Someone With a Pen: Richard Grayson’s Diary

Tuesday, September 22, 1998

9 PM. I fell asleep about this time last night and had pleasant dreams, one with Grandma Ethel, and the last dream, before I arose at 5 AM, seemed familiar: I was in Phoenix, getting some form of public transit to the suburbs alongside Harold Bakst, the friend of Pete’s I used to teach with at John Jay.

I lay in darkness till 6 AM, listening to the NPR’s take on the videotape of Clinton’s testimony, and then I exercised and had breakfast.

I got to Nova early and went to my little office. I had email from several people: short notes from Pete and Kathryn Funk; an update from Teresa after another busy weekend catering on Fire Island; and a note from Danny, the Chinese FIU student whose Yahoo ad I answered.

“Wow! You’re a teacher,” he began. He replied to my question that he’s not ABC (American-born Chinese) but is from Taiwan. Although he said his English isn’t great, he seems to write okay. He also told me that he’s closeted and doesn’t want his family and non-gay friends to know that he’s gay.

Obviously, he reminds me of Thien, but Thien was more sure of himself, I think, probably because his struggles in Vietnam toughened him up.

It took Danny over a week to reply to me, and although I gave him my phone number and he said he would like to meet me, I don’t expect anything to come of this.

Perhaps someone will respond to my New Times phone ad, which will be in print on Thursday. Last night I made a better, funnier introductory message that will probably scare off any gay guy who doesn’t have a good sense of humor.

When I called Unemployment this morning, to my surprise I was able to claim benefits for two weeks despite my part time-work.

After an enjoyable class – at least it was fun for me – I went home and had a bite to eat before heading to the Jobs and Benefits office in Fort Lauderdale, where I was seen by the same Latina worker I saw last winter. The whole thing took just ten minutes.

Later I called Unemployment again and found out that a check for $242 will be mailed out tomorrow.

With my  fellowship check and that one, I felt able to give my parents $200 and to deposit another $100 in my First Consumers National Bank secured MasterCard savings account. If they give me 150% of the deposit, I’ll have brought myself up to a total of $15,000 in credit lines.

I returned to Nova a couple more times today to surf the Web, do email and read the Times in my office. At least it’s a place that I can get away to, so that I’m not here all day. If Mom ever left the house, I wouldn’t mind staying here, of course.

Sat Darshan emailed that Kiran Kaur was born in Phoenix on Saturday evening. She’s a healthy baby, but when she was tested for marijuana – because of her birth mother’s past history of drug use – she tested positive.

At that point, the Department of Child Protective Services took over. In a way, that was a good thing because It made sure that Becky couldn’t change her mind about giving up the baby.

On the other hand, it rendered Sat Darshan’s guardianship agreement with Becky moot. CPS gave temporary custody to Nirankar, who’s a relative and who already has custody of Tyler, the baby’s half-brother.

But the caseworker (“a very nice woman from Bensonhurst”) said the baby could stay at Sat Darshan’s, which was fine with Nirankar, who wanted to sleep through the night.

Sat Darshan is taking Kiran to the hospital for follow-up tests, but she seems to be healthy. After tomorrow, Sat Darshan will be staying home, so I’ll phone her there.

I went on the Priceline website to see if they could get me plane tickets to Phoenix for December, but the price I gave – $139 for a round-trip – is way less than half of any fair currently being offered.

I noticed the brochure for a poetry reading at Nova on Thursday at 7:30 PM featuring Elisa Albo and others, and I wrote to Patrick about it. I’d like to attend, but by then, of course, Hurricane Georges may be upon us.

It hit the Dominican Republic after battering the Virgin Islands and Puerto Rico, where all the electric power is out. Right now, as residents begin to evacuate the Keys, traffic north on U.S. 1 is heavy.

Given the damage from Hurricane Andrew that I witnessed during Christmas 1992, four months after the storm struck, it’s possible that this house could be rubble by the weekend.

While it’s difficult to imagine, nature certainly is strong and capricious enough to do it. The first thing I’d try to save is my diaries, but who knows how I’d react in the moment?

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Thursday, September 24, 1998

9 PM. All through the night I watched the useless hurricane coverage on TV. The hurricane still hasn’t arrived, so all that watching the radar in the Caribbean didn’t do me or anyone else any good. The last I heard, the hurricane is supposed to hit the Keys around 2 AM or 3 AM.

