Saturday, May 12, 1990
8 PM. A week ago at this time, I was landing in New York City. It’s only in the last 24 hours that I’ve been alone – my usual state – and have begun to process what’s been happening.
Last night I spoke to Mom for nearly an hour, informing her about Grandma’s mental and physical problems and telling her about the social worker’s visit.
Mom said my BCC and FIU paychecks arrived, and she’ll be sending 
Up at 7 AM today, I exercised to Body Electric and Homestretch from 8 AM to 9 AM.
My 15- and 20-pound dumbbells now seem very heavy indeed, but perhaps I can use them to bulk up a little this summer.
After breakfast, I lay in bed for a couple of hours, listening to a 
Koch never could have achieved such a calming tone, and although Dinkins isn’t eloquent, he does seem like a healer.
I don’t know how he’ll cope with New York City over the next few years when things appear to be getting worse.
The economy is already in a freefall. New York lost all those manufacturing jobs a decade ago, but the Reagan/yuppie/junk bond/Wall Street mania disguised that fact and kept real estate prices soaring and night spots and stores hopping.
I’ve walked up and down Broadway, and late this afternoon I went out for a 90-minute drive across 86th and the park, down Fifth Avenue, across East 8th Street to Third Avenue. Then I rode around the West Village and Clinton before coming home up Broadway.
It feels like the mood of the city is much more subdued than it was four or five years ago when everyone seemed as ebullient and cocky as Ed Koch.
AIDS, crack, crime – that’s a part of it, but it’s also a sense of missed possibilities, that it’s too late now to put the boom of the 1980s to good use.
More people are going to realize, as Teresa did, that Manhattan isn’t the easiest or the only place to live.
The only person I called was Ronna, and she and Steve were busy all weekend – I apparently got her in the midst of an argument with him – but we’ll try to get together next week.
By now, most of my friends have spouses, lovers or children, and their lives tend to be centered around them.
Perhaps it’s coming closer to the time when I join the crowd and hook up with 
The mailman welcomed me back, did a double take, and asked, “How much weight did you lose?”
I nearly bought a microwave in Zabar’s, but they took 15 minutes to bring it out and I couldn’t wait.
Although the supermarkets here don’t have the variety of food I’m used to, I’m making do and I welcome the chance to try new foods.
Richard Kostelanetz wrote that he nominated stories in Narcissism and Me for a 
It would be nice to finally get into that small press anthology after fifteen years of my stuff in the small presses and little magazines.
In Columbia, Madison Smartt Bell and Meg Wolitzer, among others, took part in a symposium about the death of minimalism.
Will experimental fiction come back into style? Probably not, though I’d like to 
Well, maybe this summer I can give my fiction writing career one big final push, using the contents of the four cartons of books in my closet.
I feel dizzy now, and I also feel slightly weird about being here. Will Susie be upset I’ve taken her space?
But since she’s leaving in a few weeks, I’m sure she’s out of here mentally; besides, she’s planning her wedding, and I’m sure that’s what she’s thinking about.
Monday, May 14, 1990
I passed the corner of Flatbush Avenue and Caton Avenue, where earlier a gang of blacks had brutally beaten a Vietnamese man, taunting him with anti-Korean insults as they did so.
The mood of New York City seems uglier than it’s been in a long while, and I’m afraid that when the Bensonhurst juries bring in their verdicts, there could be more violence.
Now I understand why Grandma’s been so bad lately, and while I’m upset that she didn’t know enough to keep taking the pills, it wasn’t Arlyne’s place to yell at her.
Just when I had thoughts of letting bygones be bygones, I’m hoping not to see Arlyne for another seven years.
Of course, I didn’t check up on the medication myself, either; I merely assumed that 
The doctor who released her from the hospital should have stressed the importance of taking the antidepressant drugs – or Marty and Arlyne should have.
I’ve told Grandma that she’ll need to take them for the rest of her life.
Anyway, there was good news from Tallahassee: they sent back a form listing me as eligible for $181 a week in unemployment benefits, up to about $4000 overall – which means I can collect all summer.
Yesterday I mailed out my first claim report; if all goes well, I’ll be collecting unemployment compensation all summer for the first time since 1984 and 1985.
On Thursday at Teachers College, if I find I’ll be getting the full student loan amount, then I’ve covered myself financially for the summer, and I’ll be very relieved.
I had the foresight to take some résumés with me, but I hope my handwritten letter detailing what workshops I’d like to teach in February 1991 won’t put him off.
Since Barbara taught one workshop there last year and they don’t have any really big names, I don’t see this as a great leap forward, but it’s good enough recognition for me now.
