A Writer’s Diary Entries From Early November, 1999
Wednesday, November 3, 1999
3:30 PM. A cold front came through last night and right now it’s a bright, crisp, cool afternoon.
A crew of white storks are wading into the lake in front of my apartment. In addition to the Muscovy ducks who live on the SW 30th Street side of the complex, I’ve seen blue herons, swans and brown ducks by the water here.
I sometimes forget how beautiful this place is. It’s not like my last apartment in downtown Davie, which was basically a dump, and of course, the people here aren’t all white trash.
Appreciate it while you can, Grayson.
It’s nice not to teach on Wednesdays. I had to get out early to go to the dentist at 9 AM. The hygienist said my gums look better after three weeks with my Interplak. She did a scraping that wasn’t all that unpleasant and then she polished the teeth.
A week from Friday I’m going to see Dr. Rizvi, the female dentist, not Dr. Bellomio, to have some cavities filled. I’ve spent so much on the dentist and the podiatrist this year that I might be able to itemize on my 1999 tax returns.
Getting to the office just before 10 AM, I spent most of the next two and a half hours online.
Aldene, the student who came up to me during the break yesterday to say she wasn’t feeling well and had a pain in her ear and dizziness thanked me for telling her to go to a doctor right away.
She said at the hospital they told her exactly what I’d surmised: she had an inner ear infection and might have lost hearing had she delayed treatment.
That made me feel good. I like it when I can help people not go deaf.
I emailed Travis about the message I left on his machine last night saying he was probably living la vida loca but knowing that he was more likely working at his Christmas job. He was, in fact, at Banana Republic watching training videos.
Travis said that tonight he’s taking his Time Out Youth kids to see Gross Indecency, the play about the trials of Oscar Wilde, featuring Danny Pintauro, the openly gay 
actor who used to be the kid in the sitcom Who’s the Boss.
While I like Travis, I need to check out his Planet Out ad again. First of all, I just wanted to make sure I remembered his tan and his muscles correctly. He’s got tattoos and the usual piercings. God, he’s cute. He thinks I am, too, but I keep telling him I just photograph well – which I do.
Travis was diagnosed HIV+ ten years ago when he was 23, and he said that helped him get his priorities straight. He’s trying to quit smoking and he drinks and takes drugs only socially.
Travis seems like a warm, intelligent guy. What he would see in me or what I could offer him, I have no idea.
I got an email from Carlos, who wondered why he hadn’t gotten a call from me. (I did email him after we talked during the hurricane, but he probably doesn’t remember I don’t have his number.)
Carlos said he got his tongue pierced: “When it heals, I wonder if you’d be my ‘guinea pig’ in trying out something.”
LOL, as we say online. Or as he wrote afterwards, “J/K” – “just kidding.” Still, he’s sweet.
Also sweet as azucar is Jaime, who agreed with me that Halloween is “annoying.” Jaime doesn’t like to see “grown gay men dress in costumes for a kid’s holiday.”
He told me that Steven has a mami fixation and “mooched off her for far too long.”
Vish sent only the briefest of notes. I’d asked him about the Halloween parade in the Village, and he said he’d seen “a lot of interesting transvestites marching.”
I wrote emails to Teresa, Rosalie and a few other friends, checked the results of the most obscure races in yesterday’s elections in various cities and states, and checked out some other websites.
Later I returned the calls I got yesterday from Mom, who said that everything is okay in Arizona. Like Marc, she told me that Dad reads a lot and watches videos: “He’s at the library all the time.”
Now that Dad eats lunch every day at home, Mom said he’s developing “a big stomach” while she herself is losing weight, with her skin hanging loosely on her arms.
I hope Mom is not ill and is just eating less. While Mom has never had a major illness, she also doesn’t go to doctors for checkups, and I’m worried that she’s susceptible to cancer.
In the afternoon, I went to Starbucks, where I drank two venti cups of iced tea and finished today’s New York Times.
