A Writer’s Diary Entries From Late July, 2000
Sunday, July 23, 2000
8 PM. My car broke down, the tooth I broke three weeks ago pains me, I have no privacy, and the infestation of crickets in this house makes me feel like they did during the locust swarm in Days of Heaven.
I knew coming back to Arizona would mean that I would have difficult times, and I expect the rest of the year will be a trial. My goal is to avoid the kind of depression I felt, say, in the summer of 1980.
On the other hand, I don’t have to leave the Phoenix area, and my family is all here. As much as I find them impossible, Dad and Jonathan did come when I got stuck with the car at 8 AM while I was going to Mesa to look at apartments.
Yesterday I heard a gurgling sound when I got home from Mesa, and I had Dad come out to listen, but it had stopped by the time he came out. Still, I figured I might have a problem with the radiator.
As I drove on the freeway this morning, the air conditioner stopped working although I couldn’t figure out at first if it was just my imagination.
When I realized something was wrong, I got off at Greenfield Road, intending to turn around. But the “check engine” light went on, so I tried to drive to a shopping center, and I did make it to a Walgreens parking lot, where I saw that all the antifreeze had leaked out of the car.
Dad and Jonathan showed up about 20 minutes after I called, and the tow truck arrived soon after. I had the guy tow it to his service station in Mesa rather than pay $3.50 a mile beyond the five-mile limit my AAA membership entitles me to.
One mechanic is as good or as bad as another to me. It could be that I’ll need a new radiator, or less expensively, a new fuel pump. Well, I should be grateful that I made it to a Walgreens where I could get water and a phone.
Dad and Jonathan agreed to go with me to the Fiesta Mall area to look at a couple of apartments, but the places were too sleazy for Dad. I guess I might have rented one if the rental offices had been open (the way the apartment guides said they would), but I would like to avoid a depressing place, and these were only slightly less horrible than the mostly poor Mexican complex in North Hollywood where Kevin lives.
I saw a nicer place, Quail Creek, on Dobson Road just south of the freeway, but who knows if they have a studio available?
Supposedly it’s a renter’s market, but the incredible number of choices and of complexes just makes it seem more confusing. I’ll call Quail Creek tomorrow. What I liked about it was that it was right next to a tiny shopping center with just a Jamba Juice, a Starbucks, and a little restaurant called The Good Egg.
Dad and I went into the Starbucks; Jonathan, who disdains such mass-appeal places, walked in warily, claimed the smell of coffee nauseated him, and went back to sit in the car.
On the way home, I got the Sunday New York Times at Fry’s, and since Marc was at work, I spent the day in his bedroom reading the paper. Unable to leave the house, I tried to make the best of it.
My tooth is really starting to hurt, and of course with the car, I feel everything is falling apart and going to cost me money I don’t have.
But I need to fight my tendency to catastrophize. The worst thing that could happen to me financially during this year is that I’ll need to use my credit lines to the point where I’ll eventually have to go bankrupt again.
However, I also know that I probably can find a job that’s full-time and pays enough for me to support myself – even if that means giving up teaching and graduate school and writing.
Hey, I’ve had a good run. I’m getting old and maybe I need to put away my fantasies of the kind of life I wanted to lead and just settle for settling down.
I wish I was six years older because there are some cheaper over-55 rental communities I could live in.
There was a cricket in my hair this morning, and they are all over this place despite an exterminator visit two weeks ago.
Wednesday, July 26, 2000
6 PM. This is like being trapped in a nightmare. The air conditioning in the car isn’t working. I had thought this when I picked it up yesterday at the service station, but the window problem kept me from using it once I noticed the window wouldn’t go down.
Only when I picked the car up an hour ago at the auto glass place (he charged me only $35) did I realize that all that was blowing out was hot air.
So tomorrow morning I will take it back to the auto repair crooks. They put in a new water pump, thermostat, radiator cap and two belts – one of which is “serpentine A/C” and I’m sure they screwed up.
But you think that after I paid them over $400 they would have told me about the air conditioner not working – or about the window not working. I am going to sue these guys if I have to.
Of course, this means I’ll be without a car tomorrow, and who knows, maybe for the entire weekend. Dad has already had to drive me to Mesa and back three times, and now this will be five times.
