending the weekends afternoons at the Miami Book Fair with BCC people. Ordinarily on weekends, Ive got time away from thinking about school although very often in the last three months Ive woken up in the middle of the night and planned lessons in my head. Well, Im not going to think about my job for the rest of the evening. Id like to go to sleep early. This afternoon I had stomach pains for the first time since Ive been on Nutri/System,

and I suspect the pains are stress-related. I also feel a desire to eat. This afternoon I did exercise to a Body Pulse tape, but like a week ago, I now barely can work up a sweat doing low-impact aerobics. Oh well, now studies show even mild exercise is helpful for health. I never heard from Wendy Abernathy all week, and Im going to call her and say that if she doesnt want to do my Narcissism and Me cover, Ill get someone else. Its possible she could be working on it, but she should have called me. Im getting that sticking pain in my stomach again, and Ive just realized that my teeth are clenched. Relax, kiddo. Youll get through this time.

Monday, November 21, 1988

8 PM. I did finish that final draft of piece about begging for billions on Wall Street. Interestingly, there have been more bids for RJR Nabisco, and the price is now above the $25.4 billion I used in my sign that got me in Business Week and the New York Post. But I think this megadeal will end the LBO craze as people realize how unproductive and how greed-driven such deals are.

At 6 PM yesterday, I went out for the first time, to Ronnas for dinner. We ate the leftovers from Lauries bachelorette party: Italian food like eggplant parmigiana and shells. Ronna calmed me down, as she always does, and we had a good talk. By now were such good friends, its hard to believe that there was a time sixteen years ago this week when we were college students on our first date. Ronna learned from Jordan that Susan and Evan are having a baby, and she felt a little envious. I hope Ronna gets her wish and can have a child. Maybe when I come back to New York next summer, shell be serious about some terrific guy. We hugged a little, but even though I had to stay later than I planned because it was raining so furiously, I didnt want to go beyond a few affectionate kisses. Ronna has definitely decided to start reading the want ads for a new job. The rain had subsided by the time I was able to go home, but a fierce wind made walking down West End Avenue challenging, as I felt as if I could get blown away. During the night the window kept getting blown wide open, and I kept having to shut it every few minutes. Finally I dragged my futon into Teresas bedroom.

Because I was up much of the night, I didnt get a good rest, but at least I managed a few hours sleep. The wind brought down a tree that blocked both northbound lanes on the Palisades Parkway this morning, so I was stuck in traffic on the way to Nanuet. My third of five Mondays at the Miller School went pretty well. Im getting to know the thirdgraders, and some of them are so adorable I want to take them home with me. Dr. Gold came into my second class and heard that gifted writer, Sean, read a piece so sophisticated it scared me. Written in the second person and the present tense (You are living in a Victorian mansion in Nyack, it began), the story was about an eight-year-old boy whose psychiatrist tried to convince him that he really wasnt seeing the wee folk that were haunting him. Dr. Gold told me I was doing a good job, taking my cues from the kids. She told me that Julie would be by at 11 AM to take me to lunch. Julie got there a bit late, but we had time to go out to a health-food restaurant (somehow I feel as if Im writing like a third-grader now). We talked about my work with the kids, and she asked if I had any suggestions about how the Writer-in-Residence position should work in the future. Julie sat in on my 12:15 PM class with Ms. Rohers kids, and afterwards she told me she enjoyed it and that it seemed to be going well.

My energy flagged a bit by the last two classes (Mr. Slayburg was absent), but the kids were so energetic and eager to share their writing with my class that they perked me up. After school ended, I stopped by the Arts Center, but Julie hadnt gotten around to signing my check, so I told Claire, the assistant director, that Ill pick it up next week. I dont need the money desperately. By the time I got back to Manhattan, I was tired: I paid some bills, read USA Today, and went out to dinner. Teresa was arriving home from the chicken store as I got back.

Sunday, November 22, 1987

4 PM. So far I havent done any work today. Maybe later. Im such a terrible procrastinator, but somehow I never really fall behind schedule, though sometimes I do a half-assed job. Ive almost finished The Education of Henry Adams. Yesterday I heard Adams on WNN, the motivation station, that plays excerpts of self-help speakers for winners only. The quotation was something like he who knows how to learn has all the education he needs. Adams book is not just a work of nonfiction; its a work of art. I identify with his quest for

knowledge and meaning and with his apparent sorrow that after an auspicious start, he accomplished little in life. Of course that wasnt quite true, and The Education is perhaps his grandest achievement. Maybe I, too, will have to be 73 years old before I can write something as good. Sometimes I feel like one of those pompous, tweedy English professors who cant understand why, if theyve studied literature more than anyone else, their own creative writing is so mediocre. Obviously theres a vast difference between knowledge and wisdom. Im afraid that as I get older, Im losing that irrational, obsessive self that drove me to write in my twenties. Ive become more analytical, methodical, plodding. I dont really take chances anymore. And I cant blame that on anyone but myself. No, I never achieved the potential I had ten years ago. However, if you go back twenty years, it then seemed unlikely that I had any potential at all. The self-experts on the radio would say I havent achieved success because Ive been afraid of it and at every step down the line, Ive sabotaged my own career. They might be right, too, and its only because I do have a lot of talent and guts that Ive achieved anything at all.