When I got up at 5 AM, I learned we were under a hurricane warning, but I didn’t see any reports of Nova’s closing, so I went to school at 7:30 AM.

Just as I liked going to the office at CGR in Gainesville every day, I now like going to my office at Nova – if only to get away from my parents’ house and to have Internet access at the computer.

The parking lot was empty, but it was early, and Les Lindley – who teaches history and legal studies – was also in the Liberal Arts office.

I emailed Teresa and Kevin and was disappointed that my only email was my subscription to the daily front page from the San Jose Mercury News.

Ben Mulvey showed up before I left for class and said that the last thing he’d heard was that the university was open till 9 PM.

Nobody told the students, though. I sat in my classroom in the annex for half an hour, reading the paper until finally Lindsey and Ana arrived.

I took their papers and said I’d give them extra credit for handing them in “early,” gave them the next writing assignment, asked them about their research paper topics, and then said they could leave.

When I came back to the office, Santa was on her way out, saying that the university was now closed. But I wanted to stay and use the computer, so I told Ben I had an appointment with a student for a tutorial session.

“You’re going above and beyond the call of duty,” he said,  so I guess I scored some brownie points with him.

After leaving Nova, I was going to drive to Boca Raton on the slim chance that my column appeared today, but instead I decided to go to the cafe at Barnes & Noble, which, it turned out, was closing at 2 PM.

It’s weird that everything was closed or closing while the weather outside has been perfectly normal.

Jonathan went to work today – his store sells camping supplies and stuff people buy before hurricanes – and it was Dad’s regular day off.

But his appointment with the eye doctor was canceled because they closed the office. And in the afternoon, Dad’s store manager called to say they were closing the mall down so he won’t be working tomorrow, either.

After lunch, I phoned Teresa, who was at home, cooking for another busy weekend of catering. We didn’t talk for very long because one of her friends dropped in.

Teresa still hasn’t gotten her leased car, but she should have it soon. She’d like to return the Villager to the Ford dealer in Mattituck, but next weekend is the Fair Harbor volunteer firefighters’ big bash, and she needs a van for that.

On the phone, I found the payment addresses for some of the retail credit cards I got this year – and I mailed $10 checks to Robinsons-May, Unocal 76 gas, Herberger’s, Stern’s and other stores. That will give me credit balances, so I can get the account statements in the mail.

Silly? Probably, but I want to show I can pay off all these accounts. I guess I’m back to my old credit card tricks, except these “tricks” are probably idiotic in motive and useless in accomplishing anything.

Still, until I get rebate checks from these stores, it’s like my security accounts for secured credit cards: more forced savings (though without any interest).

By the time 2:30 PM rolled around, I was restless, so I took the Turnpike up to Boca. There were no tolls because of the evacuation of the Keys, and I did see lots of Monroe County plates on the highway.

When I got the Boca Raton News by the Burger King on Glades Road, there on page two was my “Millionaires March column” just as I’d written it. I was so pleased!

For a little while I hung out at Burger King just to have a small Diet Coke and catch the latest hurricane update on the TV they have there before driving back south.

At 4 PM, I did another half-hour of exercise to Body Electric, and then I took a 45-minute walk. It had turned cloudy and quite windy.

This evening Mom has been frantically moving stuff away from the windows. She took everything off the screened-in patio, including the bunnies, whose cages are now in the “office” – the bedroom next to mine.

When I called Phoenix, Ravinder put Sat Darshan on the phone even though she was holding the baby, who was asleep.

Yesterday Sat Darshan had to go into work but she said the baby was okay in the office. Kiran Kaur is a very responsive baby, Sat Darshan told me, and she’s healthy despite the positive test for marijuana: her weight is normal.

Because she slept too much last evening, the baby was awake from 10 PM till 2 AM “and she wanted company.”

They haven’t heard from Child Protective Services yet, but the baby’s guardianship papers will now be handled by the agency, saving Sat Darshan and Ravinder the filing fees.

On the birth certificate, it says the father is “Unknown” even though they know who it is. It also lists the baby’s name as the first name Becky gave it and her last name.

But in the end, that will get changed and everything should work out fine, and I’m happy for Sat Darshan. It’s incredible to think of the life of a five-day-old infant.

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Wednesday, September 30, 1998

10 PM. Yesterday’s anxiety, anticipation and expectations about meeting Jason are over. It was nice to get even slightly dressed up and be out at a smoky, noisy gay bar on Las Olas, but apart from that, it probably wasn’t worth it.