Now I’m going to read another Junot Diaz story. His fiction knocks me out.
Monday, November 8, 1999
1 PM. My back hurts a great deal when I try to shift position of make other movements. On the other hand, it could be a lot worse, and I don’t think it will get any more painful than it is now.
I get antsy when I can’t exercise, even lightly, but I know that the biggest threat to the healing process comes from trying to do too much too soon.
Last evening I watched TV for nearly four hours, feeling guilty that I was wasting time yet not feeling like doing any reading until I got into bed at 10:15 PM.
Helped by a double dose of Triavil, I slept soundly, though when I awoke to go to the bathroom or change positions, I hurt a good deal.
Still, I stayed in bed until 7:30 AM and then read today’s paper for an hour before I went to school.
I printed out and copied transcript request forms for BCC and FAU to mail out to Jonathan as he applies for ASU.
Justin wrote that he’s now on Prozac, but it hasn’t kicked in yet. He was allergic to his previous medication, Wellbutrin.
Justin said that the performance of his Settling Accounts went well. He’s got some jobs lined up, though they seem to involve Web design and not theater.
Larry, Justin reported, has recently sold a number of his paintings or had them taken for various exhibitions.
I also got a note from Alice, and in writing her back, I asked if she would give me a letter of recommendation for the Writers’ Colony at Dairy Hollow in Arkansas.
Online, I began to look at material relating to gay-themed books of fiction. I’d like to create a database of email names to send stuff about The Silicon Valley Diet to.
While I assume most of the people and publications on my list so far will not pay good money for the book, at least I can make them aware of its existence.
Last Thursday I left a message on Chauncey Mabe’s voice mail about lunch, but so far he hasn’t gotten back to me.
In my office, I spent some time with Javier Cardone, going over his final and advising him about law school applications. Javier came from Colombia and learned English at 18, so even though I gave him only a B+, he’s actually doing quite well.
Back here at home, I’ve just been going over Chapter 5, Constitutional Issues in the Early Republic, for tonight’s class. Since I plan to spend time going over the text of the Constitution itself, I’ll leave Chapter 6 for next week.
From the perspective of three days, I can’t see why I was so upset by Ann Page’s email about the video I showed in our last class. Probably I overreacted because I felt so defensive. But I think I’m well-prepared for tonight’s class.
*
10 PM. I just got in.
Tonight’s class went pretty well. I do know a lot about the Constitution and American government and how it functions, so when we discussed the document itself, I could sound like an expert. I also went over one chapter of the text.
Half the class comes in late or leaves early, but they tell me they have play rehearsals, 21st birthday parties (their own), or whatever. Hey, I’m easy.
My back definitely feels like it’s starting to heal.
I got a big envelope from Michael Abrams, the graduate director of journalism at FAMU. He says they have my transcripts but not my GRE scores, essay, letters of recommendation or writing samples – all of which I sent over two months ago.
I get the feeling that people are really incompetent at FAMU. I’ve already sent my Brooklyn College transcripts twice. The envelope (but not the letter) was addressed to “Richardson Grayson.”
Shouldn’t a J-school be getting people’s names correctly? These issues don’t give me much confidence in their graduate program.
On the other hand, maybe I’d enjoy getting a really easy M.S. in journalism without having to break a sweat. I guess I’ll send everything out again.
Tom emailed that Annette will not be going with him to Salisbury, Maryland, but will remain in New Orleans taking computer classes and working at Tulane.
They’ll manage to be together for five of the weeks, but the semester apart will be difficult, at least for Tom.
John Biguenet’s short story collection got taken by a New York trade publisher, and Tom says it’s a nice 50th-birthday present for John – even though Tom “hates” John’s fiction.
I’m sure that Tom would also hate the work of Gish Jen and Junot Diaz. It may just be that Tom’s dislike of The Silicon Valley Diet is a good sign that the book could appeal to a wider audience.