Still, while I may feel somewhat superfluous and absurd, I havent done that badly and day by day, Ive enjoyed my life as much as anyone I know. Certainly theres no one Id trade places with. At least I know my own shortcomings. Would I better off if I kept upbraiding myself for my faults? Yes, I know, Ive been easy on myself and I always seem to let myself off the hook but all this is jejune and boring. I slept well, but intermittently, and again I woke up at 10 AM after some pleasant dreams set in New Hampshire and downtown Brooklyn. I read the papers most of the morning, and I used Jonathans chinning bar but was too sore for any other exercise. Its another mild day, though last night was not so cold that I needed a blanket. I came across a great story title: Things Are Closer than They Appear. That comes from the mirror on the passengers side of my car. Why cant I imagine characters and situations the way I once did? In three years, Ive published only three stories: My BASIC Problem, Caracas Traffic, and Citicorp. Ive written others, but they fall flat. Well, at this rate, I could have another short story collection ready by the year 2000. Im impatient with the pace of change from one era to the next.

Thursday, November 23, 1989

10 PM. I had a quiet Thanksgiving, spent on my own mostly, although Ive just come back from my parents house, where I watched TV with Mom and Dad and played with China until Marc picked her up after his dinner at a friends house. I had my Nutri/System food alone here and then went over to my parents; they and Jonathan had already had their Thanksgiving lasagna dinner, and I wasnt tempted. Even without going to a big holiday dinner, it was difficult to stick to my diet today, probably because of all those memory tapes of Thanksgiving feasts and all the media hype. Anyway, I was pretty good. Last night I again fell asleep early. Id forgotten about the space shuttle launch, but Mom and Dad said they went out to the backyard and looked to the northwest and were able to see the white trail of Discovery lifting off from Cape Canaveral. Despite the holiday, I was up at 6 AM, and by 9 AM Id already had breakfast, written a letter to Crad, and exercised to Homestretch. But I wasted the next three hours lollygagging in bed, reading the newspaper, and listening to the radio.

I meant to do some chores today, but all I managed to accomplish was the laundry. Part of the afternoon I spent at my parents house; I took China for a walk in the backyard. Not a very exciting day, I guess, and I do miss the companionship of friends. Ive been talking to myself too much. When the term started, I thought I might get to be good friends with Adrienne and Tony, but Ive discovered she can be obnoxious and immature, and Im glad for my usual caution against rushing into friendships. Actually, being socially inactive has had one good result: its made my diet easier. In three months Ive lost 31 pounds, and thats an accomplishment Im proud of. Not only do I have a much better-looking and presumably healthier body, but I proved to myself that I could do something I wasnt sure I could. I did it by taking one day at a time and using will power and discipline. I bet I could write a book that way if I set my mind to it. Ive got a lot to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. My health is fine, as is that of almost everyone I know, and I dont want for any material goods. My life might seem Spartan to some, but to homeless people or those living in oppressive countries, I live a life of sublime luxury. And I do have a VCR, microwave and computer.

I keep my diaries in the closet of the bedroom I stayed in when I first arrived in Florida this fall, and I havent looked at them in many months, so Im not sure how I spent Thanksgiving twenty years ago. Or ten years ago, though I was in New York city while my parents had just moved here and Marc was visiting them for the holiday. For some reason, that reminds me of a dream I had last night in which I was walking through Manhattan, trying to get uptown to Teresas in a rainstorm, and I was wearing only my underwear. When I watched the Macys parade from New York City, I felt a twinge of nostalgia but five inches of snow fell there today, and I really dont miss that cold weather. It was the first snowy Thanksgiving in New York in over fifty years; often the holiday has mild weather. Last year it wasnt so bad. Ill be back up there in a little more than five months. Things will be different in 1990 because I cant go to Teresas right away, and Im not sure Ill be able to live on West 85th Street at all next summer. But I know Ill manage somehow. If my car holds up, I might take it on the AutoTrain so I could stay outside Manhattan and have access to wheels. But thats a long way off.