A Writer’s Diary Entries From Early May, 2000
Monday, May 1, 2000
3:30 PM. This afternoon a wave of sadness swept over me – so much so that I burst into tears watching a character’s presumed death in an explosion on One Life to Live as I ate lunch.
I feel so discouraged about my “career” and wonder if I wouldn’t have been a lot better off now having kept the $5,000 from my Florida fiction fellowship (plus the $500 that I must have spent besides that) than spending the money on the publication of The Silicon Valley Diet.
And I now don’t really understand how I had the chutzpah to send out my tacky little mailings about the book to all those people.
I’m not sure what caused this sense of discouragement, but the four or five annoyed emails from people who didn’t like my mass mailing probably contributed to my mood since that’s the last thing I did – reading them – before I logged off at 1:30 PM to head home.
Also, Tom’s email began, “I’m glad you’re finished with the futility – er, publicity – campaign.”
Tom is bitter about his own lack of recognition, and God knows he writes all the time, unlike me. But Tom is probably right: all the hours I spent, all the money, aren’t going to change anything.
And now I’m facing what seems like a scary future. I know that because, as at all other difficult times of my life, thoughts of suicide or at least early death began to enter my brain late at night or at odd moments.
Last evening I managed to relax while watching TV and then fall into a long, much-needed sleep. After exercising this morning, I went to get a haircut and then stopped at the post office to mail off letters. Yes, I blew $75 on my Ragdale confirmation before coming home, jerking off, and taking a shower.
At school, I saw only one student, Julie, whom I gave an A in Constitutional History II. She’s a single young woman with a 4-year-old, and it’s been a struggle for her, but I’m certain she’ll get into Nova Law School.
Julie told me she blew off a full scholarship to the University of Miami to go to the University of Central Florida with her boyfriend, hang out with the wrong people, get a 2.5 GPA, and become pregnant.
“We all do stuff like that,” I said, thinking of my own less-than-brilliant choices.
After Julie left, I read my email. Teresa wrote that Jade is going to commute to her finals at Purchase so she can care for Ollie and Phoebe at home while Teresa and Paul are away.
I booked a relatively cheap ($284) flight on Southwest to Phoenix for Tuesday, May 30, the day after Memorial Day weekend.
I picked the 7:40 AM flight to New Orleans, where I change for a flight that probably stopped somewhere in Texas. But it gets in at 1:10 AM, two hours earlier than the flight Marc took, an 8 AM that meant changing in Orlando and stopping in San Antonio.
At noon, I called Dad, and he said Marc must be feeling better because he’d gone out of the house already.
I’ll probably make a car rental reservation, but Dad said he would pick me up at Sky Harbor.
The nicest reply I got from my mass emailing was from Wes Lin, that high school kid in Maryland who said he’d known I was a writer but hadn’t realized I was so “famous.” Yeah, right.
I sent an email to Margaria Fichtner, the Herald’s book editor, but I think at that point I was beginning to lapse into self-pity.
I would have figured that teaching Legal Studies this year would have renewed my self- confidence, but it hasn’t, and I find myself conjuring up fantasies of desperate poverty, homelessness and starvation.
Perhaps these feelings are the result of hormones or some kind of chemical imbalance?
Thursday, May 4, 2000
10 PM. Thirty years ago today, four Kent State students were shot by National Guardsmen.
I don’t believe any of my students could possibly understand what a seminal event that was in the lives of those of us who were college students in 1970.
I can’t convey to them how different the world was then and how close to civil breakdown the U.S. seemed in the days after the shooting.
There just was a single sentence about Kent State in our Constitutional History textbook, and I don’t think it meant anything to anyone under 35, including some of the people who now run this country.
Last night, rather than going to the Gay and Lesbian Community Center to see Fred Searcy, I mailed a big jiffy bag of my old books and one copy of Diet, along with Terry Wolverton’s book, to the Stonewall Library this morning.
At 10 AM today, I went over to BCC-South, bringing the two boxes of my old books and various treasures written by Rick, Tom, Crad, Miriam, Harvey Pekar and Mark Alan Stamaty.
It was hard to part with my friends’ books, but I can take only a few things with me to Phoenix.