Now I wish I had let them tow the car to Dad’s mechanic here in Apache Junction as we’d first planned.
It’s 111° now, and I’m so disgusted that I don’t know what to do. As Teresa and Sat Darshan have pointed out in their emails, living with the psychos here isn’t good for my mental health. Jonathan and Mom are completely crazy, and Dad isn’t much saner than they are.
Just the exterminator coming here this afternoon upset everyone so much because it meant a change in their routine. And China had to go out of the house. I went with her and Dad, and she apparently shit on Dad in the car.
The truth is, in an ideal world, my parents and Jonathan would be about this close to being committed. Every day seems to test my sanity and I feel near the edge.
I obviously can’t go to look at Select Suites tomorrow morning, but if there’s going to be a long wait for the car, I’ll rent one at Enterprise.
I need to be out of here as soon as I can, even if it’s just to check into an A.J. motel for one night instead of being with these loonies and sleeping on an air mattress with crickets all over me and dealing with that fucking rabbit every time I go to the bathroom at night.
I can’t write anymore. I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next hour or the next day or the next week or the next month. Being here is worse than I could have imagined. I have no place to go. God, I want to die. Why did I ever come to Arizona?
*
10 PM. My diary could probably sue me for mental cruelty. I am so sorry I abuse it with my rantings. I feel much more centered now.
Once I stopped writing my last entry, I asked Dad if I could borrow his car, and while he couldn’t understand why or where I would be going – because except for Marc, nobody here ventures out at night – he said okay.
So I drove to Power Road and had a baked potato and Diet Coke at Wendy’s and then went across the street to the Super Saver Cinema in the mall and saw Toy Story 2, which was wondrous, for only $1.75.
I even went to a photo booth and took a mean-looking pic of me with sunglasses that I’m going to send to the Orlando Sentinel, which wanted a photo to go with my questionnaire replies in my supposed write-in candidacy for the U.S. Senate.
It was good to be alone and good to get out, especially among families with kids, who were delighted with the animated film, and the style-crazy teens and twentysomethings who hang out at Superstition Springs Mall.
I feel sorry for my parents and Jonathan, who isolate themselves from the vitality of life. I know I’ll never be like that.
Yeah, car problems are a bitch, and I feel helpless, but I’ve got to remember that this is temporary and I’ve gotten through similar bad times in the past.
Maybe I won’t have my car fixed until next week, but I can rent a car at Enterprise if I need to, and then I can get away for my emotional well-being. Probably there will be one bad thing after another happening, but I can’t let myself give in to depression.
Tonight I used my coping skills to make myself feel better rather than trying to stay here and stay sane watching TV or whatever.
If nothing else comes out of this week, I’ve got to remember I’m not like my family. I have friends, and I can make new friends here. If I get sick, I’ll deal with that, too.
I will probably soon feel the same kind of anguish I felt earlier this evening and I’ll probably feel that way as soon as tomorrow. But it’s not a permanent feeling. I’ll be okay even if I am the only one around to comfort myself.
Thursday, July 27, 2000
2:30 PM. Last night I watched The Sopranos and fell asleep at 11:30 PM. Unfortunately I awakened only five hours later.
I left the house at 7:15 AM for the auto repair shop. When the mechanic opened the hood, he immediately saw that the clutch, a round metal part, hadn’t been bolted down to where he’d installed the serpentine belt.
He said it probably indicated that I needed a new compressor and it might happen again. Perhaps, but it’s working now, and I believe he negligently failed to bolt the park down properly. At least fixing the car didn’t cost me any money or time, but I expect to have more car trouble and maybe the air conditioner will go out again.
It’s been as hot as 112° lately, and temperatures are expected to remain this high. Just as in Florida in the summer, everything here is more difficult in the heat.
I wasn’t impressed with the room I saw at Select Suites, so I decided to take my chances with the application for the studio at Quail Creek.
After getting two money orders at Circle K, I handed in my paperwork to Scott, the manager, who seemed unsure if I’d be approved because of my marginal income and my lease-breaking history.
But he’s got to let me know by Monday because the lease would begin the next day. So I’ll be on hold over the weekend, and after that, I’ll either move in or look for a new place.
I’m sure I can find an apartment where they’re not so picky, but it would be at a place that is more like the ones I first looked at last Sunday, rented mostly by transients and poor Mexicans.