I also need to write Clarence Major; as scared as I’d be to fly to California, I’d love to read at UC Davis.
In the AWP Job List I got today, I saw that Susan Ludvigson is the head of the search committee for a composition instructor at Winthrop next year. She’d probably give me high priority if I applied, but I don’t want to grade all those essays, even if it’s just four classes a semester.
On the other hand, it would give me a nice line on my résumé, and doubtless I’d grow from the experience of being in a new place.
L
But, remember: I was setting my sights higher this year. Going to a new place isn’t what I need right now – not if it’s to teach composition, anyway.
I didn’t sleep well last night because my mind was racing. I dreamed about Florida and Broward Community College. When I’m in New York, I dream about Florida, and when I’m in Florida, I dream of New York.
This morning I felt sluggish but forced myself to exercise. Then I read the papers 
After the mail came, I paid the first five credit card bills for May; it’s going to be tight to make minimum payments this month, but I think I can get through it.
At 2:30 PM, I left Grandma Ethel and Tillie and drove into Brooklyn. Today was the first really nice day of my visit: I could go out – in Brooklyn, if not in Rockaway – without a jacket.
On the radio talk shows, callers were discussing the “student terrorists” at John Jay, where classes were canceled today as students rightfully continue to protest CUNY 
Parking outside Brooklyn College, I walked around the campus. A new, expensive dining facility is being readied in the Boylan basement.
But by the second floor central corridor of the English Department, as far as I could tell from the bulletin boards, things seemed the same as ever.
Because of my falling out with Baumbach, I’ve never been one of the MFA graduates who have been invited back to campus as a “successful” writer. Oh well. Baumbach, like Spielberg – and Dr. Grasso at Broward 
I see from the student papers that racism is evident at BC and that President Hess is undergoing a ten-year evaluation.
In a way, I know how Irwin Shaw felt when he was estranged from his alma mater.
Still, today’s students look pretty much the way we did, though nowadays there’s much more ethnic diversity.
At 6 PM, I returned home and had dinner, watched the news – the Dow hit a record high – and went out at dusk for some TCBY nonfat frozen yogurt in Howard Beach. Good night.
Wednesday, May 16, 1990
Around 1 PM, when I came in with my salad from the Korean store to prepare lunch, I found Grandma sitting in the chair she usually sits in, only she had covered herself with a sheet or blanket – because she was cold, she said – and kept muttering.
Though I didn’t realize it at first, Grandma apparently was adamant about not wanting to return to the hospital, so when I said I’d help her pack and visit her there, etc., I was only making things worse.
At this, Grandma became highly agitated, and stupidly, I tried to argue that we were all trying to help her. She took on this wild look in her eyes and yelled, “You’re killing me! You’re making me sick!”
It was scary, and finally when I yelled at her, “Stop it!” she seemed to be aware how 
Feeling shaky and not knowing what to do, I went outside and called Teresa, who helpfully suggested that I just agree with everything Grandma says. When I returned, I did just that.
For a while Grandma seemed sort of catatonic and didn’t say anything. Finally she snapped out of it and heated up her Meals on Wheels dinner.
Since then she’s basically been “normal” – though of course what’s normal for her means a highly depressed, somewhat distracted state.
I’m no gerontologist and I can’t say she’s showing signs of senility, but she asks the same question or makes the exact same comment over and over.
When Grandpa Nat was in the nursing home, I naturally treated anything he said as the product of his brain damage, so he could say the craziest things or repeat himself or mumble and it wouldn’t bother me.
I stopped pointing out when she asks me the same question she did half an hour or 15 minutes before; instead, I merely – though sometimes wearily – repeat my answer.
As much as I love her and have compassion for her and know that her illness makes her behave the way she does, it’s difficult to be with Grandma, especially when nobody else is around.
Tonight I had to get out again because I felt a lot of stress. If I stayed here, I would have done something destructive like eating lots of cake.
And with the microwave safely in the rental car’s trunk (bringing it up here would have only upset Grandma’s routine), I stopped at TCBY in Howard Beach for a low-fat treat.
But even better than the frozen yogurt was having other people – particularly young people I could relate to – sitting all around me.
Hanging out with Grandma makes me feel I’m a million years old.
Saturday, May 19, 1990
Ronna’s hair is shorter and grayer, and she had on new glasses, but she looked much the same: good to my eyes.
I’m used to the stares of people who haven’t seen me since last summer, so I wasn’t surprised – naturally, I’m flattered – when Ronna looked at me intently.
She’d just come from her therapist; it was the problems in the relationship with Steve that had led her back into therapy.