Some of those books and the old literary magazines have monetary as well as artistic value, but at least I know that Patrick will give them respect and a good home at the community college.
P’an Ku won’t be back from the printers until tomorrow, so Patrick had time to see me today, but students needed him, so I left at 11:15 AM.
On the way home, I stopped at the store where I bought my now-worn New Balance walking shoes and replaced them with an all-white pair, though I think I’ll keep the ones I’ve got,.
My tendonitis has been acting up today and I applied ice to it several times.
After lunch, I went to the office to meet Jordan, one of my students, whom I promised some books. She’s an older divorced woman and very spunky.
My first thought when I logged on to my computer was to email Gianni. Lo and behold, there was a message from him in my inbox, saying everything has been fine in Madrid. I guess he and I still have a connection.
After writing Gianni back, I wrote to Sean, who promptly replied that he’d been thinking of me that very morning. How bizarre.
Sean says my summer itinerary sounds so exciting, as usual, while he’s “just working, working, working.” But I’m sure Sean’s life is as right for him as mine is for me.
Sat Darshan’s doctor took an x-ray to check for tuberculosis and Valley fever, and he says it’s possible Sat Darshan is getting a reaction from her blood pressure medicine.
Teresa wrote that she planned to go to Fire Island today even though it’s been chilly. She said June 28 is a good day for me to come to Long Island, so I’m going to use my Delta mileage award for the round trip between Phoenix and LaGuardia as it’s unlikely I’ll be making another trip within the next year.
Rick Peabody reported that Twyla Grace was born in a C-section, weighing 9 pounds, 8 ounces. I’d just written him yesterday asking for news about the baby.
After hearing so much on the media about the ILOVEYOU email virus that struck all over the world today, I decided to ask someone at Nova’s Computer Services if my office machine had the Melissa virus, as Sally Peterson of iUniverse.com had claimed.
But after doing a scan which took nearly an hour, they failed to find anything wrong. Since I know they will erase my files when I leave, I’ve got to save the ones I want on disc or mail them to myself and store them online on my various email accounts – or do both of these things.
I also need to go through the 50 or so floppies I have and keep only what’s most valuable.
All the comments on my student evaluations for the term were very complimentary.
Steven came by my office and kept babbling, finally telling me he wanted me to come to lunch with him at Pollo Tropical. I decided I could use the company, and so I joined him, drinking Diet Pepsi as he ate his chicken on the restaurant’s patio. Steven said that despite my upcoming move and the end of my position at Nova, I seem to be completely carefree and independent. I suppose that compared to Steven, I appear that way.
We arrived back at the Liberal Arts office just as Ben was trying to blow out his birthday cake candles, which of course were the kind that keep reigniting. We sang “Happy Birthday” and Ben opened his gift, a tie.
Jim Doan asked If he could get a copy of my book, so I sold him a copy for $10. I couldn’t bear to charge him the $14.95 price even though I already gave him most of my old books.
This evening I drove to downtown Fort Lauderdale, searching in vain for a copy of this week’s TWN – but I guess it doesn’t come out on Thursday.
Still, I’ve discovered how beautiful it can be to be strolling on a lovely spring evening on Las Olas Boulevard and then driving along A1A by the Intracoastal Waterway.
It was nice to see the royal palm trees and the fancy boats and the lemon-yellow Rolls Royce convertible next to me in my battered Chrysler as I drove on the 17th Street Causeway.
It really is idiotic of me to have expected a review in TWN when it’s only three weeks ago today that the book arrived here.
The book won’t be reviewed in the May 8 Publishers Weekly, I found out via the magazines website. I will keep checking although I doubt PW will touch Diet since they’ve never reviewed a single Red Hen Press book.
On the radio, I listened to a discussion about the new testosterone cream. I suspect a lot of guys will undoubtedly abuse it the way they abuse Viagra and steroids. But these drugs and hormones were created to fix problems, not to make people who are already okay “better.”
Since I get up so often during the night, I’m aware that I have persistently strong erections – so much so that I have to control myself when I have to pee badly to make certain I don’t aim for the ceiling. For now I don’t seem to have any problems with my testosterone or any erectile dysfunction.