Matt, the ASU MFA student I’ve been writing to, says it’s getting down to rental crunch time for the fall semester– but I don’t necessarily need to live that close to ASU.
Marc and Jonathan are both working today, so the house isn’t that crowded and I’ll be able to hang out here in Marc’s room and maybe try to rest as I listen to All Things Considered, which starts at 3 PM.
I’ve gotten several replies to my Planet Out ad, but the only guy I really liked hasn’t responded a second time. I’m in no way ready to start a relationship although I would like to have friends. Matt, who’s busy with his summer grad course, said we should have lunch someday. I’d like that, but certainly I’m too old for him.
Still, at least Matt is someone I have stuff in common with, and he’s given me tips about ASU and its English Department and LGBT organizations, and I’ve told him what college teaching is like since he’ll be a TA in the fall.
This has been such a stressful week. I do wonder if life would have been easier had I gone to FAMU in Tallahassee. Or maybe I should have tried to stay in South Florida and gotten a cheaper place and eked out a living doing adjunct work or even tried for a non-academic full-time job.
I feel like I’m very, very lost. Teresa said she could never do what I’m doing, and I’m sure that’s equally true for Alice, Josh or most of my other friends, who probably will never leave the cities they live in.
The same goes for Rick in Washington, George in Columbus, and Grant and Libby in Los Angeles. Of course, those people all have families, and at 50, I’m just me.
Saturday, July 29, 2000
9 PM. Driving back on the freeway tonight, I hoped everyone would be out of the living room when I got back, and I recalled two years ago in San Jose, Thien telling me how he slept in the living room and couldn’t have privacy or even go to bed because his family watched TV till 11 PM.
While I expect my application for an apartment at Quail Creek will be rejected – I bet they don’t even call on Monday – I also know that if Thien could find his own place in Silicon Valley, I can at least get an apartment or share someone’s house here in the Valley of the Sun.
I didn’t want to spend $7.50 on a full-price movie ticket after 6 PM, but I’d seen the earlier movies at Harkins Superstition Springs 25, so I plunked down my money for Loser, a mediocre teen flick that was set at an NYU clone and had a few good moments and nice scenes of the Village, Times Square and Grand Central Station.
After going to the movies four nights in a row, I know the trailers and even the pre-trailer screen ads by heart. But even if I’m going there by myself, it’s good to be out among people because it makes me feel connected to life.
While I was exercising this morning, Dad came back from outside walking China and he told Mom with annoyance how some woman had come over to him so that her dog could “meet” China.
“Some dogs are friendly,” Mom said, as if she were describing a flaw in the animal.
I wasn’t smart enough to hold my tongue, and I blurted out, “Some people are friendly, too. Unfriendly dogs have unfriendly owners.”
“Hmpf, he’s here already,” Dad said sourly.
I restrained myself from replying and went to the bathroom. If being friendly and cheerful annoys my parents, I resolved to be more friendly and cheerful.
Even Marc, the most “normal” of my relatives, is usually sullen, but of course his demeanor while he’s with family members may not be an indication of how he is outside in the real world.
With my apartment hunt in limbo, I pretended I was still on vacation today. Sleeping till 6:30 AM was a good start. I got to Borders as soon as they opened at 9 AM and read the Times for two hours.
The GOP convention in Philadelphia begins on Monday, but of course today’s political conventions are mere infomercials, probably getting more news coverage than they actually deserve even though the broadcast networks give them just an hour or two for four nights.
I was at one of the last political conventions when there were actual unscripted, spontaneous moments, and Miami Beach was 28 years ago.
The Ninth Circuit stayed Judge Patel’s order shutting down Napster, which is how most young people get their music online. I believe copyright law and intellectual property needs to be reconceptualized for the Internet.
For all the money I’ve made from my writing over the past 25 years, I can see no difference in giving my stuff away for free – since I did that de facto anyway.
I haven’t gotten my iUniverse With Hitler in New York books yet, but the book is on their website for anyone to read online for free. Stephen King is putting his latest book online, asking readers to voluntarily send him a dollar for each chapter downloaded.
By 11 AM, I was hungry, so I drove up Alma School to the Wendy’s on Main Street and then came home. I spent most of the afternoon in Marc’s room.