Basically, they need to either get married or break up, because both feel an urgency about having children – especially Ronna, 
She clearly loves Steve and talked about many of his good qualities – his concern for his many friends, their shared enthusiasm for a non-Orthodox Judaism, his sense of humor and sensitivity – but he doesn’t share Ronna’s interest in movies, plays or current events.
He liked to play cards and took Ronna to Atlantic City, where he enjoys the casinos. While he’s obviously not a problem gambler, that’s not really her scene.
Most of Ronna’s friends and relatives liked Steve until they started to see Ronna upset by problems in the relationship.
Ronna has always been cautious about entering into marriage, probably because of her parents’ divorce, and Steve started pressuring her last September after they’d 
Well, I didn’t have any advice for her, of course; certainly I don’t know what Ronna should do.
She’s hoping to leave Yeshiva University and has gone on job interviews lately. Ronna is still interested into getting into industrial training.
I talked about my forthcoming bankruptcy (Ronna is one of the few people I trust 
For dinner I had chicken with broccoli, and when I felt I’d eaten enough, I poured pepper all over the remaining food so I wouldn’t pick at it.
Now that I’m going to restaurants – I’m eating out with Alice this afternoon – I have to exercise portion control.
Panic sets in when I’m faced with a restaurant menu, but I welcome the chance to test my coping skills when confronted with it.
Back at this apartment, Ronna and I sat at the kitchen table, talking for hours.
Her sister is doing well on Overeaters Anonymous, and Billy and his girlfriend have moved in with her mother in Orlando, where they’re managing to get by financially.
Ronna’s become closer to her father even though her mother is taking him to court for not paying alimony. (Wisely, Ronna stays out of that.)
While the attraction between me and Ronna will always be there, we’re both too smart to do anything about it; there is no point, not after all these years.
After walking her home at 11 PM, I strolled down Broadway and returned to Teresa’s, where I promptly fell asleep.
*
8 PM. There’s a pigeon sitting on her nest on the same ledge outside Teresa’s bedroom where the babies were born last summer. In fact, this might even be the same mother, because the marking are similar.
It will be interesting to watch the progress, the way I did last July. I could get 
It warmed up a bit, though it still hasn’t hit 70°. Still, as long as the sun is out, I feel happy.
Around noon, I drove to the Village, figuring I could find a parking space and save the subway fare. As I’d remembered, on Saturdays it’s not that hard to get a space.
Because I had time before I met Alice, I hung out at the same fountain in 
With guitarists wearing American flag shirts and crooning folk songs, guys in ripped jeans and ponytails and long frizzy hair, drug dealers asking if I wanted to buy hash – the scene wasn’t as far removed from 1969 as I expected.
“Well, the Sixties are back,” Alice said later.
J
It’s funny how I can go on about nearly every corner and store in the Village and remember how it all looked in the past: The Postermat, The Cookery, the Eighth Street Bookshop, Orange Julius, Nathan’s, the 69¢ Store, Shakespeare’s restaurant – all places I associate with happy times in my life.
In fact, I felt close to the guy I was back in the early ’70s, when I often hung out in the West Village. Perhaps next summer, if I have the 
Alice looked pretty, and we went out for lunch on Seventh Avenue South, at the outdoor café where I was once interviewed by a transsexual writer for Home Planet News. (See what I mean?)
I had only a salad and my Nutri/System dressing and some Colombo frozen yogurt afterwards as we walked to the Chelsea co-op Alice wanted me to look at.
But there are problems with the building, and the renters – enough of whom haven’t joined the co-op plan for it to go through – are discouraging buyers.
The real estate agent told Alice she has to move fast because someone else is 
She left a $50 check and took the prospectus, but I bet she doesn’t buy it: the maintenance is high, and Alice would be stretching it financially.
Mom said she’s sending me the galleys to Alice’s book – she’d asked me for a 
Her book about lottery winners fell apart, and now she’s got a proposal with her agent for a diet book, the nature of which she couldn’t reveal.
Also, her idea for putting stickers next to the TV listings of shows people plan to watch was rejected by TV Guide, but some ABC executives are looking at it. “It’s a real high to be taken seriously for an idea outside your field,” Alice said.
Her brother and his wife are on the West Coast and making their way back to New York.
Besides, like Teresa, they already have enough real estate problems: Alice and Michael’s Wall Street apartment has no tenant once again.
As I told Alice as we walked back down to the Village, I’m glad nobody would give me a mortgage to even a doghouse.
Very hungry once I got back to the Upper West Side, I had a second lunch here, and then I spent the rest of the day reading.
This evening the new microwave cooked a Healthy Choice dinner just fine.