Perhaps I’d feel differently if I showed more signs of aging, but I think that after being celibate so much of my life, I might look forward to a lessening of my testosterone levels.
Sunday, May 7, 2000
7 PM. Last evening I drove to the airport and got the early edition of the Sunday Times, which I began reading over a baked potato and a Diet Coke at Wendy’s.
When I got into my apartment, my answering machine was going off, and I heard the tail end of a message from Libby. I called her back immediately, and she told me she wanted to tell me that Grant and his partner are going to Las Vegas the morning I’m coming in.
But, she said, that doesn’t mean I can’t come and Grant will be back by Thursday and that now they’ll have two extra cars for my first couple of days there. However, I think I’ll a rent a car in Los Angeles so I can have independence.
I know I’m visiting Libby and Grant, not using their house as a hotel, but I like to go off by myself for part of the day, even if it’s only for an hour. I want to see Kevin, and it’s awkward for me to use one of Grant’s extra cars every time I want to go to Starbucks or Ralph’s.
After chatting with Libby for a while, I called my parents.
Dad said that Marc felt better yesterday, then got so bad that Dad offered to drive him to the hospital, but Marc improved after that and was planning to attend a going-away party for a co-worker. Marc’s primary care doctor never did call him with a referral appointment with a gastroenterologist.
Mom talked about a lot of things, but I don’t let her obsessiveness about my moving bother me. Mom is crazy, and I can work around that the way I used to with Josh and his idées fixes.
I read the Times until 1 AM, and I had trouble falling asleep after that, so I felt crummy this morning.
Ken Rothke in Phoenix said he’d send me $14.95 after he gets my book, so I sent it out today.
Gianni wrote a long email letter. He’s happy in Madrid even though he’s sharing his flat with so many people that he’d prefer a little more privacy.
For the first time since he met Alejandro, he’s met a man who adores him: Tonino, a book and magazine writer who has a TV show in Madrid. Gianni said his “vision of love has matured.”
It was only this evening when I realized I didn’t feel hurt by Gianni’s leaving me out entirely. As he said to me years ago, when I called him just before I left for San Jose, upset that I wouldn’t be seeing him anymore: “We were never a couple.”
I’m glad that I had Gianni in my life, but I could never “adore” him and never saw anything permanent there. If I had, I would have gotten out quick. It was the same way with Sean and even further back with Brad.
Gianni said he’s spent the last six months working on a business plan. While there’s a lot more to be done in terms of marketing research and making sure he’ll have adequate capital, he feels good about it.
School is going fine, Gianni said, but he’s undecided about going on for his M.B.A. He and Tonino (“whose passion is writing”) will be in the U.S. in the next few months – but I know how quickly Gianni’s plans change.
I exchanged a few more emails with a couple of guys from Planet Out, Dion and Kendall, who are both attractive if not beautiful. I never expect this kind of correspondence will last more than a few days, and I don’t fantasize about even the most gorgeous, intelligent and nice-sounding guys.
Maybe it’s because I have so much on my mind, or maybe, like Gianni, I’m growing up and my own vision of love has matured.
I went to Target this morning and bought boxes for mailing my stuff to Arizona. I loaded up two of the boxes with my books, and I also threw out a bunch of stuff from the apartment.
At Barnes & Noble, I read the Money & Business section of the Times and began Arts & Leisure. Of course, I also checked out the Sun-Sentinel. On the paper’s Books page, Chauncey reviewed Philip Roth’s new novel, which sounds wonderful. It is kind of amazing that Roth and Bellow are still around with big new novels.
This afternoon when Teresa stopped at a cybercafé across the street from the hotel in St. Maarten, she wrote me, her parents, her sister and Camille. She’s having a good time and thinks the island is beautiful.
I’m undecided about taking the Mercury over to Sam’s so he can check it out. For one thing, Sam’s garage is so far away, it means taking a cab or bus back home.
For another, maybe I should just wait till I get to Phoenix to have a mechanic check out the car. It doesn’t ride great, but it’s basically okay, and I’m afraid to start getting things “fixed” – sort of the same way I’m afraid to go to a doctor when I’m feeling fine.
I don’t know if I can get used to the new shoes. I wore them only in the morning today.