I read tomorrow’s New York Times Magazine online, as well as three long front-page Sunday stories they posted early. I also read the last few months of Justin Clouse’s online diary.
Today I got only junk email and didn’t send out any messages. Ray replied to yesterday’s email, but I’m going to take my time responding. Yes, I’m lonely, but I’m used to being alone. Maybe if Ray had sent a pic that I would have liked, I’d want to respond and meet him, but right now I’m not that interested.
While I’m not like my unfriendly parents, I need to be in my own place before I can feel comfortable meeting new people, especially possible boyfriends.
Figuring that Sat Darshan was busy today, I didn’t call her, though I hope we can have lunch one day this coming week.
Monday, July 31, 2000
1 PM. Early this morning, I left a message at Quail Creek telling them to call me with the status of my application. But since they probably don’t like to phone people with rejections, I don’t expect them to call.
So tomorrow, I’ll go down there to pick up the money orders I left them and check out other nearby apartment complexes. But it seems as if Phoenix rental places are really strict.
Rochelle, the woman who cut my hair this morning – she did a good job; it’s short and spiky – just started working at the salon after moving here from Bullhead City.
But Rochelle found that no one in western Mesa would rent to her until she had an income, and she’s waiting to rent with her brother, who’s arriving tomorrow.
I guess I could ask Marc to be my supposed roommate on a one-bedroom since he shows a steady income, but that would be a big favor.
Well, I’ll try the less upscale rentals and see what happens. After that, I’ll figure out other alternatives.
Last night a storm (heavy on lightning and wind, light on rain) swept through the area. Driving back on the freeway at 7 PM last evening, I could see hundreds of birds flying north as if to get out of the storm’s way, and on TV I heard storm warnings for Maricopa and Pinal counties.
In the middle of the night, I woke up – my bed deflated badly after only two nights, so sleeping was uncomfortable – and realized that the electricity was out.
My parents and Jonathan scrambled to get flashlights and electric lanterns, and I opened the window, as it began to feel hot. Luckily, the power went back on within an hour.
Tired this morning, I lay on a rug and didn’t exercise till 7:30 AM, an hour after I taped Body Electric on KAET/Channel 8.
After buying some groceries, herbal pills and the Times at Fry’s, I logged on to check email and Lexis and went out for my haircut. Then I read the newspaper convention coverage at Starbucks and came home to call Sat Darshan.
Yesterday her father fell out of his wheelchair while sleeping, but he didn’t fracture or break anything. The nursing home is very skittish about restraints, and Milton’s dementia makes him paranoid and frightened of people who try to help him, so Sat Darshan agreed to restraints only if her father could deal with them.
She and I will have lunch later in the week, depending on how things go for me. Sat Darshan has lived with a lot of other people, so she doesn’t take the “too old to live with roommates” line that Teresa does – even as she admits to experiencing roommates from hell.
I called Doyle Burke, Mesa Community College’s English Department chair, leaving a voicemail message saying I’d meet him at his convenience.
Matt told me that most ASU students can’t rent apartments unless they have roommates or parents who will guarantee payment.
I asked him, as an MFA student in poetry, what contemporary poets he admired, and he said he didn’t really know too many, mentioning only two names I’d never heard of, one of whom is an ASU professor.
I get the feeling Matt is not the brightest kid, but maybe I shouldn’t be surprised at the ignorance of today’s MFA students – though I can’t imagine any of us at Brooklyn College 25 years ago not being able to name lots of contemporary writers in the genre in which we hoped to work.
Matt’s parents are taking him to Orlando did this week, so I suppose ASU’s summer session is ending. He mentioned going to what I assumed to be a gay coffee bar last night with a friend who says that they look like they’re too close so other guys won’t approach them.
I don’t expect much will happen today although I’ll jump when the phone rings, figuring that it’s Scott from Quail Creek with some news. I’m sleepy now, so I think I’ll lie down on Marc’s bed, and I guess later I’ll finish the Times and go out.
I’m enough of a political junkie to watch at least some of the limited Republican Convention coverage, but so far the most interesting thing seems to be that Cheney’s 31-year-old daughter is openly gay. Even the homophobic Republicans can’t escape the fact that gay people are everywhere.
So ends my 31st year of diary-keeping, more or less.