Jason was much cuter than I expected – he’s gorgeous – but the couple of hours we spent together will be the end of it.

When we shook hands outside the Cathode Ray – he was going home to take a shower and meet some friends at a club in Dania, or so he said – and he expressed the usual “Nice meeting you, talk to you soon” and I replied, “Sure,” I knew both of us were just being polite.

I made sure not to say anything more definite that would make him think that I thought we’d ever have any further contact.

I know I’m bad at reading when guys are attracted to me. The first time I met Gianni, I was sure he wasn’t, but as I learned later, he was – very much so.

But last night I could tell from the start that Jason seemed as if he was trying not to be rude the entire evening.

Figuring that I didn’t have to bother to make myself sound interesting, for once I didn’t monopolize the conversation. I talked very little about myself, and he didn’t ask, so I assumed he wasn’t interested.

Instead, I asked him questions. That’s how I know he graduated from Miramar High and went directly to work in collections, and that he loves the job he started a few months ago.

I also know that he’s a good cook, has never been able to eat breakfast, is moving to Coconut Creek next month and that nothing about his job delights him more than when one of the debtors he deals with calls him “arrogant.”

I’ve also got an idea of Jason’s tastes in music  and movies and I know other stuff about him.

And of course, it was a pleasure just be able to stand next to him at the bar just because he was so beautiful. But as I expected, I really couldn’t share anything with him.

I would have liked to ask him why he answered my ad in the first place when I specified that I wanted to meet someone 25 to 35 who was college-educated when he doesn’t fit either category.

Still I can be grateful for Jason for getting me out of the house tonight. At this point I feel pretty comfortable standing at a gay bar looking at loud music videos – though I still think it’s probably not the best place to forge a relationship.

After Jason left, I went across Las Olas to the cafe at Liberties Bookstore, where I had an iced tea and listened to a flannel-shirted, guitar-playing woman sing mediocre folk songs. That’s more my speed then the Cathode Ray Club, though I’m sure Jason would find it excruciating.

I guess if I got desperately lonely, I’d call him, but I sort of hope he never calls me again. Still, I’m fairly sure he doesn’t think I’m an asshole and isn’t telling his friends what a doofus I am. (Of course, he wouldn’t use the word “doofus.”)

After all, I let him talk about himself, and most people like that; I wasn’t obnoxious or pretentious and I didn’t try to impress him.

So why can’t I accept the old Fritz Perls quote about if chance two people find each other, it’s beautiful, and if not, it can’t be helped?

I mean, I can accept it, but it’s sad because of what I talked about yesterday: the hunger to connect with someone. But I know that Jason and I don’t fit together.

As much as he protested that he “never goes out,” for him, like most guys in their early 20s, “going out” means bars and clubs, and that’s a world I’m not familiar with; I don’t know the rules and codes.

There were also things about Jason that made me uneasy: he said he carries a Colt (pistol) as well as a stun gun, and Jason disparaged “book learning” when I mentioned – of all things – Gianni’s technical knowledge of hair coloring.

It’s weird that he didn’t ask me any questions. Perhaps he thought I was making stuff up when things came out in conversation, like when we discussed wearing suits to work and I off-handedly said I’d worked as a staff attorney at UF – or at other points when I told him I was a writer (everyone says that!) and a college teacher.

I sort of liked that he didn’t care about my career, though maybe it annoyed me at the same time.

Well, at least tonight I found out a lot about working in collection agencies. (I need a smiley here.)

Something happened in the house earlier today, and at one point Jonathan was upset and complaining about how lonely and unhappy he was, how he wanted to get married and have kids, but how he knows he’s still a child himself.

He started yelling at Mom that neither of them have any friends, and then both he and Mom started crying and tried to comfort one another. I heard him say things to Mom that I’ve said in the past, things that would enrage him when they came from me.

Feeling as though I was intruding and not wanting to be drawn in, I left the house and went to Wendy’s.

So going out to meet Jason tonight was good for me, whatever the outcome was, because it proved to me – as if I needed it to be proven – that unlike Jonathan, I take risks and face fears and break habits.

That’s also why I called Delta and made plane and car rental reservations for Phoenix from December 15 to January 4. Eleven weeks from tonight I’ll be out West again. I can hardly wait.

Tonight is Yom Kippur, and I’ll sleep better than I did last night. Life is good.