I wish I would hear something from Red Hen Press about the book already. I’ll feel a lot better when I see some documentation (other than my contract) that the book will be published: an ISBN, something in a catalog, galleys.
Lynn wrote from Minneapolis after his trip to Duluth and Superior. He thanked me for the “handsome pics” and judges that I’m in my thirties.
Lynn sounds like a nice person, but I doubt we’re each other’s type. Hell, I doubt I’m anyone’s type. Of course, there’s got to be some guys out there who could relate to a weirdo like myself.
Vish said he had a good birthday (he stayed home) and Diwali (I wished him a happy holiday to impress him that I knew what it was) and went to Atlantic City on Sunday night.
Thursday, November 9, 1999
10:30 PM. I just watched The Celluloid Closet, which I got at the BCC-South library this evening.
Unable to find anything good for Thursday’s class at Blockbuster (I looked in vain for The Wedding Banquet or My Beautiful Laundrette, which have gay themes and Asian immigrant characters), I went to the library.
When I thought about the laughter that homophobic scenes in Moscow on the Hudson elicited from my students, I thought that The Celluloid Closet would be a good counterpoint. I remember seeing it in Gainesville at the Gay and Lesbian Film Festival in June of 1995 or 1996.
At home for lunch, I heard that Denise Duhamel would be a guest on WLRN’s local talk show, so when I went to school at 1 PM, I was prepared to bring my radio into class.
I started our session by reading aloud some student essays, and then, when Denise came on, we listened to her discuss her poems and her relationship with her husband Nick, who’s Filipino.
Of course, I remembered Denise and Nick from the Miami Book Fair back in 1993, and that got me to also bring a copy of Mondo Barbie with me. I read Denise’s Barbie poems and Sandra Cisneros’s “Barbie-Q” and told them about my “Twelve-Step Barbie” story.
After that, I gave everyone a different New York Times article from the pile I’ve been clipping for weeks. Most of them were about immigrants or something related to “other voices, such as elderly people or Appalachian culture.
In discussing the articles with the class, I got some great contributions from students. For example, Christiane said that when Japanese-Brazilians like herself go into a store in Tokyo, the manager gets on the PA system and announces that people should hold onto their wallets so they’re not stolen, and the girl with Colombian parents explained the current situation in that country.
I think it was interesting that Zakiya, who’s Muslim, explained Diwali to everyone. Anyway, I hope the students are enjoying my Core Studies class as much as they can enjoy taking something they’re forced to take. I’ve already learned a lot from teaching Other Voices, Other Visions, and we’re only halfway through the term.
Surprisingly, I again slept deeply last night and although my back hurt, I didn’t require the heating pad. This morning I exercised as lightly and gingerly as I could.
At my office, I wrote a new admission application for FAMU and sent all the stuff again to Prof. Mike Abrams. But he called me again today, wondering why someone as accomplished as I am would want to come to FAMU. He had the idea that I was really into computer graphics and said their facilities are really primitive.
He was worried that I’d be bored, but I said I don’t bore easy. Dr. Abrams is a Jewish guy from Miami, and he said there’s no anti-white prejudice at the university. The department has some students who are not African-American, including two students from China and a 74-year-old white man.
Actually, it doesn’t sound bad: an internship at the Tallahassee Democrat is required. Dr. Abrams said they’d be happy to have me there, but the subtext is that it might be beneath me.
Perhaps I’m being a terrible underachiever, but after all, I tried to get into Berkeley a couple of years ago, I couldn’t afford Columbia, and I’ve screwed up with Maryland. UF has a better J-school, but I don’t want to live in Gainesville again.
Well, we’ll see. Perhaps something else will happen, the way my $5,000 fellowship did for last year and the visiting professorship did for this year.
I talked a bit to Charles today. I hadn’t realized he’s another Jewish guy, too: “fairly secular, married to a blonde shiksa,” but active in Jewish cultural affairs.
So three of the current Legal Studies faculty are middle-aged white Jewish men. Not exactly a lot of diversity, is it? But don’t blame me, I’m only temporary!