Mark Savage began reading Diet and asked how much of it is autobiographical. He said he recognized Elihu as the main character in “Salugi at Starbucks.”
I’m going to try to read a little, watch some TV and try to fall asleep early tonight.
Wednesday, May 10, 2000
7 PM. Last evening at Nova, I saw Eleanor, the Broward Community College adjunct who teaches German history and the Holocaust for Nova’s Liberal Arts Division in the summer.
Eleanor remembered me and said she still has her copy of with Hitler in New York.
We chatted for an hour. She told me that the guy who replaced Dr. Grasso as BCC-Central’s English Department head is not as friendly toward her, so she’s making do with adjunct courses at the other BCC campuses and teaching at Palm Beach Atlantic College along with Nova.
“Doing the adjunct shuffle,” Eleanor called it. Don’t I know it?
I fell asleep at 9:30 PM but awoke at 1 AM and stayed awake for hours, feeling anxious about the move. Finally I drifted off to sleep and was at the office at 7 AM, just after breakfast.
Josh emailed, in reply to my question, that he’s no longer on speaking terms with Gabrielle, who won’t let him see photos of their son: “I feel like I was just a sperm donor.”
Josh says his mother is now basically a vegetable and he doesn’t know how long he can keep her at home. Work at the Corrections Department is all right and he likes living in his new one-bedroom apartment on the same floor as his old studio.
Back at home after a few hours at Nova, I exercised lightly and went out to a body shop off Orange Drive, where they fixed my rubber thingy for $30 while I read the New York Times.
Body shops used to be hellholes, but this one was like a pleasant, homey doctor’s office, so I didn’t mind.
From there I went to downtown Fort Lauderdale, parking by the library. They didn’t have the May 1 Publishers Weekly, but I xeroxed yesterday’s Sun-Sentinel article in which I was listed first among candidates who filed for the U.S. Senate race.
At Clark’s Out of Town newsstand, I found my photo in the lead item in Norm Kent’s “I Heard It on the Grapevine” column in The Express. All he did was take my ad copy description of the book and then add that my book was “delightful and delirious”: a nice quote, but he gave no publisher, price or any info about my grant.
Colleen Dougher had another column in City Link, but it was just all about authors with upcoming readings. It seems like writers who don’t or won’t do public appearances aren’t really part of South Florida’s “literary scene.”
Colleen gives the books she mentions to the first person who contacts her, so I left a message asking if I could have the novel of Ann Prospero, who once wrote a nice piece on me for Miami/South Florida magazine.
It may be disappointing, but I still made two local media outlets this week, and at least there’s some word of my book out – and I look kind of cute in the photo of me in The Express.
Home in late morning, I called Ronna and was amazed at how talkative the baby was in the background. Ronna says that once she stopped trying to finish her sentences, Abigail started speaking a lot more.
She and Matthew had a nice time in Charlottesville at his reunion, and everything else sounds good: Matthew’s father is doing okay after coming back from the hospital and Ronna’s mother is coming up to spend the summer in just a few weeks.
This afternoon I got online at the Davie library, where they’ve got a new advanced Netscape browser. I changed my address at the ASU website, and when I got home I registered for three classes (9 credits) for the fall over the phone.
I’ll probably drop one class, but right now I’m taking the basic Newswriting class and two others, Communications Law and Historical and Legal Research Methods.
I also filled out a form for the adjunct pool at Maricopa Community Colleges and called the Arizona State Community College Board to get info about getting a professional certificate.
Stopping back at my office, I attempted to join Amazon.com’s Advantage program, putting in the info for The Silicon Valley Diet, Narcissism and Me, The Greatest Short Story That Absolutely Ever Was and Eating at Arby’s. I used the link to my book’s webpage on the Red Hen Press website.
Later, I went to Barnes & Noble, where I finished reading today’s paper and found Poets & Writers’ Directory of American Poets and Fiction Writers, which I plan to buy and use as a resource for more mailings.
Mom called after I had dinner to tell me that the “priority mail” packages I sent out on Monday had arrived.
After twenty years in Florida, I got my first-ever jury duty notice in today’s mail. I’m supposed to report the week after I move. I’ll send back the postcard saying I’m no longer a Broward County resident.