Alice emailed, asking for a phone or email address for Wesley Strick because she wants to know if he’d put his name on a Screenwriting for Dummies book.
All I could give her was Wes’s home address. Given the kind of money he gets for screenplays, I don’t really think he’ll be interested.
I also heard from Sat Darshan, who was annoyed she didn’t hear Shauna Singh Baldwin on Diane Rehm’s show on KJZZ on Friday because she loves Baldwin’s books, saying they get Sikhism right and have a feminist slant.
I’d asked Sat Darshan what she tells the girls about her own past drug experiences. She said she tells them her drug use happened before she became a Sikh and that marijuana wasn’t helpful to her. She also tells them they can’t fool her because she knows all the signs of drug use.
Gianni answered the email I sent yesterday with a brief note telling me how hectic things are: “Alejandro and I are no longer together. I am in the process of moving to another flat and getting things in order.”
He promised to write when he gets settled. I can’t say I’m surprised. I know how unstable Gianni can be; he’s like one of the elements with numbers over 105 that are radioactive and flare into existence for a second.
I wonder how their relationship ended, if anyone else is involved, and how Gianni will manage on his own.
He’s also been dependent, financially and emotionally, on his boyfriends. When Alejandro was away in the winter of 1997-98, I served as a temporary substitute. (Something I’m good at, like this year as a visiting professor of Legal Studies at Nova.)
Perhaps Gianni will return to the U.S., but maybe he’s found a home in Madrid, even without Alejandro.
I’m tired now.
Sunday, November 14, 1999
8 PM. I went back to my office again late yesterday afternoon and then headed up to Coral Springs to buy the Sunday New York Times, knowing I didn’t have the discipline to prepare for class last evening and figuring I might as well read the paper.
With one year minus a week till the next presidential election, it already appears that both parties will nominate moderate candidates.
In fact, both the Republicans and Democrats have similar to-man races featuring an establishment favorite and a maverick: George W. Bush vs. John McCain, Al Gore vs. Bill Bradley.
I guess it could be worse. Steve Forbes and some other right-wing wackos are running for the GOP nomination.
Up at 6:30 AM for the second day in a row, I went out after breakfast and dropped a load of laundry in the washing machine before buying $75 worth of groceries at Publix.
Then back home, I put the clothes in the dryer, the food in the refrigerator and freezer, and myself in light exercise mode.
My back seems to have completely healed, and at Publix this morning I weighed in at 147 pounds, a lot lighter than the 153 pounds I registered at Winn-Dixie on Thursday night.
But I’m still trying not to exceed my daily intake of 1800 calories.
At Barnes & Noble, I reread Chapter 5 of the Constitutional History I text, and it started to come alive this time.
Chief Justice Marshall’s brilliant if deceptive ploy in Marbury v. Madison to establish judicial review and the other opinions – McCullough v. Maryland, Dartmouth College, Gibbons v. Ogden – have brought me to firmer ground than I was on when we were doing pre-U.S. Constitution British and colonial history.
I fondly remember some of these cases from Professor Baldwin’s early morning Constitutional Law I class in the winter of 1992 in dark, chilly Gainesville.
I also finished the next chapter on Jackson, the Nullification Crisis and “states’ rights” – and the excerpts from court cases and other historical documents.
After lunch, at the office, I put together a two-page outline of each chapter, giving me confidence for tomorrow night’s class.
At home, I’ve got Volume 1 of Lawrence Tribe’s brand-new edition of Constitutional Law, and going through it, I’m remembering how taken I always have been with the subject.
The only personal email I got today was from Jeff Baron. He says he reads reviews because he can’t avoid them – though he tries to avoid the gratuitously cruel John Simon.
Visiting Mr. Green, he said, is pretty much critic-proof, and good actors help a lot, but he’s worried about his new play, whose central character is a rather unpleasant mother.
I finished all of the Times and will now reward myself with some junk TV.